“Matt knew everything, didn’t he?” Brad demanded, trying to wrest his hand free. “Christ, I felt like such a fool tonight.”
“He was only going along with it to protect me.” Zaira took his hand in both her own, and looked up at him longingly. “Matt and I talked about it today, and he tried to convince me to tell you before you found out fory ourself. But I told him I didn’t want anything to ruin the Hamlet production, and that I would tell you on Saturday night as soon as it was over.”
He shook his head from side to side, but the scowl on his face had become less frightening.
“Honestly, Brad, I don’t blame you if you never want to see me again, which is why I skipped rehearsals today and worked the entire afternoon to finish the screenplay. You are entitled to that if nothing else. Even if you hate me, you can still go ahead with the project if you want, back in Hollywood. You were telling Matt, and you’ve been telling me all along, that you’re in love with someone else, so I won’t blame you if you want to forget all about teaching here, and go home to California to make the film.”
Brad looked at her in surprise.
She forced herself to go on, “I know it’s awful my deceiving you all this time, but even when I came to trust you, it seemed easier to just continue the deception until all our business was out of the way. I’m free of the past now. I’ve paid off all my debts thanks to you, but I owe you a lot more. You’ve made me live again.”
Brad looked down at her, his face inscrutable.
Zaira summoned up all her courage, and told him the unvarnished truth. “It’s hard to explain, Brad, but the Zaira you first met was my act, my creation, not really Zoe, though I think you’ve helped create her. Zoe is the real me I’ve never been able to let loose, until you set her free. The physical appearance of Zaira is the same apart from the hair and eyes, but Zaira the academic I manufactured out of a need to feel safe and protected from the rest of the world. You think Zoe is the fake me, but Zaira Darcy is the real fake. I’ll understand if you never want to see either of us again, Brad, but I want you know how much I’ve loved every single moment we’ve ever shared together.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and she started to get up off the floor, only to be pulled into his lap.
“And which one of you made love to me the other day?” Brad whispered softly. “I want to meet her again.”
Her grey eyes locked with his green, and she could see the embers of desire alight. “It’s me, Zaira. I’ve wanted you from the moment we bumped into each other in the foyer, Brad. I couldn’t stand seeing you always running away. I had to make love with you, even if I regretted it for the rest of my life.”
He kissed her searchingly, and murmured against her lips, “Do you regret it, Zaira?”
“How could I? It’s all I could have ever wanted, and more,” Zaira sighed against his cheek. “But I sensed last night that you had regrets. You told me there was someone else....”
“Ah, that again. You said it before, but there never has been any one else but you.”
Zaira struggled to get out of his lap, and once her feet were squarely on the floor she ran from him. “But you said there was, and besides, you even told Matt you were getting married! Now you’re the one playing games with me.”
“Zaira, listen…” Brad urged, but she put her hands over her ears and tried to retreat into her bedroom.
“No more lies between us. The truth has to come out once and for all. I’ve seen the photo of the gorgeous blond by your bed that you tried to hide, so don’t lie!” she shouted.
Brad laughed as he shook his head sadly, and stepped into her bedroom before she could slam the door in his face. “That isn’t the other woman. It's a photo of my sister. I didn’t want to show it to you, I didn’t want to talk about it, but now you know that she was killed in that terrible car accident with my mother three years ago, so even that secret is out in the open,” Brad said huskily.
“Your sister!” Zaira gasped. She stared at him for a moment. His grim expression told her he was completely sincere.
“The only rival for your affections has been you,” Brad said, as he put his arms around her demandingly, and the zipper at the side of her dress parted.
"Brad—"
“I’ve tried to fight my feelings for Zoe knowing I was in love with Zaira,” he said with a sigh.
Still she struggled against him, not believing he could be serious.
“I loved Zaira first, from the moment I saw her and she told me off in the elevator. Then I met Zoe, so similar in some ways, so different in others. I was drawn to her irresistibly, and after the fight I had had with Zaira that morning, I thought I had ruined my chances forever,” Brad confessed, a small grim smile playing about his sensual mouth.
“I tried to keep my distance from you, but couldn’t. It was just too strong for me to control,” she whispered, as her dress dropped to the floor and her bra after it.
“So beautiful,” Brad murmured. “I thought of Zaira only after making love to Zoe, and was going to have to break it off with her. But I wanted to be sure of what Zoe felt for me before I hurt you irrevocably. I had cheated on you even though I loved you, and felt a complete swine,” he said in an anguished voice, as he stroked her bare breasts and shoulders in admiration. Zaira shivered with pleasure as his lips traced a line down her neck to her breasts.
“But I couldn’t give you up either, I loved you so much as well. The pain was more than I could bear, and I was sick at the thought of telling you tonight that I was leaving you,” Brad murmured hotly against her skin.
He pushed her onto the bed, and with a couple of deft movements, stripped her bare, and feasted his eyes on her hungrily. Zaira thrilled at the feel of him pressed against her naked flesh, and began to unbutton his shirt with fumbling fingers.
“If you hadn’t worn those earrings tonight, I might have done something we would have both regretted. I almost ran away back to LA, I was so frightened.”
“Frightened of what, Brad?” Zaira murmured, kissing him tenderly.
“Frightened of hurting the three of us. But now I know it’s just you, and I am going to get my revenge for all the hell you put me through, thinking I was in love for the first time in my life, but with two women. You’ve driven me insane for the past week, and now I’m going to do the same to you.”
Zaira’s eyes widened in fear as he eased himself off the bed and stripped naked.
“Brad! I’m sorry! Please don’t be angry!” she pleaded as he laid hands on her.
Brad chuckled. “I’m not angry, but the game is mine now, and I still haven’t had the truth. Well, I am going to drive you out of your mind until you tell me.”
“Tell you what?” she gasped in alarm, terrified that he might know something about the situation with Jonathan and think she was party to it.
He placed a trail of molten kisses down her neck and breasts, and parted her thighs to cover her pulsating centre with his mouth.
Zaira arched her back wildly, and thought she would tumble over the brink. But Brad lifted his head, and said throatily, “Not so fast. You still haven’t told me, and I won’t stop, nay, I won’t let you out of this bed, until you do.”
“What do you want me to say?” Zaira gasped, as he resumed his intimate kiss. His fingers toyed with her innermost centre until she writhed in ecstasy. His mouth moved up until he stroked with her breasts, running his tongue over them expertly.
Zaira pressed down against his hand, seeking release, which was again denied.
“That’s cheating, my dear, you still haven’t paid the price,” he said, withdrawing from her.
For a moment she panicked, thinking that he would get out of the bed entirely. Her whole body was on fire; she would die if she didn’t become his.
“What is it you want?” Zaira ground out in frustration, and rubbed her hand over her brows to block out the sight of his incredible green eyes. She gasped as he lay fully on top of her, his maleness probing her intimately
.
He pulled her hand away from her face to look straight at her, naked desire flaming in the green pools.
“Tell me you love me as much as I love you, or I’ll keep you here until I force you to say it,” Brad rasped out. His mouth came down on hers in a crushing kiss before he pulled way, barely able to control his longing for her.
Zaira was stunned, but reached out for him and wrapped herself around his broad back and showered him with kisses.
“Well, my darling, “ Zaira whispered, “actions speak louder than words, but if you want to hear it, I'll be happy to tell you the whole truth now. I love you beyond anything else in the world, Brad, and I’ll never let you leave me.”
Brad moved to embrace her, but she forced him to roll over and pressed him back down onto the soft bed. “You obviously have a short memory, so I’ll have to show you all over again just how much I do love you.”
She smothered him with kisses, and tried to remember all the thing she had done to him the day before in her passionate abandon in the theatre.
“Zaira, don’t! I can’t!” he cried.
She quickly slid down the full length of him, as his body rose up into hers with an urgency which matched her own.
“I love you!” Zaira gasped as his passion erupted, and she felt herself hurled into oblivion. Her shudders left her completely breathless and exhausted, and she lay on Brad and marveled at the warmth and joy she felt.
Much later she felt him turn over on his side and withdraw from her slightly. She felt the covers pulled over her, and her hair gentled back from her face, before his arms locked even more tightly around her.
Zaira opened her eyes briefly, and saw him gaze down at her with such tenderness, that she moved her mouth up to his for a kiss, her tongue caressing his lips sensually.
“I love you, Brad,” Zaira sighed, snuggling into him drowsily.
As she drifted off to sleep, she felt him kiss her. “And I love you, Zaira, always.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The rest of the week flew past in a whirl of happiness. Zaira knew true love for the first time, and she and Brad were inseparable. Now that there were no longer any secrets between them, they grew closer and closer with each passing day. The only time they were apart was when they had to give their lectures. Otherwise, they shared everything, romantic candlelit dinners, excursions around the city, and most importantly, their rehearsals for Hamlet.
Zaira and Brad worked on their production tirelessly, rehearsing as many hours as they could manage until they were satisfied that they couldn’t get any better. Zaira did not have any serious hopes of winning the Drama Festival awards, but she would be satisfied with an honorable mention. At any rate, she was planning on having a wonderful time at the cast party after the performance, when she and Brad could relax, unwind, and have a bit of pressure taken off them for a change.
Not that the pressure would be taken off Zaira—once she was finished with Ophelia, she was going to have to start rehearsing for “The Dark Lady,” for Brad was insistent that they should go into production as soon as possible in the winter.
Zaira protested, “But what about my university commitments?”
“If we do as much of the preparation as we can now, we’d be able to run through the whole film smoothly in a matter of only a few weeks, over Christmas, when you get several weeks off anyway,” Brad insisted.
Zaira became more alarmed as he bandied about big Hollywood names for the two male leads. Even though they had never heard of her, most aspiring young actors would have given anything to be in a Clarke film, and the diehard Hollywood stars weren’t far behind in trying to wangle an audition.
Brad put them all off as diplomatically as possible, however, for it was obvious he was reluctant to make a journey back to California if it meant leaving Zaira alone.
“Really, Brad, you ought to go, I’ll be fine,” Zaira said for the hundredth time, as yet another phone call came through about the two parts.
“I'm happy here, with what I'm doing at the university and with you. I don’t fancy getting caught up in all the Hollywood swirl again just at the minute. We will finish the Hamlet, then have a bit of a rest. I refuse to jump at Wyman’s beck and call, and go running back to LA. He can handle it all until I'm ready to go back. It is, after all, what we pay him for.”
“If that’s what you want, fine. But maybe you really should go. I would never try to hold you back from your career, darling,” Zaira sought to reassure him, uneasy at the thought of Jonathan handling all the Studio’s important business while Cormac was away in England.
“I know that, and I certainly could never accuse you of holding me back! In fact, you've made me what I am now, thanks to your book and your love. If it hadn’t been for you, none of this would be happening now. This is going to be the biggest boost my career has ever had, and I have you to thank for that,” Brad murmured, before kissing her passionately as they walked to the theatre on their way to their performance.
“And you've made this Hamlet possible,” Zaira sighed. “God, I hope nothing goes wrong.”
“It’ll be wonderful. It has a fantastic director, so I hear,” Brad teased.
“I wish I could be as confident as you are,” Zaira laughed, squeezing his hand.
“When I’m standing next to you, I feel I could take on the world,” Brad vowed, and kissed her once more before disappearing into the changing rooms.
The other plays in the competition had already been seen by the judges, and Zaira had a sinking feeling that being the last production in the Festival was actually going to put them at a disadvantage. They would be judged more harshly for having had more rehearsal time, and surely it could not have gone unnoticed that the world-famous director Brad Clarke was involved in the play. Many judges would probably reckon it wasn’t an amateur production at all, but Zaira for one didn’t care. She knew they were all good, and even if they didn’t win, it had been a fabulous experience for everyone.
Zaira felt her competitive streak grow as the woman playing Gertrude the Queen was openly flirting with Brad backstage. Her nerves were already at fever pitch, but seeing the man she loved being caressed by another predatory female was more than she could stand. She issued last minute instructions with a voice that could have cut glass, and her grey eyes glittered like stones. She took a deep breath to steady herself, and then the curtain rose.
The performance went like clockwork. Everyone was word-perfect, and the costumes, make-up, and lighting were as professional as anything she had seen on Broadway.
The desire and longing crackled between Zaira and Brad in their scenes together, and Zaira was the picture of despair as the mad Ophelia, pining away for the man she loved.
But worse than having to perform on stage was being forced to sit in the wings, issuing last minute instructions and advice, and praying all would go smoothly. Zaira could barely take her eyes off Brad, and her heart turned over every time he spoke. His deep voice thrilled her, and the sight of him in the duel scene was enough to set her quivering with barely suppressed desire.
Zaira loved Brad body and soul. He possessed her life so completely, she could scarcely remember what her life had been like without him. She felt the urge to pinch herself, to convince herself it was all real, not just a dream. The tears welled up in her eyes as Brad played his death scene for all it was worth, and suddenly the play was over.
Zaira blinked with the tears shimmering in her eyes, and the house lights were coming on full, as the audience broke into rapturous applause and calls of "Bravo!" Brad came backstage for her, and led her by the hand to take her curtain calls as both Ophelia and director.
Zaira was stunned with the volume and length of the applause, and the roar that went up when she was made to take a bow by herself.
Then Brad and the others came back on stage, and Brad shouted to her above the din, “I think we’ve done it.”
Zaira shook her head, and said, “Impossible,” but Brad merely smil
ed and said, “I’ll bet you anything.”
The standing ovation continued for several minutes more, until Zaira was convinced she was going to melt under the spotlights.
Finally they were able to get off stage, but only briefly, for several photographers arrived to take individual shots, and some of the whole group. Zaira lost sight of Brad in the throng, and went backstage on her own to change into her midnight blue cocktail dress.
She gratefully removed the wig and shook out her hair, and then carefully removed her greasepaint.
In a way Zaira wished that she and Brad could just disappear, be alone together somewhere, but it wouldn’t be fair on the others. They would all have to go up to the university club to await the announcement of the winners, and congratulate and commiserate after that. Zaira resigned herself to an evening of polite conversation, and disappointment not untinged with pride. They had been damned good, if even if she did say so herself.
She idly wondered who would win the competition, as she waited for Brad in the foyer. He soon came out, looking freshly showered and grinning from ear to ear.
“It was brilliant! Did you here that applause? I think I could get used to doing more work for the stage, if it gives me such a buzz,” Brad said, as he lifted her and spun her around and around before kissing her until she was breathless.
“Brad, put me down!” Zaira giggled, as he lifted her higher up into the air on her shoulders as though she weighed nothing, and said to the others, “I give you the best director of the evening, Zaira Darcy!”
Everyone cried, “Here, here!”
The cast crammed themselves into several waiting taxis, and sped to the university club to get in a few drinks before all the other people arrived for the awards ceremony.
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