Temptation Island (47 page)

‘But his might?’

‘I can’t comment on his.’ She spread her hands flat. ‘I would suggest, for your own peace of mind, he seeks his own advice.’

Xander called on the cab ride back to her hotel.

‘Hi.’ She was surprised to hear from him. ‘Is everything all right?’

The taxi passed Euston Station, where they overtook a double-decker bus. Lori Garcia’s image was plastered to its flanks, advertising a make-up giant, her eyelashes impossibly long.

‘I’m coming to London,’ he said.

‘What?’ She sat up straighter. ‘Why?’

There was a long pause, during which she thought she’d lost him. At last, he said: ‘Because I have to see you.’

‘Xander, you’re scaring me. What’s the matter?’

Dark clouds gathered. It looked perilously like rain.

‘I’ll explain when I get there.’

49
Lori

Every opportunity she had, she attempted to make contact with JB.

In between shoots in Europe, at departure lounges throughout Asia, during a string of galas in South America … Delicately worded messages had been left at La Lumière. She’d even tried to contact Reuben van der Meyde directly, but his army of personnel made it impossible.

Where was he? Was he still on business? If so, what? What could possibly take him away for this long? She couldn’t understand it. It had been three months since Cacatra and he knew where she was. Time was running out. She was paranoid people could tell. The swell in her belly was minimal but she knew from the books she’d read that when change happened it would happen swiftly. She couldn’t bear the idea of him finding out from someone else, but if he didn’t get in touch soon she’d be left with no choice. And what was she meant to tell everyone? She
couldn’t possibly announce to the world that she was carrying JB Moreau’s child, especially when the father himself, not to mention his
wife
, had no idea.

It was as if he had received none of her messages. At first, Lori had been ambiguous, wanting to save the revelation.
Call me, I have to see you …
Then, in recent weeks:
JB, it’s vital we meet … Something has happened … We’ve got news …

He travelled. Perhaps he was in a far-flung country, in a different time zone. Perhaps he had lost his cell or changed his number. Perhaps he had tried calling but her own phone was broken and swallowing up the data…

She wasn’t stupid. Every way she looked at it, the facts were clear.

The next day, they’re history …

Between you and me, he’s an asshole …

You know nothing about love—and even less about this man …

It was what everyone had warned her about: Desideria, Jacqueline, even her father.

And though it broke her heart and ripped her to shreds, the fourth reason for his silence was the most feasible. He was with Rebecca Stuttgart, busy making amends.

The inevitable snub. Lori had always pitied the women in romance novels who believed they could conquer the rogue or tame the savage, certain that with them he was different, the things he’d said and the way he’d made them feel, the fact they knew him as nobody else did: they knew him
better
. Couldn’t they see he was stringing them along? Wasn’t it obvious? Yes, to everyone else. To the person it was happening to, an irresistible delusion.

For a while, she followed suit. She refused to accept that
JB had done that to her. What they’d talked about on the beach on Cacatra, the things he’d shared, how he’d touched her and kissed her, how he’d looked into her eyes like it meant everything.

Lori was terrified.

She was terrified of raising this baby alone, for even if JB had the nerve to ask her to get rid of it—would he attempt to offer her money? Would he stoop that low?—she had no intention of giving it up. She was terrified of the repercussions, for how would she explain it? How many lies would she need to tell? She was terrified that it would shatter the life she had built for herself, the life her grandmother had given her the courage and the means to pursue, and then where would she be? She was terrified of ending up back in
Tres Hermanas
, all this a dream, just as she’d feared in the early days, with absolutely nothing.

But none of this came close to the biggest terror of all. For, much as she despised his selfishness, much as she could scarcely get her head around his cruelty, much as she was unable to fathom how one human being could treat another so callously, she was terrified that she would never be with JB Moreau again. Terrified that whatever they’d had was over.

The following month, Lori said yes to dinner with Maximo Diaz. Jacqueline had been on her back about it, not to mention the man himself. Maximo was persistent, haranguing her with calls, inundating her with flowers and having his management chase hers near enough every day for a meet. After they ran into each other at a gathering in Boston, she finally accepted.

What harm could it do? Maximo was pleasant enough
company. He was forever telling her how beautiful she was, how special, and right now that was what she needed. Lori was desperate, lonely and frightened. She was used and ashamed and betrayed. Her body was giving her away. Beneath the loose-fitting tops her shape was getting harder to conceal. She needed a friend—and naively told herself that, for now, it was all he wished to be.

Tonight was the third occasion they’d been out. Maximo had suggested Sands, a popular eatery overlooking the beach, and came to meet her early evening, the sun hot-pink over the water. He was dressed in a pale linen suit, and smiled and waved when he saw her.

In another life she would have found Maximo attractive. Tall, lean and brooding, he was vampirically pale with liquid dark eyes and full, soft lips. You could tell he was from royal stock because everything about him looked and smelled expensive. He had modelled on and off before entering the acting fray and was so ravishing on the eye that it didn’t much matter what he got up to on-screen. Teenage girls were wild for him.

They sat outside beneath a wide cream canopy that rippled in the ocean breeze.

‘How was your audition?’ she asked. Maximo had gone for another romantic lead but this was a mega-bucks project, one that could propel him to the big league.

He looked self-conscious. ‘It was OK.’

‘Just OK?’

Maximo deflected the question by ordering drinks. When Lori went for San Pellegrino he observed, ‘Still not drinking? Gotta admire you.’ She’d told him she was avoiding alcohol because it was bad for her skin, and her sense
was that he was impressed at this, in a way that made her uneasy, as though he appreciated the preservation of looks above all else.

When the waiter had gone, she pressed him. ‘When will you hear?’

He pretended not to know what she was talking about and returned her gaze blankly. If this acting was anything to go by, the answer was never.

‘About what?’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘The audition?’

‘Oh, right. Yeah. Not sure.’

‘You don’t seem very enthusiastic.’

The drinks came. When the waiter had gone, Maximo checked about him and blushed at the tips of his ears.

‘I gotta get my—’ he shrugged ‘—y’know, I gotta get my junk out.’

Something about his countenance made her want to laugh, which was an alien sensation. ‘OK …’ she said, reining it in. ‘You’re uncomfortable with that?’

‘Wouldn’t you be?’

‘It depends on the context,’ she admitted. ‘Probably.’

He sat back. ‘It’s the real deal. Full nudity.’

‘Is it important to the part?’ She suspected it wasn’t. Maximo was hardly going to be working on an arthouse movie, though they’d probably dressed it, so to speak, that way.

‘Yeah,’ he mused, ‘I’m pretty sure it is. I mean, they said it was.’

His discomfort surprised her. ‘I would have thought you’d be used to people swooning over you by now.’ She’d meant it in a conspiratorial way but he took the compliment face-on.

‘Guess so,’ he said. ‘But I’m not sure …’ He looked up at her as though trying to convey a hidden meaning. ‘I’m not sure they’re ready for it.’

This time Lori did laugh, her troubles fleetingly forgotten. ‘Really?’

He nodded. ‘It’s just that …’ The waiter came back to take their food order. Maximo muttered, ‘Never mind,’ and, though she would try to steer the conversation back on to it, he resisted and the subject was lost.

Afterwards, they headed back to Maximo’s apartment. He’d regaled her over dinner with anecdotes from his privileged childhood and Lori had expressed interest in seeing some photographs. Following the poisonous mail she’d been receiving, she had also become hesitant about returning to the mansion alone late at night, especially in her condition.

Maximo’s place in the Hills was a bona fide bachelor’s pad, all chrome and leather and enormous flat-screen TVs mounted on the walls. Lori perched on the edge of a couch.

‘Want a drink?’ he called from the kitchen.

‘I’m all right.’

He stuck his head round the door and made a face. ‘Seriously? I was thinking brandy.’

‘I’m not drinking.’

‘One won’t hurt.’

‘No. Honest, I’m fine.’

He shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’ Moments later he emerged with a bottle of Courvoisier and two goldfish-bowl glasses, ‘In case she changes her mind.’

Lori noticed there was little if any personal memorabilia. The way Maximo had been going on she’d imagined he had photos all over the place.

‘Let’s see these pictures, then.’ She smiled. ‘I’m dying to see this castle you grew up in.’

Maximo sat down next to her. He poured the amber liquid, taking his time, and his silence unnerved her.

‘You know, Lori,’ he said at last, ‘I really like you. You must realise that.’

His voice was very calm, very measured. He didn’t look at her.

‘I’m enjoying your company, too,’ she said carefully.

He ran a pale finger around the rim of his glass. ‘And I think you know what I want.’

Lori made the mistake of taking his hand. ‘Max, I have to be honest with you,’ she began. This wasn’t going to be easy. ‘The way things are for me right now, it’s complicated.’

He held her hand tightly. She realised for the first time how big his were.

‘When isn’t it complicated?’ he returned.

‘No, you don’t understand, it’s more than that. It’s—’

Without warning, Maximo’s lips were on hers. She could feel his hard white teeth and smell the musk in his hair. His tongue darted into her mouth, warm and slick.

‘I’m hot for you, Lori.’ His breath was strangled as he buried his hands in her hair, forcing her backwards. ‘Say you want me too. Don’t fight it.’

‘Wait,’ she managed, attempting to fend him off, ‘please—’

He pinned her down on the leather, driving her legs apart and jamming himself between. Lori anticipated his erection but could not feel it.

‘Max,
don
’
t!
’ But he was biting and pulling and as she pushed against him with all her might, panicking, he unzipped
his fly, holding her chin tight with his other hand. She couldn’t speak, her chest and lungs filled with fear as she felt him tug down his pants and the thin, abrasive fabric of his jockeys rub against her. Again she felt nothing, just the chafe of his flat groin on hers. His grip darted to her breasts, fumbled with the buttons and freed one nipple, taking it between his teeth and tugging so she cried out in pain. His fingers were inside her knickers, tearing them down, clumsily stabbing at her dryness.

‘Get off me!’ She hit him. It was useless. He was driving against her, a starving rhythm, as though he were already inside.

And then she realised, with horror, he might be.

‘Stop!’

‘You want it, Lori,’ he spluttered in her ear, ‘I know you do.
Relax
.’

This time she raised a knee and ploughed it into his groin, eliciting a shriek of pain as he lurched backwards, off the couch and on to the floor.

His erection, compact as a pink lipstick, was no bigger than her little finger. He was hardly wider than a straw. She hadn’t known any that small existed.

‘Bitch!’
he rasped, pushing himself up. ‘That’s how you want to play it? Huh? You like it rough?’

‘Get away from me.’ She attempted to struggle back into her clothes, turning and groping on the floor. But he was on her again, this time from behind, wheezing and moaning, his miniature prick pestering for entry. He rutted against her, once, twice, three times, before he released a high-pitched wheeze like air escaping from a balloon, and withdrew.

Seconds passed before he said, quite happily, ‘That was amazing.’

Lori couldn’t speak. Her tongue was bloated. Her heart was pounding.

‘You sure are a wild one, Lori Garcia.’ He was kneeling at the foot of the couch and admiring his diminutive manhood. ‘I know it’s tiny,’ he crooned, ‘but it can work wonders. So many girls get put off, you know? It’s not what they’re expecting. But once they’ve sampled the Maximo magic they always want more. Do you want more, Lori?’ He reached down and stroked her back. ‘I can go all night …’

Quick as a tiger, she rounded on him, balling her knuckles and punching him squarely in the jaw. Or she’d thought it was the jaw but it could have been higher, because as Maximo was propelled backwards a flash of red shot out of his nose. Naked, he came to rest on the floor, cradling his face with one hand and his balls with the other.

‘You sicken me,’ Lori raged, stumbling to her feet. She was shaking but determined to control it, refusing to give him the satisfaction of another hushed victim. All the agony of the past few months possessed her entire being, and she didn’t know where the words came from but that she meant every one. ‘If you come within a hundred feet of me again,’ she threatened, ‘I swear I’ll take your pathetic excuse for a cock and I’ll rip it off and nail you with it. But don’t worry—you’ll scarcely feel a thing.’

She gathered her stuff and headed for the apartment door.

Maximo’s pitiful cry echoed in her wake. ‘Wait, Lori, come back—’