Superstar (7 page)

"What's the
real reason, Carrin?"

"I told
you."

"Tell me the
truth, I want to know."

She jerked her
arm from his grip and rubbed it. "I'm homesick."

He nodded.
"That's your story, and you're sticking to it."

"It's the
truth."

"No it
isn't."

Swinging away,
she strode back to the house, leaving him staring after her. In her
room, she dialled her home phone number and waited while it rang.
Julia was far too lazy to answer it, and her mother would probably
be outside somewhere. Carrin counted the rings. On the tenth, it
was picked up, and the sound of her mother's voice brought a gush
of relief. Mrs York sounded pleased.

"You gave us
quite a start, vanishing like that, Cary. Luckily Paul found the
note you left in your cottage."

"I know, but I
did try to tell you."

"And we didn't
believe you. Well, we do now. What's it like in Hollywood?"

Carrin
hesitated. "Different. I've been working, so I haven't had any
chance to explore."

"What's Mr
Lord like?"

Carrin
swallowed. "He's... nice. Listen, mom, I'm coming home on Saturday
instead of Monday. Can Paul pick me up from the airport?"

"Of course
dear. We'll talk when you get back. Have a nice time."

Carrin said
goodbye and hung up, feeling a little better. She dreaded facing
Mark at supper, and went down late, only to find that he had gone
out and she was to dine alone. With a mixture of relief and
disappointment, she ate her solitary meal, then went to bed.

On Friday, she
met Mark's secretary, a short, plump blond woman with horn-rimmed
spectacles who exuded an air of efficiency. She gave Carrin her new
ticket and wished her a happy trip, then vanished into whatever
part of the huge mansion she inhabited. Carrin sat on the bed and
stared at the ticket. Tonight would be her last night in Mark
Lord's house.

Tomorrow
morning she would fly back to Africa, and she might never see him
again. She wanted to cry, and she forced herself to remember
Helen's battered face. That strengthened her resolve and banished
the tears, yet she looked forward to her evening out with the
superstar. Well, it would be a unique experience, and she would be
safe in the crowd. Strangely, Mark did not strike her as a violent
man, and she was usually good at seeing through people. Yet, as
Helen had pointed out, Mark Lord was an excellent actor. An Oscar
winner. Sighing, she put the ticket in her bag and went to the
computer room. At lunchtime, her dress arrived.

At five
o'clock she soaked in a bubble bath, then set her hair and daubed
on various body lotions. She put on her meagre make-up and donned
the dress. Standing before the full-length mirror, she stared at
her reflection, stunned. A lovely woman had replaced the cheap,
untidy tomboy. Carrin hardly recognised herself. The dress hugged
her figure, making her appear taller and more slender. The strappy
high-heeled sandals gave her poise and elegance that she had never
dreamt of possessing. Her hair shone, her skin glowed, and her blue
eyes sparkled between black lashes. Carrin was impressed.

In this dress,
she would give even the supermodels a run for their money. She
twirled, making the skirts fly, and laughed. Tonight would be the
best night of her life; a dream come true. If only the rest of her
fantasy had come true as well. If only Mark Lord had been a
gentleman instead of a monster. Her dream of happiness with him
intruded with disturbing vividness, and she banished it.

A knock at the
door startled her, and the young maid peered in, grinning with
delight.

"You look
lovely, Miss York!"

"Thank
you."

"Mr Lord is
waiting downstairs."

Carrin
experienced an odd mixture of dread and delight at the prospect of
facing him again, but steeled herself. Tomorrow she would go back
to the safety of her home, far from the intrigues of Hollywood and
Mark Lord's devastating charm. Just one more evening to get through
without her secret being discovered, and she would be safe.
Smoothing the dress over her hips, she left her room and descended
the marble stairs, wary of her shoes' high heels. The last thing
she wanted was to trip over her feet and end up in a heap at the
bottom of the stairs. Mark leant against the banister, clad in a
black dinner jacket with velvet lapels over a spotless white silk
shirt open at the throat. A black sash hugged his narrow hips above
well-cut black trousers. His dark hair gleamed, and she had never
seen a more beautiful man.

At the
clicking of her heels he turned to look up at her. His face
remained expressionless, and she stared at the pure lines of his
features, consigning this moment to her memory forever. His
nostrils flared, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. His eyes raked her
and he frowned. She shivered at the flat look in his eyes,
accompanied by a pang of sorrow. All that masculine beauty, and the
eyes of a cobra.

When she
reached the bottom of the stairs, she discovered that her
three-inch heels made her almost as tall as him. One corner of his
sensual mouth curved up.

"So, tonight
we're equals."

His soft tenor
sent another shiver through her, and his cool, spicy aftershave
made her light-headed. She could not drag her eyes from his face,
then his gaze flicked down, and she looked at the flat box that he
held. With a click, he opened it, revealing a diamond necklace
resting on a bed of black velvet. Carrin gasped.

"Another loan,
of course. The dress needs something."

"Of
course."

Mark lifted
the necklace out and fastened it around her neck, encircling her
with his arms to do so. His proximity made her want to reach up and
caress the flawless features so close to her. The touch of his
fingers on her neck sent thrills through her, which she struggled
to hide. Stepping back, he studied her.

"That's
better."

Carrin gazed
at him, sure that her feelings were written all over her face, but
unable to hide them. His dark eyes seemed to pierce her soul, yet
they remained unreadable.

"You look
exquisite."

"Thank you. So
do you."

His smile
widened. "I've never heard a man described like that."

"Few men
deserve it."

His eyes slid
away, and he turned to indicate the door. "Shall we go?"

Smiling at his
embarrassment, she preceded him to the purring limousine, where
John held the door for them. Within its rich interior, she no
longer felt out of place. The dress made her worthy of the luxury
and wealth that surrounded her. She felt like Cinderella, and was
giddy with happiness. The car whispered through the city and glided
to a halt outside a brightly lit nightclub, where the flashes of
hundreds of cameras strobed it. Paparazzi pushed at a barrier of
policemen, who held the swaying line at bay.

A liveried
flunky opened the door, and Mark slid out. Flashes exploded all
around him, and he raised a languid hand. Girls screamed his name
and papers fluttered, held out to him in the hope of receiving an
autograph. Carrin hesitated in the car's dimness. Even though Mark
was the centre of attraction, she was reluctant to face all those
flashing cameras. Mark reached in and took her hand, pulling her
from the car.

He muttered,
"Don't make me stand out here any longer than I have to."

A fresh wave
of flashes strobed her with brilliance, and she winced as the light
stabbed her eyes. Someone threw a rose at Mark, which he caught and
waved, bestowing his slight, famous smile in the general direction
of the thrower. Carrin stayed close to him, and his hand on her
elbow guided her through the blinding barrage. They entered the
foyer and left the lights behind. TV reporters waited in ambush
there, and rushed forward to thrust microphones in Mark's face,
cameras and lighting booms clustering close. The babble of
questions was almost unintelligible, but Mark said her name as he
forged through the media. When a persistent woman blocked his path,
a security guard hustled her aside.

At last they
outdistanced the media, who gave up the chase to return for their
next celebrity ambush. Entering the softer light within the club,
Carrin found herself in a large hall filled with flower-decked
tables. People sat and talked at them, while soft music played in
the background. Beyond them, spotlights wandered around a dance
floor and a stage.

Evidently this was some sort of award ceremony. She
followed Mark, who headed for a table, and she recognised most of
the people who sat at it from the first dinner party where she had
almost fallen asleep in her pudding. The women no longer looked at
her condescendingly or scornfully, and the men's stares were
admiring. Jenna sat beside Simon Grey, looking sour. Mark pulled
out a chair for Carrin, and she was relieved to get off her rubbery
legs after running the gauntlet outside. Spots still danced in her
eyes from the flashes, and Mark noticed her blinking as he settled
beside her.

"You mustn't
look at the flashes," he advised.

"It's hard not
to when they're everywhere."

"You'll get
used to it."

She smiled.
"I'll never be a superstar, like you."

"Be thankful
for that."

Mark turned
away to speak to another actor, who was trying to get his
attention. Carrin gazed around, spotting many well-known faces and
naming most of them. A week ago, she would not have dreamt of
seeing these people in real life, never mind being amongst them.
She was content to let the conversation flow around her and just
soak up the ambience. The room filled to capacity, and a delicious
dinner was served, which she ate as sparingly as the rest.

After dinner,
a well-known comedian took to the stage to make announcements.
Celebrities mounted the stage to accept the awards, and it seemed
like the Oscars, although not so grand. Mark was not amongst the
recipients, but then, he had not made a movie for two years. One of
his friends went up to collect an award, and Carrin applauded with
the rest. TV cameras swooped around the stage on booms, or glided
past on wheels, and the celebrities ignored them.

When the
awards were over, the lights dimmed and the music grew louder as
people took to the dance floor. The cameras retreated, leaving the
celebrities to enjoy the dancing unmolested. Famous film stars
danced with singers and comedians, supermodels glided across the
floor in the arms of directors and producers. Simon Grey rose and
took Jenna onto the dance floor, and several other people from
their table joined them.

A touch on her
arm made her look at Mark, and her heart leapt, thinking that he
was going to ask her to dance, but instead he said, "Come on, I'll
introduce you to some producers."

Carrin rose
and went with him to another table, where he introduced her to a
well-known producer. After a brief discourse, he moved on to the
next group of celebrities, who greeted him warmly. A comedian told
Mark a witty joke, and he smiled. Carrin laughed at the gag, and
the comic looked mournful at Mark's lack of mirth.

"One day I'm
going to make this man laugh," he promised Carrin, and she grinned
at his determination.

They went from
table to table around the room, and Mark turned down many offers to
join the occupants. A lot of lovely women kissed and hugged him,
and men shook his hand. Many commented on how rarely they saw him
out on the town, to which he shrugged and replied that he did not
like to run the gauntlet of reporters that flocked to the
functions. They all agreed with him and quipped about his being
camera shy.

Their
faces became blurred in Carrin's mind, there were so many of them,
and at last they returned to their own table. Most of Mark's
friends were seated again, and Jenna leant close to Simon Grey,
darting glances at Mark. Carrin decided to go to the ladies’ room,
and excused herself. A security man with an earplug smiled as she
walked into the bathroom, which was a palatial affair of marble and
mirrors. She was washing her hands when Jenna came in, and the
supermodel glared at her.

"So, I see you
managed to get him to buy you a dress."

Carrin glanced
down at her outfit. "No, it's on loan."

"On loan! No
one loans a dress like that."

"Well I'm not
keeping it."

Jenna
jeered, "You think you've landed him, don't you? Let me
tell you -"

"I'm not
trying to land him, Jenna," Carrin interrupted. "Tomorrow I'm going
home, and I'll probably never see him again."

The supermodel
laughed. "So he's tired of you already. That was quick. He usually
keeps his bed partners for a few weeks at least."

Carrin
scowled. "I'm not his bed partner. I'm doing business with him,
nothing more."

"He doesn't
buy dresses for business associates, or bring them to a do like
this, stupid. You've been seen with him now, and photographed by
the paparazzi. Your name will be linked with his, whether you like
it or not, and they won't say that you're a business associate,
believe me."

"Everybody
knows better than to believe the garbage they print in
magazines."

Jenna
moved closer, towering over Carrin. "A lot of it is very
accurate, and when they say that you're his latest conquest,
they'll be right."

Carrin
glared up at the supermodel. "I know all about him, Jenna. I know
his dark secrets, and I wouldn't touch him with a barge
pole."

Jenna
Morden looked stunned, her mouth dropping open. "You sound
like you mean it -"

"I do." Carrin
pushed past her and headed for the door.