by Havana Adams
“Oh, that’s Hannah Samson, Eleanor’s granddaughter,” Helena replied. Talia could not miss the fondness in Helena’s voice. She watched as Helena gave a small wave at the girl, who responded with a blown kiss across the room.
“You know her?” Talia asked.
“Of course.” Helena replied. “Don’t you recognise her?” Talia’s brow furrowed.
“No, should I?”
“She played Alex’s little sister in Hiding Places,” Helena replied. Talia squinted at the girl, winding back the years.
“Christ she’s grown up.”
“Happens to us all,” Helena replied drolly.
“She and Alex they aren’t…” Talia trailed off.
“God no. She’s a lesbian for one thing.”
“Oh.” Talia said in surprise. She felt a flutter as it suddenly occurred to her that she might have totally misinterpreted things. She began to move forward and then turned back to Helena, “I need to pop to the loo. I’ll see you in the theatre.”
Talia moved through the throng of people. She walked down a cool corridor, passing the last minute queue for the women’s toilets. She headed down the stairs towards a side exit, until she emerged into the cool night air. Talia let out a deep breath and wondered at the butterflies that were dancing around her stomach. The fact that Alex wasn’t sleeping with Hannah Samson meant nothing and yet she could not help the wave of hope and longing. She turned to re-enter the theatre when she spotted an orange dot in the dark night and then a form in shadow, smoking a cigarette. It was Alex.
She should return to the theatre, but somehow she found she could not make herself go back in. Instead she was moving further into the dark alleyway, past a sign that warned that the area was for Actors and Authorised Staff only. She watched his eyes widen as he noticed her approach and he flicked the cigarette butt, crushing it underfoot. He was already made up and in character. His hair was slicked back like a sleazy Gordon Gekko, the suit was Saville Row, the tie Hermes, the shoes Patrick Cox and on his wrist a Rolex watch. He looked every inch the ruthless shark-like banker that he was playing.
“What are you doing out here?” She finally asked. Her voice was hoarse.
He shrugged and Talia saw the fear in his eyes. Slowly she leaned forward and standing on tiptoe, she kissed him gently on the mouth.
“You have to work through the fear,” she said.
The words he had once said to her. He nodded and then for a moment his arms closed around her, a steel band of support and yet she knew too that he was drawing strength from her. He let her go and with a nod he turned and walked back into the theatre. For a long moment Talia continued to stand there. From inside, the sound of the warning bell rang out and she was roused from her thoughts. She felt an unexpected feeling of lightness. This thing between her and Alex, maybe it was real, at the very least, she was ready to see where it would take them. By the time she took her seat next to Helena, she was smiling.
As the final curtain fell there was a stunned silence, total silence and then the applause started. Deafening, thunderous applause that ran and ran and ran. A fifteen-minute standing ovation. As Alex took his bows and his many encores they kept on clapping, for Alex had proved beyond any doubt that he still had what it took. Helena was in tears, her pride brimming over and Talia felt some emotional valve inside her loosen, even as she fought to remind herself that she had no real right to feel any ownership in Alex’s achievements.
The celebratory post first night drinks had been organised for Caligula, a nearby restaurant and Talia quickly lost Helena in the throng of people who’d congregated by the door in the hope of being able to congratulate Alex personally when he finally arrived. Outside she could see that every few minutes a lightning storm of camera flashes cut through the dark night as the paps got their shots of the arriving celebrities. Talia had popped a canapé in her mouth when she spotted Tamara coming towards her. For the first time in months, she realised that she felt no particular dread about seeing Tamara and somehow, the anger had dissipated. She was long past caring and of course Tamara had got her comeuppance. Tamara of course looked stunning – a green dress that displayed her body to perfection.
“Talia,” Tamara said as she finally stopped in front of her.
“Tamara,” Talia’s reply was measured and clipped.
“You look well,” Tamara said and Talia raised her eyebrows. “It must be all that success.” Talia gave a small shrug. “You’ll probably want to thank me,” Tamara continued with a small ironic smile and Talia couldn’t help but laugh.
“How do you figure that?” She demanded though there was no real bite to her words.
“If I hadn’t got you sacked – would you be a Hollywood bound writer or just another storyliner on some soap?” Talia raised an eyebrow at Tamara. The woman was unstoppable.
“Well it seems things are working out for the best,” Talia finally said. Tamara smiled again and then she held her hand out. For a moment Talia hesitated and then she held her own out, shaking Tamara’s hand briefly. Life was just too short to hate.
Talia watched as Tamara turned to walk away before she stopped and turned back to face her.
“And if you ever have any more roles for me..,” Tamara said. “I like the way you write.”Talia gave a small incredulous laugh as she stared at Tamara’s retreating back. No doubt about it, the woman had balls.
Alex was spent. After the ovations he’d locked the door and collapsed on the floor of his dressing room unable to move or speak. The fear tonight had been crippling and yet he had gone past it, pushed himself, risked everything, fuelled by one thing; that kiss with Talia. He had to see her. It was this thought that propelled him off the floor, that forced him to get out of his make up and costume and head for the party.
He’d run the gauntlet of photographers with their shouted questions and their blinding flashbulbs and finally he was in, immediately surrounded by well-wishers and peers and people he admired so that it was almost an hour before he had a minute to himself. Helena hugged him tightly.
“You liked?” He asked.
“I liked very much,’ she replied. Alex smiled at the praise. With Helena he’d always been able to count on a straight to the point answer. He glanced around, scanning the room until he spotted Talia talking with a small group of people.
“I should say hi to Talia,” he said as casually as he could. He had no idea what Talia might have told his sister.
“Please do and if you can, run an intervention for me. The crazy girl only went and slept with Max Maguire.” Helena laughed. “Still I guess a bit of movie star action won’t kill anyone.”
Alex stilled. The din in the room seemed to recede into nothing. He heard ringing in his ears. He could see Helena gazing at him concern on her face.
“You OK?” She asked. And Alex shook his head.
“Exhausted,” he admitted. I need to get some water. He began to move towards a corridor, still nodding at the glasses raised to toast him or the person here or there, who wanted to shake his hand or congratulate him with a kiss on the cheek. He had almost reached the double doors that would take him into a hallway away from the people when their eyes met. For a moment Alex froze and then he changed his mind. He needed to talk to her.
Tamara stared across the room at Vassily. She had covered her shock well when she first saw him, had held her breath and then released it when she realised that his date for the evening was Sasha. Father and daughter were in conversation and even from across the room, Tamara could see the awe in Sasha’s eyes, which were darting around the room drinking in the sight of all the famous faces. Tamara knew the moment Vassily spotted her, saw the way he stood a bit straighter and stiffened. He nodded in acknowledgment to her. Sasha’s acknowledgment, at least, held more warmth.
“Tamara,” Sasha called out. Sasha moved quickly towards her and kissed her on both cheeks. “I loved you on The A List, you were so cold. You’re like the female Simon Cowell.” Tamara laughed, pleased
at Sasha’s ringing endorsement. Whatever her worries about doing reality TV, they had proved unfounded.
“I didn’t know you were a theatre lover,” Tamara asked as Vassily followed slowly in his daughter’s wake. Sasha rolled her eyes.
“More like an Alex Golden lover,” she said, then she stopped looking embarrassed. “Sorry.. You and he..” Sasha trailed off.
“Are good friends,” Tamara said. Sasha nodded relieved and then a look entered her eyes.
“You couldn’t introduce me? The girls at school would die.”
“Of course,” Tamara answered. She turned to Vassily an arch expression on her face.
“You coming?” she asked and Vassily fell into stride behind them as they pushed towards the private room. As Sasha pushed ahead of them through the throng, Vassily gripped her arm.
“We need to talk, Tamara.” She shot him a look, deliberately moving out of reach so that he had no choice but to let go of her.
“We have nothing to talk about,” she snapped back. And then she turned to Sasha with a smile. “Let’s go and find Alex.” And they disappeared up the sweeping staircase leaving Vassily at the bottom of the stairs watching them a resigned look in his eyes.
Talia felt a shiver of desire run through her as she caught Alex’s gaze. She had watched him talk with Tamara and a young girl but now it seemed he had eyes only for her. Her arms had broken out in goose pimples and she felt a warm, prickly sensation shoot through her. This feeling was unlike that she’d had with Max. She realised in a flash of insight that she wasn’t playing or testing the waters or trying to be a bad girl. What she felt for Alex was real. His hair was shorter than it had been when he first arrived in London and his skin had lost the aggressively LA tan that he had been sporting when he’d arrived. Talia continued to stare trying to pinpoint exactly what had changed about him. He still carried himself with the confidence of a movie star but there was a stillness about him now that was different, he wasn’t constantly running his hand through his hair or fiddling with his phone. The louche, overly laid back, aggressively blonde playboy was gone. Talia looked at him and realised for the first time that he looked like a man. Could The Modeliser have grown up? She gulped watching as he pushed through the guests. She was rooted to the spot as he weaved his way towards her. Her mouth was dry as Alex finally arrived in front of her. He leaned down and kissed her softly on the cheek.
“Talia,” he said. But she cut him off, had to say what was on her mind.
“You were…” she trailed off for a moment as she tried to find the words. “You were magnificent.” She saw a flare in his eyes and then just as quickly the look was gone.
“Thank you,” he finally said. There was a formality in his tone that had never been there between them before – even when they had been arguing and scathing and contemptuous, there had never been this distance.
“Alex?” Talia asked, a question in her voice. She could sense that something had changed. The intimacy of the moment before the play was gone.
“Thank you for coming,” Alex said. “It means a lot.”
Talia nodded in confusion and then her eyes widened as he leaned in towards her. Was he going to kiss her? Here? In front of all these people? Her breath was suspended in her chest and then he was whispering into her ear.
“I hope Max was able to give you the Hollywood experience too.”
Talia’s blood ran cold as he pulled away from her. He looked down at her, his gaze filled with a contempt that he did not try to hide and then he turned back to his adoring crowd, leaving her standing alone. Suddenly the glass of champagne that she held in her hand felt heavy and Talia felt something in her sway. Carefully she set the glass down and turned and walked purposefully towards the exit, her head held high, willing herself to hang on. She did not look back until she hit the streets and the cold air whipped about her face. She took a long deep breath as she finally accepted that whatever dream she had secretly harboured about Alex; it was now over.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
He had built from nothing a multi-billion dollar empire. He had faced world leaders and financial geniuses. His ice cool in the boardroom was legendary and yet on a cool autumn morning, on a London doorstep, Vassily Romanov was nervous. He held a bouquet of flowers in his hand and pressed hard on Tamara’s doorbell and then he waited.
Even before the money and the success had come, Vassily could have any woman he wanted, his looks had guaranteed that. And once he’d made his first million and then his first billion, it went without saying that women fell, threw themselves even, at his feet. For the first time in his adult life, he had encountered a woman who was not a sure thing and forgetting Tamara, he was finding, was not easily done. After the night at the theatre, Sasha had turned to him with characteristic bluntness and told him that she expected him to sort out whatever he had done to upset Tamara. The fact that Tamara was everywhere hadn’t helped. Her new show was a ratings winner and daily as he rode in the back of his chauffeur driven Bentley – there she was on billboards from Chelsea all the way into the city.
Vassily leaned on the bell again and shook his head, if only his rivals could see him now. He could ad-lib a speech to the New York Stock Exchange, wing his way through remarks to the IMF and yet to talk to Tamara he had gone through several mental drafts of what to say. In the end though he had settled for flowers. Keep it simple he’d decided. Past form had shown that jewellery and even paintings could backfire with Tamara. She really was unlike any woman he had encountered. Vassily heard footsteps from within the house, the sound of the door bolts being opened and then there she stood. She was barefoot he noticed and something about this fired his blood, he wanted simply to grab her, swing her over his shoulders and take her to bed. Somehow, he suspected that much of the confusion and complication between them could easily be worked out that way.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Tamara asked watching him a wary look in her eyes.
“I want you back.”
“You’ve never had me,” Tamara snapped back, feisty as ever. “I threw myself at you and you sent me packing,” she hissed and then immediately fell silent, her eyes darting around the street for prying eyes. “Just come in.” She stepped aside and for the first time, Vassily was in her inner sanctum and Tamara wondered if she’d made a mistake.
He strode into her sitting room his eyes picking up everything.
“You have a nice home,” he said.
“You didn’t come here for small talk.”
“I didn’t reject you because I didn’t want you. I…” Vassily trailed off, he was unused to having to explain himself. “You were in a bad place and I wanted you to come to me not because you were desperate but because you wanted me…” Vassily stood silent, his clear blue eyes drilling into her as he tried to read her response.
“I’m myself now,” Tamara said quietly, finally setting set aside her schemes and games and plans, fully opening herself up to the attraction between them. There was a heated silence and then in a heartbeat, Vassily was across the floor and on her. His arms closed around her crushing her to him and she welcomed him. He lifted her off the ground, his mouth never leaving hers and she barely noticed the journey from living room to her bedroom.
At the foot of her king sized bed, he stopped, still carrying her, her legs still locked around his waist and then in a swift movement, he pulled away from her and dropped her on to the bed. Tamara bounced on to the mattress but she never took her eyes off him. Not when he threw his jacket off, or pulled his shirt over his head not bothering with the buttons. She watched as he kicked of his trousers and boxers in one and then he was on her, gloriously naked. Back at her mouth, kissing and sucking her already swollen lips. Her hair had come loose and fell about her shoulders. With one hand he raised her hips up and pulled the dress up over her head so that she was now naked but for the tiny lace underwear.
“You are beautiful,” he said against her breasts running his tongue over the hardened tip
s before he bit her, leaving a red mark against her skin.
Tamara looked down at the mark he had made on her skin and a feeling of wildness spiralled through her. She grabbed his head pulling him back up. She felt his cock jump against her hip and she slid her hand between their bodies to touch him. He pinned her free hand above her head and then in one thrust he was inside her, all the way. Thrusting, harder and faster and Tamara was spiralling out of control, hovering on the edge between pain and pleasure and so far gone, when suddenly he pulled out of her. In a dizzying moment she found herself spun around, on her hands and knees as Vassily thrust into her again from behind, one hand gripping her hip, holding her steady as the other stroked her. She felt his tongue against her neck, in the shell of her ear and he was whispering something.
“Tamara,” he rasped. And suddenly Tamara felt something in her give, some last barrier that had always remained with every other man. Vassily was reaching her, connecting with her in a way that no man ever had, the last thread of control was gone and she came in a blinding, deafening crescendo. It was an orgasm unlike any she had ever had before.
Even as she was still pulsing around him, Vassily bit down on her neck as he too was tipped over and he followed her. He collapsed on top of her, and then almost immediately rolled off, reversing their positions so that she was sprawled on top of him. His eyes were closed and slowly his breath returned to normal. Finally his eyes opened and their gazes clashed and what she saw in his eyes frightened her.
Tamara rolled off him and then she felt it, tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. She felt fear close in as Vassily rolled onto his side and propped himself up, watching her. Tamara felt a wave of anger, she wanted him gone and out of her space. This was why she never allowed her lovers into her home.
