Chapter Ten
“Right, so as per Marcus’s brief, this should be fairly simple.” Paul the director said while Elle was having her makeup applied. Marcus was beside her, and Conrad was close enough to hear but giving them space. “We’ll start with shots of Elle up on stage singing.”
“Not on the piano!” Elle hurriedly added. “I am not lying on that thing again for all the tea in China!”
“Ella—” Marcus began in a condescending tone.
“Nope, not happening,” she cut him off, holding up a hand. “If you think that’s such a great shot, put a kilt on and get up there yourself. We’ll see how you feel about your junk accidentally falling out as you crawl around up there!”
She’d been very nice to him since arriving, asking how he was, listening to him, complimenting him, and perhaps that was why he let her have her way so easily. Still, he gave way with an air of doing her a great favor. Conrad winked at her when Marcus turned away, and Elle flashed him a triumphant grin and a thumbs-up.
She’d awoken this morning to Conrad spooning her from behind, one arm around her waist, and she felt as if he was protecting her even in his sleep. She would have liked to have laid there and enjoyed a nice morning cuddle, but they hadn’t allowed time for that when they set the alarm, which was probably just as well. He’d promised to make it up to her later, though.
Last night’s intimacy with Conrad, as well as being the most restful night’s sleep she’d gotten since this whole thing started, had left her in a good mood, so she had more than enough energy to play up to Marcus and stroke his ego. She tried not to think about how betrayed he’d feel when he learned she and the director had gone behind his back.
“Moving on.” Paul suppressed a smile. “The extras will be here after lunch. We’ll get a few shots from behind you, looking out into the audience. Then you can go, and I’ll get some close-up reaction shots from the extras. How does that sound?”
“Brilliant.” Elle smiled at Marcus. “Such a good idea to keep it simple, just about the music,” she told him.
She was learning how to manipulate Marcus, and Conrad was rather proud of her for it.
Marcus’s head and hair looked much the same as yesterday, as if he hadn’t touched it at all, but Conrad, who was trained to notice detail, could see that the bandage around his head was fastened in a different place today.
Of course, drawing attention to or exaggerating an injury were not crimes, but each new detail helped him build a more accurate picture of who Marcus was.
He was careful not to focus on just Marcus as a suspect. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed that Marcus was just a creeper and Elle had another, far more dangerous stalker.
Marcus stayed with Elle while she was made up, even chatting to her as she changed into her outfit behind a folding screen that had been erected. Conrad could see him looking around, trying to find a reflective surface where he could catch a glimpse of Elle changing, but the stylist had placed the screen well so there was no way Elle could be seen behind it.
Once the lighting had been done—using a stand-in of Elle’s height—Paul came over and leaned against the wall beside Conrad as they waited for Elle.
“I have an idea I want to put to you,” he said quietly.
“Go on?” Conrad invited.
“I want to add an extra dimension to the song. Once Marcus has left, I want to get a few shots of you two dancing to splice throughout the video, just a slow romantic sway, nothing hard, then you being pulled away from her by some unknown force, disappearing into the darkness. Then we’ll go back to her singing on stage, only now it’s clear she’s singing about losing you.”
“Why me?”
“Because Elle’s not an actress, so I want this to be as organic as possible, and the chemistry you two have is off the charts.”
Conrad didn’t know how to feel about that, so he didn’t reply. He hadn’t realized that his attraction to Elle was so obvious. Shit! Although in his defense, what straight man wouldn’t be attracted to her?
“We’ll pay you, of course.”
“I’m not worried about the money,” he said gruffly.
“If you’re worried about being on film, we can light it so your face is in darkness, or shoot from behind.”
What was stopping him, he wondered. They had agreed to keep their “relationship”—if indeed it could be called that—private, mostly because they didn’t want to answer awkward questions or deal with other people’s expectations.
This wasn’t real, however; this was just a music video.
“Right now, it’s all up to Elle to convey the emotion of the song. I really think that by giving a visual representation of lost love, we can take some of that pressure off her.”
That was the perfect way to sell it to someone like Conrad—as helping her.
“Do I need wardrobe or makeup or anything?”
Paul turned to look at him.
“Your clothes are fine. I’m going to suggest Elle wear the clothes she came in for the dancing scene. It’s impromptu, casual, just two lovers having a dance. I like the beard scruff, it works for you, and you’re not hideously ugly, so you should be fine to do this as you are.”
“Gee, thanks.” Conrad smiled wryly at his words.
“Does that mean you’re in?”
“Fine, I’ll do it.”
“Thank you. I think you’ll like the results.”
The morning progressed quickly with Elle doing her best to give Marcus exactly what he wanted, not only so they could finish early and have time to film the additional scenes, but also so that Marcus was happy with her performance. She didn’t want him to accuse her of undermining him.
When they broke for lunch, she peeled off her satin gloves, and they helped themselves to the buffet lunch that had been laid out.
Conrad bristled when he heard Marcus tell her, “Careful, Ella, you must watch your figure, you know.”
Elle put half the sandwich back, and Conrad vowed to cook something nice for dinner, mentally going through what they had in the cupboards, then he stepped away to call the concierge and order additional items. She was naturally lithe, but if anything, Elle needed fattening up, not slimming down!
The extras were being seated while the crew ate. Once lunch was over, they got the reverse angle and back view of Elle singing, looking out over the audience from the rear of the stage. Conrad thought she looked spectacular from that angle too, admiring how the gown plunged down her back and molded to her butt.
Once Paul called “Cut!” and Elle came down from the stage, it was pretty easy to get rid of Marcus.
He was as happy as a kid in a sandbox with how things had gone, not to mention how much of Elle’s attention he’d been given. She’d made a point of looking directly at him while she sang the last shot.
After giving her a hug that lasted long enough to make Conrad bristle, Marcus left, assuring her that this song was going to be a number one hit.
Elle watched Marcus leave, a puzzled look on her face at his eagerness to go, but she supposed he had other artists to look after. She’d been taking up a lot of his time recently, so he probably needed to get back to the office and catch up.
Not that she minded. Marcus had been nearly suffocating her with his attention and opinions, yet here he was, almost sprinting away. And then she caught sight of the tent in Marcus’s slacks as he turned quickly toward the door, tossing his abrupt goodbyes over his shoulder.
“I’ll see you at Femme magazine, Ella. Don’t be late, love.” He directed in his irritatingly bossy voice.
She blinked. Did Marcus just . . .? Did he have a hard-on? She was able to hold her smile in as she nodded and waved goodbye, but as soon as the door closed behind him, she let her wry smile loose as she looked around the room, wondering who had provoked that reaction in Marcus, of all men.
The poor man must have been so embarrassed. He was such a fastidious person that such a blatant show of biology must be mortifying.
Elle had visions of being his wingman and helping him get a date with the man responsible, only with about thirty men on set right now, it was impossible to tell which man had caused his ardor to rise. She shook her head. Besides, would she really wish Marcus on anyone?
Conrad was leaning against the adjacent wall, his eyes flicking alertly from person to person. Elle had seen his working face often during their short acquaintance and had come to recognize the stern expression he wore as he studied the people around her.
Conrad’s eyes moved to hers, and she watched them warm with a slight smile for her before he went back to scanning the room.
As soon as her attention was diverted, Conrad reached for Elle’s bag and found her phone. She’d silenced it rather than turning it off, so he quickly powered it down so that Marcus wouldn’t see that they had stayed here all afternoon. Then he put it back so that Elle was none the wiser.
He just had to hope that Marcus hadn’t been checking yesterday, or he might have seen that they’d stayed here for two hours after he’d left!
While Elle changed and had her makeup lightened, Paul got the close-ups of the audience he wanted, which mainly consisted of getting the extras to share a longing look or a loving touch, which could later be intercut with the other footage. After that, he took a couple of long shots of the entire audience, and Elle was left waiting for him to finish. Not that she was complaining.
“It’s so detailed, isn’t it? I never realized how complicated music videos were to film,” Conrad noted idly as he came to stand beside her while she watched Paul work.
The amount of work that went into getting one shot was unbelievable, from the lighting, to the camera positions, to adjusting where the extras were sitting. Then there were retakes because this loving look was a little too lusty, that a little too bland, that a little too . . . and on and on, until it was perfect.
“I know.” She smiled back at him. “I’m glad I don’t have to do these all the time! I’d much rather be singing.”
It was another hour until Paul was finished with the crowd scenes. Then Elle had to get back up on stage and pretend to sing so Paul could get shots of her looking out to the audience in her red dress. The cameraman, with his Steadicam strapped to his body, panned from one side of the stage to the other, then back.
With that out of the way, the extras were let go, and they moved onto filming her playing the song at the piano. She didn’t cry like she had the day before. Conrad could tell that Paul was a little disappointed by that. He wanted real emotion in his video, but three more takes asking her to connect with the song didn’t induce tears, so he told her to look sad as she neared the end of the song.
Once he’d done the best he could there, he told her about his plan to have her dance with Conrad in her own clothes and for him to stand in for the loss she was writing about.
She nodded along as he explained his vision, how Conrad would almost fade away near the end, a metaphor for leaving or dying, and the viewer could choose which they related to most.
She loved the idea and was happy to go along with it, as long as Conrad was okay with it. He assured her he was, but when Paul walked away, Conrad gently pulled Elle aside.
“Are you sure you’re okay with filming this romance thing?” he wanted to know.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” She cocked her head to the side, clearly confused. “It sounds a hundred times better than just me singing on stage.”
“Because this song isn’t about a romance, is it? It’s about your mum,” he said gently.
She smiled warmly at him, seemingly touched that he would think of such a thing.
“I intentionally left out a lot of personal details because, while it’s about my grief over losing my mum, I wanted it to be something everyone can relate to. Everyone’s lost someone.”
“But making it romantic?”
“I like what Paul said, that if we make the viewer fall in love with us as a couple, they’ll feel the same loss I feel.”
“As long as you’re sure?” Conrad ducked his head to meet her eyes.
“I am.” She nodded, touched that he cared enough to worry about her video. “And thank you for helping. This must be weird for you.”
“Well, apparently I’m just a metaphor,” he said with a bemused smile, quoting Paul. “When I figure out how to play a metaphor, I’ll let you know.”
She laughed, and they headed over to the dressing area.
While her makeup was lightened even more and she changed into her own clothes, Paul had black screens erected around the dance floor. These scenes would be tight on their faces—he didn’t want a background distracting the viewer from what was happening.
Then when she was standing before him, suddenly everyone could see the problem. At nearly a foot shorter than he, even in heels, she was too short for the cameras to capture both of them in close-up!
They looked in vain for a step or platform she could use, but after ten minutes of hunting, Conrad just picked her up and began to sway.
Elle laughed the first couple of times he did it, but she gradually relaxed. Paul told the cameraman to just keep rolling, capturing everything they did.
After a few moments of slow dancing, Paul asked them to kiss, unsure if they would, but he was fairly confident that they were dating, so he wasn’t surprised when they didn’t need telling twice.
Her song played on repeat in the background, and they swayed and kissed. Then Elle rested her head on his shoulder while they danced, until Conrad’s muscles needed a break and he lowered her to the floor.
“Oh God, you must be so sore!” She pampered him. “I think I have some pain pills in my bag, just over-the-counter stuff. Do you want some?”
“Don’t be silly! I just need a rest.” He smiled at her mothering, shaking out his arms. “I haven’t pulled anything. In case you hadn’t noticed, you probably don’t weigh more than a wet cat.”
“Are you calling me a lightweight?” She pretended to be indignant, her eyebrows arched high and her hands on her hips.
“If the shoe fits,” he shrugged, then he grabbed her hips and lifted her over his head, making her squeal with laughter and grab his shoulders to stay upright.
“Put me down, you great oaf!” she demanded while laughing uncontrollably. Conrad grinned up at her giggling, pink face. It might have been the most carefree look he’d seen her wear yet, and his heart gave a painful thump of determination. He was going to find the bastard who was stealing her joy, and when he did . . .
“As you wish.” But he didn’t put her down, he let gravity do the work so her body slid down his, until her face was level with his and they could stare into each other’s eyes. He tightened his grip, halting her progress. Suddenly this wasn’t so funny anymore.
Their gazes quickly became heated, then it felt as if the whole room around them faded away. He kissed her, softly, reverently. It wasn’t a kiss of passion; it was more like the feeling of coming home, of belonging.
When they pulled away slightly, their gazes locked once again, and they smiled sweetly at each other.
Then Conrad lifted her high again, and she squealed before laughing and swatting his shoulder.
“Okay, cut!” Paul called. “Great job, guys.” They had just given him some smoking hot footage!
He asked for just Conrad then. They started fairly close up and pulled back, so it looked like he was being drawn away from the camera. It took a couple of takes before Paul told Conrad to stop looking into the camera like he’d been asked and instead look at Elle and maintain eye contact over the cameraman’s shoulder. Almost immediately, that longing appeared on his face, and Paul knew he had his shot.
It didn’t look great now, but with a little bit of magic in post-production to make Conrad fade out, it would work perfectly.
At that moment, it hit Elle that Conrad would be leaving her, probably very soon, as soon as they caught this creep who was after her. They’d spoken of starting a relationship once things were over, but Elle was half convinced that he was just trying to find a nice way to avoid breaking her heart.
And besides, Conrad was a traveler, an adventurer, while she had lived almost her whole life in the same cottage. The chemistry between them might be off the charts, but Conrad just wasn’t the settling-down type.
The thought of him leaving robbed her of her breath for a second, and she turned toward the stage, worrying her lip.
“Paul, do you think we can do another take on the piano?”
“Uh . . .” He looked at her attire.
It was already past six, and it would mean another three-quarters of an hour to get her changed and made up like before. She would probably have lost the emotion he was looking for by then. But possibly he could do something in post—either take away her body and leave her as a floating head or possibly splice her head onto an older take’s body. He didn’t know. He just knew he could do something.
“Okay, one more take on the piano.”
“Gimme a sec.” She didn’t bother altering her hair and makeup, but she removed her top, pulled her bra straps off her shoulders, and tucked them into the cups. Then she pulled the dress on over her jeans, so from the waist up she looked pretty similar to how she’d looked earlier. She made her way onto the stage and sat at the piano. She drew a deep breath, centering herself, then she thought of Conrad and how it would feel to say goodbye.
She knew she’d said this was no strings, and she’d meant it. She still meant it. It didn’t matter if she got her heart broken; she needed him right now. But oh boy, saying goodbye was going to hurt like a bitch.
Paul watched in fascination as the different emotions played across her face while she played, not just sadness and loss either, but smiles of happiness. Just like her song, her rendition was bittersweet, capturing the light and dark of loving and losing someone.
And as the end of the song neared, tears began to slide slowly down her cheeks as they had the day before.
Paul was delighted. He wasn’t sure quite what the finished product was going to look like yet, but he knew it was going to be amazing.
Marcus slipped back into the rear of the building through the kitchen door that he’d quietly unlatched earlier. Making his way around the kitchen, he kept to the shadows until he could see through the hatch that looked into the bar.
Yesterday, Elle had stayed here for more than two hours after he’d left, and judging from the scene he was witnessing now, no one here had any intention of leaving.
He stood in shock as he watched Ella return to the stage in some rag that made her look like a dreadful little folk singer.
It was a long wait, but as soon as he realized what was happening, his blood began to boil. After everything he had done for her, she was going behind his back?
They were ruining her! Everything he had worked to bring out in her! Anger coursed through him.
Things got worse when she began dancing with Conrad. Marcus was so enraged that his face was almost puce. Was she sleeping with that meathead? It certainly looked like it, and she’d been flirting with me all morning!
For his own sanity he needed to leave! He crept out the same way he came, into the alley behind the bar. The air felt cold against his heated skin, and he breathed deeply as he tried to come to terms with this betrayal.
She thought she could toy with his affections when it suited her? He would show her!
He wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to do yet, but this could not be allowed to stand! Oh no. He had invested far too much in Ella to let her run off with some brainless, musclebound meathead!