33
I cast a fond look around the set in front of me. It was the last day of filming and the feeling was jubilant. The final scenes were to be filmed in Jean’s ‘house’ and then we would be done. It would be a long time before we saw the fruits of our labor, but I knew we had created good work. It hadn’t been easy. There’d been the forced break due to my injury and all the other usual hiccups that came with a massive production.
I patted my hair. I was going to miss these fashionable 60s do’s. If only they were still on trend. It was why I’d chosen a 60s theme for the party tomorrow night. It would be a chance to dress up again and have some fun seeing the rest of the crew in costume.
“Making headlines again, I see?” Chloe said, throwing me a coy look and waving from her position on the retro sofa.
I walked over to her and frowned. “You’re not talking about my father are you?” I hadn’t thought about him lately. I’d been too distracted by Marc and wrapping up the production to mull over it anymore. To my relief, things had finally started to die down, probably because I suspected he’d received a heap of money from the media for his tell-all stories.
“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Chloe rushed on. “You and lover boy.”
“Oh.” I blushed, damn it. Lover boy was right. Marc had made a point of picking me up from the studio all this week and had stayed every night. “Where?”
Chloe beamed at me. “Every media outlet there is. Apparently you and Nathan enjoyed the Chili Peppers concert.”
I couldn’t help myself and beamed back. “Yeah, it was good.”
“Good! The way your lips were locked I’m surprised you saw any of it!”
I gestured for her to quiet down. “They got photos? I thought we were really careful.”
Chloe rolled her eyes at me. “They always get photos. Although I’m surprised you even knew where you were. It looks like you only had eyes for each other.”
“Damn.” That would mean my publicist’s phone would be ringing hot, and Marc’s phone too. I wondered if Marc had deliberately avoided telling me we’d been caught on camera.
Chloe’s grin faded. “I guess you haven’t heard the media are calling Marc the ‘mystery man’ then?”
“What? No. Why would they call him that?”
“Some enterprising celebrity journalist has figured out Nathan isn’t his real name.”
“Shit.” I lowered myself onto the sofa next to her.
“Don’t worry too much yet. They haven’t been able to find out who he really is. Marc’s obviously too careful for that. The current speculation is he’s a member of your team.”
“What? Like my security team?” This was worse than I thought. If they suspected he was a bodyguard or similar, it wouldn’t be long until they figured out his real identity.
“No. Get this.” Chloe’s blue eyes danced with amusement. “They’re suggesting he’s your personal assistant.”
My mouth dropped open and Chloe started giggling uncontrollably. “I know, right?” she said, when she had caught her breath. “That he’s a toy boy you’re keeping around for his good looks.”
I couldn’t help myself and clamped a hand to my mouth, barely able to restrain my own laughter. Marc would just love this. Actually, he would hate it, but that only made it more amusing. Plus, I was also extremely relieved the media were so far off the mark because I knew how important Marc’s privacy was to him.
Ben strolled over and we both did our best to keep straight faces.
“Hey, Ben. Ready to wrap things up?” I asked.
He was looking stylish in his plaid trousers and expertly coiffed sandy hair. It was a testament to his good looks that he could carry the pants off and still appear gorgeous. “You bet. Feels a bit sad though, doesn’t it?”
“It always does,” said Chloe. “Or do you mean you’re sad about not getting to wear this fantastic wardrobe again?”
We all laughed and Ben’s light blue eyes danced.
“No, I won’t miss that, but I will miss you guys. It’s been a blast.”
“Aw, don’t be sad!” Chloe reached over and brushed his arm reassuringly. “You’ll get to work with us again someday.”
Ben sat next to me and draped an arm across the back of the sofa behind me. Our platonic relationship had continued to grow and I hoped to work with him again, too.
“Absolutely,” I agreed. “This was your first big production and you’ve blown us all away. It won’t be long until you’re the star.”
Ben flushed slightly. “Stop it, you two, or I’ll get a big head.”
“You deserve it,” Chloe told him. “Doesn’t he, Lena?”
Chloe had revealed to me earlier in the week she’d been impressed with Ben’s acting abilities as well.
“He does. And it’s not quite over yet. We’ve still got the party tomorrow night. You’ll be joining us, won’t you?” I asked him.
“Definitely. I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Are you bringing your new gal?” asked Chloe.
Ben flushed again and Chloe and I shared an ‘isn’t he so gorgeous?’ look. He was seeing a girl about his age who he’d met at the agency he was signed to. He’d been spotted a few times with her at various bars and restaurants around LA, but was trying to keep it low-key.
“I wasn’t sure,” he replied softly.
“What? Why not?” Chloe demanded. “Partners are welcome. Lena will be bringing hers. And the media won’t be there.”
Ben raised his head and gave me a curious look. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone?”
Chloe waved a hand and shot me a look. “It’s just Nathan,” she said smoothly. “They’re back together.”
Damn. Marc would be coming and I hadn’t thought about how I’d introduce him. It seemed wrong to keep up the lie of him being Nathan, especially now the media were suspicious of his real identity.
“Oh, right. I didn’t know. Good for you,” said Ben. To my relief, he didn’t show any indication he was aware of the latest celebrity news, nor did the mention of Nathan seem out of the ordinary to him.
One of the make-up artists rushed over and played with Chloe’s hair. Chloe groaned theatrically and I knew immediately she was trying to change the subject. “Having curly hair is such a pain.”
“Yeah, I know,” Ben teased, and we all laughed. His short hair had only the slightest wave.
Manning called for our attention, and after that the rest of the day passed quickly.
*
When I reached my trailer at the end of the day, I saw Marc waiting for me. Dressed in black jeans and a white T-shirt, he was a welcome sight.
I threw myself into his arms. He caught me effortlessly and swung me around. “Hey, Princess. Everything alright?”
I waited until he set me down and pressed my lips to his. “It’s even more perfect now.”
“Perfect? Not just fine?”
“Yes,” I replied, ignoring his wry grin. “We’re all done and tomorrow night is party night. And I get to spend more time with you for a few days.”
Marc had taken some time off work so he could be with me before I started my next production.
“That’s the plan. Ready to go?”
“Sure. Just let me get changed and grab a few things.” My real personal assistant would take care of the rest now that filming was over. At the thought of my personal assistant and my earlier conversation with Chloe, I gave Marc a sly grin. “You didn’t happen to see the latest celebrity news, did you?”
His response was to raise an eyebrow. “Don’t even go there.”
“Oh, but there’s a long list of things I need help with, Nathan.”
“Like I said, nice try.”
My smile faded. “Seriously, though. You’re not upset?”
He shook his head. “No. The only way they’ll know who I really am is when I want them to.”
I turned to enter my trailer, then paused, my hand resting on the door as what he had just said sunk in. “Does that mean . . .?”
“I knew they were snooping? Yep. They’re reporters, of course they were snooping. So I gave them something to distract them.”
I stared at him. “You mean you planted the idea you were my personal assistant?” The man never ceased to amaze me.
“It seemed better than being your make-up artist.” His face remained completely serious.
I bit down on a grin and walked back over to him, planting a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.”
His dark eyes smouldered. “I’ve already told you, I like it when you’re in control.”
At my sharp intake of breath, he tapped me on the butt and directed me back toward the trailer. Inside, I quickly stripped off my outfit. Marc remained outside, which was just as well because I knew we’d be tempted. When I remembered where I was, my smile faded. I’d almost forgotten about what had occurred here.
It all seemed so long ago, but that didn’t change the sour feeling in my mouth at the thought of my stalker.
It was all in the past, though. Martin Campbell was no longer a danger to me and I was moving on with my life. And wasn’t that the truth? A fantastic man, a new home, and more exciting productions to come. All I needed to do was look forward.
Dressed in jeans and a warm jumper—it was cool now it was November—I did one final check of my trailer and frowned. What was that?
I walked over to the small table, the same table Marc had commandeered as his own personal headquarters a few months ago.
A white envelope was the only thing sitting on it. I hesitated before I went over and picked it up. I was being silly. It was only a letter, for goodness’ sake. How bad could it be? It was probably just a message from the production company.
I ran my finger over my handwritten name and something in my memory flashed, like a candle being lit.
“What?” I whispered. It couldn’t be . . .
I ripped it open and unfolded the letter, my hands shaking.
Lena.
You probably hate me right now and for what it’s worth I hate myself, too. But I had to do what I did. I’m not sure you’ll ever agree with me about that, but I needed the money. I’m dying. Liver disease. My own damn fault and I guess I deserve it, but I had to find some way to pay the hospital bills. I didn’t set out to do it this way. I got talking to a guy in my local bar and it turned out he was a reporter, and before I knew it I’d agreed to the interviews. I know it was a mistake, but now I can afford the palliative care I need until things are over. I’m sorry I had to pull you into this. It was probably the last thing you needed after your relationship with that Duncan fellow ended. I can’t say I’m surprised. He was too old for you and you could do so much better. I hope having a poor example of a father like me hasn’t made things harder for you. Anyway, I don’t expect you to forgive me, I just wanted you to know. I wanted to write that I’m proud of you, but I don’t think it will mean much to you. So I’ll say this instead: your mother would be so proud. The only thing that gets me through is knowing I’ll see her again soon. Please forget about me if you can. There’s no need to see me like this. I’m sorry. For everything.
Dad.