The Director's Cut (2 page)

James
winces at the name, and then frowns.

“Perhaps,” he says, after a moment of consideration.
“I did my best to keep a lid on the drama. But we had to get in a lot of security fast.”

Then he shakes his head. “We’ve been very discrete
, Issy,” he says. “I really can’t imagine how anyone on the crew would have come to that conclusion. Even if they were motivated to leak stories.”

I’m not so sure.

His phone beeps, and he presses it urgently to his ear.

I feel myself holding my breath as he listens, then speaks.

“Thanks. Ok. We’ll manage it on our end. Do what you can.”

He clicks the phone
off and turns to me.

“Looks like I
’m going to have to make some important announcements,” he says, his eyes searching my face. “I think it’s time I made the divorce from Madison public.”

“What?” I can’t keep the horror out of my voice.
We spoke about this before. And I told him I wasn’t ready. But part of me knows I will never be ready.

James face sets more seriously. “I just spoke to my press officer
, Issy. Nothing has been confirmed. But the press are on the scent. They’ve been told there could be something more to our relationship.”

“
How much do they know?” I hedge.

A
public divorce. On my account. No, no, no!

I suddenly feel very sick.

James sighs. “It’s probably not too bad, Issy. I think we can manage it. But a rumour’s been started. And once those kick off, they’re difficult to stop. I need to get my divorce from Madison made public. If I wait, and we’re seen together, it could harm you.”

I’m shaking my head, and
James steps forward and takes my shoulders.

“I’m sorry
, Issy,” he says, “I know this might be too fast for you. Believe me. There’s no other way. I won’t risk that you’re misrepresented in this.”

I close my eyes, trying to stem my racing thoughts.

I can’t stand that I’d be involved, in any way, with a marriage ending.

“What about Madison?” I whisper, hating that anyone might be disadvantaged because of me. I only met Madison once. But I liked her a lot.

“She’ll be fine,” says James. “The marriage was only ever designed to give her a short term publicity boost. We just didn’t get around to ending it because neither of us needed to.”

He’s looking urgently into my eyes.
“The marriage has done all it could for her, Issy. She’s back to blockbuster movies now. Besides, it’s about time she made herself available for some romance of her own.”

He smiles at me. But when I can’t return the expression, he
holds my shoulders tighter. I realise that I’m shaking.

“Issy,” he whispers, “I love you. You have to remember. My marriage to Madison isn’t real. There was no ceremony.”

“I…” I search for the words. “I know that,” I say. “In my head at least. But…” I am staring into his green eyes. “It’s still marriage,” I say simply. I can’t think of how else I can explain it.

James
’s eyes are filled with pain.

“It’s not just that,” I add.
“There’s how you’ll be portrayed if you announce it…” I let the words trail off. I remember him telling me before that a fast divorce meant painting him as the heartbreaker.

“You don’t need to concern yourself about that,” says James tightly.

“Will they make you out to be the bad guy?” I whisper.

James nods.

“That’s how it works, Issy. You don’t have to worry. My career doesn’t rest on my public image.”

I know I’m overreacting, but I feel tears start to well.

“But it’s so unfair,” I stammer. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

James looks weary suddenly.

“That’s not entirely true, Issy,” he says. “It was wrong of Madison and I to pretend we were married. But at the time…”

He runs his hand through his brown hair again, in that gesture I love.

“Things were so different,” he says. “I never thought I would ever be able to make that promise. I thought the part of me that could commit to a woman was gone. If it ever even existed.” He’s staring at me intently now. “So it wasn’t important to me. It didn’t mean so much, as it does since I met you.”

I feel myself falling into his green eyes.

This is intense. Is he telling me I’ve changed his view of marriage?

“In any case,” he adds, the former expression dropping from his face. “I need to announce the divorce. And I need to know you’re ok with that
, Issy.”

His eyes are back on mine now, pleading with me to understand. I blink back at him, and let out the breath I’ve been hol
ding.

Do it
, Issy
, part of me says.
This man deserves your understanding
.

“Ok,” I say slowly. “
Do whatever you think best.”

This
, at least, puts the matter in his hands.

He gives a curt nod. And the
n something else occurs to me.

“I’m guessing we’ll have to stay away from one another,” I say in a quiet little voice. “To avoid suspicion.”

James gives me a distracted glance.

“In the UK
, we can’t be seen together,” he says, nodding. “Not unless you’re acting and I’m directing. At least until the divorce storm settles. I don’t know how much the newspapers know, but there’s a chance they might send photographers to try and get into the studio.”

My heart sinks. I can’t stand the idea of seeing him on set and not being able to spend time with him alone.

“That’s why we’re leaving the UK for a time,” James concludes.

What?

“Leaving the UK?” My voice is clear confusion. Is he suggesting we run away together?

“I’ve made
preliminary arrangements,” James is saying as my mind races around what he means. “We’ll fly a skeleton crew out tomorrow.”

“Wait. James. What exactly are you suggesting?” The words come out more primly than I mean them to, and James gives a half
-smile at my tone.

“We’re due to film
a few scenes on location,” he says, “for part of the movie. There’s a part where Grace travels to Europe to report on a story. Remember that?”

“Um. Yeah.” I let the script run through my brain.
My character, Grace, is reporting in Spain at one point. But I hadn’t considered it would involve actually shooting on location. I thought they’d just mock it up with sets.

“
So,” says James patiently, “I’ll rejig things. Bring those scenes forward.”

“Rejig
things?”

“We’ll be starting the location shots
in Barcelona tomorrow,” he explains. “That will give us a chance to lose the paps.”

Barcelona!
I love the idea of returning to Spain with James. My mind swims with possibilities. Then practicality sets in.

“Won’t they follow us out there?
” I say uncertainly. I’ve seen plenty of pictures in magazines taken of celebrities on beaches. Paparazzi seem to go wherever it takes to get their shots.

“That’s why I’m announcing the divorce,” says James. “Playing the paparazzi involves strategizing. Like chess,” he adds with an unreadable expression. “You set up scenarios to force your enemy to make false moves.”

I could be wrong. But it seems as though
he might enjoy this. The game of playing the paparazzi.

“So… you think the divorce will send the
paps elsewhere?” I guess.

James gives a curt nod.

“I hope so. That’s the way I’ve devised it. Madison will stay here in London,” he explains. “So the papers have a good story on their doorsteps. Heartbroken mega star. Madison will ramp up the sob story,” he adds, catching my expression at the last part. ”She knows how to play it. She’ll walk around London wearing dark glasses, looking sad. Then in a few days, she’ll be seen in a restaurant with one of her dancers. The media will explode. She’ll ride the publicity wave, right into her next big movie deal.”

I’m staring at him nervously. It
seems complicated, this strategy of feeding the press scenarios. But James seems to take it in his stride.

“You’re good at this,” I say slowly.
“Playing the press.”

“I’m a director
, Issy,” he says. “My job is setting up scenes to tell a story. This is just another scene. Another story. The only difference is my audience are photographers.”

“But won’t they guess?” I ask. “Won’t the newspapers work out that it’s all fake?”

“Tabloids don’t care enough to delve too deeply into the facts of a great story,” says James. “All they want is to sell copies. If I’ve played it right, then they’ll do the math. They’ll figure it’s a better deal to go after a certain story on their doorstep than pay last minute airfare and risk getting nothing.”

“That sounds… clever,” I concede. “Will it work?”

James thinks for a moment. “I’ve a lot of experience with the press,” he says. “I’d like to think I can strategize one step ahead. But you never can say for sure.”

I consider this.
It’s like cat and mouse.

“
You think, most likely, they’ll leave us alone?” I ask.

“Yes.” James steps forward and cups my face in his hands. “I do.
For one particular reason.”

He kisses my nose.

“What’s that?”

“You,” he says. “I can’t bear to think what I would have to do to a re
porter who wrote anything bad about you.”

I think he’s joking
. But only just. I give him a weak smile.

“Is it really necessary?” I ask, thinking of the filming schedule and budget. “Shouldn’t we just stick to the schedule and stay apart for a few weeks?”

Even as I say the words, I feel myself flinch at the idea. Being without him would be horrific.

James gently kisses my mouth. “Is that what you want?”

“No,” I murmur, feeling myself melt into the kiss.

“Good,” says James, kissing me again. Me
moves his mouth to the base of my neck and begins planting light kisses along my throat. I feel my head tip back against the sensation of his lips. It’s as though he’s wired the sensitive skin of my neck straight to my groin.

How does he do this to me?

Then his lips are brushing gently against my ear.

“The truth is,” he whispers, “it’s not necessary for me to take the filming out to
Spain tomorrow.”

His proximity makes it impossible to think rationally about what he’s saying.

“But I simply couldn’t bear,” he whispers, “to watch you through the camera each day and not fuck you at the end of it all.”

I feel my knees weaken, and I sink towards him.

“But just for now,” he says, moving away from me a little, “we do need to stay apart. Just for one night.”

He takes a step back, so he’s holding me by my shoulders again. I feel as though I’ve been severed.

“But tomorrow night, when we’re far away from prying eyes,” he says, his voice dipping low, “I’m going to make up for lost time.”

There’s a flash in his
eyes which sparks instant desire in me.

“Until then,” he says, “I’ll be away from you. But I’ll be sending you instructions on how to behave.”

Oh.
A wave of thrilled anticipation sweeps through me.

James Berkeley. You know how to bring out my dark side.

He leans forward, pulling me close.

“Keep your phone on you at all times,” he whispers. “The more obedient you are
tonight, the more merciful I’ll be inclined to be with you tomorrow.”

The more merciful?
What does he have in mind?

“Although,” he says, the low tone coming back into his voice, “you should expect to be disciplined, Isabella. I think it’s about time I took charge of you fully.”

Warm feelings flood my body. And once again I feel myself mired in confusion. Is this really what I want?

“I haven’t agreed to be disciplined by you,” I
reply, raising my eyebrow at his assumption.

James
reaches a hand up under my skirt and gives my behind a slap. I gasp at the sudden contact.

“
We’ll see,” he says. “Just keep your phone nearby. And do what you’re told.”

Chapter 3

I’m alone in my chalet for less than an hour when there’s a knock at the door. I open it in disappointment to see it’s not James on the other side.

Don’t be stupid
, Issy
, I admonish myself.
He said already you couldn’t be seen together.