At the airport in California, John shot Carrin a reproachful look. She apologised, and he forgave her with a grin. They drove to Mark's Beverly Hills mansion, where she would stay until the wedding. Mark's secretary had been hard at work, and the wedding was set for the following weekend. All that remained was for Carrin to choose a wedding dress. For this, Mark sent her to one of the best fashion houses in the state. From the magnificent collection, she chose a simple dress of white satin and lace, forgoing ruffles and puffed sleeves for sleek elegance. The long lace sleeves hooked onto her middle finger, the heavy veil hid her face, and the train swept the ground with gleaming cloth.
Mark presented her with a string of pearls, and she marvelled at how he always knew exactly what to get. Her nerves grew frayed as the day approached, and the photographers that followed her around made it worse. Olivia was a tremendous support, but Carrin was glad when her family arrived two days before the ceremony.
Mark housed them in two of his many guest rooms, and Julia tried to act like a film star. Mark took Paul to a tailor, and Simon dragged them to a stag party that Mark did not want. Carrin saw little of him until the day before the wedding. He spent a lot of time at the studio with Warren and Harold, editing the film. When he was around, he treated her with gentle affection, but held to a strict hands-off policy.
Deadly Games premiered on the night before the wedding, and Mark explained that only a select audience of celebrities and movie critics would watch it. It was not due for release to the public for another three months, and would be edited and re-cut according to the findings of this sample audience. The write-ups it got on this night would go a long way to deciding its fate. Carrin was nervous about it for the first time, wondering what sort of reception it would get. Was her screenplay good enough? Were her characters deep and her plot solid? The more she thought about it, the more anxious she became.
Mark wandered into her room to find her sitting on the bed, staring at the wall and wringing her hands. He sat beside her and trapped her wrestling fingers, holding them.
"Hey, relax, it's a great film."
She turned to him. "What if it's a flop? What if they don't like it?"
"They will, believe me. I know what they like, and I've seen most of it in the cutting room. It's good."
She slumped. "I hope you're right."
"I am. We even managed to make Janice look good, and that was no mean feat, I can tell you."
Carrin giggled. "You mean she's still in it?"
"Just barely. We made it look like it's her character. You know, a woman who never shows any emotion. Harold was quite pleased with the effect. After all, it suits a female assassin."
"Yes, I suppose it would," she agreed, buoyed by his confidence.
"It's time we were going, are you ready?"
Carrin glanced down at her figure-hugging black dress, a simple creation that flowed when she moved. With it, she wore the diamond collar with the fire opals and strappy black high-heels. A glance in the mirror assured her that her make-up looked okay, and she nodded.
"I think so."
He smiled and kissed her on the forehead. "You look stunning."
Carrin studied him, wishing that she had not destroyed all the drawings she had done. Still, it would be great fun doing more, and from the real live subject. She wondered how good he was at sitting still.
"You don't look so bad yourself, Mr Lord."
"One day you're going to explain that to me."
She laughed. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I would say, on the strength of several million female fans, that you're the one who's blind."
"It's a pity my mother didn't think so when she dumped me on the orphanage steps."
Carrin stared at him. Far from having a bloated ego, Mark actually suffered from an inferiority complex, she realised. It was a legacy of believing himself unwanted all his life. He rose, looking a little embarrassed, and walked away a few steps to face her from the middle of the room.
"I've always dreamt that one day she'd come looking for me. You know, rock up on my doorstep and say, 'Hey, I'm your mother!'." He smiled and shook his head. "Pretty dumb, huh? She didn't want me then, and she never will. I guess she also doesn't need any of the things I could give her." He turned away with a sigh.
Carrin's heart ached, and she wondered why Olivia had not told him the truth about his mother. Well, that was something that she could rectify.
"Your mother didn't abandon you, Mark. She died giving birth to you."
He swung to stare at her. "How do you know that?"
"Olivia told me. She tried to find your parents for you."
He returned to sit beside her. "What else do you know?"
"Only that she was very young."
"Who abandoned me?"
Carrin hesitated. "Your grandparents. They're dead now."
"And my father?"
"No one knows who he was."
Mark frowned at the floor, deep in thought. She watched him, hoping that telling him the truth was the right thing to do. He had a right to know, after all. Perhaps it would make him feel better about himself.
She added, "So you see, she didn't hate the sight of you. She never saw you."
Mark rubbed his face. "I should have tried to find out for myself. I had this stupid, stubborn idea that she was the one who should look for me, since she abandoned me."
"How would she have known? Your name isn't the same, is it?"
"Actually it is. It's the only thing that came with me. I had a label tied around my neck. Mark Sebastian Quinton Lord is my original name."
Carrin put her arms around him. "I'm sure that if she had lived, she would have loved you, and been proud of you."
"That was one of the reasons I wanted to be famous, to prove to her that I was worth something, and not a piece of garbage to be dumped on the steps of an orphanage."
She stroked his hair. "Your grandparents probably couldn't afford to raise a baby, and they were grieving for their daughter too. She was their only child. They gave you a name."
He nodded, staring at the floor a little longer, then turned to smile at her. "Thanks for telling me."
"It makes you feel better?"
"Yeah. I wish I'd found out myself, now." He glanced at his watch. "We're going to be late."
Jumping up, he pulled her to her feet. She glimpsed the sadness in his eyes, and knew that he had not brushed the matter aside. He would have to deal with it in his own way, there was no more that she could do or say. After a lifetime of hoping that one day his mother would seek him out, he would have to get used to the idea that she never would. At the same time, at least now he knew that he had not been unwanted. That cruel twist of fate had instilled in him a great passion to succeed, and had made him who he was. Now he had nothing to prove to anyone but himself.
Carrin walked beside him to the waiting car, and all the way to the venue she marvelled at how stunning he looked in his black tuxedo. The press was out in force to snap pictures of the celebrities attending the premier. A cheer went up when Mark stepped from the car, since he was not only a star, but also the leading man. He smiled and waved as he guided her through the barrage of flashing lights, sidestepping reporters in his path. He stopped briefly to answer some questions, then they went inside.
An usher showed Mark and Carrin to a balcony where Warren, Harold and all the important people from the film sat with their wives or dates. Janice had brought Simon, and Mark sat next to him with Carrin on the other side. He held her hand as the lights dimmed. Dramatic music reverberated around the theatre, and the titles appeared against a black backdrop. First was the studio's trademark, then a couple of distributors, followed by Mark's name, and the title in crimson splashes, like blood. After that came Janice's name, then the directors and producers, one of whom was Mark. Carrin grinned as her name appeared in large letters as 'written by' and again as 'screenplay by'. She looked at Mark, who chuckled.
"You got more titles than me."
"No, you got two as well."
He smiled. "I guess so. But being a producer only means that you spent a lot of money on it."
The first scene started, and they settled back. The close resemblance of the film to what Carrin had imagined amazed her. Except for a few angles and backdrops, it was perfect. After his reluctant agreement to do the job, Jason Talbot's relentless pursuit of his quarry was unsuccessful. He fought the Mafia men who were sent to protect Sheena Marshall, and his knack for appearing at the wrong moment foiled her attempts to accomplish her mission.
Finally, he chased her into the desert, where they came to blows. Although he won the fight, he could not bring himself to kill her. Instead, he tied her up and returned to the city, hoping to claim his money and use it to hide her. His plan went awry, and he was forced to protect his former target. They fell in love, and Carrin's heart sank as scene twenty-eight started. She watched it for a minute, then closed her eyes, unable to stomach the sight of Mark in Janice's arms.
A touch on her chin startled her, and she opened her eyes to find Mark leaning towards her. He pulled her closer and kissed her for the duration of the scene, which must have lasted a good five minutes. When he released her, the next scene had started, and she was flushed and breathless.
"Did that help?" he murmured.
She nodded. "I think you'll have to do that every time I have to sit through one of your sex scenes."
He chuckled. "I'll have to start making blue movies then."
Carrin giggled, and he sat back. Jason Talbot tried to persuade the Mafia don to let Sheena live, but he refused, and Jason killed the don himself. The final scene ended with the last ringing gunshot, followed by a close-up of Jason's sorrowful face as he watched his beloved father figure die, then the credits rolled. The lights came on, and thunderous applause arose from the audience. The people on the balcony had to take a bow as the audience gave them a standing ovation.
Mark muttered, "Told you so."
Carrin grinned, too happy for words. If this reaction was anything to go by, the movie would be a success. They went to a hall where snacks and drinks were served, and Carrin's family joined them, gazing around in awe at the throng of celebrities. They had watched the film from the lower galleries, since all the seats on Mark's balcony were reserved for cast members, producers and directors. Many people, mostly his peers, came over to congratulate Mark and Carrin. She shook hands with people whom she had never dreamt to meet, and their complimentary remarks delighted her. She would have liked to stay longer, but after a few hours, Mark led her to the door.
"We've got a big day tomorrow, or have you forgotten?"
They ran the gauntlet flashing cameras to the car and sank into its plush interior as the door shut out the lights and shouted questions. At the house, Mark offered her a nightcap, and they wandered outside to enjoy the cool night air. Mark leant on the balustrade and gazed up at the stars.
"Well, tomorrow's the big day."
She nodded. "Unless one of us chickens out."
Mark looked at her sharply. "Planning to?"
"No, but you might be."
He smiled. "Never. I'll be waiting at the altar, but you'd better come waltzing down that aisle, or... "
"Or what?"
"I'll hunt you down and drag you to it, kicking and screaming."
She giggled. "I've given you such a hard time, I thought by now you'd have had enough."
"Is that why you did it?"
"No, you know why."
Mark nodded, swirling the liquid in his glass and listening to the music of the ice. "Tomorrow night you'll have no more doubts, I promise."
"You don't have to prove anything to me."
"You believe me?" He sounded incredulous, and shame flooded her. Either he was the most consummate conman in the world, or she had been mistreating a wonderful person. She had already decided on the latter, and hated all the suspicions and doubts that she had harboured.
"Yes."
Mark swept her up in his arms and spun around. Carrin clung to him laughing, and his husky mirth made her heart swell with joy. He looked down at her with a broad grin, revealing perfect white teeth. He looked fifteen years younger without the serious look that he usually wore, and it was indeed a schoolboy grin, which banished his brooding, dangerous look. No one looked less like a villain than Mark Lord at that moment. He swung her around again and put her down, then pulled her close and kissed her.
"You've just made me the happiest man on Earth."
Carrin studied his smiling countenance, fascinated by how young and boyish he looked now. She ran her fingers down his cheek, tracing the sculptured bones and sensitive mouth. Meeting his eyes, she looked deep into their dark depths.
"I love you."
He nodded and kissed her brow. "I know."
"Was I that transparent?"
"You're a lousy actress, and an even worse liar. I've known since you held my hand in the ambulance."
"You were unconscious."
"Not quite. It was like a dream, which I only remembered when I woke up, and there you were at my bedside."
She smiled. "Well, I had you fooled for quite a while, then."
"Yeah? How long?"
"Since before I even met you."
He laughed. "How the hell did you manage that?"
"I saw you."
He held her close, stroking her hair. "The first time I saw you, I felt like a mule had kicked me between the eyes."
"That must have hurt."
"Somewhat."
"Couldn't have been pleasant."
"Not very."
She giggled. "You certainly didn't show it."
"I'm an actor, remember? But it was hard to hide the way my knees were knocking together."
"You're exaggerating."
"Just a little. I can't even remember all the rubbish I babbled. Something about pools, wasn't it?" His smile faded. "I've never been so terrified in all my life, apart from when you stole the Lotus."
"Of me?"
"I found myself spouting rubbish, and would have kicked myself if I could have. Then you snapped at me about the pool being warm and I knew I'd met my match. From then on, I felt like a teenager trying to impress his first date, and failing miserably."
Carrin pulled a face. "But you had Jenna."
"I had already invited her, but I was so jealous of Simon I wanted to deck him when he smiled at you. I was so afraid that you'd prefer him. After all, he's far more handsome."
"Ugh, yes, if you like the blond Adonis type."
"Which I'm very glad you didn't." He chuckled. "Poor Simon."
"So that was why you were so upset when I wouldn't go out with you."
"Upset?" He snorted. "I was devastated. You kept looking at me like I was the slime monster from some cheap horror movie, and I couldn't figure out why. Unless, of course, you thought I was ugly, which I dreaded."
"Who could anyone ever think that you're ugly? When I saw you in the movies, even playing a villain, I thought you were the most beautiful man ever, and you are. That's why I drew you. That's why I wrote Deadly Games for you." She paused. "I just wanted to meet you, and be near you, as your friend. My dream was that we would fall in love and get married, but I knew you were far out of my reach. So I just wanted to stay friends, that way we would always be together. I knew that if we became lovers you'd get tired of me -"
"Never," he growled.
"But I didn't know that then. When you took me out, I was afraid that you'd seduce me, and my dream of being friends would die with an affair. Relationships destroy friendships."
"Only if they fail."
She nodded. "But I couldn't believe you'd ever look at me as anything other than a temporary distraction - a cheap fling. Superstars marry other stars or supermodels, not someone like me. I wanted to keep the friendship instead, that way I wouldn't lose you."
Mark stroked her cheek, his eyes roaming over her face. "I understand. Those matches are often made in Hol
lywood. Generally, people like me follow the trend and do what's expected, then regret it. A marriage based on mutual popularity and financial status is doomed from the start. The public love it though. They think it's so romantic when two stars marry, and sometimes it is. More often it's not, and within a couple of years they can't stand each other anymore." He smiled. "Well, I'm not that desperate for publicity, so I'll marry the girl of my dreams, who conveniently invited herself into my life by writing me a movie script."
Carrin hugged him, and his arms enfolded her. A dream come true.
He murmured, "I'm still going to prove it to you."
"There's no need."
"I want to. I don't ever want you to doubt me again. Unfortunately, in my line of work, there are many situations that might hurt you if you weren't completely sure of me."
She pulled away a little to look into his eyes. "Like what?"
Mark shook his head. "I'm not sure I should tell you until you've got my ring on your finger."
"Tell me."
"You're not being fair. You know I can't say no to you."
"Good."
"Well, there are love scenes that I'll have to do with some very attractive actresses." He smiled as she pulled a face. "Then there are the rumours. As you know, Hollywood's full of them. The press love to insinuate that a star's involved with his leading lady, and sometimes it's true. Then there are the fans. I receive a lot of love letters from women I've never met, and there are actresses who'll try to be photographed in compromising situations with me, while others will make false claims to the press. Shall I go on?"
She shook her head. "No, I've heard enough. Forewarned is forearmed. I won't believe any of it, I promise."
"After we're married, you won't have any doubts about me."
Carrin pulled him close, and he responded to her kiss with a passion that made tingles shoot through her like little electric shocks. Sweeping her up in his arms, he carried her up the staircase. To her disappointment, he deposited her outside her room, opened the door and swatted her on the backside.
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