The Rich List Series: Contemporary Romance Box Set (Millionaire, Billionaire, CEO)

by Hunter, Talia

  Maybe Sandy was right and he should be thanking Ally. If she’d really been who she’d pretended, they probably would have found a way to keep seeing each other, and his performance as Thomas would most likely have been good enough. But now, the camera was picking up a yearning in him that he couldn’t have hidden if he tried. He wasn’t acting a devotion he didn’t feel — it was all too real.

  The realization was like a jolt of lightening. Sandy must have seen it in his face, because she stared at him from the door of her trailer, her mouth slightly parted.

  Max pulled himself together. He needed to think about this, but not in front of Sandy. She was a good friend, but some things a man needed to process alone. “I’ll consider reading Ally’s stories,” he said slowly. Then he grimaced, making an effort to lighten the tone again. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a sense of perspective to extract from somewhere unmentionable.”

  Sandy snickered. “I’m glad you’re going to give her a chance. If she’s even part of the reason you’re this good at playing Thomas, she deserves some credit. If you don’t win some fancy awards for your performance in Mastery, I’ll be disappointed.” She went to shut the door of her trailer, then paused to wink. “And if you end up taking her to all the award shows instead of me, I’ll be even more disappointed. I get to be your date to at least one of them, okay?”

  Max grinned. “Actually, I thought I’d take one of the rabbits. You know, the ones I can pull from my ass?”

  Sandy stuck her tongue out at him before she shut the door.

  13

  Ally sipped her coffee and craned her neck to see past the barriers blocking off the wide L.A. street. She’d almost finished her second cup and thought she’d probably need at least one more before noon. A combination of jet lag and nerves had kept her awake all night and she’d dragged herself up before dawn. She’d wanted plenty of time to find the right street and make sure she didn’t miss anything.

  As early as she’d arrived, she hadn’t been there long before the road crew had set up their barriers and the trucks started pulling up. How much equipment did it take to shoot one film scene? Judging by the number of trucks collected at one end of the street, they had enough lights and equipment for the entire movie.

  She’d waited patiently while the set turned into a flurry of activity with crew swarming in and out of the trucks and setting up gear. But the morning was wearing on and there was no sign of Max yet, or anyone who looked like they might be a member of Mastery’s cast.

  Ally took a big swig of her coffee. She squared her shoulders before walking casually over to a man in uniform, guarding the barrier.

  “Hi,” she said brightly. “Isn’t this exciting? Are they setting up for a movie shoot?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She widened her eyes, beaming him a giant smile. “I’m here on holiday, visiting from Australia, and I’d be so excited to see a celebrity.” She lowered her voice. “Can you tell me if anyone famous is going to be shooting here today? If I stick around, will I get to spot a movie star?”

  He shook his head. “Just location shots today, I’m afraid. Scene setting. No actors needed in the footage they’re taking.”

  What? Oh crap!

  Ally kept her dismay from showing on her face, and forced her smile not to slip. “Oh well,” she managed. “Do you know where the actors will be shooting? On a movie set somewhere around here?”

  “Closed set, ma’am, that’s all I can say. Ever since 9/11, the studios tend to get twitchy if word leaks out where their big stars are going to be.”

  “You can’t even give me a hint? I won’t tell anyone.”

  “If you want to see behind the scenes, I recommend the Universal tour. I’ve taken my nephew four times, and he can’t get enough of King Kong. Some of the other studios run tours too, like Paramount and Warner. You can check them out online.”

  “But will I get to see any actual movies being shot?” she asked desperately.

  He shook his head. “Afraid not.”

  She wanted to scream, not say, “Thank you,” in a polite voice. Now what? Surely her trip wouldn’t be for nothing?

  Ally loitered out of view until the security guard she’d spoken to went for a break, then tried her most charming smile on the crew who were setting up the shots. Nobody would tell her anything.

  What on earth could she do? How could she find Max?

  She sat on a bench to rack her brains for an answer, and was blinking back tears of despair when a thought struck her. Maybe some of the crew working on location would be back working on the main set tomorrow? So all she had to do was follow one of them, and they’d lead her to it.

  But that was crazy. Was she really considering tailing a stranger like they did in the movies? What was she going to do, jump in a cab and yell, ‘Follow that car’?

  Ally smiled grimly to herself. She’d turn into a stalker to track down Max. Let’s face it, what wouldn’t she do? She’d already spent sixteen hours crammed into an airline seat, and last night she’d checked into the cheapest fleabag motel she could find. The sheets had been stained, and were probably crawling with lice, so how much worse could it be to risk arrest on a stalking charge?

  If Max didn’t turn up today, she wouldn’t quit until she found him. She refused to leave L.A. before she got a chance to talk to him.

  * * *

  “Say it again,” said Max, his throat suddenly tight. He pressed his cell phone hard to his ear so he wouldn’t miss a single word.

  “Jack Jacobson said you’ll be even better than O’Toole. His exact words.” Walter’s voice wasn’t nearly as much of a growl as usual. In fact, he sounded positively cheerful. “After watching the Mastery footage, he couldn’t say yes fast enough.”

  “Thanks to you,” said Max. Without the benefit of Walter’s connections, nobody would have seen the Mastery footage this early. It was totally raw, not even a first cut done yet, and normally it would have been kept under tight wraps. Walter might have been wrong about Ally, but he was still the best in the business.

  “You did good, kid. Hope you like riding camels.” Walter chuckled. Yeah, that was definitely a chuckle. Max wished he’d recorded it because nobody who knew Walter would ever believe it.

  Max managed to keep calm enough to talk sensibly about the contract and time line, but once he hung up from their call, he whooped and punched the air. He’d done it, he’d gotten his dream role. Thanks to Ally.

  He looked around his quiet apartment, wishing it wasn’t a rest day and he was at the set, so there could have been people around to share the news and celebrate with.

  Ally would be thrilled for him. He let himself imagine her excited laughter for a moment, then pushed the mental image away. Stop thinking about Ally.

  He’d tell Sandy and the others tomorrow, and they’d go for a drink after the day’s shooting had wrapped. In the meantime he could call the youth center.

  “I got some good news,” he said when Mrs. B answered the phone. “I’ve been offered the leading role in a remake of Lawrence of Arabia.”

  “Oh Max, that’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you.”

  “I wanted to share the news with someone who’d understand what it means to me.” Someone other than Ally.

  There was a pause, and Max grimaced. Mrs. B knew him too well and the hollow tone in his words must have come through loud and clear. Sure enough, she said, “You don’t sound quite as happy as I would have thought.”

  “I am,” he protested. Yeah, he was overjoyed to have gotten the role. And he’d be ecstatic once he managed to get Ally out of his head. If only Sandy hadn’t suggested he read her damn stories. So far he’d resisted the urge, but it was one more thing to keep thinking about, not that he’d find anything in them that would soften her betrayal.

  No, he had to forget about Ally. She was in Australia, and he was too busy with the shoot to give in to stupid fantasies. They’d had their chance together and now it was over. Time to move on
.

  “How about that lovely lady you were seeing?” asked Mrs. B, as though she’d read his mind. “Have you two made up yet?”

  Max gritted his teeth. First Sandy, and now Mrs. B? “It’s better if I don’t see her again. Not after what she did.”

  “Max, I know you’re a grown man, but I’ll always think of you as a teenager, so you’ll forgive me if I butt in to give you a little advice?”

  “I have a feeling I won’t like it, but go ahead, Mrs. B.”

  “When you arrived at the center, it was obvious you were carrying a lot of guilt over your mother’s death. You were weighed down with it, and over the years I watched you gradually shed that weight.”

  Max frowned. “What are you saying?”

  “Though you wouldn’t talk about it, I thought you must have blamed yourself for what happened to your mother. Maybe you said or did something you regretted, and that’s why you felt so guilty. But there are some things you can’t take back, no matter how much you might want to. All you can do is move on. It took you a long time to forgive yourself, didn’t it Max? But eventually you had to accept you made a mistake, that you were only human, like we all are. Nobody’s perfect, Max. But forgiveness is a part of love. You can’t have one without the other.”

  “You think I should forgive Ally? But how could I ever trust her again?”

  “Well, you’re not happy without her, that’s obvious. She made a mistake, but can’t you find a way to get past it? Seems to me there’s only one person standing in the way of you having everything you want.”

  “Maybe I miss her,” admitted Max. “But that doesn’t mean we could make things work.”

  Mrs. B heaved a loud sigh. “Lord, but you’ve always been so stubborn.”

  Max grinned. “It’s part of my charm,” he agreed.

  * * *

  Ally waited until the man she’d been following had parked his car and was headed away from her on foot, before she paid the driver and slid out of the cab. The man crossed the road toward a giant building surrounded by a high chain link fence. That had to be the movie set. It didn’t look very glamorous. She’d have thought it was a warehouse or factory, except for the security guard sitting at the gate about halfway down the driveway.

  The man talked briefly to the guard before continuing to the building. She tried unsuccessfully to brush some of the dirt off her clothes. Yesterday she’d followed the main cameraman when he'd left the day’s shoot, praying he’d go to the film set afterward rather than heading home. No such luck, but at least he hadn’t lived too far away, or she might not have been able to afford the taxi fare.

  She’d spent the whole night in the bushes outside his house, cold and miserably uncomfortable. Her hair was a tangled mess, her teeth were furry, and she longed for a hot shower. But it would all be worth it if she found where Max was shooting. All she had to do was confirm that this was the right place, and then she’d go back to her hotel and get cleaned up. She wasn’t about to let him see her looking like this.

  It was a quiet street with not much traffic, and the L.A. sun was already fierce, even though it was still early. Ally crept down the driveway toward the security guard, trying to think of what to say that didn’t make her sound like a crazed fan. He hadn’t spotted her yet and she tried to comb her hair with her fingers. Crap, was that a twig caught in it? Any minute the guard would turn and see someone who looked like they’d spent all night in a bush. Did she really think he’d tell her what she needed to know?

  “Can I help you?”

  Ally turned to see a beautiful woman studying her. The woman was also headed toward the gate, but Ally hadn’t heard her approach.

  “Ah.” Ally swallowed. Could she feel any more disheveled next to the woman’s designer dress and high heels? She gathered her courage and lifted her chin. “My name’s Ally Dennis and I’m looking for the Mastery shoot. I need to talk to Max Oberon.” She remembered the way her inbox had been filled with emails from women propositioning Max. “I know him,” she added quickly. “I mean, I’m not some crazy woman.” She gave a rueful smile, pushing back a strand of wayward hair and tucking it behind her ear. “Even if I look that way.”

  The woman raised her eyebrows. “You’re Ally?”

  Ally nodded, her hopes lifting. “You must know Max then?”

  The woman cocked her head sideways. “If you’re really Ally, tell me something about Max that will prove you know him.”

  “Sure.” She racked her brain. She knew all sorts of intimate details about Max, but he wouldn’t thank her for blurting out any secrets about his mother, his childhood, or how he got the scar across his belly. And she really hoped this gorgeous woman didn’t know Max well enough to have seen the small birthmark on his otherwise perfectly smooth butt cheek. “Um. Max started acting at a youth center in Sydney.” That wasn’t too personal, surely? “He’s a neat freak who washes the dishes before he eats, and he doesn’t like breakfast in bed because of the crumbs.” Well, he hadn’t liked breakfast in bed before, but Ally hoped she might have convinced him of its merits.

  The woman grinned. “It’s nice to meet you, Ally. I’m Sandy, Max’s costar.” She motioned Ally to walk with her past the guard. “It’s all right, Bill, she’s a friend of Max’s.”

  Ally huffed out a big sigh of relief and rushed through the gate, not daring to look at the guard in case he protested. “You have no idea what I’ve been through to find him. Is he here?”

  “He’ll be getting ready, no doubt. They’re shooting early this morning, and they’ll need him right away. I’ll take you in.”

  Ally’s stomach was suddenly full of jitters. Now that she’d tracked Max down, she had to decide what she’d say to him, figure out how she could convince him to forgive her. She never imagined she’d have to do it covered in dirt.

  “Sandy, is there somewhere I could clean up first?”

  “You can use my trailer. Come on, I’ll show you where it is.”

  14

  Max had finished in wardrobe and makeup, and was waiting in his trailer until someone came to tell him they were ready for him on set. His script sat beside him on the tiny desk wedged in next to the trailer’s narrow bed, but instead of reading through his lines, he opened his laptop.

  If only Sandy hadn’t told him to read Ally’s stories, maybe he could have stopped thinking about her. But it had been nagging at him since then. Surely if he read them, he’d be able to move on.

  What was Ally’s blog called? Liaison, that’s right. He found the stories and clicked on the first one.

  Here goes. How I Mastered Max Oberon: Part One. Ally, I really hate that title, for a start.

  The article began with a description of Ally rushing into her sister’s sex store and meeting Max for the first time. Ally described him in complimentary terms, he’d give her that. And she was a good writer. Reading her article, he could hear her saying the words out loud. The lilt of her speech, the way she paused to think, her deep, distinctive laugh when something struck her as funny. Yeah, her personality shone through every sentence, as though she were in the room with him.

  Hell, he missed her. When would it stop hurting so badly?

  Max closed his eyes for a moment, unable to keep reading. This had been a terrible idea. He was ripping open an already gaping wound. He’d never get a chance to heal unless he forced her out of his damn head, and this wasn’t the way to do it.

  His hand hovered over the lid of the laptop, but he couldn’t close it. He had to finish the story to be able to move on. Reading it would make him angry all over again, so it would be easier to forget her.

  Max gritted his teeth and read the next bit that described Ally coming to his hotel room. It was strange reading it from her point of view, but at least she made him sound like a gentleman instead of an idiot who’d been easily fooled, or a sex-crazed lecher. Although that impression would probably only last until he got up to the part where he’d knelt and enjoyed watching her touch herself. He wasn’
t sure he could stomach reading about that.

  Only… that part wasn’t there. He read the end again to be sure. She’d only sketchily described their rehearsal, and finished by saying she’d gotten the job. Where was the bit that would have had her readers salivating? Why had she cut it out?

  Max shook his head. He shouldn’t be so pleased she’d left out the most personal part, because it didn’t change anything, not really. She’d still lied to him, even if the article made it clear why she needed the money.

  Just because she’d felt guilty enough that she’d refrained from properly screwing him over, didn’t mean she wasn’t at fault. And it seemed he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Glancing at some of the comments at the bottom of the blog – hell, there were hundreds of them – told him at least some of her readership agreed that she shouldn’t have taken the job under false pretenses.

  His gaze drifted down and stopped on a number of short comments, grouped together and all posted by ‘anonymous’.

  Ally, you’re a whore and a talentless bitch. I’ll teach you to walk away from me, slut. Eat shit and die, then burn in hell where you belong. You think I don’t know where you live? You think I won’t come to remind you what a real man can do?

  Max stopped breathing. Ally’s ex-boyfriend, it had to be. Why didn’t Ally tell him the guy was this crazy, that he was out to get her? Shit. What if he did what he was threatening and broke into Ally’s house? What if there was nobody around to help her?

  Max snatched up his cell phone and dialed Ally’s number. It seemed to ring forever, then clicked to her voice mail, and her familiar voice told him in far too calm a tone to leave a message.

  He gripped the phone tight. “Ally, call me right away when you get this message. And get out of your house, okay? Go stay in a hotel, or even better, go straight to the police and tell them to arrest your ex.”