To Catch a Star

by Romy Sommer

  So why did he spend so little time there? It wasn’t as if he needed to make three movies a year. He could afford to take it easier these days. So why didn’t he?

  Because the house seemed empty these days. Too quiet.

  The radio at Tessa’s hip crackled and Robbie’s tinny voice sounded. “Teresa, go for Robbie.”

  She unhooked the radio from her belt and pressed the talk button. “Teresa here. Are you ready for us?”

  “Any time you are,” Robbie answered.

  Christian hoisted himself off the sofa. The press conference had been the brainwave of one of the executive producers trying to milk his stars for every bit of free press he could get. Usually Christian hated the distraction of the media while he was in production, but today he welcomed it.

  Better than going back to his sterile hotel room. Better than being apart from Teresa. Better than being with her, so close he could touch her without being able to. The wall she’d raised between them since that afternoon in the hotel library seemed higher and more impenetrable than ever.

  It was driving him so crazy he was sure he was going to explode any day now.

  “We’re on our way.” She re-hooked the radio on her belt and retrieved her jacket.

  Christian jogged down the steps and waited for her as she locked the trailer door and pocketed the key.

  They walked together across the car park towards the studio buildings. The press conference had been set up in the canteen, adjacent to the warehouse space where they were filming the pirate-ship interiors.

  The room was packed. Photographers and reporters jostled against one another. It must be a slow news day in Westerwald.

  On a dais knocked together by the set-builders, stood the production’s phalanx of producers, the key cast members, the unit publicist, and the film’s official behind-the-scenes photographer. A seat remained free for Christian. At the door, he handed Tessa his coat, then strode forward.

  Game on.

  At sight of him the noise levels in the room boomed. He knew, they all knew, that he was the one they were here to see. He stepped up onto the dais and took his seat, and the unit publicist waved her hands to quieten the crowd.

  The speeches that followed were dull. Christian tuned them out and focused instead on his audience. A few faces he recognised. Those he didn’t were no doubt from the European presses. Over their heads he looked for Teresa, unobtrusively pressed up against the back wall. One of the reporters, looking just as bored as he felt, followed his glance. The reporter nudged his neighbour. A few more heads started to crane.

  Christian repressed an urge to pout like a petulant child. Just how small was this bloody country? Did Teresa know every damned person in it? Did everyone know her?

  She didn’t appear to notice the whispers, but he had no doubt she was just as aware as he was. She missed nothing.

  When the prepared speeches were done, the Q&A began. The journalists sat up in their seats, awake and eager now. Christian wished he felt the same. He’d done this so many times he could practically sleep-walk through these events.

  There were questions for the producers, more for Nina, most for him.

  What is your role in The Pirate’s Revenge?

  “I play the pirate out for revenge.”

  In his peripheral vision, Teresa’s eyes narrowed in disapproval. Okay, so he wasn’t being his usual cooperative self. He made more of an effort. “I play the bastard son of a king who becomes a pirate in order to exact revenge on the aristocrats, who once said he’d amount to nothing.”

  How does it feel to play a character so different from yourself?

  This character was far closer to his own than any other he’d played, but he gave an answer that fitted his whitewashed official back story.

  And your character comes in to save the day?

  “Of course – and don’t forget the bit about getting to kiss the pretty girl.”

  Laughter.

  What do you think of Westerwald so far?

  “The road between my hotel and the palace, where we’re shooting is very interesting.”

  More laughter.

  Do you plan to stay in Westerwald a little after you’ve finished shooting?

  “I’d love to, but I have a premiere in Paris, and then I head to Los Pajaros to work on the next leg of this film.”

  How does it feel to be called Sexiest Man Alive by GQ?

  “Pretty damned good, but I don’t think they used my best pictures.” He struck a pose and his audience laughed, soaking it up.

  What was it like kissing Jennifer Lawrence?

  “Even better than being called GQ’s Sexiest Man Alive.”

  What made you choose this current project?

  “The script says I get to kiss Nina Alexander.”

  Titters from the audience. Reminded of her presence, the reporters turned to Nina.

  Are the rumours about the two of you true?

  She laughed. “Which rumours are those? The ones that we’re dating, that we’re sleeping together, or the one that I’m pregnant with Christian’s love child?”

  Good girl. He knew he liked her.

  One of the reporters in the front row turned in his seat to face the back of the room.

  Ms Adler, is it true that there will be three crowned heads of state attending your wedding next week?

  Christian kept the smile plastered on his face, but it took a huge effort.

  As all heads in the room turned to her, Teresa smiled, calm and composed as ever. “At our last count it’ll be four. As you can imagine, the seating plan is a nightmare.”

  More laughter.

  Your engagement has been very short. Are you trying to get in there before the royal weddings in the summer?

  Her expression was as neutral as ever but her mouth had the pinched look that suggested she was reigning in a strong emotion.

  The reporter had said weddings. Plural.

  Christian might not know much about this country, but he knew enough. Westerwald had only two princes. And one of them was Teresa’s ex.

  He clapped his hands, recalling the journalists’ attention to the front of the room. “Enough talk about us. I’d like to thank our amazing team of producers who put this movie together. Let’s give them a round of applause.”

  His audience was forced to clap in acknowledgement.

  “I’d also like to thank the Archduke, who has so kindly let us use his palace as a film location.”

  More applause, more genuine this time.

  The unit publicist rose to wrap up the proceedings. Christian kept his expression interested and his gaze off Tessa, but she was impossible to ignore. The air in the room seemed to pulse between them.

  She was getting married? Next week?

  No wonder she’d been so good at keeping him at arm’s length. And no wonder she’d seemed so reluctant to reveal her interest in him. It wasn’t for any of the reasons he’d once thought – not because of the colour of his skin, or because he was shallow, or because he made his living in Hollywood.

  But she was interested.

  At last he allowed his gaze to find her. She didn’t have that glowing look of a bride-to-be. And she hadn’t mentioned her fiancé once in all the time he’d known her. Most women couldn’t shut up when they were in love and about to be married.

  Why hadn’t she told him? What game was she playing?

  The storm of emotion wracking her body threatened to erupt. Teresa crossed her arms over her chest with the effort to hold it in.

  Why hadn’t she told him when she’d had the chance? She’d been on the verge of telling him earlier. She should have. It would have been better than this, in a room full of strangers.

  And that look in his eyes… for the most fleeting of moments before he’d shut it down, she’d seen more than just surprise in his eyes. She thought she’d seen disappointment, and anger.

  A hand touched her arm and she jumped.

  “Frank has the car waiting. We nee
d to get Christian out of here before the press pins him down,” Robbie said.

  She nodded and headed back towards the door to wait for Christian. He moved through the crowd, smiling, exchanging a word here or there with the journalists, who pushed forward to get to him. The unit publicist remained at his side, shepherding him through the crowd.

  But even though he smiled and laughed, the tension in him seemed obvious to her.

  He closed the distance between them and made it to the door, pausing beside her. Anger radiated off him in waves. “What else don’t I know about you, Teresa?”

  But he didn’t wait for her answer. He pushed past her through the door.

  “Well, he’s a ball of fun today. I wonder what got into him?” Robbie asked, watching Christian’s retreating back.

  She rather suspected she knew.

  He’d been thwarted. He’d tried to seduce her and he’d failed. Just once in his life the big-time movie star hadn’t been able to get what he wanted with a snap of his fingers.

  And now he knew he never would.

  She should have felt something like triumph. Instead, she felt hollow inside.

  She turned to follow him out the door, but Robbie’s hand tightened on her arm. “A few of us are meeting up for drinks at the Landmark Café tonight. Why don’t you and your fiancé join us?”

  Tears burned her eyes. She blinked them away. “Thank you for the invitation.”

  Beyond the door, the car waited. Frank revved the engine and she jumped in the back beside Christian.

  He looked out the darkened window and avoided all eye contact.

  She did the same. The city rushed by in a blur.

  She broke the silence when they were mere blocks away from the hotel. “Are you angry that I’m getting married?”

  She was sure she saw a flash of something in the depths of his eyes before the shutters came down. “Why on earth would that make me angry? It’s not like there’s anything between us. Is there?”

  It was that first morning in the hotel dining room all over again, that intense, probing look that rendered her breathless and speechless.

  She shook her head.

  “You’re not wearing a ring.”

  She looked down at her hands, clasped neatly in her lap. “It was at the jeweller’s for an insurance appraisal.”

  “For nearly three weeks?”

  She had to clear the lump in her throat before she could speak. “I haven’t had time to collect it.”

  “I’m sorry I’ve kept you from such an important errand. I won’t need any hand-holding tomorrow, so you can get Frank to take you.”

  She cleared her throat. “Thank you, but my assistant took care of it.”

  He said nothing and she glanced up. She didn’t like the hard, speculative look in his eyes. “My assistant has an assistant. Interesting.”

  She could think of nothing to say. She’d already said too much.

  The car pulled up beneath the hotel portico. Neither of them moved.

  “So why does a Baroness, who has her own assistant and can afford a designer wardrobe and a fancy sports car, need a job as my chaperone?”

  She gave him the same sort of answer he’d given the reporters – glib and palpably untrue. “Because you’re an esteemed guest of this nation, and it was felt you should have an assistant suitable to your position.”

  He held her gaze and her heartbeat raced. Would he call her out on the lie?

  Then he turned away, climbed out of the car, and she let out the breath she’d been holding. The door slammed shut behind him.

  “When’s the big day?” Frank asked.

  “Valentine’s Day.”

  In the rear-view mirror, Frank’s eyes rounded. “That’s just one week after filming ends,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “What are you doing messing around here then? It’s not as if you need the money.”

  She wished she knew. She sighed. “It’s complicated.”

  “Try me.”

  “It started out as one thing and turned into something else.”

  Chapter 12

  Tessa knew all the best restaurants in Neustadt, the kind of places where money was no object, where clients could be impressed and business discussed. Bars were another matter. The closest she’d come to the city’s nightlife was driving past it on the way to somewhere else. But even she had heard of the trendy Landmark Café.

  The bar overhung the river at its widest point, a modern, glass box built into the side of the opulent Beaux-Arts Guildhall.

  She hadn’t planned on taking up Robbie’s invitation tonight. Not until she’d stood in her palatial bedroom and the walls had begun to press in on her. That suffocating feeling had returned, stronger than ever before, and she’d had to get out.

  The cab dropped her close to the entrance, but even so it took her an age to traverse the short distance across the ice-slickened pavement. Tonight she’d opted for heels. High heels. Red heels.

  Her hand felt heavy with the ring back in place. As if weighted down. She was tempted to remove it but that would only invite questions. Everyone on the crew would know by now.

  A queue stretched from the bar entrance, but at her approach the door swung open and the young doorman whistled and waved her in without question. At least she must have got the dress code right.

  The space inside was bright with electric-blue light, the colour mirrored in the glass walls, the shining brushed-steel bar, and the reflections falling onto the smooth surface of the river beyond. The noise levels were higher than she was accustomed to, an overwhelming mix of voices, laughter, and loud music.

  For an anxious moment her heart fluttered, then she spotted Robbie across the room, surrounded by a knot of people. She recognised a few of the cast and crew. Gerry, the unit production manager, Marie, the make-up artiste, Nina with her entourage. Dominic.

  The flutter in Tessa’s heart accelerated. Oh God. He wasn’t here too, was he?

  Robbie waved her over then ordered her one of the bar’s signature cocktails, as electric blue as the light around them. She sipped it gingerly, the drink’s cloying sweetness sliding down her throat like soda. Dominic offered her his seat as he rose with his phone in hand, mid-text. There was no sign of Christian. She breathed out and relaxed.

  Their group swelled as more crew members joined them. Most came straight from set, dressed in their “uniform” of jeans or cargo pants matched with sloganned sweatshirts. Casual, relaxed, still on a natural high after a day on set.

  She relaxed further. In such a large group she could fade quietly into the background, listen to their lively chatter without needing to make small-talk.

  Parties had only ever been work for her. Introducing people, encouraging conversation, playing the hostess, living up to her family name. She could never drink too much, never be herself.

  But tonight was different. Tonight she would let her hair down, figuratively if not literally, and she would drink and enjoy herself. No work allowed. She wanted to feel young and wild for just once in her life.

  “You didn’t bring your fiancé?” Robbie asked, replacing the empty glass in her hand with another. Since it would be impolite to refuse, she accepted the drink.

  “He’s in Canada,” she replied. “He’ll be back in a couple of days.”

  Over Robbie’s shoulder, she spotted Dominic, still busy texting on his phone. The reed-thin brunette beside him had begun to pout.

  Tessa had just finished her second cocktail when a voice she hadn’t wanted to hear sent a tremor down her spine. A deep voice, a little husky. She pressed her eyes shut.

  “Christian! There’s a seat over here,” someone called out.

  She opened her eyes, and colour and light flooded back in. As it always did in Christian’s energetic presence, the room shifted from shades of grey to iridescent colour. The light around them seemed impossibly brighter.

  The entire group turned to him as he took the unoccupied seat across the circ
le from her, like flowers turning to the sun. Or more aptly, like worshippers beneath the throne of a demi-god.

  She resisted the urge to roll her eyes just as Christian caught her gaze. He grinned, amused, and lifted his glass to her in silent salute.

  He certainly wasn’t angry now. He looked in the mood for mischief, and she wasn’t sure which was worse.

  Dominic picked up the tale he’d been regaling the group with before Christian’s interruption: “So Chris and I choreographed a fight scene for this has-been actor. His star was on the wane, but he still thought he was something special. He came on set, throwing his prima donna weight around, and refused to do the fight scene as we’d planned it. He and Chris are trading fake punches and this guy starts messing around, trying to show off. He’s not pulling his punches, but he’s hardly managing to land one since Chris is always a step ahead. And the guy gets mad cause Chris is making him look like the fool he is. So he knees Chris right in the groin.”

  His audience groaned in sympathy. Christian sipped his drink, the only one unaffected by the story.

  “Chris had the guy on his back, flat on the floor, his arm across the actor’s windpipe, in less than a second.” Dominic laughed. “The director laughed so hard he forgot to call ‘cut’.” He took a swig of his beer.

  “What happened next?” Nina leaned forward, all eagerness for the rest of the story, inadvertently giving both Dominic and Tessa a good view of her more-than-ample cleavage. Or maybe not so inadvertently.

  “We were barely a week into filming and already the director was sick of the actor’s antics, so he fired him. Something about his ego being a safety hazard. And he hired Christian to replace him. The rest, as they say, is history.”

  Tessa arched an eyebrow at Christian. Was this the real story then of how he got his break as an actor? He shrugged a shoulder and flashed her that roguish grin, the one that lit up his eyes, and for half a second she was sure she recognised why that look seemed so familiar. Then it was gone.

  Dominic turned to her. “Is that your phone?”

  Only then did she register the buzz from the vicinity of the Dior bag slung over the back of her chair. She reached into it just as the call cut off.