by Havana Adams
CHAPTER THIRTY
“You look sexy in yellow.”
Talia froze at the whispered words and then whipped round to find herself face to face with Max Maguire. She had been wandering aimlessly through the aisles of the mammoth Waterstones bookshop on Piccadilly and now she glanced around noting that other people had started to notice Max too. Tall and lean with a dark buzz cut and unexpectedly deep green eyes, Max was stunning, inviting second and even third glances. He was impossible to miss and the fact that he was a fast-rising British actor who’d starred as the villain in a commercially successful action film that broke box office records meant that eyes were following him intently.
“Max,” Talia gasped feeling her cheeks warm with embarrassment. The last time she had seen him was at the Rough Draft party.
“Where’s your knight in shining armour?” Max drawled, raising his eyebrows at her.
“Don’t be silly.”
“Seriously, I thought Alex was going to call me out for a duel when he saw us talking.”
“Now you’re being... I work for Alex, we’re just friends.” Talia said the words as firmly as she could but she found that she could not hold Max’s knowing gaze.
“Really,” Max questioned with an ironic look.
“Really,” Talia replied firmly. Desperate to kill the look of speculation on his face, Talia cast around for a suitable topic change. “What are you doing here?” She asked and then bit her tongue, he was in a bookshop, obviously he was shopping for books.
“So I should be congratulating you I hear,” Max said. “The script sounds great.” Talia smiled surprised.
“You heard about that?”
“Small industry,” Max replied. “What are you doing to celebrate?” Talia shrugged.
“Maybe drinks later. Everyone’s at work and I need to get some books for research anyway.”
“That’s not good enough.” Max held an arm out to her with a smile and Talia slowly linked arms with him. It was hard to hold firm when Max Maguire turned on the charm. “I’ll have to help you celebrate.”
“But…” Talia started. But Max was already leading them towards the exit.
“Selling your first script to Hollywood calls for something a little bit special.”
As they headed for the exit, Talia caught a few of the glances that were coming their way. For a moment she wondered why Max was so interested in her, why he seemed to seek her out but then she squashed the thought and allowed herself to relax, basking in the looks of envy shooting their way as she and Max walked out into the street.
Max Maguire smelt like danger.
Seven hours later, this hazy thought drifted across Talia’s mind.
“I really should be going,” she said but even she could hear the lack of conviction in her voice. Max had ridden over her objections hours ago as their celebratory drinks had taken them from Vendome, to The Caprice, to the Punchbowl pub and Talia had told him about her script and her new agent and the interest from the studios. Max had been impressed even as he plied her with drinks. Finally they’d made it to his hotel room, where they’d plundered the mini bar, giggling like kids in a candy store. They were sprawled on the private terrace of his palatial suite and Talia felt him toying with the buttons on her yellow sundress.
“I really shouldn’t be doing this,” she tried again. But already Max was planting small kisses along her neck.
“I completely disagree,” he replied a look of intent in his eyes as he continued to toy with one of her buttons. She put her hand on his, to stop him and their eyes met. She saw Max’s eyes narrow.
“You and Golden?” He asked a challenge in his eyes. And Talia felt a burst of unease as she remembered the girl leaving Alex’s hotel room.
“Alex and I are definitely not like that,” she stated baldly holding Max’s gaze and then as though to prove her point, she leaned down to lick a path across Max’s collarbone up his neck all the way to his stubble-roughened jaw. As she kissed his jaw, she did not see the look of triumph as Max leaned back and smiled.
Talia, leaned back watching as Max pulled back from her for a moment to lean down and snort a line of cocaine from the small glass table beside them. He looked up at her and as their eyes met, Talia felt again that frisson of danger that seemed to follow Max but she shook off her doubt. She watched as slowly he sucked his finger into his mouth to wet it and then daubed some of the white powder on it. Slowly, he raised the finger to her mouth and for a moment Talia was tempted but she shook her head and with a shrug Max sucked the powder into his mouth before turning back to her. Talia watched his face as he pulled the two sides of her sleeveless shirt-dress apart and stared at her body. The old Talia might have been embarrassed, perhaps tried to cover herself but this new Talia was in her element.
“You like?” She asked coyly, watching as Max’s gaze ate her up from her heavy breasts to her waist and the tiny lace knickers that she wore. Talia didn’t care that they were outside on an exposed roof top terrace. Why shouldn’t she have some fun and move on, Alex already had. Max was arrogant, rude and as she’d learned over the course of the afternoon, sometimes crass. His repertoire of filthy sex jokes had made her blush. In the dictionary, right next to toxic bachelor there would probably be a picture of him. And yet at that moment, he was every one of her bad girl fantasies come to life.
Slowly, she moved forward, wetting her lips with her tongue. And then she licked down his body again this time from neck to chest, before gently biting his nipple.
“Harder,” he urged and she obeyed before licking the hardened nub to soothe it. Talia straddled him and she felt a shiver run through her as he held her head steady and thrust his tongue into her mouth over and over. She gave as good as she got, biting at his lip, pulling on his tongue, sucking hard. Finally, Max pushed the dress fully off her shoulders and Talia watched as he lowered his head to her breasts and began to suck on them through the thin lace of her bra. The black lace was sodden by the time his head rose and Talia was panting with anticipation, rocking against Max’s erection, riding him through his trousers. Even as she craved skin-to-skin contact, she knew she couldn’t wait. The friction from his chest hair was driving her mad. And she moaned long and loud as he pushed at her knickers. She was wet and beyond ready. And Max laughed into her mouth.
“Tell me what you want.” He growled into her mouth, punctuating the question with a sharp smack on her butt that triggered a gush of excitement in her.
“Do that again!” Talia demanded excitement laced with surprise, as Max delivered a series of stinging slaps. She continue to ride his cock, getting the friction she needed even as the heated slaps on her bottom, ratcheted up her lust even more.
“Now," she said against his mouth. And she was grateful that he knew exactly what she wanted. Still keep one hand stroking and kneading her bottom, Max freed himself from his trousers and then he hooked his fingers into her knickers and pulled, Talia heard the sound of fabric tearing and suddenly, Max thrust into her and she screamed. She felt as though he’d rigged her with a series of mines that were all starting to detonate as mini explosions shook her body; a domino effect ricocheting, multiplying through her body until she came in a loud, shuddering release, with a smile on her face staring at the stars in the sky.
Helena was sifting through the past. She’d arrived at the house in Hampstead early, armed with a brown bag of fresh muffins and coffee and had been surprised to find that Talia wasn’t there. After waiting around for a while, she had decided to go up into the attic and put to rest a thought that had been niggling at the back of her mind, since she’d made the decision to leave Époque.
Up in the attic, Helena sifted through the old cameras that her father had stored and the boxes and boxes of photographs. Her father had first picked up a camera when he was 14 and as their grandfather told it, he’d never been seen without one after that. Helena caressed a small Kodak camera remembering how her father had taught her to use it, inviting her into his darkr
oom at the back of their house, so that she could see the magical process, as the images sprang from nothing into glorious detail. That same dark room was at the bottom of her garden, where she now stored her shoes. Helena felt the first stirrings of fear but she pushed it down, she could make it without Époque, she could make it as a photographer. As her gaze drifted around the attic to her father’s papers and cameras and photos, she allowed herself to calm down, she had everything she needed to help her make a go of life as a photographer. Her dad had taught her all the basics, she’d had the best possible teacher and now she had to put it all to work.
Helena was still examining one of the old cameras, when she heard the front door slam and she was jerked from the past. Carefully she navigated the steps down from the attic and walked down the main staircase startling Talia who was skipping up the stairs. Talia gave a squeal of surprise as she caught sight of her friend.
Helena raised an eyebrow noting Talia’s rumpled dress and the definite evidence of stubble burn on her jaw.
“Someone’s been playing,” Helena smirked watching as her friend blushed. “I want to know everything.”
By the time Talia came back downstairs fresh from a shower, Helena had warmed up the muffin. Talia flopped in a chair at the table, stifling a yawn, gratefully taking the mug of hot coffee that Helena offered her.
“Busy night was it?” Helena asked arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow. Talia groaned.
“Don’t..”
“Spill it,” Helena said firmly. “You leave me a message about selling your script and when I call you back your phone is off and you’ve disappeared off the reservation. Who were you with last night?” Talia took a deep breath and finally met Helena’s eyes.
“I was so pleased about the script and signing with an agent in LA…” Talia trailed off.
“And that is AMAZING,” Helena said leaning forward to hug her friend. “But I’m not going to be diverted,” she finished as she sat back in her chair and speared Talia with a direct gaze.
“Max Maguire.” Talia watched as Helena’s mouth formed a round O.
“Oh dear god,” Her friend finally said. “I go to Paris and the world gets turned upside down. There I was worried that Alex was going to try something with you but you end up with Max Maguire.” Talia ducked her head down at the mention of Alex. God, if only Helena knew. “That man is a total reprobate.” Helena continued. “The stories about him…”
“I know, I know,” Talia sighed. In the cold light of day, her night with Max Maguire didn’t seem like a particularly good idea but she couldn’t bring herself to completely regret it. “I guess I wanted to try being someone else.” She continued, “Or just do something out of character, you know. Life isn’t a dress rehearsal and I’ve been buried in books, in work, I never just get out there and live.” Talia blurted out watching as a look passed over Helena’s face.
“I guess you’re right.” Helena finally said and then a smile spread across her face. “So are the rumours true? Should Max be at the top of the Hollywood H list?” Talia looked baffled at her friend.
“The H List?”
“Before you go to LA you’ll have to do some homework – The Hung list.” Helena laughed as Talia choked on her coffee.
“I had no complaints,” she finally said. “How about you? How was Paris? And Gabe?” She asked as she broke apart a muffin and popped a piece in her mouth.
Helena took a deep breath. How to explain Paris? She was still too raw and so she settled for the simplest explanation.
“Paris was an eye opener,” she replied. “And Gabe…” The grimace on Helena’s face told the story and Talia gave her friend a sympathetic look, knowing that in her own time Helena would tell the full story.
“What I saw of the issue online looked amazing, you look gorgeous. I couldn’t buy an actual issue because they’ve sold out in London.”
Helena smiled with pride. Not since the Italian Vogue Black issue, had a magazine become so sought after, so much like gold dust with copies popping up on eBay for 100 times the cover price and subscribers reporting their issues stolen.
“It’s doing great,” Helena agreed.
“It’s doing amazing and you’ve got editor…” Talia told her friend her pride showing.
“I quit,” Helena stated baldly watching the confusion spread over Talia’s face.
“You what?”
“I quit my job at Époque.”
“Why? What happened?” Helena could see the concern on her friend’s face and she laid a hand over Talia’s to allay her fears.
“I just realised that I’ve been trying to be someone else for so long, but now I know what I really want to do.”
“What?” Talia asked doubtfully her voice still tinged with concern. Helena held a laugh in check.
“I’ve decided to join a convent.” Talia’s expression was priceless.
“What!”
Helena could not keep her face straight and began to laugh.
“Ok so not a convent. I’ve decided to become a photographer.” She finished quietly, nervously as she waited for Talia’s reaction.
“Is this something to do with Gabe?”
“Not Gabe, he helped me see that I’ve been trying to impress Sula, maybe if I made editor she might be proud of me. But the truth is I always loved the photographs and that side of things more, you know that Tal.”
Talia rose and went round the table to envelope her friend in a hug, remembering the pictures in Helena’s bedroom and the freelance photography work and all the times that Helena had eagerly volunteered to be the designated photographer on holidays, at university events. And those pictures had always been incredible, raw, whimsical and even haunting. The clues, Talia realised, had always been there.
“I think you’ll be amazing.” She said simply and felt the tension drain from Helena’s shoulders.
Slowly Talia let Helena go – grabbing the pot of coffee to top up their mugs.
“So enough about me,” Helena said. “How’s Alex been?”
Talia held herself in check, not wanting to explain to Helena that she and Alex hadn’t seen much of each other, that they’d been avoiding spending too much time in each other’s company. They had had lunch together once and Alex had seemed genuinely pleased to hear about her script’s success, brushing off her thanks.
“Your script sold itself,” he’d said dismissively, refusing to accept Talia’s thanks.
“Alex is Alex, she finally said. Watching as Helena rolled her eyes, she knew her big brother well. “I haven’t seen much of him,” Talia admitted. “Rehearsals have been round the clock. I’ve sat in a couple of times, it’s a great role, he’ll be great.”
“You’re coming to the press night tonight?”
“Of course,” Talia said a stiff smile on her face.
She’d been looking forward to seeing Alex on stage but after their strained conversations, now she wondered if their friendship had been irreparably damaged. She wondered too if that woman from his hotel room would be in the audience. Would The Modeliser live up to his reputation and have a model waiting in the wings for him? Talia brushed the thought away as she gave Helena another smile. How Alex lived his life was none of her business.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
It was the hottest ticket in town.
From the moment Talia and Helena had stepped out of their cab and entered the Regent Court Theatre, the immense anticipation was palpable. The blogosphere had gone mad, the twitterers, always over-excitable, had been in a tizzy sending the name Alex Golden to the top of the trending lists. Tickets for the run, which was already totally sold out were changing hands for crazy, outlandish sums. For the mere mortals though, it would still be a week before they got to pass judgement and find out if London’s returning bad boy still had what it took. But tonight’s preview was all about the stars and they had turned out in force. Following in Helena’s wake, Talia moved through the crowd marvelling at the sight of theatre legends and hous
ehold names, Dames and directors, actors and playwrights. In the second floor private bar, Talia openly gaped as she glimpsed some of the familiar faces – Jude, Hugh, Colin. The play hadn’t even opened and yet there were already whisperings of Olivier nominations. Talia stood to a corner watching as Helena was enveloped in a hug by Eleanor Samson legend of the theatre and an Oscar winner.
“Helena darling, magnificent cover – you and Sula looked wonderful.” Talia sipped from her glass glancing around the room. She didn’t think she would ever get tired of staring at famous people. Talia groaned inwardly as she spotted a familiar face ploughing through the crowd towards her. It was Sara, Rough Draft junior executive and low-level bitch.
“Talia, wow you look great,” Sara said. Talia held in check the desire to roll her eyes. “So I heard about your script. Well done.” Bingo, Talia thought, this explained Sara’s attitude shift. Suddenly I’m somebody worth knowing!
“Thanks,” she replied, her smile polite but detached. She could play this game too.
“Well look, I always thought we had really similar ideas, so if you’re up for any kind of collaboration...” Sara smiled; it almost seemed genuine. Talia fought the desire to simply turn and walk away. Instead she gave a smile as false and as slippery as the ones that Sara had given her.
“Well I’ll soon be moving on – so maybe Alex will have a vacancy for a script reader,” Talia said deadpan, watching a blaze of colour stain Sara’s cheeks. Fuck diplomacy. Some bridges were worth burning. “Send me your CV. We’ll keep it on file.” Talia smiled again and then strode away plucking another glass of champagne from a passing tray. She felt Helena at her side.
“You OK?” Talia nodded and froze as she caught sight of the tall girl, the one she’d seen leaving Alex’s hotel room.
“Who’s that?” She asked Helena nodding discreetly in the direction of the tall blonde who was weaving through the throng of guests, like a pro. Talia watched her hug Eleanor Samson.
