Superstar

by Southwell, T C

  "We've waited this long, we'll wait another night," he said, shaking his head when she turned to him. "Go to sleep. It's a big day tomorrow."

  Carrin fought the urge to drag him into her room. She was pretty sure that she could seduce him if she tried, but then they would get no sleep, and she did not want to look weary on her wedding day. Tomorrow night, she promised herself, there would be no more excuses.

  Olivia woke her the next morning, bustling into her room and pulling open the curtains.

  "Wake up; it's a beautiful day for a wedding."

  Sunshine bathed the garden outside, and Carrin smiled as she sat up and hugged her knees. Today, her dream would finally come true in all its unbelievable glory. She bathed and ate a light breakfast, although her stomach quivered with excitement. The fashion house arrived at ten o'clock to fit her dress. A score of helpers and designers flooding in to tuck, tug and sew. They made last-minute adjustments and discussed little additions that were added or rejected. As she was undergoing the clucking chief designer's final tugging and tucking, Carrin's mother came in and shooed them out. Mrs York looked lovely in a lacy peach creation that Mark had insisted she should have. She gave her daughter an appraising look and nodded.

  "You'll do."

  Olivia gasped. "She'll do? She looks absolutely incredible."

  "That's what I meant."

  Olivia snorted and rearranged the folds of Carrin's veil.

  Mrs York smiled. "Where are you going for the honeymoon?"

  "To the ranch first, then we'll fly to Spain for a week at his villa. We might spend some time cruising on his yacht, if I don't get seasick." Carrin smiled. "Mark doesn't plan to make another movie for at least a couple of years, so we're going to have a long honeymoon."

  "Sounds wonderful."

  "Oh, mom, it is, isn't it?" Carrin went her mother and hugged her, and Olivia clucked about messing up her dress. Carrin added, "I hope we can start a family before the honeymoon's over. I want a little boy who looks just like him."

  "Of course you do." Her mother chuckled. "And he probably wants a daughter who looks just like you. But, all things being equal, you'll have children who look like both of you."

  "He's going to be a terrific father."

  "He'll probably spoil them rotten."

  "I don't care. When he starts working again, I'll be with him on location, kids and all."

  Mrs York sighed. "Sounds like you've got it all planned."

  "I've dreamt about it for ages, and now it's all coming true, just like a fairy tale."

  Her mother blinked. "They do sometimes, when you find the right man."

  "I have."

  Julia entered, radiant in a salmon pink bride's maid's dress and flushed with excitement.

  "Come on, the car's waiting."

  Paul met her at the bottom of the stairs. He looked dashing in his new suit, and his eyes widened at the sight of his sister. Olivia handed Carrin her bouquet of white orchids, and they went out to the ribbon-decked limousine. John grinned and winked as she slid in with Paul, and the rest of the bride's party entered another limousine. On the way to the church, Paul gave her a pep talk about the joys of marriage that she really did not need. She was not nervous about marrying Mark, only terrified of doing something wrong, like fluffing her lines during the ceremony or tripping over her hem and falling flat on her face on her way up the aisle.

  Only a few hired photographers and cameramen waited at the church to record the event for her and Mark’s private viewing. Most of the cameramen she recognised from the movie, and waved to them, receiving warm smiles. The paparazzi had evidently been banned, but helicopters buzzed overhead, and she did not doubt that telephoto lenses were trained on her and cameras clicked. Olivia and Mrs York came over to straighten, brush, tug and cluck over Carrin's dress as she got out of the car. Finally, she took Paul's arm and walked into the church.

  Flowers filled it with heady scent and bright colour. Rows of well-known faces lined the aisle, smiling encouragement. The music seemed to carry her to the dark-haired man who waited at the altar, a blond giant beside him. The wedding ceremony drifted around her as she gazed into Mark's eyes, and he slipped a simple gold band onto her finger beside her engagement ring. She did the same for him, and he held her hands as the last words were pronounced, then lifted the veil and kissed her.

  The music rose again as they left the church, and they paused on the steps for a photo-op. Confetti and rice bombarded them as they ran to the limousine, now covered with spray-painted pronouncements of their new status.

  On the drive back to the mansion, Mark held her hand and smiled whenever she looked at him. Carrin's heart did little flip-flops each time her eyes met his, hardly able to believe that he was now her husband.

  He fiddled with his ring. "I'll have to take this off sometimes."

  She shot him a puzzled look. "Why?"

  "When I make movies, silly. Don't give me that look."

  Carrin smiled. "I wasn't being suspicious."

  "You sounded it. Boy, am I going to have fun teasing you. You always fall for it."

  "I don't!"

  "Do too."

  At the house, a smiling Rita waited with the bevy of maids who would serve the reception guests. Mark took Carrin's hand when she tried to make a beeline for the tables that groaned under the mountains of food and champagne, and led her into the study. She removed her veil while he poured two drinks, and she put her glass aside to throw her arms around him.

  Mark released her at a knock on the door, and Rita stuck her head in. "Mr Goodall is here, sir."

  "Ah, good, show him in." Rita vanished, and Mark turned to Carrin. "One last bit of business."

  "You don't have to do this," she protested.

  "I know."

  Rita ushered in a short, balding man, whom Mark introduced as his lawyer. Mr Goodall congratulated Carrin, shooting Mark a reproachful look. Mark invited him to sit, and Mr Goodall settled behind the big oak desk. Snapping open his briefcase, he extracted a sheaf of papers while Carrin and Mark sat facing the desk. Mr Goodall donned a pair of glasses and gave Mark another hard look, then turned to Carrin.

  "According to Mark's instructions, I've drawn up some papers for you to sign, Mrs Lord."

  Carrin glanced at Mark, but he was deadpan, sipping his drink. The sound of her new name sent a thrill through her.

  Mr Goodall went on, "All it requires is for Mark to sign it, and then you. May I add that this was done against my advice."

  Mark frowned. "Get on with it, Joe."

  Mr Goodall sighed and handed the papers to Mark, who picked up his gold pen and signed them with a flourish. He held out the papers to Carrin, his eyes meeting hers.

  "This is a list of all my assets. Everything I own; my valuables, cars, properties, stocks and shares, every single material possession I have. It also contains all of my contracts, royalties, money in the bank and future commitments."

  Carrin took the papers and glanced through them, stunned by the value below each item.

  Mark went on, "Once you sign that, it all belongs to you, every single thing." He glanced around as Mr Goodall groaned and rose to pour himself a stiff drink. Mark smiled. "It also entitles you to any future amounts paid to me for any work I do. If we ever get divorced for any reason, whether you divorce me or I divorce you, I'll be left penniless, without an income, even if I work, it goes to you. If I die, you get it all too."

  Carrin stared at him, and Mark continued, "I'm not trying to buy you. I'm just handing you my life, so to speak. You'll control all of it, I'll have nothing. Without you, I'll have nothing anyway."

  She put the papers on the desk. "You don't have to do this."

  "I know." He held out the pen. "Sign it."

  Carrin wondered how she could ever have doubted him. Tears burnt her eyes and spilt over. Mark took her hand and pressed the pen into it.

  "Sign it, Carrin."

  Mr Goodall gulped his drink and poured another. Carrin took the
pen, and Mark moved the papers under it, nodding in encouragement. Tears ran down her cheeks, and he wiped them away, cupping her face to gaze into her eyes.

  "This is how much I love you. So you never have to doubt me again, for any reason. This is the only way I know to prove to you that I'll never leave you."

  Mr Goodall made a choking sound.

  Carrin shook her head. "I don't want it. I know you love me, I don't need any proof." She put down the pen, picked up the papers and tore them in half. "I won't live my life with a sword at your throat."

  His slow, crooked smile widened into that schoolboy grin. "Well, guess what, Mrs Lord? We're married in community of property, so half of it's yours anyway."

  As he stood and pulled her into his arms, she heard the soft sound of the door shutting as the lawyer left. She gazed into his eyes. "I'll never doubt you again."

  "If you do, I'll have another set of those papers drawn up and tie you to a chair until you sign them."

  Carrin shook her head. "I don't want your money."

  "I'm not trying to give it to you, only to prove that I'll never leave you."

  She stood on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his, then whispered, "I know you won't."

  Mark smiled. "Good, now I can tell Simon I won the bet."

  "You what?"

  "The bet. You know, that I could make you fall in love with me."

  "Right." Carrin nodded. "How much was it for?"

  "Five million."

  "Poor Simon."

  "Yeah, he was sure he'd win."

  She cocked her head. "Funny that he was so delighted when you told him we were getting married."

  "Well, that wasn't the bet, was it?"

  "Ah. But why weren't you on the phone to him last night then?"

  He chuckled. "The fact that you tore up those papers was the proof that you really do love me, otherwise you might have been a gold-digger."

  "That's true. But since we were married in community of property, I might still be one."

  "But why would you settle for only half when you could have had it all?"

  "Do you really think I thought those papers were real?"

  "Of course not, you're too smart for that."

  She nodded. "Damn right I am."

  Mark laughed and hugged her. "You're too smart for me, that's for sure."

  "Yeah, I landed myself a real big fish, didn't I?"

  "Ah, we're going to have so much fun together."

  "Never a dull moment, I guarantee it." She cocked her head. "Especially if you're going to make a habit of reading my mind."

  "Well, after I had explained away all your reasons for doubting me, and proved that I wasn't a woman-beater, that was the only possible reason for you to still be suspicious. But I'll have you know that I never gamble. And even if I did, I wouldn't bet on something like that. You must have thought I was a real bastard, to think that I would do something like that."

  "No, it just didn't seem possible that someone like you could love someone like me."

  He smiled. "Why not? You're a beautiful, sexy, fascinating girl. And in the end, I'm just a guy."

  "No, you're a world-famous multi-millionaire."

  "Still just a guy."

  A knock came at the door, and Rita entered when Mark answered, carrying a silver tray piled with newspapers and magazines. "The newspapers are here, sir."

  "Ah good." Mark scooped them up and paged through one. Carrin tried to take another from him, but he tucked them under his arm, shaking his head.

  "Me first."

  "I want to see!"

  "I'll read it to you."

  Carrin fumed, but waited while he found the right page and folded the paper, reading it.

  "Entertaining." He nodded. "That's good. 'Action-packed.' 'A world-class performance.'" He smiled, but his expression was a little worried.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing, it's a good write up." He closed the paper and pulled another from under his arm, scanning through it. "Here we go. 'An original story'... hmmmm. 'Janice Sharner excelled herself in the bedroom scene, but her performance opposite Mark Lord's Oscar-winning abilities only proved that she should have stuck to 'B' movies." He chuckled. "Poor Janice."

  "Stop trying to distract me. What does it say about the film?"

  "Well, not a lot, but nothing bad."

  "They didn't like it."

  "They always find fault, even with the best movies."

  "Let me see." Carrin snatched the paper from him and swung away, scanning the page.

  "Carrin...."

  Her heart sank as she read the review. 'A mediocre script at best. Although original, it lacked a strong plot. It relied instead on cheap sentiment and some unoriginal car chases and fight scenes. The highlight was when Janice Sharner excelled herself...' she skipped over the part that Mark had read. 'The movie's fate now rests on the strength of Mark Lord's performance, which cannot be faulted. He may even win another Oscar for delivering the poor dialogue with such finesse that he made it sound believable. The reason for an 'A' list actor accepting this role in what should have been a 'B' movie is clear, since Mark married the young South African screenwriter, Carrin York, in a private ceremony today. This comes after months of speculation about her relationship with Mark's best friend, Simon Grey, and stories of the pair fighting on location during the making of the movie.'

  Carrin looked up at Mark, who sat behind his desk, watching her, his hands steepled. "You knew it wasn't a good screenplay."

  "If I hadn't made it, today wouldn't have happened."

  "How much will you lose? How much did you spend?"

  "It doesn't matter."

  "It does, to me."

  "I would have spent twice as much."

  She dropped the paper on a table. "How much?"

  He shrugged, shaking his head. "I don't really know."

  "Mark...."

  He sighed. "About thirty million."

  Her mouth dropped open. "So much...."

  "It was worth it."

  "My god, no wonder you were so pissed off when I wouldn't go out with you."

  He chuckled, then rose and walked over to her. "Yeah, go figure. Simon's lucky he only got a black eye. He knew why I was doing it, but I was still damned jealous of him."

  "The standing ovation at the theatre was for your performance."

  "I guess so." He took her hands. "Don't look so worried. It will probably break-even; I have a lot of fans."

  "That's why you couldn't cut the bedroom scene."

  "I hated that it upset you so much, but Harold insisted that without that, it would lose money."

  She gazed up at him. "This is one hell of a guilt trip."

  "That's why I didn't want you to read that rubbish. Hey, some movies do well in spite of bad reviews; the public don't always take much notice of them."

  "Especially when the star is Mark Lord."

  "Well, yeah. That's why I get the big bucks." He smiled. "At worst, I might have to make another movie a bit sooner than usual."

  "You took one hell of a risk, and I thought you didn't gamble."

  He chuckled. "I was pretty sure that I could win you over, but you gave me a good run for my money."

  "Right. Who could resist the great Mark Lord?"

  "For a while there, I thought you could. But I refused to give up. When I want something, I go after it until I get it."

  She sighed, shaking her head. "Have you ever failed?"

  "Only once. I never got my mother back."

  "If she wasn't dead, I'm sure you would have."

  He pulled her into his arms. "You know, for a bad actress, you did a really good job of hiding your feelings."

  "I thought my happiness depended on it."

  "Silly girl." He chuckled. "But the drawings really gave you away."

  "You noticed that, huh?"

  "Pretty hard to miss. I wish I'd found them sooner."

  "I was so embarrassed. You must have thought I was a silly, infat
uated fan."

  "Hey, if I'd seen a picture of you before I met you, I'd have fallen in love with you too." His arms tightened. "Becoming famous couldn't bring my mother back, but it brought you to me, and for that I'm glad, even if it made things so difficult."

  The sound of laughter and voices came through the door, and Mark kissed the top of her head, then released her. "You'd better go and change, our guests are arriving."

  She looked up at him, raising a hand to stroke his cheek as she gazed into his deep blue eyes. "I'm glad you didn't give up."

  He smiled. "Me too."

  ******

  About the author

  T. C. Southwell was born in Sri Lanka and moved to the Seychelles when she was a baby. She spent her formative years exploring the islands – mostly alone. Naturally, her imagination flourished and she developed a keen love of other worlds. The family travelled through Europe and Africa and, after the death of her father, settled in South Africa.

  T. C. Southwell has written over forty novels, ranging from fantasy and science fiction to romance and adventure, as well as five screenplays. Her hobbies include motorcycling, horse riding and art, and she earns a living in the IT industry.

  All illustrations and cover designs by the author.

  Contact the author at demonlord07@hotmail.com

  Acknowledgements

  Mike Baum and Janet Longman, former employers, for their support, encouragement, and help. My mother, without whose financial support I could not have dedicated myself to writing for ten years. Isabel Cooke, former agent, whose encouragement and enthusiasm led to many more books being written, including this one. Suzanne Stephan, former agent, who has helped me so much over the past six years, and Vanessa Finaughty, good friend and business partner, for her support, encouragement and editing skills.