by Suzy K Quinn
When we reach Dad, Tom and Tanya, Marc’s grip is tighter than ever.
‘Sophia!’ Tom’s booming voice nearly knocks me over. ‘What a performance. Absolutely terrific. You were sensational. All those rehearsals really did pay off, didn’t they? You and Leo were on level pegging up there. I’d never have known he’d been in the business any longer than you.’
‘You were very good, love,’ says Dad. He looks a little tired, and keeps glancing at the door, like he’s waiting for someone.
‘You were great, Soph,’ says Tanya, giving my shoulder a squeeze. ‘I loved it. And I usually hate musicals.’
‘Tanya,’ Tom chastises.
‘What? It’s true. I do hate musicals.’
‘But that’s hardly what Sophia wants to hear right now.’
‘It’s fine, it’s fine.’ I smile. ‘I take it as a compliment, believe me.’
‘So what happens over Christmas?’ Tanya asks. ‘Do you have to perform on Christmas day, or what?’
‘Not on Christmas day,’ I say. ‘But I will on Boxing Day and New Year’s Eve and then all through January.’
Tom’s eyes widen. ‘How do you feel about that?’
‘I’m trying not to think about it. I love Christmas. But it’s just one year. And at least I get to spend Christmas day with my family.’
‘You’ll be back at the cottage for Christmas then?’ Jen asks.
‘Of course. I always spend Christmas there.’
‘Well, you never know. Fame might have changed you.’
‘I’m not famous. I’m notorious. And I wish I wasn’t.’
‘You may not be famous yet,’ says Tom, ‘but I’m guessing when January is over you’ll be well on your way.’
‘What are you two doing for Christmas?’ I ask Tom and Tanya, eager to change the subject.
They look at each other, and Tanya gives a sheepish grin. ‘My parents are spending Christmas in Spain this year, so I thought I’d hang out with Tom’s family. They’ve got an estate out in Surrey, so there’s plenty of room for me.’
‘Our first Christmas together,’ says Tom.
‘God, I’m terrified,’ Tanya says. ‘Aren’t you?’
‘Not in the slightest.’
‘But what if your family don’t like me? What if they can’t understand the way I talk?’
‘They’ll love you. And I can translate. I understand northern now.’
Tanya rolls her eyes. ‘It’s not a foreign language!’
‘Not foreign, my love. Exotic.’
Tanya laughs.
‘I’m going to miss you two over Christmas,’ I say.
Jen puts a hand on my shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, you won’t be lonely. I’ll come round yours for a drink on Christmas day, just like always.’
‘Will Mr Blackwell be joining you for turkey?’ Tom asks.
4
‘I … I don’t know,’ I say, glancing at Marc and feeling embarrassed.
I haven’t asked Marc about Christmas yet and I really have no idea what his plans are. I know I want to go back to the cottage, but I don’t know if Marc will want to come with me.
‘You must be so proud of Sophia, Mr Blackwell,’ says Tanya with a grin. ‘After all, she’s your pupil.’
‘I’m extremely proud,’ says Marc. ‘But I always knew how talented she was.’ He moves his thumb around my palm.
I catch my breath, feeling his thumb all the way through my body. My cheeks redden and I throw him an ‘easy tiger’ glance.
He rewards me with a ‘I’ll do what I like’ twitch of his eyebrow.
‘So how’s the PR going?’ Jen asks Marc.
‘Not perfectly. But hopefully I’ll have things straightened out soon.’ The pressure of Marc’s thumb increases against my palm.
‘We should tell Dad that we didn’t get engaged yet,’ I whisper, my voice growing weak as Marc’s thumb pushes harder. I try to slide my hand away before things get too hot, but Marc holds it firm.
‘Fine with me,’ says Marc, sounding totally business-like.
The pressure of his thumb is making my knees go weak.
‘Before things get out of hand,’ I say, my voice beginning to break.
‘I wouldn’t want anything to get out of hand,’ says Marc, his eyebrows spiking up in that stomach-melting Marc Blackwell way.
I swallow, feeling a glorious dull pain throb across my palm. I want to close my eyes and moan, but instead I press my lips tight together.
Marc slides his hand from mine, his fingers running up my hand. He grasps my wrist tightly.
My skin tingles and shivers, and suddenly I want him so badly that I can hardly stand straight.
God damn it.
Marc accepts a glass of champagne, all cool, calm and collected.
I wish I had his self-control.
‘Mr Rose,’ says Marc, taking a neat little sip of champagne and catching my dad’s eye. ‘May Sophia and I have a word with you?’
‘A word?’ Dad drags his gaze from the door.
‘Marc and I just wanted to talk to you for a moment,’ I say.
‘Oh. Talk. Yes.’ Dad’s eyes flick to the doorway again. ‘What about?’
‘Shall we take a seat?’ Marc suggests, nodding towards the couch at the back of the room.
Dad holds out his glass to be refilled by a passing waiter. ‘Yes. Okay.’
Marc leads us through the crowd and gestures to a sofa made of carved, golden wood and upholstered in red silk.
Dad dusts his jeans before he sits down, and perches on the edge of the couch as though he’s afraid he’ll crush it.
I sit down too, but Marc stays standing.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask Dad. ‘You seem a little … not quite yourself.’
‘Oh, just … Genoveva was supposed to be here.’
‘Who’s looking after Sammy?’
‘A babysitter.’
‘Is Genoveva okay?’
Dad downs his champagne. ‘As far as I know.’
I throw Marc a quizzical look.
‘If this is a bad time—’
‘Not at all,’ says Dad, glancing at the door again. ‘What did you want to talk to me about?’
‘I … we just wanted to tell you that we’re not engaged yet.’
‘Engaged?’ Dad blinks at his empty champagne glass. ‘Oh. Right, yes. No, I didn’t expect … I mean, you’re far too young, and you’ve only known each other five minutes.’
‘We sort of got interrupted.’
Dad’s eyes widen. ‘Sophia, you weren’t … I mean, were you going to say yes?’
‘I would have done.’
‘But … Sophia, you’re such a sensible girl.’
‘Dad, what are you saying?’
Dad’s eyes flick back towards the door. ‘In all honesty, I think you should wait a year or so before thinking about something as long-term as marriage.’
‘But you gave Marc your permission.’
‘Of course I did. It’s your decision love, not mine.’
‘But Dad, don’t you understand? It’s not just your permission I want. It’s your blessing.’
‘That’s a bit harder to give. Things have happened very quickly. And you’re so young. I just don’t want you getting hurt.’
‘I would never hurt Sophia,’ says Marc. He has his hands in his pockets and his forehead is locked into a frown.
‘Dad, you look so tired,’ I say. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Oh, just—’ He glances at Marc. ‘Family stuff.’
‘I should leave you to talk with your father,’ says Marc, his hands still buried in his pockets. ‘I’m going for a walk’
‘Marc—’
‘I’ll be back soon.’ Marc gives me a light kiss on the cheek.
I watch him stride out of the door, the long lines of his body moving through his clothing, and feel the usual disbelief that this Hollywood star, with his beautiful, handsome face and taut body, is my boyfriend.
I turn to Dad.
‘So what’s the story?’
5
Dad focuses on his champagne glass, both hands clutching the crystal bowl. ‘Genoveva and I had an argument. That’s all. No big deal. Look, I know I gave Marc permission, but … I never dreamed you’d say yes.’
‘Dad, you really don’t sound like yourself right now—’
‘He seems very controlling of you, love. Very protective. The way he looks at you … it’s all very intense.’ Dad stares at the door. ‘I wouldn’t want you making a mistake. And getting hurt.’
I follow his stare. ‘Dad. Where is Genoveva? Why isn’t she here?’
‘This is your party. Let’s talk about you.’
‘We were,’ I say, taking a sip of champagne. ‘But that didn’t turn out to be much fun.’
‘Sophia, if you really want to marry Marc, I can’t stop you.’
‘I would never marry anyone without your blessing. You know that. After what Mum said to us …’
‘I’m going to get on home and let you enjoy yourself. We’ll talk about this another time.’
‘Dad, are you okay?’
‘Just tired, love. Will you be coming home for Christmas?’
‘Of course. The play runs on Christmas Eve, but I’ll come to the cottage straight afterwards and we’ll all spend Christmas day together, just like always.’
‘Will he be coming? Marc?’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t asked him yet.’
Dad hesitates. ‘He’s so much older than you.’
‘I love him, Dad. I want to be with him. That’s not going to change. If Marc comes to the cottage for Christmas, will you be okay with that?’
‘I’ll be okay with it.’ He stands up. ‘See you on Christmas Eve. Enjoy your big night. Don’t worry about me.’ He kisses me on the head. ‘Well done love.’
I watch Dad head towards the door, but before he can leave, Jen corners him. She’s probably trying to work out what we were all talking about. She’s so nosy. The perfect PR girl.
I feel the couch jiggle beside me.
‘Hey pretty girl, why the serious face?’
I turn to see Leo. He’s still holding a champagne bottle, and takes a long swig from it.
‘What’s up? Where’s Mr Marc Blackwell? Out hunting vampires?’
‘He’s gone for a walk.’
‘A walk? In the moonlight? Without taking the love of his life? I’ve never seen a man so crazy about a woman. He doesn’t take his eyes off you.’
‘He’s protective.’
‘More than just protective. I thought he was going to rip my head off when he walked in here earlier. What did I do?’
‘He didn’t like that I’d been to your dressing room before,’ I admit. ‘He doesn’t know whether to trust you yet. But he will.’
‘Does that mean my dressing room is off limits now?’
‘Of course not. I don’t do everything Marc tells me. He’s not my keeper. There’s no reason for me not to hang out with you. Marc has nothing to be jealous about.’
‘Oh no?’ Leo’s words are playful, but he slides a little closer.
I laugh and slap his shoulder. ‘No! We’re just friends. You know that.’
‘I guess I can’t compete with Marc Blackwell.’ Leo lifts my chin and affects a deep, serious voice. ‘Oh Sophia, Sophia. Where for art thou, Sophia?’
I feel eyes on me, and turn to see Marc in the dressing room doorway.
Leo follows my gaze and drops his fingers. ‘Uh oh.’
Marc stalks towards us at such speed that waiters and guests step aside.
‘Sophia.’ Marc glares at Leo. ‘Is he bothering you?’
‘No. Of course not. We were just talking.’
‘He doesn’t need to touch you to talk to you.’ Marc’s voice is hard and angry.
‘Leo was just messing around.’
‘He can mess around with someone else. Someone who isn’t spoken for.’
‘Hey.’ Leo stands up. ‘We were just talking. No hard feelings, huh? She only has eyes for you right now.’
‘Right now?’ Marc’s voice is positively boiling.
‘Marc.’ I put a hand to his chest.
Over Marc’s shoulder I see Dad watching. He has a look on his face that tells me he’s not impressed by what he’s seeing.
I lead Marc away from Leo. ‘We were just talking.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘Of course I am. Well ... except for everything with Dad. I’ll talk to him over Christmas. Hopefully he’ll be his old self again by then.’
Marc wraps an arm around me. ‘I’ll talk to him too. And I’ll keep talking to him until he understands just how much I love you.’
‘Oh Marc,’ I sigh. ‘Why can’t life ever be easy? All I want is to be with you. Why can’t Dad see that we’re meant to be together?’
‘He will. You look tired. I should take you home.’
‘But I’ve hardly spoken to anyone yet.’
‘Sophia, you’ll wear yourself out. It’s been a long day.’
‘I need to at least thank everyone for coming.’ A yawn catches me by surprise, and my hand shoots to my mouth.
‘Come on,’ says Marc. ‘Say your goodbyes. I’m taking you home.’
6
After I’ve said goodbye to everyone, Marc and I head to the limo.
Keith is waiting in the car, reading a crime paperback and eating a bag of liquorice allsorts. He gives a joking salute when he sees us and leaps out to open the back door.
‘M’lady.’ He bows to me. ‘You were terrific. Wonderful. I nearly cried at the end. Don’t tell anyone’
‘You saw the show?’
‘Wouldn’t miss it. Marc made sure I had a good seat.’
‘I thought the tickets were all sold out.’
‘Mr Blackwell bought plenty of reserves,’ says Keith with a wink.
‘Maybe Marc was the reason they all sold out,’ I say, with a tired smile. ‘He bought all the tickets.’
‘Hardly,’ says Marc, helping me into the car.
Once we’re inside the limo, I fall against Marc’s shoulder, realising how truly tired I am. Marc sits upright, slipping his arm around me and pulling me into him. I feel his chest moving against my cheek and feel warm and safe.
‘Marc?’ I say. ‘I wanted to ask you something earlier. About Christmas. What are your plans?’
‘That all depends on you,’ Marc says. ‘And what you want.’
‘I want to be with you,’ I say. ‘But I always go back to the cottage at Christmas to see Dad and Sammy. And Jen – she comes over on Christmas day too. I was wondering ... would you like to spend Christmas day with me? At my Dad’s cottage?’
‘Would I be welcome?’ Marc’s voice rumbles against my cheek.
‘Dad said he’d be okay with it,’ I say, chewing a thumb nail. ‘So? Will you come?’
‘If you feel I won’t be creating an uncomfortable situation. I don’t want to be disrespectful to your father.’
‘I ... he said it would be okay.’
‘Just okay?’
‘He really wasn’t himself tonight.’
London lights flicker through the tinted car windows, and I find myself closing my eyes.
‘I wish I could visit Dad tomorrow,’ I say. ‘Make sure he’s okay. But I promised Leo we’d rehearse.’
Marc stiffens. ‘You never mentioned that.’
‘Didn’t I? I meant to. I forgot. Leo asked me during the interval. He wants to use the audience reaction to guide us.’
‘Nice to know he’s acting like a professional for once.’ There’s an edge to Marc’s voice, but I’m too tired to worry about it. Instead, I relax into his shoulder, feeling my eyes closing again as the car jogs through London. Soon sleep overtakes me.
7
When I open my eyes again, I’m in Marc’s townhouse. He’s carrying me up the stairs, and I feel my hair swaying beneath me. My eyes sleepily glide over the building pictures lining Marc’s staircase.
> I need to do something with this place, I think sleepily. Give it some heart and soul. Grow some plants. Make it warmer.
Now we’re on the landing.
Marc pushes open his bedroom door with his shoulder and carries me to the bed. He pushes the duvet aside with his elbow and lays me on the silk sheet. I look up at his handsome face, seeing concern pull at his blue eyes.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask.
‘You’re tired,’ he says, in a low voice. ‘But god ... if you knew what I wanted to do to you right now ...’
I feel the familiar warmth building. I’m still tender from our time in the dressing room earlier, but I want him so badly.
‘I’m not that tired,’ I say, stifling a yawn.
Marc circles the bed, taking off his suit jacket and throwing it over a chair. ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘You’re tired. Far too tired for what I have in mind.’
‘What do you have in mind?’ I murmur.
‘It can wait.’
The warmth turns to burning. ‘I can stay awake.’ I try not to yawn again.
‘No. Sleep now. The quicker you do, the quicker I can fuck you the way I want.’ Marc goes to the foot of the bed, undoes my shoelaces and slides off my shoes. It’s not like the time he undressed me at the hotel, when his movements were deliberately seductive. He’s quick and functional, flinging my footwear to the floor.
Then he undoes my jeans and pulls them from my legs, pausing for just a moment to look at my bare skin, before tearing his eyes away and throwing the duvet over me.
‘Put your arms up.’
I do, and he lifts my sweater over my head.
I don’t think he means to turn me on, but the roughness of his hands make me ache for him.
I lie back on the bed.
‘Marc. I’m awake. I promise.’
He goes to the bedroom window, loosening his tie and kicking off his shoes. Then he stares out at the dark London sky.
‘Aren’t you coming to bed?’ I ask.
Marc turns. ‘I was going to wait until you’d fallen asleep,’ he says. ‘So I won’t be tempted.’
‘You can be tempted,’ I say.
He smiles. ‘If you knew what I had planned, you wouldn’t be saying that. Trust me. You’re too tired.’
‘I’m not.’
He comes to sit on the bed, reaching out a hand to stroke my cheek. ‘My job is to take care of you. And right now I’m taking care of your physical health instead of your physical pleasure.’
