Hollywood Sinners (15 page)

Cole gritted his teeth. Lana was his prize, no one else’s. And certainly not Michael Benedict’s.

‘I’ll pass on your regards.’

And, without meeting the director’s eye, Cole was gone.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Las Vegas

‘W
hat’s wrong with you anyway? You’re meant to be relaxing.’

Jessica Bernstein adjusted her position on the spa table to face her sister. The two women were enjoying a hot-stone massage at the Spa Bellagio, the room decked out in eucalyptus-scented candles and rose petals. For Jessica it was the perfect way to spend another lazy afternoon; for Elisabeth it was giving her more time to think—something she didn’t need.

‘I’m fine,’ she replied, trying to focus on letting her muscles go.

‘Trouble with Robert?’ asked Jessica, in that way she had of fishing for scandal.

‘No, everything’s fine.’

‘Liar.’

Elisabeth closed her eyes as the masseuse worked around her shoulders. They felt knotted and tense. Memories of that fateful night with Alberto Bellini played constantly in her mind in vivid, breathtaking detail, like the reel of a blue movie. She had to get herself together—she and Robert were due at the MGM Grand later for the big fight.

The thought of Robert made her heart ache. She loved him. What the hell was she doing?

‘
And
you’ve been having hot sex,’ continued Jessica. ‘I can tell.’

‘What?’ Elisabeth snapped.

‘You’ve got that…thing. I don’t know how to describe it, like you keep thinking about all the sexy fucking you’ve been doing and then getting embarrassed about it.’

Elisabeth was appalled. ‘
Jessica!
’ she scolded, indicating the masseuse, who was sure to be taking everything in. On top of that, she was shocked by the accuracy of her sister’s diagnosis.

‘So? Is it true?’

‘I’m not talking about this.’

‘It is, then.’

Elisabeth refused to speak any further until they had some privacy—one word in a Vegas hotel about what had happened with Alberto and it would spread like wildfire. Yet strangely she did feel compelled to talk to Jessica about it. Jessica was the only one who understood Bellini’s attachment to their family and knew what a Lothario he really was. Besides, keeping it to herself was driving her crazy. In her way of cutting brutally to the point, her sister might even be able to dispense some useful advice.

Twenty minutes later the women pulled on their towelling robes and slippers and padded towards the meditation room. Fortunately it was empty.

‘Spill,’ said Jessica as soon as they were inside. ‘I want to know everything.’

As Elisabeth grappled for a place to begin, Jessica got bored waiting and steamrollered in. ‘It’s not Robert, is it? It’s someone else.’

‘Shh! For God’s sake, Jessica.’

‘Oh. My. God.
Really?
’

An assistant came in and offered them drinks. Elisabeth ordered a jasmine tea while Jessica opted for fresh mint, adjusting her white-flannel headband with pearlescent fingernails. As soon as she left Elisabeth clarified the situation.

‘It’s not what you think,’ she said.

‘I never said what I thought.’ Jessica put her head back, inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. ‘Tell me what happened.’

Elisabeth thought how to word it. Eventually she settled on, ‘Alberto Bellini…well, he seduced me.’

There was a moment’s pause before Jessica said, ‘Oh. That’s it?’

Elisabeth was surprised. ‘What do you mean, “That’s it?”?’

Jessica opened her eyes a crack. ‘I thought it’d be something
way
more juicy. Bellini’s an old dog—he’s done it to me before.’

Elisabeth was outraged. ‘
What?
’

‘Oh, you know, nothing really. Just trying it on when he’s had too much to drink, managed to get his hands up my skirt once. I tried to tell you in France.’

The tea arrived but Elisabeth felt too sick to stomach it.

‘It’s not like he’s serious,’ Jessica went on, taking a sip with an accompanying ‘
Ow!
’

‘Did you go to bed with him?’ asked Elisabeth, taking care to inject the question with a good dose of disgust.

Jessica laughed, which made it even worse. ‘Ha! No, of course not! He’s, like,
way
old. On the contrary—I told him exactly where he could put it, and let’s just say it wasn’t anywhere near
me
.’

Elisabeth endeavoured to hide her cringe in the steaming drink.

‘You know what I think?’ Jessica went on. ‘I think if it ever came down to it he wouldn’t even be able to get it up. His dick’s been left cold for so long, it’s probably haunted!’

It certainly isn’t
, thought Elisabeth, dismayed at the thought that her sister—who was hardly discerning about who she jumped into bed with—had turned down Alberto’s advances. It was too mortifying for words.

‘So what did you do?’ asked Jessica, sitting up. ‘Did you tell him to where to go?’

Oh, he didn’t need to be told that. He knew precisely where he was going.

‘Well, of course I did,’ Elisabeth said, quickly backtracking. ‘I mean, it’s insulting. It’s not as if I’m not having fabulous sex with Robert.’

Jessica rolled her eyes. ‘So it
is
only Robert. How fucking boring. Honestly, Elisabeth, just when I think you’re about to surprise me and do something exciting.’

If you only knew.

Feeling shaken, Elisabeth put down her tea carefully and looked at her sister. It wasn’t just the insult of Alberto trying to get lucky with Jessica, it was more a feeling of…God, she hated to admit it...jealousy. Much as it pained her, and much as his advances had likely been born out of alcohol—Jessica was hardly the kind of sophisticated woman he was attracted to—she acknowledged that fatal stab. How much had Alberto wanted her? Had he told her how beautiful she was, that she was the most exquisite woman in the world, the very things he’d told Elisabeth? It was too dreadful to contemplate.

‘It’s
so
unfair,’ whined Jessica, tying her fine hair in a knot.

‘What is?’ Elisabeth was still thinking about Alberto and wondered if Jessica might be about to confess to actually finding him devastatingly attractive, and how she wished, just between the two of them, that she’d accepted his advances and then Elisabeth could explain that, in fact, she herself had—

‘I wish I could get an invite to the fight tonight. I bet I could if Daddy were here.’ Bernstein was away on business.

Elisabeth forced herself to focus on the evening ahead. She would be on Robert’s arm, his fiancée, the two of them showcasing Vegas together. He could never find out—it simply wasn’t an option.

‘I’ve got things to do,’ said Elisabeth, gathering her stuff. Tempting as it had been, she was glad Jessica was none the wiser: her sister was a leaky bucket when it came to gossip—what had she been thinking? No, this was something she was keeping strictly to herself. A crazy mistake, that was all. One night of weakness. She would forget it, pretend like it never happened.

‘Catch you up.’ Jessica reached for two slices of cucumber and positioned them over her eyes. ‘I’ve got a bit more work to do here first.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Los Angeles

A
week after the Romans’ wedding, Nate Reid rolled over in bed, a sour taste in his mouth. His eyelids felt like they were stuck together.

Last night must have been a big one—he couldn’t remember a thing about it. He lay quietly for a moment, eyes closed, sunlight breaking through in an assaulting shade of orange—what idiot prick had opened the blinds? Bits and pieces of the previous evening swam into focus. They’d been out with Felix and the record label. He vaguely recalled a basement club in Hollywood. There were girls and groupies and tequila and who knew what else.

Bringing his fingers to his temples and applying a little pressure, Nate let out a pitiful whimper.

‘Hey, honey,’ said a twangy American voice, ‘time to get your lazy ass outta bed. It’s one p.m. I made brunch.’

Nate allowed his eyes to open a crack and frowned at the woman before him. She was pouring orange juice into two glasses. He didn’t recognise her.

‘Who are you?’ he asked.

‘Rafaella,’ the woman said, unoffended. She was dark-skinned and tall like a man.

‘Did we…?’ he enquired warily.

‘What
didn’t
we?’ she responded with a snort, drizzling maple syrup on to a stack of pancakes and bringing them over. ‘Hope you don’t mind, I helped myself to food. Looks like you could do with something to eat.’

At the smell of the pancakes Nate bolted to the bathroom, where he promptly threw up. Fuck, this was bad.

He was glad when, an hour later, Rafaella finally departed after stuffing her face with just about everything in the fridge and watching a slew of headache-crunching cartoons. It was unnerving to hang out with a stranger who only hours ago you were doing God knows what to, or who—as Nate suspected as he observed Rafaella out the corner of his eye—was doing God knows what to you. Especially when she was sprawled across most of his sofa.

Nate took a shower and started to feel a little better. His thoughts turned to Chloe—reassuring, sweet, harmless Chloe—as they always did with a hangover in need of some TLC. His girlfriend was mixing with some pretty important people these days. As of the wedding, he’d made a vow to stay faithful. As of today, he conceded, remembering Rafaella.

He threw on some jeans and dialled Chloe’s number.

Pleasingly she picked up straight away. ‘Hi!’

‘Hiya, babe. How’s things?’

‘I’m great.’ It sounded like she was in a car. ‘How was last night?’

Nate was confused. ‘Did we talk?’

Chloe laughed. ‘I knew you were out of it. You called at, like, two a.m. and completely woke me up.’

‘Sorry.’

‘That’s OK.’

‘Can you meet later?’ he asked.

There was a crackle on the line. ‘Sorry, I’m busy later. Maybe tomorrow?’

Had he heard right? It wasn’t like Chloe to blow him out.

‘Whatever,’ he said, acting like he didn’t care.

The line kept cutting out. ‘—bad connection —call you —I miss—’

Nate hung up and tossed the phone on to his bed. He was annoyed. Chloe hadn’t even told him where she was.

He contemplated his options for a moment before throwing on an ill-conceived outfit and heading out for some air. He slammed the apartment door loudly behind him.

* * *

Chloe closed her phone quietly. Nate had sounded pissed off.

‘Everything OK?’ asked Lana.

The women were cruising through Hollywood in one of Cole’s silver Mercedes, heading back to the Steel mansion—they had just wrapped their scene and Lana had invited Chloe to spend the afternoon.

‘Yeah, sorry.’ Chloe put the phone back in her bag. She looked puzzled. ‘I think he hung up on me, that’s all.’

Lana waved a hand. ‘I’m sure he didn’t.’

Chloe bit her lip. She decided not to let it ruin the rest of her day. This morning on set had been amazing. Nate could wait.

Minutes later the car arrived at the foot of the drive. It sat purring gently while Cole’s cast-iron gates eased open, before slipping through and beginning its ascent up to the mansion.

Chloe was agape. ‘You
live
here?’

Lana nodded as they pulled to a stop next to Cole’s collection of vintage cars. ‘Yes, I live here.’

After giving Chloe a brief, edited tour, Lana fixed some cordial and they sat out on the terrace loungers, enjoying the winter sun.

‘You did a good job today,’ she said, impressed with Chloe’s performance. ‘You’re right for this.’

‘You think?’

‘I think.’

Chloe smiled. ‘Thanks. I had a lucky escape with Sam…he was kind of all over me when I arrived.’

Lana smirked. ‘Join the club. Wait till he sees you with your clothes off.’

‘Oh, I’d never do nudity.’

Lana looked at her sideways. She decided not to comment.

‘You’re so fortunate,’ said Chloe after a while.

Her words seemed a non sequitur and for a moment Lana was confused. She looked around her. ‘It’s a lovely house,’ she said carefully.

‘It’s a stunning house.’ Chloe picked up her glass. ‘It must be nice to have a proper home. A husband you love.’

Lana raised an eyebrow.

‘My parents,’ she went on, ‘well, my dad, actually…he lives in London, the same house I grew up in. I used to love it. But recently it doesn’t feel like home any more.’

There was a moment’s pause before Lana said, ‘Things don’t when you grow up. It doesn’t have to be a bad thing.’

‘It isn’t, not really. It’s just sad that all that’s…gone.’ She looked at Lana. ‘My parents are divorced,’ she explained.

Lana’s eyes were kind. ‘That must have been hard.’

Chloe shrugged. She got up and padded over to the infinity pool, where she sat down and trailed a hand in the water. ‘Do you mind if I put my feet in?’

Lana smiled. ‘Sure.’

‘I’d love to have it one day,’ said Chloe.

‘What?’

‘You know,’ Chloe took off her sandals. ‘A husband, kids—a family.’

‘I would, too.’

Chloe squinted against the sun. ‘You’re nearly there.’

‘Nearly.’

‘Nate and I haven’t really talked about it.’ She tapped the surface of the pool with one foot. ‘He’s definitely The One, though.’

‘It’s great you’re so sure.’ Lana refilled their glasses.

‘You just know, don’t you?’ Chloe said softly. ‘And that maybe if everything isn’t brilliant, you know, maybe if you have the things that bug you or whatever, you just make it work, because that’s what relationships are about. You can’t just give up. It’s a commitment.’

Lana thought about it. ‘No, you can’t just give up.’ She sat back. ‘I read how you two met, it’s quite a story.’

‘Romantic, huh?’ Chloe grinned, thinking what a heroic tale it would be to tell Nate’s and her grandchildren.

Lana brought over Chloe’s glass and sat down next to her. She took off her own shoes and dangled her toes in. The water was cold.

‘I don’t think Kate diLaurentis likes me much,’ Chloe said. She’d been meaning to sound Lana out about it since the Romans’ wedding.

‘I wouldn’t worry about Kate,’ Lana assured her. ‘She’s just unhappy.’

‘She is?’

Lana didn’t like to gossip, but Kate had been so foul last week that she didn’t feel too concerned about it. ‘Her husband’s fooling around, has been for years.’

Chloe shook her head. ‘Why do people have to cheat? It’s so awful.’

‘Beats me.’

‘I’d never cheat on Nate. You’ve got to trust who you’re with.’

Lana nodded, her thoughts darting guiltily to Parker Troy.

‘They’ve got kids as well,’ she went on, ‘which makes Jimmy even more of an asshole.’

‘I guess he’s handsome in a geeky sort of way,’ Chloe said mischievously.

Lana made a face. ‘Not my type.’

Chloe grinned. ‘Who is?’ she asked, interested. ‘Apart from Cole, obviously.’

God, thought Lana, Cole was not her type
at all
. And yet he was her husband.

‘Ah, you know,’ she waved the question away, embarrassed, ‘the usual. Strong but sensitive. Handsome…but humble. Serious, but who can make me laugh…’

Chloe’s eyes widened. ‘Some ex-boyfriend, I can tell!’

‘Shh!’ Lana gestured frantically.

Chloe laughed, she hadn’t meant it. She turned to Lana. ‘I’ll bet Cole’s just the best husband ever,’ she said.

Lana slipped her shades on. Memories of Robbie tortured her—she had to let him go. With the premiere fast approaching, she could no longer afford to indulge in the past. And yet it refused to set her free.

The words came easily enough. ‘You got me,’ she said automatically. ‘He’s the best husband ever.’