Trade (14 page)

*****

Sometimes, the time on Melati seemed like a dream. From the
moment he woke in the morning, to the time he fell into bed every night, Sholto’s
life was full of people. The promotion machine for
After Ecstasy
rumbled
on.

Now he and Caro sat next to each
other in matching leather chairs under the hot, television lights, special
guests on
Kelly & Karl Ask
, one of America’s biggest syndicated
morning TV shows. The presenters smiled encouragingly, and dove right in with
the difficult questions.

“Sholto, when did you read the
book?” Kelly asked.

“I didn’t read the book until I
was involved, although, of course, I was well aware of it. I’d have had to be
living under a rock not to be.”

Kelly shook her head and chewed
her bottom lip. “I really can’t get used to your accent—I’m really not
expecting Damon Fitz to talk with a Scottish accent, and I’m sure many of our
viewers feel the same.”

“Damon doesn’t.” Sholto softened
his words with a smile.

“Well you did an excellent job
bringing Damon to the screen.” Kelly was slightly breathless. “Do you think you
have a lot in common with the character?”

Seeing as Damon was a pretty
screwed up individual, with very specific sexual kinks, this was a leading
question. “Damon is a complicated guy. He’s a very closed off individual. He
feels things deeply, but because of things that happened in his past he’s
guarded and enigmatic. He’s a fascinating character to play. When he develops deep
feelings for Bette he doesn’t know how to handle them.”

“He’s extremely controlling. It
must have been difficult to portray him and yet still keep him relatable. Some
of those scenes must have been challenging to act.”

“They were. But I think the
scriptwriting was excellent in that it allowed us to see exactly why Damon was
that way—he needed to keep tight control of the situation to protect himself. I
must admit there were times I wished he’d just talk to Bette about what was
bothering him but it makes perfect sense that he wouldn’t.”

Karl cleared his throat. “The sex
scenes with some of the most graphic ever seen in cinema. How did you approach
those, Caro? You spent a fair amount of the film naked. It must have been
difficult to be so exposed.”

Caro smiled. “Of course. I was
prepared for the nudity, but it’s never easy for any actor to portray such raw,
honest sexuality on screen. Our director was wonderful, and I felt very
protected and nurtured every time we were naked on set.”

“I think the fact that we only
filmed the hard-core sex scenes at the end of the shoot was great for both of
us,” Sholto added.

Caro nodded. “Yes, because by the
time we actually filmed those scenes Sholto and I were great friends and
trusted each other implicitly. We had a closed set, but even then there are a
lot of people involved and Sholto was very protective. The moment we finished
filming he was the first one to fetch me a robe.” She reached out and covered
his hand with hers. “He’s one hell of a guy.”

Kelly giggled. “There have been a
lot of rumors about you two in the media. You’re both single. Have you anything
to tell our viewers?” Her eyebrows rose.

Considering the fact they’ve been
hamming it up in every single interview they’d done together it was hardly
surprising that rumors had spread like wildfire—exactly as the studio had
hoped.

But he was getting pretty sick of the
pretense. Every interviewer seemed to be full of innuendo, wanting to know what
he did, who he did in bed. He’d been acting his whole life, projecting the
image that people wanted to see. Now it felt false. It felt wrong. He and Max
weren’t exactly in a long-term relationship, but he wasn’t interested in
screwing anyone else, and wasn’t about to outright lie about being in a
relationship with Caro.

He quirked an eyebrow at her.

To his surprise, she went
completely off script. “Sholto is a wonderful guy, but we’re not in a romantic
relationship.”

Kelly’s mouth gaped. She looked as
though she wanted to ask if they were fuck buddies, but considered that a bit
too racy for breakfast TV.

“We’re friends and colleagues,”
Sholto added. “And very good actors. Because you can’t believe everything you
see on screen—fiction is fiction.”

The segment wrapped and they
unclipped their mics and retreated to the greenroom.

Sholto dismissed the makeup artist
and turned to Caro. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I wasn’t really expecting it
either.” She sank onto the sofa. “I’m just sick of living a lie. I’ve met
someone, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending to be straight.”

“There’s no reason to hide your
sexuality. I’ve told you that before. I’m a hundred percent behind you, you
know that.”

She scrunched her eyes and ran a
hand through her hair. “Coming out now could wreck my career. The studio was
adamant that we pretend to be a couple.”

“
After Ecstasy
had a
fantastic opening weekend. The movie’s a hit. We did what we set out to do.”

“But can the audience get behind a
gay actress playing the part of a woman madly in love with a member of the
opposite sex? I don’t think they can. Coming out now would be a disaster.” She twisted
her fingers in her lap. “Jesus, I wish you just answered that question instead
of looking at me to answer it.”

He sat next to her, swung an arm
around her shoulders and pulled her close.

“Why didn’t you just answer it?”
She muttered into his chest.

“Because I’d had enough of the
charade too, and I didn’t trust myself not to deny it.”

She glanced up at him with a trace
of dampness on her eyelashes. A tiny frown creased between her perfect
eyebrows. “What changed?”

Max.
“I’ve found someone
too.”

Chapter Fifteen

The wedding in the Italian cable car went off without a
hitch, but at a cost. Max and Cam had contracted a team to make their clients’
dreams come true, but it had been a struggle. Now, they were back on a flight
to London.

“We’re just too small.” Cam poured
a miniature bottle of vodka into her orange juice and sipped it. “We’re doing a
good job, but we need more people. I had a call from a guy who wants to rappel
down the Sydney Opera House and another who wants her kids to have lunch with
Daniel Radcliffe, with him dressed as Harry Potter, no less. I hate to say it,
but I think we’ve bitten off more than we can chew.”

Max had to reluctantly agree. “I
always envisioned the company as small and exclusive, but you’re right. We
either have to expand or disband. The operating capital of the business is
crazy—we have to pay for everything up front and invoice it on to the customer.”
She’d thought of holding off revealing recent developments with Cam, but now
they were talking about the future of the business, they really had to discuss
it. She glanced over. “I got a call yesterday I need to talk to you about. From
Shelly Green, the head of
Do It
.”

The biggest and best concierge
service on the planet. With a network of branches spanning the globe. They were
the sort of company Max dreamed of building
Fantasies Made Real
into one
day. With unlimited resources, A-list clients, and a solid-gold reputation.

“She called you? How did she get
your number?” Cam grimaced. “Stupid question, it’s her job to be able to get
hold of anyone anytime.”

“Yes.” She’d been too surprised to
hear from her multi-millionaire heroine to question her, but Cam was right, she
could get anything anytime. “She told me she’s hearing good things about
Fantasies
Made Real
, and she wanted to know if I would go and work for them.”

Cam’s hand gripped her plastic
glass tight. “She was headhunting you?”

Max shook her head. “Not just me. I
told her I have people I’m responsible for.” She stared at Cam. “I wouldn’t
just close the business, and put you out of a job. Her response was that she
would be able to offer all of us positions within
Do It.
”

Cam blew out a breath. “Jesus,
that’s out of the blue. What do you think?”

Max had been up all night
considering Shelly Green’s offer. Running her own business had been a terrific
experience, but she was handicapped by not having resources in every country,
as
Do It
had. And by the curtailed spending power available to her. And
the stress of the business was something she sure wouldn’t miss. “I think we
should consider it. She says there’s a role for you in the London office, and
the remuneration package is a lot more than I pay you right now.”

“And for you?”

“She offered me a middle
management position in my choice of location, worldwide. I’d be giving up running
my own company, but I’d be well rewarded financially.” It was the dream job,
one she would have bitten off her right arm for a few months ago, before she
started
Fantasies Made Real.

“What about our current clients?”

“Shelly would give them free
membership of
Do It
for a year. I don’t know if we’d be able to continue
fulfilling some of their more extreme requests, but I’m sure I’d find that out
when we sit down to talk through it. I asked for a few days to think about it,
but I wanted to get your take on it before I decide.”

Cam finished her drink. “I love
working for you.
Fantasies Made Real
is my fantasy made real, you know
that. You gave me a chance when no-one else would.” She tapped her bottom lip
with a perfectly painted fingernail. “But you’re right. We need to pump a lot
more money in to take the company to the next level.”

“Go big or go home. Giving up and
closing the company feels like failure.”

Cam shook her head emphatically. “It
shouldn’t.
Do It
is an incredible company, everyone knows Shelly Green
was born with a platinum spoon in her mouth, money was never an issue. They
must employ hundreds.”

“Thousands, when you take into
account all their offices. And their ancillary services. They own a whole raft
of associated businesses—florists, private chefs, stuff like that. They can get
anything for anyone, at a moment’s notice.”

“One of her clients was a guest at
the Monroe wedding and raved about us, apparently.”

“The Monroe wedding.” Cam
grimaced. “Jeez, that was a tough one.”

The bride had insisted everything
at the wedding had to be white. She only ever ate white food, and wanted
everyone else to do the same. But it didn’t end there. All the flowers had to
be white. Every vehicle outside the church white too. They’d almost had a
hiccup when one of the guests arrived wearing black shoes, but Max’s quick
thinking had saved the situation just in time.

“I can’t believe you had a pair of
white shoes in every possible size in the back of your car.”

Max shrugged. “I knew someone
would get it wrong.” She grinned. “The story of me dragging him away from the
church door and making him change his shoes sitting in the back of my car has
made the rounds. Shelly had heard it.”

“What’s the plan?”

“She’s in London the week after
next, and she’s taking me to lunch to discuss it further. All going well, I’ll
bring her back to the office after to meet everyone, and we’ll take it from
there.”

“I guess there’s no possibility of
her buying in as an investor?”

Max shook her head. “It’s a
headhunting deal. She wants to buy us up and close us down. And for the right
package I might let her do just that.”

The plane landed. They retrieved
their bags from the luggage carousel, and cleared customs. While walking to the
taxi rank outside the airport, a rack of the day’s newspapers caught Max’s eye.
A familiar face stared from the newsprint, and she stopped dead.

Cam’s gaze tracked hers. She
reached out and picked up a paper, reading the headline above Sholto’s
photograph aloud. “He’s single.” The headline proclaimed the news as though it
were a matter of national importance. “Sholto Kincaid and his co-star stated on
television today that they are not in a relationship.” She glanced at Max. “Are
you okay? Do you want me to buy this?”

Max felt faint. Her mouth was dry,
and she swiped her tongue over her lips. “If it’s plastered on the front of the
paper, you can bet the television news will be all over it. I can check the
internet when I get home.” She stared again at the photograph of Sholto, and
nerves fluttered like trapped wings in her throat. “But yes, buy it please.”

Alone in bed later that night, Max
couldn’t turn off the thoughts racing around her head. The man portrayed in the
interview which has been printed in the newspaper bore little resemblance to
the man she thought she knew.

So she’d powered up YouTube, and
searched out the video version. He sat next to his beautiful co-star, and
talked about simulating sex in front of the camera with no visible sign of
nerves. He flirted with the interviewer. And when he was asked if he and Caro
were involved, he didn’t answer, just looked over at his co-star.

He didn’t deny it.

And seemed surprised when she did.
In the natural moment that followed he could have said he was involved with
someone. Heck, he could have even been more vague, and said he was seeing
someone. But he didn’t.

She scrunched her eyes up tight.
He’d called every day, and every night since their time on the island. She’d
started to think of herself as one half of an ‘us’. But there had been no phone
call today or yesterday. And her texts went unanswered.

Did I get it wrong?
Her
stomach roiled. Every day without him, she’d fallen deeper. Felt more. The
memory of the time on Melati was like a bright, beautiful bubble—the
realization that maybe she’d been deluding herself that he felt the same like a
large, pointed needle, threatening to burst her dreams with one, savage poke.

When Shelly called the previous
day, Max immediately shifted into dream mode. She’d imagined a future where she
and Sholto lived in the same country, in the same city, in the same house.
Where they slept together in the same bed every night. Because there was no
denying it, she’d fallen in love with him.

Or maybe just the idea of him.

*****

Sholto stood on the rain-streaked sidewalk and watched the
taxi speed away into the darkness. Then he picked up his bag, turned, and stared
up at the house he’d crossed the ocean to visit. There were no lights on, and
for a moment, he hoped to hell there hadn’t been a change in plan, that Max had
left Italy and travelled home when she’d said she would.

The moment he finished his last interview
for
After Ecstasy
, he’d gone home. The silence of his house had always
been a welcome balm to the stresses of the day, but now it felt as though
something was missing. Someone was missing. There were still a couple of days
before he was due to leave to join her in London; she’d already given him her
address.

Her Italian assignment was
finished. And she’d be there.

So why wait?

Dark glasses and a baseball cap
tugged low hadn’t disguised him enough at the airport, he’d been approached by
a few fans wanting photographs, but once he’d taken his seat in first class he’d
been left alone.

And arriving at night meant he
managed to get through Heathrow without incident. He thought he’d managed to
enter the country completely unnoticed until the taxi driver delivered him to
Max’s door, and asked for an autograph. “For my wife,” he explained, with a
grin. “And can I get my photograph taken with you too? Because if she finds out
I had you in my cab and I didn’t get a picture, I’ll be sleeping on the sofa
for the next week.”

So Sholto had taken off his hat.
And stood under the street lamp while the driver fixed his cell phone onto a
selfie stick he had stowed in the trunk. “I got one of these for Father’s Day.
They’re fucking brilliant. Do you have one?”

Sholto shook his head. He forced a
smile as the taxi driver slung his arm around him, and snapped off a couple of
photos.

Every day my life gets more and
more bizarre.

Anticipation quickened his pulse
as he strode up the white steps to her front door. He checked the row of brass
buttons with names below on the right of the front door, and rang her bell.
After a couple of minutes, a light went on upstairs, and then a light was
switched from inside to illuminate the doorstep.

He stared at the tiny lens of the door
peephole, imagining her peering at it to see who could be visiting in the early
hours of the morning.

The door opened. Her hair was
mussed. She wore a pale gold nightgown, which came to mid-thigh with tiny
shoestring straps and a deep V neckline. Her mouth was slightly agape as she
drank him in. “Sholto.” Her voice was rusty with sleep. “You…”

“I couldn’t wait.”

She stepped backwards and he
walked in.

“Come upstairs.” She turned and
walked to the front door of her apartment, which was ajar.

He followed her in.

“I need you.” He dropped his bag
on the ground, cupped her face between his hands, and kissed her. The touch of
her soft lips, the taste of her mouth as her lips parted to allow him access,
flooded his system as though she was a powerful drug injected into his veins.

As though his body had been filled
with liquid sunlight. Without her, he’d imagined that maybe his memories were
clouded by the whole unique experience of being on the isolated island. That
regular life couldn’t compare. That somehow being with her would be different.

It was different. It was better.

The weeks without her had
sharpened his desire to a knife edge. He kicked the door closed, grabbed the
hem of her nightgown, and pulled it off in one swift move.

Her eyes were wild and dilated.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, as she tugged at his clothing, as crazy as he
was to have them both naked.

“Where’s your bed?”

She waved in the direction of a
room behind her. “I can’t wait that long.” He peeled off his shirt.

Her fingers were at his waist,
undoing his belt. Unzipping his pants and shoving them down.

Her gorgeous breasts were within
reach, and with a growl of irritation he grabbed a condom from his pocket and shed
the remainder of his clothes so he could touch her. “I can’t either.” His voice
sounded gruff and desperate, just the way he felt.

He backed her up against the wall.
He hadn’t planned this—he’d spent long hours on the plane imagining bringing
her to climax with his mouth, making their reunion something she’d remember for
the rest of her life. But the need for her was too great, too urgent. He cupped
the round globes of her bottom and lifted her, then groaned as her legs went
around him, and his cock came in contact with her wet core.

Condom.

In a moment he was sheathed.

Max’s lips were on his neck,
kissing and nibbling. Her fingernails dug into his back, driving him wild.

He dipped his head to claim her
mouth and drove inside her, deep and true. The sounds she made, the scent
rising from her warm body, the brush of her hair against his face combined to
pepper shot his senses, driving him to the very edge of his control. Deep in
his chest twisted an unfamiliar emotion, a soul-deep connection and feeling of
rightness of being right here, right now with her again.

She was held securely sandwiched
between his body and the wall, so his hands were able to wander up to grip her
sides, just below the curve of her breasts. The dip of her ribs was beneath his
palms, rising and falling with every frantic exhale and inhale.