Hollywood Sinners (34 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE

Las Vegas

‘T
ake a look at this,’ said Bernstein, sliding his plans across to Robert.

It was a month before the premiere and the two men were in Bernstein’s office, finalising plans for accommodation. It wasn’t just the Orient that needed to deliver: the Parthenon was putting up some big names, too. Securing Kate diLaurentis and Jimmy Hart was a big coup—they wanted the biggest stars, and the more of them the better.

Robert scanned the designs. Each of the Parthenon’s luxury suites had been assigned a guest, each one stocked with vintage champagne and hampers packed with personalised gourmet luxuries: the star’s favourite beverage, canapé, chosen brand of cigarettes. All rooms were tailored exclusively in discreet but impressive detail, from the denier of their bed linen to the down of their pillows.

‘I’m pleased,’ said Robert. ‘This puts us a cut above.’

Bernstein sat back, puffing out his chest. There had been a strained atmosphere between the two men since their altercation over the slot hustlers.

‘You gonna tell me what’s going on, St Louis?’ Bernstein put his fingertips together.

‘Excuse me?’

‘With you and my daughter.’

Robert gave nothing away. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Elisabeth’s upset.’

He was surprised. ‘She is?’

Bernstein nodded.

‘Why?’

‘And now she’s gettin’ ideas in her head about the wedding.’

Robert shuffled the papers. ‘She and I need to talk about that,’ he said.

‘You’re askin’ me why, kid.’ Bernstein shook his head. ‘Why d’you think?’

‘I don’t know what you’re getting at, Bernstein.’

‘That Hollywood piece showing up here out of nowhere, that’s what I’m getting at. You runnin’ after her like she’s got your balls on a leash.’

‘I was hardly going to turn Lana Falcon away, was I?’ Robert met his gaze. ‘Don’t be stupid, Bernstein.’

‘By all accounts you certainly treated her well.’

‘I’m not clear what you mean.’

‘Elisabeth’s pretty cut up about it, y’know.’ He sat back, narrowing his eyes. ‘Thinks you’ve not been payin’ her the attention she deserves.’

‘That doesn’t sound like Elisabeth.’

‘Maybe you don’t know her as well as you thought.’

Robert felt his temper flare. ‘Is it Elisabeth that thinks all this, Bernstein, or you?’

‘Careful, son.’

‘No, you be careful—get your facts straight before you throw accusations about.’ He watched the other man. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of Elisabeth for days. I haven’t seen her in a week. She’s ignoring my calls.’

‘She’s been gettin’ ready for the show, ain’t she?’

‘I didn’t think you supported her performance.’

Bernstein waved away the suggestion. ‘It’s one night. She’ll see sense once all the excitement’s over.’

Robert shook his head. ‘You just don’t let up, do you?’

‘I have my reasons.’

‘I’d love to know what they are.’

A muscle went by Bernstein’s eye. ‘This family’s more complicated than you think. Your wedding’s the best thing for Elisabeth, I’ve seen the way she’s been gettin’ attention and I’m tellin’ you, I don’t like it.’

‘Oh?’

Bernstein cleared his throat. ‘Goddamn Bellini, for one. He’s had his eye on Elisabeth since she was sixteen, chasin’ after her like some lovesick pup.’

Robert laughed. ‘Bellini? Come
on
. Elisabeth laughs off his attentions—we both do.’

‘I’ve done everythin’ in my power to keep him clear, it’s not easy.’

‘Somehow I don’t think she’s tempted.’

‘Maybe not.’ He stood up. ‘But I’m not willing to take the risk. Becoming Mrs St Louis will see to that.’

Robert stood up. ‘Do you know where she is?’

The other man didn’t reply.

‘Bernstein?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Do you know where she is?’ Robert pulled on his suit jacket. He had to find Elisabeth and set the record straight.

‘She’s downstairs,’ said Bernstein slowly, as if an idea was occurring to him. ‘She’s runnin’ through her number in the Hellenic.’ He pushed back his chair. ‘She and I need to talk, I’m goin’ down.’

Robert frowned. ‘I’ll walk with you.’

* * *

Elisabeth delivered the final note with a great flourish, raising her slender arms high in the air. She held it long after the recorded piano accompaniment had expired.

Alberto Bellini, seated in the shadows of the Parthenon’s empty Hellenic Theatre, waited until he was sure she had finished. He clapped his hands in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

‘What did you think?’ she asked, breathless, her chest rising and falling beneath a tight cream sweater.

Alberto raised a finely plucked eyebrow and crossed his legs. ‘Enchanting,
bellissima
.’

Elisabeth made a face and came down from the stage. ‘You’re biased.’

‘I tell you only the truth, my love,’ said Alberto, holding out his arms to receive her.

As they embraced, he bent to kiss her painted lips. Worried, she looked about—the theatre was dark but anyone could be watching.

‘We mustn’t,’ she said hastily, pulling away.

Alberto released a low chuckle, pulling at her earlobe with his teeth. ‘Oh, but we must.’

Elisabeth made a feeble attempt to break free from his arms, but eventually surrendered, breathing in his musky scent as he nuzzled her neck, kissing and biting the soft dip by her collarbone.

She had taken to practising here at the Parthenon, where the acoustics were comparable—the space she would perform in at the Orient was overrun with preparations and, besides, she had been avoiding Robert. Alberto had been pushing her on a confession, and each time she promised it would be the next time she saw her fiancé. So far, she hadn’t broken that promise.

Alberto lifted her chin and kissed her again, looping his arms around her waist. She felt the cool metal of his rings and reached up to touch his thick white hair. He pushed her back against a row of seats, lifting her legs and pulling them round.

Elisabeth reached down to free him, recognising he needed a little more encouragement. He took a long time to get hard, and sometimes he didn’t manage it at all, but when he did it was worth the wait.

His hands moved up to her breasts, stroked her through the soft cashmere. Deftly she unbuckled him and his suit pants fell to the ground. She ran her fingers down the length of him, coaxing his shy beast from its lair. Their kissing became fevered, Alberto making grunting noises out his nose, and Elisabeth peeled off her top to reveal the assets he loved best. Like a starved man he dived to release them from her lace brassiere.

Suddenly the door to the auditorium opened. A shaft of bright light cut across the two semi-naked figures, tangled in the oblivion of their desire.

Elisabeth cried out, clamping her hands to cover herself.

Alberto fumbled to hoist up his pants and tripped over on to the floor, his bare ass bobbing in the darkness like a buoy on the sea.

Elisabeth gasped in horror.

Two men stood in the entrance. It was Robert and her father.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR

‘W
hat the hell are you
doing
?’ squealed Elisabeth, turning away to fasten her bra. Her cheeks raged hot with embarrassment. Alberto hauled himself up, dressing silently with all the dignity he could muster.

Robert was stunned. He couldn’t speak.

Bernstein’s face had gone completely white. He made a gagging noise at the back of his throat. His arms flailed out, groping for something to hold on to.

‘My God!’ Elisabeth’s shame morphed into anger. ‘Have you never heard of privacy?’ She tugged the sweater over her head, folding her arms to conceal her shaking hands. She had never felt so mortified in her whole entire life. ‘God!’ she said again.

Bernstein looked from one to the other, their semi-clad bodies like something out of his worst nightmare. His mouth was dry.

‘What the fuck’s going on here, Elisabeth?’ He thought he might be sick. ‘This had better not be what it looks like.’

Alberto moved towards the door. ‘I think I will leave you to discuss this—’

Bernstein found his roar. ‘I swear to God,
this had better not be what it looks like!
’

Robert put a hand out. ‘Bellini, you’re not going anywhere,’ he said evenly, his mind flipping slowly into gear. What sort of a twisted game was Elisabeth playing?
Alberto Bellini?
It was unfathomable. He couldn’t shift the image of the old man’s aged body bent over his youthful fiancée, feasting on her like a vulture.

‘Will somebody please tell me what’s happening?’ Robert demanded, looking at Elisabeth, whose eyes darted to the floor.

‘We’re having an affair,’ she said quietly.

He heard Bernstein emit a low groan and slump to his knees.

‘What?’ Robert put a hand to his ear. ‘I didn’t quite catch that.’

‘We’re having an affair.’ It was louder this time. Still she didn’t look at him.

Bernstein was shaking his head, over and over. ‘No, Elisabeth, you don’t understand—’

Robert stopped him. ‘Stay out of this, Bernstein; it’s nothing to do with you.’

‘Do not blame her, St Louis.’ Alberto stepped forward. ‘I confess that I—’

‘Enough!’ Robert’s voice boomed round the walls, sending echoes winging all around. He kept his eyes on Elisabeth, his expression wounded.

‘How long has this been going on?’ he asked. ‘Be truthful.’

Her bottom lip wobbled. ‘Since we came back from France.’

He leaned in. ‘You’re going to have to speak up.’

‘Since we came back from France.’ She met his gaze, defiance burning.

‘That long?’ Robert shook his head. ‘How…?’

‘Elisabeth, no.’ Bernstein’s voice cracked and splintered. ‘You don’t understand what you’ve done.’

She ignored him. ‘What was I supposed to do, Robert? You didn’t want to marry me.’

Robert was mystified. ‘Am I missing something here? I
am
marrying you. At least—’

‘At least you had to in the end.’

‘Don’t you turn this on me.’

‘Because my father was pressuring you into it.’ Elisabeth refused to back down. She turned to Bernstein. ‘Right?’

Bernstein shook his head, mute. ‘
What have I done?
’ he whispered.

‘Exactly,’ said Elisabeth. ‘You both thought you could play me however the hell you wanted, didn’t you?’ She balled her fists. ‘With your little fucking secrets, your plans for me. Always hiding something, weren’t you, Robert? Well, I got sick of it. I got sick of being the pawn in whatever game you and him...’ she threw a look at Bernstein ‘...were playing.’

Robert came in. ‘Elisabeth, that’s not true.’

‘It is. You switched off from me like a light going out. At first I was confused, I was hurt, but then I realised what your problem was. Your problem, Robert, was that you couldn’t quite make me your wife. And it was obvious to me why. It still is.’

‘Elisabeth—’

‘So that’s where you came in.’ She looked at Bernstein. ‘Better get your trophy daughter down the aisle quick, make sure she gets locked into the business. Am I right? You’re a great team. The two of you ought to marry each other.’

Bernstein’s mouth was hanging open. ‘Hold up a second.’ He staggered to his feet, face sweating, lips cracked. A haunted look crouched in his eyes. ‘This can’t be happening—’

‘The only person I could talk to through all this is standing right here.’

The spotlight fell on Alberto. Sensing he was expected to speak, he began, ‘Well, I—’

‘So what did you expect, either of you?’ She shook her head. ‘You wanted me to marry a man who didn’t love me just so I could get swallowed up by some goddamn hotel empire? You’re forgetting something. I’m
not
a Bernstein—I’m a Sabell.’

Bernstein reached out. ‘You’re neither,’ he choked.

‘Ha! That’ll be right. I’ve never felt I belonged and that’s probably just the way you wanted it. Far easier that way, isn’t it? It’d be funny if it weren’t so tragic.’

Bernstein’s eyes rolled across to Alberto, whose craggy face was aglow with unconcealed adoration. His breath became strangled.

‘Elisabeth, you can’t be serious about this.’

‘I’m more serious than I’ve ever been. You can’t control me any more. I’ve got my own life and I’m sick to death of you interfering.’

‘Please, both of you—’

She turned on Robert. ‘And you,’ she said, her voice shaking, ‘you want to know why I did this? I’ll tell you. The first day we met I fell in love with you. You went along with it because it was easy, and comfortable, and because we were worth more as two than we were by ourselves...’ She held up a hand. ‘And I know you loved me in your way. But your way wasn’t enough, Robert. There was always something missing, wasn’t there?’ A pause. ‘If I’m honest with myself, I knew it from the start. I always loved you more than you loved me.’

Robert shook his head. ‘I never wanted to hurt you, never. I didn’t realise I’d made you feel this way. I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t apologise,’ she said. ‘Everyone expected us to stay together, to be in love, to get married. Forget my father, I’m talking the whole of the city. And I was always the other half, the smaller, slightly more pathetic half.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘I know it’s not. But that’s how it felt.’

‘I can’t say sorry for that.’

‘You don’t have to. But you can say sorry for the way you treated me over Lana Falcon.’

‘It was complicated.’

‘Maybe.’ She looked at him sadly. ‘But your silence pushed me away.’ Her voice shook. ‘Do you remember what we used to be like?’

‘Of course. Of course I do.’

‘You made me feel like I was chasing something I could never catch up with, Robert, however fast I ran. And then I’d be thinking, Why do I have to put up with this? I’m Elisabeth Sabell, I’m strong—how can I be made to feel this damn shitty by the man I’m supposed to be in love with?’ She laughed drily. ‘And then I saw how you responded to Lana, a woman who, back then, I thought you’d never even met.’ She looked away. ‘I never inspired that kind of feeling in you, and it was then I knew I couldn’t compete.’

It was Alberto’s turn to speak. ‘What has Lana Falcon got to do with it?’

‘They already know each other,’ explained Elisabeth, folding her arms.

‘It’s a long story,’ said Robert flatly. ‘I’m not going into it.’

Elisabeth had more to say. ‘But there was one person who didn’t let me down. One person who cared, who believed in me.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Alberto Bellini.’

Bernstein stepped forward. ‘You two have no idea what you’ve done.’

Alberto gave a very Italian shrug. ‘What can I say?’ Sensing this wasn’t quite enough, he elaborated, ‘Love—it is never deliberate. It cannot be planned. It cannot be controlled. It runs its own course and all we can do, my friends, is follow.’

Elisabeth smiled at him.

Robert cut in. ‘Get a grip, Bellini. You’ve been sleeping with my fiancée. My
fiancée
. You work for me, or did you forget that? Never mind love—have you bothered trying to control yourself?’

Alberto raised his chin, his watery eyes shining. ‘I work for you no longer, St Louis.’

Robert laughed, shook his head. ‘Excellent. Now I don’t have to fire you.’

‘I am finished with this city,’ Alberto announced dramatically, gesturing to the stage as if his life had just been played out on it. ‘There is only one thing I want for the rest of my days, and that is this woman.’

‘
Over my dead body
,’ Bernstein gasped, his mouth set in a grim line.

Elisabeth took his hand. ‘I’m sorry you found out like this. I was going to tell you. I know that sounds doubtful, but it’s the truth. You see, I had to.’

Robert realised she was addressing him. It still shocked him to think of her, to see her with this old man. Yes, he had cheated emotionally with Lana, and who knew, maybe that was worse. But even on the last day of her visit, when he had wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and love her again, he had reined himself in.

‘I had to tell you because…’ This time she looked at her father. ‘We’ve been threatened. Alberto has received—’

‘My darling, wait.’ Alberto wiped a hand wearily across his face. ‘It is not necessary.’ She turned to him. ‘Yes, it is.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Robert demanded.

‘Elisabeth,’ said Alberto, eyes pleading, ‘there is something I must tell you.’

Bernstein looked sluggishly between them, bile in his throat. ‘
Listen to me
,’ he commanded. Nobody listened.

Elisabeth withdrew her hand. Alberto had a horribly guilty look about him. ‘What is it?’

He smiled weakly. ‘I must be honest with you. You see, my love, I…I have told a terrible lie.’

She shook her head.

‘You must listen to me, darling…’

‘I am listening. Get on with it.’

Alberto braced himself for the confession. ‘The blackmail. It was a lie, every last bit of it. There was no blackmail. I invented it so that you would tell St Louis...’ he nodded at Robert ‘...so you would tell him about our love for each other.’

Elisabeth was outraged. ‘You did
what
?’

‘I am ashamed.’ He looked at the floor. ‘Forgive me. Many nights I lie awake and I wonder what it is you see in Alberto Bellini—I am old; my body is failing. What can I give you that you don’t already have? The answer I cannot find. Elisabeth, you are beautiful; you are young and full of life. Me? I have none of this. And yet I cannot lose you. I will not let you go, I will not take that risk. I had to act. If you married St Louis, you would never have been mine.’

A silence. ‘So you lied to me? You frightened me? Alberto, I feared for my
life
.’

‘I did not mean for it to go this far,’ he said simply. ‘I am sorry.’

She blinked. ‘I can’t believe you would do this.’

Alberto nodded. ‘I was blinded by fear,’ he said, ‘fear that I do not have time left to wait. And I was blinded by desire,
bellissima
; my desire for you.’ He looked at her. ‘Elisabeth, I want you. I want to love you the rest of my life, however long that may be.’

In a flash Bernstein was on Alberto, knocking the old man to the floor. Elisabeth’s hands flew to her face.

‘You dirty fuckin’ goddamn motherfucker, Bellini!’ He slammed the old man’s stomach. ‘You sick fuckin’ prick, you dirty filthy fuckin’—’ Another punch before Robert hauled him off.

‘Take it easy.’ Robert held Bernstein’s arms behind his back, the older man’s chest rising and falling.

‘Let the hell go of me,’ he choked. ‘Right now.
You haven’t got a fuckin’ clue, St Louis.
’

Elisabeth was on the floor, kissing Alberto’s crumpled face. It was with such tenderness that Robert felt sad at all of her that he had missed—or hadn’t wanted to find.

‘Freakin’ let go of me.’ Bernstein whipped himself loose.

Robert did as he was told. Bernstein straightened his jacket. ‘You make a mockery of me, Elisabeth. I tried to do the right thing, I tried to move you in the right direction, all for your mother, God rest her soul—and now look at you. You just threw it back in my face.’ He looked defeated, disgusted. ‘You’re gonna regret this every single day of your life.’

Elisabeth looked up at her father. ‘Then have nothing to do with me.’

Numb, he nodded. Blindly he stumbled towards the auditorium doors. He turned round.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘I won’t. I can’t. Not now.’

Tears streaked her face. ‘Fine.’

Bernstein pushed through, head bowed, his back shaking. Elisabeth watched him go with defiance in her heart.

Beneath her Alberto groaned, blood pooling on his white collar. She knew she should be livid—what he’d done was nothing short of abominable—but somehow she couldn’t summon the strength. A part of her understood why he had lied. Had he not invented the blackmail, would she ever have found the courage to tell Robert? Or would she have seen the marriage through and entered the life her father expected of her?

It would take time to trust him again, but she could only believe his actions came from a good place. As she looked into his eyes she knew he loved her—in a way Robert never had. Too long she had looked into her fiancé’s and seen another woman reflected; a distraction; an absence; an emptiness she couldn’t fill, however hard she tried. With Alberto she knew that things would be different.

She and Robert helped Alberto into a sitting position, with his back against the row of seats. Robert crouched down and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, pressing it to the old man’s nose.

Elisabeth gave him a look he hadn’t seen before. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

He nodded, stemmed the bleeding then sat down on Alberto’s other side. The three of them were quiet a while.

‘I hope we can be friends,’ she said eventually.

He turned to her. After a minute he said, ‘I do, too.’

The auditorium was quiet.

‘In that case,’ she said gently, ‘can I suggest something, as your friend?’

He shook his head wearily, as if the day couldn’t relinquish much more. ‘Go ahead.’

She reached across and took Robert’s hand. ‘Go to Lana,’ she said. ‘Be with her. Go to Lana and work it out.’