The Final Act (#4 Bestselling Spotlight Series) (25 page)

Chapter
38

As the car pulls up opposite the red carpet, I feel a wave of excitement.

A thick herd of fans and
unofficial reporters are pressed up against a metal barricade. And a further slew of official journalists and photographers are stood on the red carpet, their microphones and lenses primed.

“You look incredible,” says James, leaning to whisper in my ear. “Are you nervous?”

I shake my head. “Not with you.”

James
raises his eyebrows, catching my eyes in the mirror. “I thought you were going to say ‘not considering the afternoon you’ve had’.”

“That too,” I admit.

Usually, I would be crawling out of my skin at the prospect of all this attention directed my way. But it is almost impossible to feel nervous after what I’ve just been through.

Maybe I’m suited for this acting thing after all.

I eye myself in the rear view mirror. I’ve certainly looked better. My make-up is no longer perfect. And though I’ve smoothed my dark hair the best I can, my dress looks as though its been worn a few times before. But really, I just don’t care.

This is who I am. They can take me, or leave me.

“Ready then?” says James. He pops the car door and steps out.

From the inside, I hear the rush of noise as the crowd sees James. Then he’s reaching in and drawing me out.

I rise up out of the car and stand proudly next to James.

Flashbulbs are popping everywhere, like a dazzling starburst all around. And the noise of shouting fans and reporters is beyond intense.

But stood next to him, I feel a sudden rush of pride.

He’s mine. I’m his.

I stand taller at his side, smiling out into the crowd. Together, we feel invincible. A force to be reckoned with.

My fears vanish, replaced with an incredible feeling of strength.

James Berkeley. My love for you can conquer anything.

We stand for a moment, and the reporters pour forward, taking pictures and thrusting mi
cs.

A female reporter with a sweep of perfect blonde highlights is first to reach us.

“We hear that Madison has given her blessing for your latest romance?” she asks, pointing her microphone meaningfully at James.

He tilts his head indulgently towards me and pulls me closer.

“Oh, I wouldn’t call it a romance,” he says with a mischievous grin. “I’d call this beautiful woman the love of my life.”

He turns, and his green eyes land on mine. I grip him tighter, staring back.

“But since you ask,” adds James, keeping his gaze firmly on me, “we do have Madison’s blessing.”

“What about you, Isabella?” presses the woman, turning her attention to me now. “Is all this a little sudden?”

I feel myself held in James’s gaze.

“No,” I say, my voice coming stronger than I thought it would. “Not when you feel the way we feel about one another.”

Other microphones have arrived now, and we’re suddenly buried in a shouting maelstrom of questions. James takes my arm and leads me firmly through the pack, towards the door of the movie theatre.

“Are you ok?” he whispers as we make it through into the relative calm on the other side.

“Yeah,” I reply. “Did I do it ok?”

He squeezes my arm. “You did it better than ok,” he says. “You did it like a movie star.”

Chapter
39

We exit the movie in a sea of delighted faces. Everyone is talking excitedly, smiling and laughing. If I was in any doubt as to James’s power as a movie-maker, this is the evidence.

He can lift a crowd, t
ell them a story, and make them think at the end of it. It’s a very powerful skill, which I’m only just coming to fully appreciate.

Being part of the filming meant I saw the way James added depth and life. But seeing it all put together. It was beyond masterful.

As we leave, I hear people talking about awards and Oscars.

The general crowd is headed for the doors, but James steers me to the left.

“We’re taking a secret exit,” he explains. “So we can avoid being mobbed.”

“T
his way,” adds James, gesturing to a slim corridor heading away from the crowds.

As we step into the corridor, w
e’re suddenly ringed by a troop of bodyguards who escort us out with hasty firmness. It’s a perfectly timed security operation.

“They’ll make sure we get to the after party,” explains James as we arrive at a shining limo.

We slip inside, and I let the strangeness of my new life settle around me.

“This
security is all because we’re a couple?” I ask. “Or would you do this after any premiere?”

“A bit of both,” he admits. “Issy, this is something you’re going to have to get used to,” he adds, an apology in his tone. “You won’t be able to run out to the shops anymore, or go out shopping alone. You’ll be escorted at all times.”

This is it then, I realise. No more normal life. Stupidly, I’d assumed I’d be able to slip out and meet Lorna for a drink before the after party.

I shake my head at my own naivety. But it’s hard to believe so much could change in so little time. An hour ago, I could go anywhere I pleased with total anonymity.

It’s worth it though
, I tell myself.
James is worth it all, and more
.

The car zips out of a back route, and before I know it
, we’re on the road. Then we’re out of the city and into the countryside.

“Where are we going?” I ask James. “I thought the party was in London?”

“It is,” he replies. “I wanted to show you something first. At the studio.”

“Ok.” I look at him questioningly, but he faces front, giving nothing away. There’s a smile playing on his lips.

Hmmmm.

As the car pulls into the studio, I’m becoming more and more curious.

“Here,” says James, talking to the driver. And we pull up near to the studio gardens.

James helps me out of the car, and I stand facing him.

“So now will you tell me?” I say, my tone exasperated. “Don’t you think I’ve had enough surprises for today?”

“A person can never have too many nice surprises,” says James. “Follow me.”

Chapter
40

He leads me to the entrance of the studio gardens. But instead of going through the entrance, he gestures to a forklift cherry-picker parked just outside.

“After you
.” He gestures to the part of the machine designed to hold people, which has been lowered to ground level.

“Are you kidding me?” I eye the machine. It has a wheeled base and a square section designed to lift up high when the machine is started up. “You want me to get in that thing?”

He opens the door of the base.

“Yes
, please.”

I hesitate. “Can you even operate this?”

“After a fashion. Get in. I want to show you something.”

“Can’t I see it from the ground?”

“Nope.”

I enter the machine uncertainly. James closes the door behind us and picks up an industrial remote.

“You’re totally safe,” he promises. “I use these all the time.”

There’s a sudden burst of noise as the engine fires up, and then the machine lurches into life, lifting us slowly higher.

I cling onto James’s arm.

“What exactly do you want me to see?” I ask, feeling giddy with the sudden height change. “Surely
, I’ve seen everything in the studio already?”

“Not everything,” says James. “I’ve been making some adjustments to the Berkeley
Studio gardens. I thought you should see them first.”

“Is this for a movie?” I ask, wondering if he’s remodelled for a new film.

“That depends,” he says. “On whether you’d like to use it in a script.”

I stare at him in confusion, before I realise that the forklift has come to a halt. We’re suspended high in the sky, with all of Berkeley Studios below us. It reaches for a long way, all around.

I turn towards the gardens, wondering what James wants me to look at.

And then I see what he’s done.

Oh James! All this, for me?

The entire gardens have been planted out in red rose bushes. They span an enormous patch of ground, almost beyond my peripheral vision.

But the roses haven’t just been planted randomly. It takes me a second for the patterns to make sense to me. And then I throw my hands up to my mouth, gasping in delight.

Written neatly, in hundreds and hundreds of roses, are two words.

“Marry Me.”

I can’t speak for emotion. I’m so overwhelmed that
, for a moment, I don’t think I’ll be able to get any words out at all.

Then James turns me gently around to face him
, and he sinks to one knee.

“So,” he says. “Will you?”

“Yes!” I blurt. “Yes! Of course I’ll marry you, James.”

Smiling
, he draws out a ring box from his pocket and opens it. Inside is a simple diamond ring, all the more elegant for being understated.

“This was my mothers,” he says, and I feel more tears burn in my eyes. “She would have loved you
, Issy. I think she’d be very happy for you to wear it.”

“It
’s beautiful,” I say. There are no other words.

“You do realise,” says James, “that when I put this on your finger, you have to do as you’re told forever more.”

“Not until the wedding day,” I retort. “And probably not even then.”

He grins up at me, sliding the ring carefully onto my finger.

“Mrs Berkeley,” he breathes. “I am so looking forward to calling you that.”

He stands and kisses me gently on the mouth.

“My Mrs Berkeley.”

He pulls back a little. “
You know it won’t always be easy, Issy. But I’ll take the best measures to keep our wedding and honeymoon out of the newspapers.”

He kisses me again. “
And I’ll work hard to keep us private,” he adds. “I’ve already hired the best public relations team. They’ll train you in everything.”

I smile serenely at him, floating in a blissful sea of happiness.

“James,” I say softly. “There really is no need.”

“
There is,” he says. “I’m sorry, Issy, but the press can be brutal. You’ll need training. It’s the only way I can protect you.”

But I’m shaking my head.
A lot of thoughts have started to converge, and I’ve come to a decision.

“There
’s no need,” I say. “Because after this movie, I’m not planning on being an actress.”

His jaw drops open in amazement.

“I never wanted to be an actress,” I remind him. “I only agreed to take part in your film to find out more about writing.”

His expression is one of wonder.

“So you did,” he says.

“All I ever wanted to do,” I say, “is write scripts. And now what I want is to write scripts with you.”

I look at him, making the statement a question.

“I think that could be arranged,” he replies. His face is alive with delight.

“You’re really serious?” he says. “You’d give it all up? The fame of acting? For us?”

I shake my head. “It’s not like that,” I say. “I’m not giving anything up.
I enjoy acting. But I like writing more.”

I shrug. “I’m not like Natalie and Callum,” I explain
. “I don’t want to be mobbed by adoring fans. I’d much rather have a normal life. And if that means we have less pressures as a couple, then all the better.”

James has the expression of a man who’s just made a double-lottery win.

“I don’t believe it,” he says. “You are too incredible.”

“In any case,” I add, glancing up at him shyly. “I don’t have to give up acting
completely
, do I?”

He’s face twists in puzzlement.

“Because I can act with you,” I say. He looks puzzled, and I give him a saucy grin. “In the bedroom,” I add.

James
grins mischievously. “That won’t be a problem at all,” he says. “In fact, I have some scripts in my head right now I think we should act out.”

“Careful
, Mr Berkeley,” I say. “You might be the director on set. But when it comes to scripts, we work as a team.”

Three months later

“Issy, I cannot believe how beautiful you look.” Lorna is looking me up and down, her eyes wide in amazement. “That dress.”

I giggle. “Thanks.”

I regard myself in the mirror. My white dress is like two outfits in one. The top half is elegant and understated, wrapping close around my body and exaggerating my hourglass curves. The bottom half flairs wide in a decadent wave of fabric, with more than a hint of flamenco.

“Blame my Spanish her
itage,” I say, moving a curl of black hair away from my grey eyes. “I couldn’t resist having a dress with a little flair to it.”

Natalie and Camilla enter the room. They are dressed identically to Lorna, with retro-style floral dresses and bouquets of pink roses.

My beautiful bridesmaids.

My own bouquet was sent this morning by James. It is an artful swathe of deep red roses with a tiny perfect pearl in the centre of each.

“Ready?” asks Natalie. She looks more nervous than I do.

I take a breath.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Lorna takes my arm. “Come on Princess Issy. Let’s get you to your Prince Charming.”

James and I have
chosen to be married in the Berkeley Estate private chapel. It’s a romantic little church on the rolling green grounds. For the last few weeks, I’ve been liaising with florists and decorators to cover the church in the perfect blend of flowers and silken ribbons.

W
ith our two families converging here, I expected to be distracted by all kinds of things walking up the aisle.

But as I enter the church with Mami at my side and Lorna, Camilla and Natalie behind me, my attention is on one thing only.

Him.

James’s broad back is so familiar, I feel my heart leap in my chest.
I curb a sudden urge to race down the aisle and throw myself into his arms.

James turns, and I see his face light up in amazement as he sees me.

I blush, and keep my eyes on him.

My James.

Then I’m at his side, and I feel his arm pull me close to him.

“You look stunning,” he whispers. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to star in one of my movies?”

I grin up at him. “Don’t you read the papers?” I ask. “I gave all that up for the man I love.”

Our vows are short, and heartfelt. And afterwards, we hold the reception in Berkeley Hall.

Lady Berkeley has arranged a spectacular wedding breakfast
in the main dining room. I suspect she was only too happy to dispose of Lord Berkeley’s stuffed stag heads for the occasion, and I’m guessing they won’t be making a fast reappearance once the celebration is over.

James took charge of security, making sure no helicopters could fly over the grounds trying for paparazzi shots. But t
o my delight, our wedding in Berkeley Hall has attracted less press attention than I feared. Since the movie premiere, I’ve been deluged with offers of interviews and appearances. Talk is even rife that I’m in the running for an award.

But
I’ve been patiently declining any chance to boost my celebrity status.

And
the press have already started to lose interest in the actress who will never be interviewed.

Instead, t
hey turn their attention to Natalie, Callum, and an up-and-coming couple named Camilla and Bradley.

Which means
James and I can get on with finishing our script, and I’m crazy excited for when we start filming. I’m even nursing a hope that Emilia might be able to have a bit part. Since my visit, I’ve heard she’s gotten much stronger. And now the stalker is behind bars for good, Emilia has begun getting therapy and putting her trauma behind her.

Champagne is served, and the speeches begin. In an effort to build bridges, James has appointed his father best man. And rising to the challenge,
Lord Berkeley delivers a moving speech, stating his wish to be involved more closely in his son’s life from now on.

As James stands to make his wedding speech, the guests fall to a hush. I gaze up at him adoringly.

My amazing husband.
My heart is full to bursting.

“When I first met this beautiful girl,”
begins James, “I knew my world had changed forever. What I didn’t know is just how much.”

His eyes lock on mine. “Issy, words cannot express how grateful I am for your faith and your love for me.”

I feel tears prick my eyes.

“Your strength
has allowed me to forgive myself. I am more of a man because of you. I am my true self, because you allowed me to be.”

I wipe away a tear, but a sudden flood threatens to stream down my face.

His true self. I feel that way too.

James
looks around at the guests.

“I am so happy,” he says, “that the rest of my life will be dedicated to loving and protecting
my beautiful Issy. And I am indebted to you all for bearing witness to our marriage.”

He raises a glass. “To my lovely wife,” he announces, “Isabella Berkeley.”

Isabella Berkeley.
I feel a flush of pride as the guests raise their glasses and say my new name.

I turn to see Mami beaming and Natalie, Camilla and Lorna raising their glasses high in toast. In the crowd, Callum and Will ar
e watching on.

My aunt and uncle are here too, along with some of my friends from drama school. And a whole host of Berkeley relatives
, who I’ve yet to properly meet, are in attendance.

James sits and kisses me, and I hear applause.

Wait a minute
, I decide,
it’s my wedding too.

Hardly knowing what I’m doing, I stand and clear my throat.

James looks at me in surprise. This wasn’t planned.

“Of course,” I begin, “my husband must know our marriage can’t start with him having the last word.”

There’s laughter, and I feel a spurt of bravery.

“So I think it’s only fair,” I add, “that I say a few words too. Like my husband, I am so grateful that you all came
. Some of you from far away.”

I swallow. “And for my Mami and beautiful bridesmaids,” I continue
, “I say thank you.” I take a breath. I’m getting the hang of this now. “But most of all, I want to thank my new husband. For loving me more than I ever thought was possible.”

I smile out at the
crowd and feel a sea of happy faces looking back.

“
So I hope you’ll join me,” I continue, “in some unfamiliar words, which mean a lot to James and I.”

I hold my glass up high.
“This is a phrase from Mauritius, which James taught me.” I pause, framing the phrase in my head. Then I say our words.

“
Mo content toi
,” I announce as I make the toast.

I see a flicker of emotion on Lord Berkeley’s face, and he is the first to raise his glass. The other guests proffer theirs. And suddenly the whole room is speaking together.

“
Mo content toi
!” The foreign phrase sounds out uncertainly across the room.

I see
guests look at one another, wondering what they are saying. But my eyes are on James. And in this crowded room, those three words have bought us a sudden, private moment.

His green eyes
are shining.

“
Mo content toi
,” he mouths, his gaze fixed on mine.

I murmur it back, knowing this promise, like our wedding vows, is forever.

Mo content toi
. James Berkeley. For forever and always.

T
he place where my heart feels at home.