Superstar (33 page)

Carrin turned
away, not wanting him to see her, and almost collided with Olivia
Reed. The writer grabbed her.

"Carrin, just
the person I was looking for." She took Carrin's arm and propelled
her down the hall and onto a veranda. There she released her and
turned to face her.

"What have you
been doing to Mark?"

Carrin sighed.
"Nothing. Why don't you ask him what he's been doing to me?"

"My god,
Carrin, I've never seen him so unhappy."

"He's acting,
for Pete's sake."

"No, he's not.
You know that Helen tricked you, and he never harmed her, so what's
the problem now?"

Carrin drained
her champagne and took another glassful from a passing waiter. The
bubbles tickled her brain, making her reckless, and Mark's
behaviour over the last week had depressed her. It was time to set
Olivia straight on the whole matter.

"The problem
is that a superstar like Mark Lord would never contemplate anything
other than a brief affair with a nobody like me, and I don't want
to ruin our friendship for a few months of... intimacy, no matter
whole wonderful that might be."

"You're a
fool." Olivia shook her head.

"Oh, you think
I should go for the brass ring, and make the most of it while it
lasts? And when the bitterness sets in after it's over, perhaps I
should join the rest of the bed-hopping socialites in Hollywood?"
Carrin drained her glass again and grabbed another from a waiter.
There seemed to be a vast population of liveried men wandering
about with laden trays.

"You don't
know it will end. What if it doesn't?" Olivia demanded. "You're
throwing away a chance to be with one of the most gorgeous and
sought-after men in the world."

"Yeah, well
that's precisely the problem, isn't it? It wouldn't be long before
some lovely starlet or supermodel stole him away. The fact that
he's gorgeous and sought-after makes him a very bad prospect for
anything other than a brief fling."

"You could be
wrong."

Carrin took a
gulp of champagne and waved her glass. "Little chance of that. If
bets were made, it would be twenty to one against me being wrong.
At this moment, he's got four absolutely ravishing girls vying for
his attention, each one more willing than the next to do anything
he'd like. How can any one woman, even if she was the most
beautiful in the world, compete with that?"

"Was he
flirting with them?"

"Not at that
moment, no, he was busy talking to someone."

"Mark's not a
shallow playboy like Simon, he has values."

Carrin
laughed. "Even so, he's only human, you know."

"What do you
want, a written guarantee? Life's never that certain. You could
marry some nice young man from your home town, but there's still a
chance that he could be unfaithful."

"I'd say the
chances of that would be a lot less. I'm not a gambler. I'd rather
bet on the favourite than a hundred to one outsider."

"There are
superstars who have remained faithful to their spouses, you know.
Grant Jeffrey, for one. Melissa Jacobson, John Rafeal. What about
them?"

Carrin nodded.
"You know what they all have in common? They all got married before
they became famous. Mark knows what it's like to be an available
superstar; he'd miss it. In fact, he wouldn't give it up."

"Is that what
it would take to convince you? A marriage proposal?"

Carrin
grabbed another passing champagne glass and giggled. "A Hollywood
marriage? Spare me, please. They hardly last any longer than the
affairs, and are messier to end."

Olivia sighed
and sipped her drink. "What about love? You talk as if there's only
a physical attraction between you two. If you love each other,
nothing could ever come between you. Mark wouldn't look at anyone
else, no matter how beautiful they were. Real love is like that.
It's stronger than anything, and has little or nothing to do with
looks."

"I know that,"
Carrin retorted. "But do you really think Mark Lord is capable of
loving anyone? I was told he's not, and I'm inclined to believe
that, especially based on his past record. And even if he was
capable of it, why the hell would he fall in love with someone like
me?"

"Love doesn't
need a reason. Sometimes it brings together people who have
absolutely nothing in common, yet if it's strong enough it will
last a lifetime."

"Oh, posh."
Carrin waved her glass rather too violently, slopping champagne.
"Maybe that's true, but not in his case. He wouldn't know real love
if it came up and bit him on the arse."

"You don't
know that."

"It's a pretty
good guess. Has he ever been in love? He told me himself he's never
told a woman that he loves them, including me. His words, proof if
ever there was any."

Olivia shook
her head as Carrin polished off another glass of champagne and
looked around for a waiter.

"You must have
really hurt him for him to say that to you."

Carrin snagged
a fresh glass and swallowed half of it. "Maybe he was trying to
tell me the truth."

Olivia
snorted, then grabbed Carrin's arm when she would have finished the
rest of the champagne. "I'm going to tell you something, before you
get too drunk to remember it. Mark didn't want you to know about
it."

"Ah, one of
his little secrets? I'm all ears."

Olivia glared
at her, clearly annoyed at her flippant attitude. Only Carrin knew
that it hid a mountain of pain.

"When you went
home after your first visit, Mark tried to sell your script. He
went to every studio in town and a few that aren't. No one was
interested. The plot was too original, they didn't like it.
Eventually he found Warren, but Warren wasn't prepared to gamble
that much money on it. It costs millions to make a movie, and yours
isn't one of the cheaper ones. Do you know who put up the balance
of the money?"

She
giggled. "Rockefeller?"

"Mark did.
He's sunk god knows how many millions into it. If it isn't a
success, he stands to lose almost everything."

The champagne
turned sour in Carrin's stomach, and she swallowed stinging
bile.

Olivia went
on, "Mark is co-producer of Deadly Games. He's put up the bulk of
the money, and he's never shown any interest in producing before.
He's always said it's a mug's game, like gambling. Whatever you
were paid for the screenplay came out of his pocket."

"Why would he
do that?"

"I'm not sure.
I could guess, but I might be wrong. Why don't you ask him?"

"How can I ask
him when I'm not supposed to know?"

"Tell him I
told you, I don't mind." Olivia smiled. "He might bark, but he
doesn't bite."

Carrin
tossed back the last of her drink and grabbed another. How could he
do this to her? Didn't she owe him enough already? Why had he done
it? Because it was a good investment? Maybe. No, that had to be it.
He had hardly known her when she had gone back to Africa; she had
only met him the week before. It couldn't be anything else. So, he
had never been interested in producing before, so what? There was a
first time for everything. He had liked the screenplay, so he had
decided to produce it when no one else was interested, that was
all.

Carrin gulped
her drink, discovering that it was whisky and gasping for a few
minutes until her throat stopped burning. "Well, he must have
decided it was a good screenplay."

Olivia sent
her a scathing look. "Oh, who are you trying to fool?"

"No one.
That's the most logical explanation, isn't it?"

Olivia shook
her head and started to walk away, but Carrin stopped her. "There's
something I want to ask you about him, maybe you know."

Olivia
shrugged. "I might."

"He told me
that he was whipped and starved in the orphanage, made to scrub
floors. That's not true, is it? He was lying, that sort of thing
doesn't happen these days."

Olivia leant
on the veranda rail and stared out across the lawn with its
lanterns and revellers. "You know, he never told me that. He never
talks about the orphanage. I found out a few years ago, after he
helped me. I wanted to do something for him, to pay him back, so I
tried to find his parents. I tracked down the orphanage; it's in a
small town in Ohio. A very small town. The police had closed it
down several years before.

"It seems that
they had discovered that the children were being abused. Beaten,
starved, made to eat mouldy bread and dog food. The people who ran
it were pocketing most of the money that was given to them to run
it. They had more children than beds, so they made them sleep on
the floor with only a blanket. It wasn't until a little girl died
of hypothermia that the police discovered what was going on. They
got an anonymous tip, and found the body wrapped, ready for burial
in the back yard."

"My god,"
Carrin muttered. "How could anyone do that to children?"

Olivia sighed.
"They did."

"Did you ever
find his parents?"

"Not exactly.
His mother was a fourteen-year-old girl who had been raped. She
died in childbirth, and her parents abandoned him on the orphanage
steps. They're dead now. His mother was an only child, so at best
he might have some cousins, that's all. He's never tried to find
his parents, to my knowledge, and it's just as well, especially his
father."

Carrin
nodded. Even without knowing about his parents, a childhood like
that must have had a terrible effect on Mark. She sipped the
whisky, pity replacing her anger and bitterness. The combination of
whisky and champagne made her light-headed, and she emptied her
glass onto the lawn. She didn't like whisky, anyway.

Olivia said,
"You should have some coffee."

"I'd rather go
back to my hotel. I really don't feel up to facing Mark now, and
he's around here somewhere."

"You'll have
to face him sometime."

"Yeah, well,
not now. I'm going to find Simon."

Leaving Olivia
on the veranda, she made her way somewhat unsteadily inside. The
last time she had seen Simon, he was dancing in the lounge. She
went in search of him, but he was no longer there. Shaking off a
hopeful young man who begged her to dance with him, she went to the
study, but it was deserted. Most of the revellers were outside, it
seemed. Finding a door, she walked out onto the lawn. The cool air
made her dizzy, and she sank down on a garden bench. Looking back
at the house, her heart froze.

Mark stood
talking to Olivia, smiling and looking more cheerful than she had
seen him all week. As she watched, he leant forward and kissed
Olivia on the cheek. Olivia reached out as he drew back and stroked
the sleek hair on the side of his head, the sort of caress a mother
would give to a son. She spoke, and Mark nodded. Carrin swallowed a
cold lump. Olivia had told him. Why had she confided in his best
friend? Idiot! Now she had to get out of here. Mark would know
everything, and she did not want to listen to his lies about
that.

Desperate to escape, she rose and hunted for Simon again.
After a fruitless circuit around the lawn, she was despairing.
Where was he? She spotted Jenna and walked over to her.

"Jenna,
hi. Do you know where Simon is?"

The supermodel
eyed her. "He's already busy. He and Janice went upstairs." She
smirked and pulled her companion away.

Carrin
shivered, glancing around. There was no way out. Without Simon to
order the limousine, she was stuck. Nervous tension knotted her
stomach and made her queasy. She headed into the garden, hoping to
find a secluded spot where she could wait safely for Simon to
re-join the party. Mark must not find her. She made her way along
hedge-lined pathways until she smelt roses. A tall hedge surrounded
a secluded rose garden with a bench beside it, and she sat down,
her knees shaking. He would never find her here. Sadness engulfed
her, and she bowed her head, fighting a strong urge to
cry.

The sweet
smell of roses mocked her through the haze of champagne. What was
she going to do now? Try to think. Okay, her secret was out, he
would know all the right things to say, but it would all be lies.
She sighed, wondering how she would cope, now that he was armed
with the truth. Once she had sobered up, and had a chance to
prepare, she would manage somehow. Her eyes adjusted to the
darkness, and the moonlight seemed quite bright, silvering the
roses.

"So, here you
are."

Carrin turned
at the sound of Mark's soft voice. Her heart did a flip-flop and
landed like a lump of lead in the pit of her stomach. The moonlight
threw deep shadows onto his face, accentuating his strong bone
structure, narrow nose and sensual mouth. He smiled, his eyes dark.
Carrin looked away.

"Leave me
alone."

Mark walked
towards her, and she rose and moved away, terrified that she would
not be able to cope with his powerful charm while the champagne had
robbed her of so much of her self-control.

Mark stopped,
cocking his head. "Why are you scared of me now?"

"I know that
Olivia told you, don't deny it."

"Okay, she
told me, so what? I'm not going to tell you that it's not true, if
that's what you're expecting."

She looked at
him, startled. "Then it is true?"

"No. But you'd
only say that I was lying if I tried to persuade you with
words."

"Oh? You've
found a better way to persuade me?"

He nodded. "I
think so. I hope so. If not, all is lost."

"How?"

Mark advanced,
and she stepped back, keeping a distance between them the same. He
stopped. "Oh, come on, don't be ridiculous. I don't want to have to
shout at you from the other side of the flowerbed. What do you
think I'm going to do? I've already told you I'm not going to try
and seduce you, and you've said that I'm not looking for another
notch on my bed post." He paused. "Besides, it's a bit thorny
here."