“Satisfied?” Don said, looking straight at Cameron. “I had to drag myself through paparazzi hell getting in here tonight. You’ll have all the coverage you want, and I’ll be Mister Mary Ellen Evans for the next six weeks. Exactly what I don’t need.”
“I do appreciate it,” she managed. Her throat was dry and she couldn’t bring herself to look at Ryan again. This was ridiculous!
“Cameron forced me to bring Mary Ellen tonight for the P.R. explosion,” Don explained to Ryan. “Can you imagine? This is what I have to go through to get a date with this woman! She’s a hard taskmaster, but an amazing one.” He grinned at Cameron and took her hand. “Did I tell you how spectacular you look tonight?”
“Thanks,” she murmured, feeling the heat–and it wasn’t coming from Don’s hand.
“Isn’t she something?” he said–once again to Ryan, who nodded silently.
Natalie de Barge drifted over, looking somewhat spectacular herself in a lime-green Versace creation with plenty of daring cleavage. “Don,” she said, greeting him with a kiss on both cheeks, “may I steal you for a moment? Don’t worry, kids, I’ll bring him right back.”
“You’d better!” Don joked. “Otherwise my best friend is likely to run off with my girl!”
“I thought Mary Ellen Evans was your girl?” Natalie said.
Don winked at her. “Long story.”
Linking her arm through his, Natalie led him away.
And then there were two. Cameron and Ryan.
Cameron experienced an insane urge to bolt, but she didn’t; instead she said–genuinely concerned, “Is your sister okay?”
“Right now she is,” Ryan replied. “We had to get a Restraining Order against Marty.”
“You did?”
“He went on another rampage, so I brought Evie and the boys over to my house. I’m not comfortable sending them home yet. Marty’s too unpredictable.”
“How is Mandy handling everyone being at your house?”
“I guess you could say she’s trying.”
“Uh huh.”
An awkward silence.
Ryan broke it. “Uh…Cameron, I didn’t call,” he said hesitantly, stating the obvious.
“I noticed,” she said, swallowing hard.
“I wanted to, but I figured my timing was off, what with you and Don, and then of course my home situation.”
“You don’t have to explain,” she said, searching for a waiter so she could grab another drink, which she desperately needed.
“Yes I do,” he said earnestly. “I said I’d call and I didn’t. That’s not like me; when I say I’ll do something it usually happens.”
“No worries,” she said, spotting a waiter and frantically waving. “I get it. You’re a married man, and I’m seeing your best friend. Besides, nothing happened between us, so no big deal, right?”
Wrong! screamed in her head. Something did happen between us, a connection I’ve never experienced before.
“Then it’s true, you are seeing Don?” he said, willing her to say–No, he’s not for me. He just thinks he is.
“Uh…yes.”
“Well, that’s nice,” he said stiffly.
“It is,” she said, lifting a glass of whatever from the waiter’s tray. She didn’t care what it was, she simply needed a drink.
“You know,” Ryan ventured, unable to help himself, “Don’s a great guy, but he’s been divorced twice, and he does have a love ’em an’ leave ’em reputation.”
“Is that a warning?” she asked coolly. “Because if it is, I’m sure Don wouldn’t be thrilled to hear it, especially as you say he’s your best friend.”
“You’re pissed at me, aren’t you?” Ryan said, suddenly getting it.
“Why would I be?” she said, gulping down her drink–which was one of the Paradise specials and quite potent. “I mean, I agreed to be your trainer at a time you chose, and I moved a regular client to accommodate you, but that’s okay. Although it would’ve been nice if you’d called to let me know that you wouldn’t be keeping your appointments.”
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I should’ve—”
“Hey–” she interrupted. “No problem.”
“The thing is—”
“You’ll have to excuse me, Ryan,” she said, realizing that she couldn’t stand another moment of this torture. “There’s a thousand things I have to take care of.”
Forcing herself to move, she took off before she changed her mind or said something she would regret, such as–I was desperately waiting for your call. I’ve been thinking about you every day. Surely you know there’s something going on between us? Surely you feel it too?
Ryan watched her walk away, out of his life again and into Don’s. And there was nothing he could do about it, except leave Mandy–which right now was too complicated, with Evie and the kids ensconced in their house.
A feeling of deep frustration gnawed at the pit of his stomach. Was she sleeping with Don yet?
Oh Jesus, he didn’t want to know.
Chapter Thirty-One
“I love that it’s so star-studded here,” Katie confided, cornering Cameron by the bar where she was downing yet another Paradise. “And gimme the inside, what’s the deal with you and the incredibly hot Don Verona?”
“Huh?” Cameron said, feeling somewhat light-headed because one drink was usually her limit and now she was on her fourth.
“He’s gorgeous!” Katie exclaimed. “And he hasn’t stopped watching you all night.”
“Don’t be crazy, he’s with Mary Ellen Evans.”
“You could’ve fooled me,” Katie said knowingly. “There’s something going on between you two–I can smell it!”
“Actually,” Cameron said, keeping it vague, “I guess Don is kind of chasing me.”
“I told you!” Katie crowed. “How cool is that.”
“But it’s no big deal, he’s my client. We work out every morning.”
“And?” Katie questioned, eyes gleaming with the anticipation of juicy gossip to come.
Cameron shrugged. “Nothing. He’s just another guy.”
“Don’t give me that,” Katie scoffed. “You’re the girl who used to tell me everything.”
“Ah yes, when we were young and restless.”
“Young and Restless is a TV soap.”
“I know.”
“So?”
“So…” Cameron said, desperately feeling the need to share. “If I tell you something you have to swear to keep it to yourself.”
“Like who am I gonna tell?”
“Jinx.”
“Ha!” Katie snorted. “As if.”
“Well…you see that guy over there, the one standing next to Don.”
“Yes,” Katie said, peering across the room. “Got him in my sights.”
“He’s the one,” Cameron sighed.
“The one what?” Katie asked, perplexed.
Downing her drink, Cameron signaled the barman for another. “He’s married,” she said glumly.
“Who’s married?”
“God, Katie!” she said, suppressing an unexpected hiccup. “Why are you being so dense? The guy standing next to Don.”
“Oh!” Katie said. “I get it. You’re into the married one. And from what I can see–he’s pretty cute himself. Man, they grow ’em tall and handsome in Hollywood.”
“He’s married,” Cameron repeated glumly. “Married, married, married.”
“So are you,” Katie pointed out.
“What?” Cameron frowned, hiccupped again. “I’m married?”
“Oh man,” Katie said, laughing. “I think you’ve had enough.”
“Enough what?”
“Enough booze,” Katie said. “And here we go. Mr Verona is on his way over–bee-lining straight for you.”
Cameron leaned against the bar to steady herself.
“Hi,” Katie said to Don as soon as he came over. “I’m Katie, Cameron’s best friend, and—”
“I feel
dizzy,” Cameron interjected. “Think I’d better lie down.”
“She’s had a few too many,” Katie explained.
“I can see that,” Don said. “Can you help me get her into the office?”
“Love to,” Katie said. “And may I say that you’re much more handsome than on TV. And taller. Do you get that a lot?”
“Why don’t we concentrate on Cameron before she falls down,” he said, putting his arm around Cameron’s shoulder.
“Hey, Don, wassup?” Cameron mumbled, dissolving into a full giggling fit.
“Hey, Cam,” he answered, raising an amused eyebrow. “Anyone mentioned that you’re bombed?”
“Bombed?” she questioned. “Who bombed?”
He attempted to remove the drink from her hand, but she held on so tightly that the liquid shot out of the glass, splashing down the front of her dress.
“Ooops!” she giggled again. “Nipple alert!”
“Take her other arm and we’ll move her nice and slowly,” Don instructed.
“Got it,” Katie said, impressed with his take-control attitude.
Together they maneuvered Cameron into the office.
“Now what?” Katie inquired, shutting the door.
“You’ll go summon up a cup of strong black coffee while I stay here with her.”
Katie nodded. Tall, dark, famous, rich, caring and handsome. Was Cameron nuts? If what she said was true, she was turning down this one and going for Mister Married. The woman was insane!
“I’ll be right back,” Katie said.
“She’ll be right back,” Cameron giggled, suddenly flinging her arms around his neck and pressing her lips against his.
Summoning major willpower, he gently extracted himself.
“Wassamatter?” she questioned. “Thought you liked kissing me.”
“You know,” he said, guiding her to a chair, “if I wasn’t a gentleman, I could take big advantage of you tonight.”
She smiled at him, a somewhat boozy smile. “Go ahead, big boy, take advantage.”
“Oh man,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re so going to regret this in the morning.”
“Rugrat who?” she asked, widening her eyes.
“Cameron, Cameron,” he said, laughing softly. “I can’t wait for our date tomorrow night so I can tell you all about this, ’cause if I know you, you’ll be mortified!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said, leaning back in the chair, her breasts falling out of her dress. “Mort E. Fied. What a name!”
He quickly adjusted the top of her dress so that she was covered.
“Thank you, Mister Policeman,” she said, as a wave of dizziness enveloped her. “A flash in time saves nine.”
“Huh?”
She closed her eyes, then quickly opened them. “Are we on a boat?” she asked, perfectly serious.
“No, we’re not on a boat,” he said patiently. “Why would you think we are?”
“’Cause everything’s really spinning.”
He stared at her thinking how beautiful she was–even in her drunken state she was a knock-out. And no–he would not touch her while she was incapacitated, it wouldn’t be right. Although it was sure as hell tempting.
Katie returned with the coffee. “Your girlfriend’s searching for you,” she remarked. “Asking everyone where you are. I didn’t say anything.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“I read the tabloids, y’know. Mary Ellen Evans.”
“Oh, her.”
“Yes, her.”
Pulling out his cell phone, he made a quick call to Ryan.
“Where are you?” Ryan asked. “Mandy wants to leave.”
“Don’t repeat what I’m saying,” Don said, lowering his voice. “I’m with Cameron, she’s having some kind of crisis, so do me a big one–make my excuses and drop Mary Ellen home for me.”
“Jesus, Don!”
“Yeah, I know, but Cam needs me, so I’m here for her.”
“What am I supposed to tell Mary Ellen and Mandy?”
“Tell ’em I got called back to the studio, had to re-tape a segment. Big emergency.”
Ryan couldn’t help himself, he had to ask. “Is Cameron all right?”
“She’s better than all right.”
Ryan clicked off his phone in a foul mood. This thing with Don and Cameron was not going to be easy for him to deal with. But he knew that he’d have to face up to it. There was no other way.
ANYA
The young couple Anya worked for, Diana and Seth Carpenter, were both lawyers and dedicated to their work. Every morning Anya arrived at their apartment promptly at eight thirty. Shortly after that, Diana and Seth left together. Once in a while Seth returned home at lunch-time, locked himself in the cubby-hole he called his home office, and worked on his computer.
Anya began studying him carefully. In her young life she’d observed many men, and Seth did not seem like the men who’d visited the brothels she’d worked in. He was quite serious, not at all sexual, and extremely work-oriented.
On some days she asked him if he would like her to fix him lunch. Occasionally he said yes, and while she was busy making him a sandwich he would play with the baby for a few minutes and make some phone calls. Then he would eat his sandwich and leave again.
Anya continued to study him. Seth Carpenter was a very tense man, he did not seem at all happy.
Sometimes when Anya arrived early in the morning, she heard Seth and his wife fighting. It happened more than once a week. The two of them argued about money, and his mother whom Diana didn’t like. They argued about the phone bill and how much time he spent on his computer. They argued about the clothes she wore and how long it took her to get ready. In fact, they argued about everything.
As the days, weeks and months drifted by, Anya formed a master plan. Her plan included never allowing herself to be used by men again. She would use them to make something of herself. They deserved to be used, they were all pigs, even if they presented a decent front–like Seth. She knew that she could use Seth whenever she felt like it. He was a man, wasn’t he? And all men had an undeniable weakness, a weakness she’d learned to exploit to her advantage.
One afternoon Seth returned home in a particularly black mood. She could see at once that he was angry.
“Should I make you lunch?” she asked.
“Not today, Anya,” he answered gruffly. “I have calls to make, then I’m off again. Are you taking Ali to the park?”
“I take baby to the park today, yes.”
“It’s good for her to get out.”
“You look tired, Mr Carpenter,” she said, softening her voice.
“I am tired,” he admitted. “I never stop.”
“In Russia I sometimes work as massage therapist,” she said. “You take jacket off, I give you shoulder rub. Very invigorating.”
“I don’t think so,” he said, although she could tell he was tempted.
“It would be relaxing for you,” she encouraged.
“I certainly need some of that.”
“You will work better this afternoon, you will see.”
“Well, if you’re sure…”
She nodded, indicating a hard-backed chair by the kitchen table.
Shrugging off his jacket he sat down.
Anya moved behind him, and began pressing her thumbs deeply into the soft tissue behind his neck.
“That feels good,” he said.
“I told you,” she said. “In Russia we are trained to do this. A man who works hard must learn to relax.”
“You do it very well.”
“Thank you, Mr Carpenter,” she said, moving closer to him so that her small breasts brushed against his back.
An involuntary gasp passed his lips.
Men, they were so easy. Very soon he would be growing hard, and after that there would be no problem getting him to do anything she wanted. And she wanted plenty. She wanted retribution for all the years she’d been treated as i
f she were nothing but a piece of unfeeling flesh to be passed around from man to man.
She wanted revenge.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“You’re having lunch with my daughter today,” Hamilton said, his tone brooking no argument. “My driver will drop you off at Spago.”
“I hardly know your daughter,” Anya said, hoping somehow or other to get out of meeting with Mandy. She could tell that Hamilton’s daughter did not like her.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Hamilton said curtly. “Mandy will show you around, advise you where to shop, what beauty salon to frequent, things like that.”
“If you insist, I’ll do it,” Anya said reluctantly.
“Yes, you will,” Hamilton said. “I spend a lot of time in L.A. so you’d better get used to being here.”
“You could leave me in New York,” she suggested. “I wouldn’t mind.”
“Ah yes,” he said, his voice ripe with sarcasm. “Now I know why I married you, so I could leave you by yourself in New York with every old billionaire friend of mine trying to fuck you.”
“You know I would never be unfaithful to you, Hamilton.”
“Yes, I know it. But do they?”
Hamilton was extraordinarily possessive and jealous. He didn’t approve of her looking at other men, let alone talking to them, so she’d learned to practically ignore all his peers when they were out at a dinner party or a formal charity event. Wherever they went, Hamilton always had one of his many assistants call ahead to make sure they were seated together.
Anya wasn’t quite sure whom he didn’t trust–was it her or was it his horny old friends? And they were horny, this army of very rich very married billionaires with mistresses on the side and multiple women at their beck and call.
In America, Anya had soon discovered, money can buy you anything you want. Hamilton knew this, and he had no desire to see his exquisite young wife offered the temptations of more than he could give her. And since he could give her plenty, Anya didn’t care about his possessiveness. In fact, she didn’t much care about anything except her shoe collection. Oh, how she loved her shoes.
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