by Abby Green
* * *
Much later that night Cesar finally returned to his apartment in the castillo. He was irritated and frustrated. The problem in the vineyards had been more complicated than he’d thought, and then he’d been waylaid by his house manager and that had evolved into a long impromptu meeting about the renovations Cesar was embarking on. Renovations that were now taking on a new resonance—as if something had shifted inside him with regards to his long-term plans for the castillo.
But he didn’t want to think of that. All he wanted was to see Lexie. His apartment was quiet. Empty. When he considered for a second that she might well have gone back to her own rooms the rise of an even deeper frustration made him clench his jaw.
But, no... He saw her sneakers, thrown off near the couch where a low light was burning. Cesar walked over and his chest grew tight when he saw Lexie fast asleep. Her top had risen up, revealing a sliver of pale soft belly. One arm was flung over her head, the other was just below her breasts.
He came closer and wasn’t even really aware of the way the irritation and frustration he’d been feeling moments before had just dissolved away. To be replaced by a different kind of frustration. A hunger.
He spotted the earphones of her mp3 player in her ears, the wires leading to the device. And that tightness was more acute as he thought of her dyslexia and how hard it must have been for her to overcome its challenges along the way.
As if aware of his intense scrutiny, she opened those huge blue eyes. It took a second for them to focus and then Lexie scrambled up, her cheeks pink.
‘Oh, my God, what time is it?’
Cesar came down on the edge of the couch and pinned her with his arms. She lay back. She looked tousled and delicious and sexy as hell.
‘It’s way past your bedtime.’
She smiled and an incredible lightness infused Cesar. Addictive, seductive...
‘Is it now? What are you going to do about it?’
Cesar said sternly, ‘I’m going to make sure you go to bed right now and tuck you in myself.’
He stood up and reached for Lexie, swinging her into his arms, relishing the way she snuggled into his chest. Relishing even more the way her mouth unerringly found his neck and started pressing kisses there. Open-mouthed kisses, so that he could feel the tip of that wicked tongue.
Lexie sank back onto the bed and Cesar loomed over her, pulling off his top with one graceful move. She was still in a delicious half-dream haze. She didn’t even have to be awake for him to have an effect on her.
But then, like a dream that became clearer on waking, the darkness of the material she’d been studying in the script came back to her. It made her mood change in an instant, dousing desire. She recalled too that just before she’d woken she’d been having disturbing dreams. Almost nightmares. And it was no wonder.
Cesar came down over her on his arms and just like that Lexie froze under him. In that instant she felt tainted, damaged. She could see now that the exhilaration of becoming more intimate with Cesar had helped her to forget for a moment who she really was. What had happened to her. The sheer extent of the dark secrets she harboured.
Right then it felt as if a chasm yawned between them. He wouldn’t ever want to know who she really was. Why would he? This was just an affair. Fun. Lighthearted. Lexie felt anything but lighthearted. She felt acutely alone. As if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders.
Cesar lifted a hand as if to touch her and Lexie flinched violently. Everything in her was screaming to get away now—before he could seduce her so much that she found herself spilling out all the awful ugliness that had no place here.
He stopped. ‘Lexie...?’
Lexie scrambled out from under Cesar’s arms and stood up by the bed, her whole body cold. Numb. Cesar was looking at her as if she’d grown two heads. Galvanised by panic, Lexie found her bag and started throwing things in.
‘What are you doing?’
She shoved the blouse she’d worn the previous day into the bag, her belly swooping at the thought of that day. How perfect it had been. It felt as if it had happened to another person now. A person who didn’t have the awful memories that were bombarding her right now.
‘I’m going back to my own room.’
She picked up her bag but Cesar caught her arm. He was shaking his head, incredulous. ‘What on earth is going on?’
She pulled her arm free and backed away, torn by the sense of increasing panic she felt and also by something much more disturbing: the desire to throw down the bag and launch herself into Cesar’s arms, ask him just to hold her, to reassure her that she could feel safe with him. But that was not what he was interested in—Lexie being vulnerable. He’d run a mile.
Then he stopped looking incredulous. He folded his arms. ‘I told you before that I don’t play games, Lexie.’
Lexie felt sad. ‘I’m not playing a game. I just can’t do this right now. I need...some space.’
For a long second Cesar just regarded her, and then his face became unreadable. He stepped back and said coolly, ‘By all means, Lexie, take all the space you need.’
Lexie gripped her bag and turned and walked out of the bedroom, and out of Cesar’s apartment, adrenalin coursing through her system. When she got back to her own room it felt desolate. And then she realised with a sense of dread that she felt desolate.
The truth was that she was damaged and broken inside. For a brief moment in time she’d believed that she had somehow been miraculously cured. But she hadn’t really. And this minor meltdown had just proved it to her.
* * *
‘I need some space.’ Cesar glowered so fiercely that his house manager saw him coming and scuttled out of sight. Those words had been eating away at him like poison for two days now.
One minute Lexie had been supine on his bed, flushed and sexy, huge eyes all but eating him up...and the next she’d become a different person. Cold. Stark. Dios, she’d flinched as if he might hurt her.
His skin prickled. He hadn’t liked that feeling. And he hadn’t liked to acknowledge how feral she’d made him feel. When she’d said she needed space it had been like a punch to his gut.
The thought that she might have even glimpsed a tiny part of how ravenous she made him feel had made him go cold all over. He’d had to step back to stop himself from acting on the visceral impulse to prove her words to be a lie.
But even now he could remember the look in her eyes. It had been panicked. And he couldn’t understand why.
The film unit was due to head back to London at the end of the week and Cesar was acutely aware of the fact—much to his chagrin. Especially when he’d set out at the very beginning to avoid getting involved at all costs.
For two days he’d deliberately avoided going near where they were shooting, in an old abandoned wing of the castillo. But today he found himself heading there even before he’d consciously taken the decision. The fact that he needed to see Lexie only put him into an even more foul humour.
Cesar saw the usual cluster of people as he got closer to the set—crew hanging around, waiting for someone to call for them urgently.
They nodded to him now. Said hello. He managed some civil responses. When he got closer he saw that the door to the set was closed. And there was a hushed air. He asked the third assistant director if they were shooting.
The young man shook his head and Cesar made to go onto the set, but the man stopped him. ‘You can’t go in there, Mr Da Silva.’
Cesar chafed at the obstruction. His need to see Lexie was like a burr under his skin now. ‘Why not?’ he demanded.
‘It’s a closed set. They’re doing the rape scene. Essential crew only.’
The rape scene.
Cesar didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt a chill in his blood. He looked around and saw the video
assistant in the corner, with his wall of monitors which showed whatever the camera was seeing inside the room. Usually there would be a couple of producers or some crew watching the scenes, but today there was no one.
He went over and sat down. Just as he realised that he couldn’t hear what they were saying the video assistant handed him some earphones. Cesar put them on and hunched forward.
They were about to shoot. The director was talking to Lexie and to Rogan, the male lead. Cesar’s breath hitched when he saw her. Her hair was down, tousled, and she was wearing some kind of diaphanous white gown. It was open at the front, as if it had been ripped, and he could see the ripe curve of her breast.
And then the director disappeared, leaving Lexie and Rogan on the screen. The first assistant director called out the instructions to shoot and then the director called action.
Rogan grabbed Lexie by the arms and shook her, spittle flying from his mouth as he said crude, horrific things. She looked tiny and vulnerable. She was pleading with him. But he wouldn’t listen. Then he brutally turned her and shoved her down on the bed, pulling her gown up over her thighs, undoing himself before he pressed himself into her, grunting like an animal.
The camera went close in on Lexie’s face, pushed down onto the bed. Rogan’s big hand was on the back of her head, holding her down. Her eyes were blank.
Cesar heard cut. But all he could really hear was the roaring of blood in his head. He wanted to move but he was paralysed.
On some rational level he knew it wasn’t real. That it was just acting. He could see Rogan helping Lexie up. The actor looked faintly traumatised. Lexie looked impossibly pale, and sort of glassy-eyed. A shiver of foreboding went down Cesar’s spine. He knew that it had obviously been a traumatic scene to shoot, but there was something else going on—he could feel it.
But then they were going again, and he heard the camera assistant say, ‘Scene One Hundred, Take Twenty.’
Cesar pulled off the earphones and looked at the video guy incredulously. ‘They’ve done this nineteen times?’
The man gulped. ‘Yes, sir. We’ve been doing this scene all day from different angles. This is the last shot, but he’s milking it.’
Cesar felt rage building inside him. The camera was close up on Lexie’s face again and he saw a tear roll out of her eye and down one cheek. She hadn’t cried last time.
Something rose up inside Cesar—something he couldn’t even articulate. An overwhelming need to get to her. He surged to his feet, almost knocking over the wall of monitors. He stormed to the door of the set, swatting the protesting third AD aside.
He opened the door just as the camera assistant was saying, ‘Scene One Hundred, Take Twenty-One.’
‘Enough.’ Cesar’s voice cracked out like a whip.
* * *
Lexie turned her head and looked at Cesar. He saw only those huge bruised blue eyes, and something in their depths...a mute appeal. She wasn’t acting any more. He knew it without even knowing how.
He walked straight over and scooped her up into his arms, and for the first time in two days he felt slightly sane again.
The director was standing up now, blustering. ‘What the hell are you doing, Da Silva? You can’t just barge in here like this.’
Cesar stopped in the act of turning around. Lexie was far too slight a weight in his arms as he said coldly, ‘You’re on my property. I can do whatever the hell I want.’
‘But we haven’t got the shot yet.’
Even icier now, Cesar said, ‘If you haven’t managed to get it yet then perhaps you shouldn’t be directing.’
He was barely aware of a suppressed snigger from one of the crew as he strode out of the room, Lexie curled into his chest, her head tucked down. It reminded him of how she’d curled into his chest after making love that first time. When she’d cried like a baby.
He carried her all the way to his apartment and took her into his bedroom. He sat down on the edge of the bed, still holding her. He was shaking from the adrenalin and anger coursing through his system.
After a long time, she moved in his arms. But she wouldn’t look at him. She just said, in a quiet voice, ‘I need to have a shower.’
Cesar got up and deposited her gently on the side of the bed, crouching down. Finally she met his gaze but her eyes were flat. As if she didn’t see him. A shard of ice pierced him inside.
Reluctantly he left her to go and turn on the shower. When he came out she was standing, albeit shakily. ‘Do you need help?’ he asked.
She shook her head and went in, closing the door behind her. Cesar restrained himself from following her, making sure she was all right. The shower ran for long minutes.
Eventually it stopped. Lexie was so long coming out that Cesar was about to knock on the door when it opened. She was wrapped in his towelling robe. It swamped her. Her hair was damp and hung in long golden tendrils over her shoulders.
He handed her a glass of brandy. ‘Here—you should drink some of this.’
Lexie wrinkled her nose, but she took it and sipped at it before handing it back. Cesar put it down on a nearby table. He felt unaccountably ill-equipped to know what to do. What to say.
‘You shouldn’t have done that.’
She was looking at him with her chin tilted up and Cesar arched a brow. ‘Would you prefer to be back there doing Take Thirty right now?’
She paled so dramatically that Cesar reached out and put his hands on her arms.
‘No,’ he said grimly, leading her out to the living area and guiding her to sit down on the couch. ‘I didn’t think so.’
Lexie seemed impossibly tiny and fragile sitting on the big couch. Cesar stood over her and crossed his arms, because even now all he wanted to do was touch her. I need space. He cursed silently.
‘So, are you going to tell me what’s going on?’
Lexie glanced up at Cesar and then away again quickly. He was so...implacable. Determined. Stern. The numb shell that had surrounded her for the past two days was finally breaking apart.
When Cesar had burst onto the set and she’d seen him... He would never know the depth of the gratitude she’d felt. Because on some level she’d always needed to know that someone might have saved her.
She forced herself to look at him. ‘Why did you do that?’
Cesar paced back and forth now, energy sparking off his tall, lean body. His mouth was tight. ‘I don’t know, to be honest. But when I saw you...I could tell something was wrong.’ He shook his head, stopped pacing. ‘You weren’t acting, Lexie.’
Something huge inside her shifted to know that he’d intuited something was wrong. ‘No, I wasn’t acting...not by the end.’
Cesar pulled a chair over to sit in front of her. Lexie gazed at him. Remembered how good it had felt when he’d swept her up into his arms. Too good. As if she’d been running for a long time and someone had finally allowed her to stop and rest.
She found that she wanted to tell him. She wanted to explain about the other night.
‘Lexie...what?’
She took a breath and then said starkly, ‘I was raped when I was fourteen.’
Cesar went white in an instant. His whole body tensed. ‘What did you say?’ His voice was hoarse.
Lexie bit her lip. She couldn’t go back now.
‘I was raped by my aunt’s husband. One night my parents and my aunt had gone out—he said he’d babysit. He brought me into my parents’ room when the others were in bed and raped me.’
‘The others...?’
‘My five younger brothers and sisters.’
‘Dios mio... Lexie...that animal...’ Cesar looked sick. ‘You looked at me the other night like I was going to hurt you—you were scared...’
Lexie leant forward and touched his arm. ‘No...’
B
ut Cesar was almost recoiling now, and she could see the horror on his face that she might have thought for a second he was capable of something so heinous.
She shook her head, ‘No, Cesar. I wasn’t afraid of you. I knew this scene was coming up... I was apprehensive about it... It’s the first time I’ve ever had to do a scene like this and it was just too close to the bone.’
Cesar pulled free of her touch and stood up, pacing again. Lexie was tense, her hands forming fists in her lap.
He faced her, eyes flinty green. ‘My God,’ he said again—in English this time.
Suddenly a kind of hurt bloomed inside her. He was looking at her as if she was a stranger. A damaged stranger. The guilt that she had worked long and hard to believe wasn’t hers reared its ugly head again. Her rapist’s accusations were as clear today as they had been then. ‘You were asking for it, you know. Always prancing around under my nose dressed in that uniform.’
She felt cold and said tightly, ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you.’
She stood up from the couch, hating that she’d been weak enough to confide in Cesar. Hating that she’d thought his intuition made her feel as if he deserved to know.
‘Where are you going?’
She looked at him. ‘Back to my room.’
She turned and headed for the bedroom, but Cesar caught her hand. This time when she looked at him his eyes were blazing. ‘Dammit, Lexie, you’re staying here.’
Hot tears pricked the back of her eyes, galling her. She hadn’t even cried after she’d been raped—too shocked and traumatised—and yet with one touch, one look, this man could reduce her to tears and make her want to lean on him when she’d fended for herself for so long now...
‘Damn you, Cesar.’ She pulled her hand free and faced him. ‘Just let me go.’
He shook his head. ‘You shouldn’t be alone right now.’
More hurt bloomed inside Lexie to think that he was acting out of a sense of duty. ‘I’ve done my therapy, Cesar, years of it,’ she sneered. ‘You really don’t have to act as my babysitter just because it turns out that your lover is damaged goods.’
