by Romy Sommer
She stepped close and reached up to re-tie his bowtie. “So which role will you be playing at the premiere?”
“Who do you want me to be?” He dropped his voice low, though it didn’t take much to come out sounding suggestive. “Friend? Boss? Or lover?”
Her level gaze met his. “If the choice were mine, I’d want you to be you. The way you are right now, not the person you pretend to be when other people are watching.”
Something wrenched inside him, the old pain and fear. “That person wasn’t very popular, and in case you hadn’t noticed I’m in the popularity business.”
“You’re wrong. You’re not that little boy who was picked on and who kicked out in anger anymore. The world will love the real Christian Taylor even more than the fake one. But you’ll never know unless you take the risk.”
He frowned and shook his head, looking away, but Tessa wasn’t prepared to let it go. “You ask me why I stay in my comfort zone, but you’re not willing to leave yours. Want to think about that?” She stepped back, out of his reach.
“There’s a crowd of fans at the hotel entrance, so we have the limousine waiting for you in the basement.”
He offered her his arm and she took it, the light touch of her hand shooting an electric rush through him. Back in the elevator, he helped her into her coat, his fingers brushing the nape of her neck as he lifted the short collar. The glance she cast back at him set him on fire, leaving him in no doubt that tonight he could make her his.
If he accepted her challenge. But could he? Could he stand up before the whole world and just be himself? And if he did, would Tessa respond – would she stop hiding behind her façade of shoulds and shouldn’ts and this loveless marriage that was so clearly wrong for her?
In the basement car park, the chauffeur held the limousine door open for them. Tessa stooped to get in first and Christian followed, checking at the door. He bit back an oath.
“Bollinger?” Dominic offered, holding out a glass of golden champagne to Christian.
“I offered Dominic a lift to the theatre,” she said silkily.
Great, a chaperone. Christian scowled at his friend.
“Are you getting in or not?” Dominic asked. “You’re letting in the cold air.”
Tessa slid onto the seat beside him and Christian climbed in. The chauffeur shut the door, closing them in.
The city lights skittered off the slick surface of the road as the limousine edged through the evening traffic down the Champs-Élysées. Paris was as grand and as beautiful as he remembered, yet Christian missed the charm and intimacy of Westerwald. He missed being alone in the back of a car with Tessa.
She sat squashed between them on the rear bench seat. When Dominic reached for the champagne bucket, she shifted to give him room, and her thigh pressed up against Christian’s.
He laid a hand on her knee. She gently nudged it off, and accepted the refill of her glass that Dominic offered.
Outside the theatre they joined the cavalcade of luxury vehicles queueing to reach the red carpet. Christian drew in a deep breath, psyching himself up for the moment when the car door opened and all hell would break loose. Dominic did the same.
It was like the moment before the director called “action”, when he flicked the switch and became Christian Taylor Movie Star. Fake persona in place, ready to woo the crowds.
“Whatever you do, don’t look down,” he advised. It was the advice he gave all his dates, the usual parade of up-and-coming starlets eager to bask in his reflected glory.
Her eyes narrowed as she gave him a withering look.
Their car pulled up at the end of the red carpet and an attendant stepped forward to open the door. The sound hit them, as hard as the ground he and Dominic had hit last night. Screaming voices, the incessant flare of camera flashes.
Tessa took the attendant’s hand and stepped out of the car, smiling for the cameras. Christian followed her out, pausing a moment for his eyes to adjust to the blinding flashes of a million cameras. Beyond the barricades, his fans screamed and shoved, and waved home-made “We love you, Christian” banners.
Even if they were used to it, most people flinched at a reception like this one. Teresa didn’t bat an eye. Head high, shoulders back, she stepped onto the red carpet as if she owned it. She clearly had no need of his advice. She looked as unflappably cool and calm as ever. He should have known. Dating a prince must have inured her to this kind of attention.
“Does anything intimidate you?” he whispered in her ear.
She didn’t smile. “Only you.”
Slowly they made their way down the endless stretch of red carpet, Christian stopping to chat to his fans, sign autographs and pose for pictures while the harried attendant tried to move him on, into the theatre where the “important” people were. But he wouldn’t be hurried. These fans had camped out here in the cold to see him, and he’d make it worth their while.
As always Dominic took point, his body tensed and ready to act as his shield should any of the fans break through the barrier of security men. Christian grinned at his friend. It was good to know someone had his back.
They reached the press pit where he posed for the photographers. Tessa stayed a step behind, allowing him the spotlight, but it was no good. This was still Europe, after all, and all the society photographers knew who she was. They shouted her name and jostled one another to attract her attention.
“Ms Adler – what dress is that you’re wearing? Can you show us?”
“It’s an Elie Saab, from his Fall collection.” She slipped off the coat and handed it to Dominic so she could pose for the photographer who’d asked the question, revealing the plunging neckline and even barer back. More camera bulbs popped, the video cameras with their built-in lights all turned towards her.
As she turned slowly for the cameras, all Christian could see was the long white line of her neck, the dip at the base of her spine. His body pulled tight.
Dominic leaned close to Christian. “I think you’ve been upstaged, pal.”
“Are you Mr Taylor’s date?” one reporter asked Teresa.
She shook her head. “No, I’m Mr Taylor’s assistant.”
With a poise the most experienced Hollywood actress would admire, she extricated herself from the reporters and continued down the red carpet. Unlike the women he was used to, she neither courted the attention, nor resented it. She merely accepted it. She would be wasted as a diplomat’s wife. She was born for the spotlight.
She and Dominic disappeared through the theatre doors while he still had to endure the official interview, which was thrown up onto big screens above. He couldn’t remember afterward what questions were asked or what answers he gave. He’d already spoken so much about this movie – a movie he’d finished shooting so many months ago he barely remembered it – that his responses had become rote.
Inside the theatre doors he was met by another army of attendants. He knew the score. Before the show inside the auditorium could start, he had to endure the one out here. The ticketholders also wanted their pound of flesh. There were more autographs to sign, cameras to pose for, hands to shake, film producers and executives and accountants and distributors to meet and make small-talk to. He posed for photographs with his co-stars and the director, all freshly arrived that morning from LA and complaining bitterly about the cold.
He looked around for Tessa. She and Dominic stood by the bar, enjoying another glass of champagne. She laughed at something he said, and Christian glowered at them. Dom caught his eye and winked.
“You must be the first member of an entourage to attend one of these do’s kitted out in Elie Saab,” Dominic commented as he handed Tessa a fresh glass of champagne. “You belong over there in the spotlight, not in the cheap seats with the plebs like me.”
She should have refused the champagne. She’d already had more than she should, and she’d been too keyed-up all day to eat. But she accepted the glass. Her nerves needed settling.
“You�
��re not a pleb,” she said. “A pain in the ass maybe, but never a pleb. And as for me – I haven’t done anything special to deserve recognition. I belong where I am.”
Dominic raised his glass to her. “I like you.”
“I’d take that as a compliment, but I think you say that to all the women.”
He laughed.
When a bell rang, Dominic took her elbow and guided her to their seats in the auditorium. The stars always received extra tickets for their entourages, she discovered, and so they sat surrounded by assistants and stylists, film reviewers and those who’d paid premium price for tickets.
“Isn’t it odd to do the premiere now?” Tessa asked as she looked across the crowded theatre. “I thought the movie released before Christmas.”
Dominic shrugged. “In the States, but here they chose to release it for Valentine’s. Something about it being the perfect date-night movie for the City of Love.”
The woman behind her leaned forward. “The men get to watch the action and we get to drool!”
The crowd around them chatted and joked and sipped champagne until the VIP circus entered the arena, and Tessa laughed and chatted with them, as at home here as she’d felt on the movie set.
I belong where I am. That was truer than she’d realised.
For months she’d felt trapped in the bubble she’d tried to describe to Stefan. But she wasn’t trapped, and she didn’t have to stay locked inside her ivory tower like a tragic Rapunzel. She was just as happy here as among the children at the orphanage, or on the film set, or at her country club. Maybe she could be happy wherever she went.
Maybe she didn’t even need to stay in Westerwald to be happy.
Or maybe she’d had too much champagne.
There was a stir through the crowd as the movie’s stars took their seats. She tried hard not to look for Christian but the impulse was impossible to resist.
Among the last to enter the auditorium, his arrival was accompanied by a round of cheering and applause. The tailored evening suit fitted him impeccably. It moulded to his broad shoulders, hinted at the superb physique beneath the superfine cloth.
She couldn’t even remember what Stefan had worn last night.
She was in such trouble.
The lights went out, the music soared. She’d thought it would be difficult to focus on the film, to not be bored, but it was remarkably easy. From the moment the opening credits rolled, she was hooked.
The movie may have had more visual effects than plot, but it was mesmerising. Because Christian was in it. And he was good in it. He was the best thing about the movie.
His penetrating blue gaze blown up four feet high on the screen, his bare-chested torso glistening. His husky voice, which made every word seem like an invitation to sex.
No wonder women camped out in the snow at the palace gates for a glimpse of him, or chased him down in the street.
And he wanted her?
She fidgeted in the seat, unable to ease the itch in her body, the tension in her skin. She couldn’t carry on like this. For someone who’d spent her life believing lust was for other people, for weak people, it came as something of a shock to be caught in its grip.
She had lost all control of her body. She couldn’t fight this physical longing for him. For his kiss, for her hands on her bare skin.
She pressed her eyes closed, but that only made it worse.
“You okay?” Dominic whispered.
She nodded, biting her lip. But she wasn’t okay.
She needed this torture to end. She needed these feelings gone so she could think straight. So she could walk down the aisle at her wedding with conviction.
But was it worth the guilty conscience to make that happen?
Would “getting him out of her system”, as Lee suggested, even work?
It had to. Because she was at her wit’s end.
Two hours of exquisite torment and then she still had to endure the speeches. Her thoughts drifted into fantasy, so real she could almost feel his hands stroking over her bare skin.
Then Christian took to the narrow stage before the screen amid loud applause, and the fantasy was a weak shadow to the reality of him.
He looked into the auditorium, no doubt unable to see a thing past the bright lights, yet he still managed to make it seem as though he was looking at each and every one of them.
At her.
“The proceeds from tonight’s premiere go to an organisation close to my heart. A charity that does great work keeping troubled kids off the streets and out of trouble. I’d like to thank the organisers, the volunteers and all of you for supporting such a life-changing project.” He handed the oversized fake cheque to the charity’s organisers.
Tessa clapped along with the rest of the audience.
Christian waited until a hush descended again. “When I first came to the States from the Caribbean… ” Her heart began to thud erratically against her rib cage. “I was a messed-up kid with a chip on my shoulder. I could have done with an organisation like this one.” Nervous laughter scattered through the crowd. This wasn’t in the whitewashed version of himself he presented to the world.
Beside her, Dominic muttered an oath. He sounded as surprised as she felt.
But Christian wasn’t done yet. “Working in the movies gave me the chance not only to rise above that, but to have fun along the way. Making this movie was huge fun. More fun than that little boy from Los Pajaros could have imagined. And probably more fun than I deserved. I’d like to pay it forward by matching the amount on that cheque.”
Christian pulled another cheque from his pocket. Not a dummy cheque made for the cameras, but a real one. He handed it to the stunned charity organiser.
Into the charged silence, applause began, growing wilder, followed by cat calls and wolf whistles. Up on the stage, Christian’s face relaxed into a smile. A real smile. Not the cheeky one he used as a shield, but a smile of genuine pleasure.
Tessa’s heart swelled with pride. She’d never expected him to really do it, but he had. He’d stepped out from behind the mask, bared himself, and they still loved him.
Even though none but she and Dominic knew just how momentous this revelation was for him. She pressed her eyes shut. He’d laid down the gauntlet. He’d stepped out of his comfort zone. Could she?
At last, the applause died and the auditorium emptied.
“What happens now?” she asked Dominic as he led her upstairs to a reception room lined with red-velvet drapes and dominated by an ornate gilded ceiling. He still seemed a little shell-shocked.
“There’ll be a cocktail party with an open bar.” He rubbed his hands gleefully together, his usual animation reasserting itself. “And where there are free cocktails, there will be easy women.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you ever get bored of the whoring?”
“Never! Let me get you a drink.”
“I really hope some woman brings you to your knees one day.”
“It’ll take more than one.” He laughed and left her to elbow his way through the crowd to the bar.
“Did you enjoy the movie?” a smooth voice asked in her ear. She spun around, skin hot, palms clammy, head light.
“It wasn’t bad. In fact, it was quite good for a gladiator movie. You were good.” She swallowed, unable to meet Christian’s gaze. “Especially afterwards.”
He smiled, a wicked curl of his lips. She couldn’t drag her gaze from his mouth as she remembered the feel of those lips on hers.
“I remember someone telling me that when you’ve seen one of these action movies, you’ve seen them all.”
She flushed. “I was very rude the night we met. I hope by now you’ve learned that I’m not that intolerant and judgmental.”
“No, you’re not.” He curled an arm around her waist. She glanced around, but unbelievably, no one watched them. “You were upset that night, I think. By more than a couple of escaped convicts or a strange man jumping into your car.”
&nb
sp; She looked away. She didn’t want to talk about it.
Even though he might be the one person who’d understand, he’d also be the one person who’d use her weakness against her to get what he wanted. Especially now that he’d done what she was too afraid to do – to simply be herself and admit what she wanted.
He leaned in close, his breath brushing her cheek. “Shall we get out of here?”
He should stay and court the guests who’d paid to meet him. A good assistant would remind him of that. But to hell with should and shouldn’t.
She nodded.
Chapter 18
Tension pulled Tessa’s skin so taut she was surprised she didn’t give off sparks. They waited in fraught silence within the theatre doors as one of the organisers summoned their limo. Then they had to make the long walk back along the red carpet, attendants hovering either side, and Tessa was careful to keep a distance between them.
If Christian seemed less enthusiastic about greeting his fans than he had on arrival, no one noticed but Tessa. She waited impatiently in the car as he extricated himself from his admirers.
“Thank God that’s over!” He slid in beside her as yet another attendant slammed shut the door, sealing them inside. The roar of sound dropped instantly.
She handed him a bottle of water from the limo’s fridge and he gulped it down. “Thanks, I needed that!” He screwed the lid back on. “And thank you for coming tonight.” His voice was soft, curling around her heart and squeezing tight.
His hand brushed hers where it lay on the seat between them and she glanced towards the chauffeur. But this wasn’t Frank’s elegant sedan. This was a bona fide limo with a darkened glass partition, ensuring absolute privacy.
She turned her palm upward to meet his and he threaded his fingers through hers.
The city lights streaked past the darkened windows, a blur of colour and motion, and she felt giddy and light and reckless. She turned to him and he was watching her, his eyes no longer bright with mischief but dark and intense. And questioning.