Stop blabbering girl! Especially in front of a Dom.
The diamond collar worn around the neck of the man towering over her left her in no doubt of the dynamics of this particular couple.
"No problem, ignore that big lout over there. Axel tends to be overprotective, and, contrary to popular belief, I'd never object to having a beautiful lady on my lap. I just wouldn't sample the goods. Now that would be wasted on me."
The affectionate smile he'd thrown towards Axel before he'd taken his hand made Sylvia smile, too. If ever there were two people in love.
"Right, well like I said I am sorry. I probably should know your name…"
"Bjorne Rasmussen, delighted to meet you." He'd extended his hand and fixed her with such an intense look, Sylvia had had to fight the urge to sink to her knees in front of him. Wouldn't that have given the tabloids something to fawn over? He'd clearly noticed her internal struggles, if the twinkle in his eyes was anything to go by.
"And you are Larsson's date for the evening, are you not? Axel and I quite enjoyed that kiss he gave you on the red carpet. If only because it made Landon's face such a picture."
Fresh heat crept into Sylvia's cheeks. Oh hell.
"Do you know Sven? I mean are you in the business?"
Axel's hooter of laughter had made several of the bystanders look at them curiously.
"Oh min sköna, you're priceless. Bjorne here is one of the best—if not the best—director our homeland has ever produced."
"Sorry, I don't really go to the movies. Have you ever worked with Sven?" The look of amusement that had passed between the two men had made her wish she could just crawl into a hole somewhere. "Sorry if that was a daft question."
"Not daft at all, better than the automatic assumption that everyone in Hollywood coming from Sweden must automatically be best friends. No, I was hoping to work with him. He sent me an interesting script a few months ago. I tried to get back to him about it, but his manager made it very clear that he would not be filming anything without Landon, and I do not work with divas. "
"His manager said what?"
Sylvia hadn't quite believed her own ears.
"I must admit I was surprised. I thought they'd parted company, but then he dropped off the radar completely, and I guess today proves that he's back in the business. Can't blame the man. These movies sell, and Landon and Larsson together pull in the punters, but, still, I liked that script."
An awful suspicion had made Sylvia's heart beat a little faster. She knew there was something fishy about that Steve. Sven had explained on the flight over how he wanted to make a film about Sly Syndrome in honor of his late brother, and to raise awareness about the disease, and the need for more research. Seemingly every move had been blocked. First by the contract that bound him to the studio and Landon, and then, once he'd paid a hefty penalty to get out of it, by his own dodgy reputation in the business as a result. He'd agreed to the premiere as a way to network and to fulfill the last clause of the contract he couldn't get out of. And had Steve and he not argued about this very thing mere hours ago?
"Bjorne, I fear there has been some misunderstanding. I have it on good authority that Sven has no intention of making any more films with that wit … I mean Ms. Landon. Tell me was that script about a rare syndrome by any chance?"
Another look had passed between the two men, and the director had sat up a bit straighter. He'd narrowed his eyes, assessing Sylvia.
"As a matter of fact it was."
"I thought so. I think you need to find Sven and talk to him about this. He'll be delighted to hear that you may be interested. I'll make sure neither his manager nor the diva, as you so aptly put it, are there to interfere."
It had been Bjorne's turn to laugh out loud, and Axel had stepped back both hands raised in mock surrender at the expression on her face.
"I get the impression you're much more than his date for the evening, young lady. Take my card, in case I miss him. These things tend to drag, and I've no intention of staying here that long. If you'll excuse us, I've just spied the very person I'm here to meet with."
Which had left Sylvia stood right here, silently fuming. A commotion announced the return of Sven and Landon. A beaming Steve trailed after them, and bile churned in Sylvia's gut. That good for nothing money grabbing weasel. She had to get to Sven and tell him what was going on.
****
Damn where was she? He needed to get out of this godforsaken place. If he had to listen to any more of Julia's inane chatter, he was going to lose it big time. His lips curled in disgust at the way the woman insisted on leaning into him during the interviews, and it took all of his acting skills to not let his distaste show. Her cloying perfume clung to his clothes, and his longing for Sylvia's fresh scent was like a physical ache in his gut. Shaking Julia's hand off with a warning growl, he searched the crowded foyer. She had to be here somewhere.
"Sven, are you listening?"
"What?"
His manager had maneuvered himself in front of him.
"I said we need to discuss the promotional tour.” Steve waved his hands in agitation. “This evening has gone well. I think there will be favorable reviews, so we need to keep the momentum going. These interviews are a start, but I'm booking you both on a few chat shows and then we'll have to plan the European premieres. The studio is planning a simultaneous release across Europe next week, and it's imperative you attend."
"Preferably without your laughable image enhancement." Julia cut in. "Really, Sven, the show on the red carpet was quite nice, but you don't really expect anyone to believe it, do you?"
Before he could shut the bitch up, Sylvia's usually soft voice rang out behind them with an edge of pure steel, which shot straight to his groin. Damn, that voice alone had him hard in an instant.
"Give it a rest, Julia. You're beginning to sound like a parrot. Sven, I need to speak to you."
Her familiar scent soothed the churning in his gut as she leaned close enough to whisper in his ear. "You can't trust Steve."
She dropped a kiss on his mouth. Her blue eyes were furious, her lips set in a tight line, and he noticed the tension in her body as he pulled her in closer, intent on deepening the kiss.
"I'm afraid you can't. We're in the middle of a business discussion here, which doesn't concern you, Sylvia, so be a good girl and run along."
His manager's words made Sylvia stiffen further, and Sven reluctantly let her go.
"Watch your mouth, Steve."
Sven snarled the words, his fury bubbling under the society smile he wore.
"And what business would that be, Steve? More money grabbing antics for you, per chance? I doubt they will be in Sven's best interests," Sylvia said.
"You don't know what you're talking about, woman."
"Oh I don't, do I? I may not be in the business, but I'm not an idiot, Steve, and neither is Sven. Did you think he wasn't going to find out?"
Sven watched in amazement as his manager turned a putrid color in front of his eyes. His little firecracker was throwing dagger looks at the man, and even Julia visibly squirmed. What the fuck was going on here?
"Sylvia?"
Her expressive eyes settled on him for an instant, before she glared at a now visibly sweating Steve.
"Wishing you let me talk to Sven in private now?"
"Go to hell," Steve said.
"I said watch your mouth, Steve. You talk to her like that again and you can find yourself a new client." Fists balled at his side, he advanced on the smaller man. "You get that, Steve?"
"Sven, he's not worth it. People are watching." Sylvia's warning got through the rising fury churning his gut, and he unclenched his fist, when she grabbed hold of his hand.
Sure enough a small crowd had gathered including the ever present photographers, and he swore under his breath and pulled her into his frame.
"What's he done, min sköna?"
"Let's get out of here, and I tell you. I don't want you to kill him in front of w
itnesses."
Julia's hand on his other arm stopped them.
"You can't leave now. You heard Steve. We have to make promotion arrangements, and I'll be damned if I let you slip away again, now that we finally got you where we wanted you."
Sylvia's groan in his ear mirrored his own feelings.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean. You need this film to be a success as much as I do, and I'm sure you don't want me to tell your little bit on the side here exactly what happened with Cherine, do you?"
"Who's Cherine?"
Sylvia's confused whisper made his insides churn as he looked from her to Julia. Not for the first time that evening he wondered why he'd ever found Julia attractive. Seeing them next to each other just emphasized Sylvia's natural beauty. The trust in her eyes as she searched his face for an answer to that question hurt. He had to get her out of here fast before he did something he'd regret like hit the bitch to shut her up.
Jesus, Sylvia was going to hate him when she found out.
He didn't want to relive that nightmare, and he couldn't stand the thought of killing the trust in those beautiful eyes that now widened at Julia's words.
"So what's it to be, lover boy? Do I spill the beans? The press would lap it up, and if I can't get you on board for the publicity, I'll just have to create my own."
Sylvia's growl of exasperation had him grab her round the waist just in time to stop her from launching herself at the other woman. He earned himself a swift kick in the shin for his troubles.
"Let me go, Sven."
"Baby, she's not worth it. Just let me get you home, and that hurt!"
Julia's evil laughter made his stomach churn, and Sylvia stopped struggling against him as Julia's next words rang out just loud enough for them to hear.
"Then again I'll save that for another time. Run along you two, but tell me, Sylvia, how do you feel about Torsten? Oh, look at that face. Hasn't he told you about his son?"
Chapter Seventeen
The hot water streaming over his naked body did little to soothe the ache in his chest, but at least it washed the smell of that bitch from his skin. What the fuck was he going to do? By the time he'd managed to get Sylvia back to the limo, she'd been trembling, and so pale he'd been afraid she was going to pass out. She'd scooted as far away from him as possible, when the limo doors shut out the glare of the photographers. George had uttered a vicious Swedish curse, in response to Sven's brief explanation of what had happened. Sylvia had sunk further into the corner. George's fury had matched Sven's, and the driver had raised the partition, and had released his anger through his driving. They'd almost flown down the Pacific Coast Highway and made it back to Malibu in record time.
Tense silence had stretched between Sylvia and Sven in the back of the limo. She'd recoiled from Sven's one attempt to touch her.
"Don't you dare touch me, Sven. You reek of the bitch."
He'd glimpsed a shimmer of tears in her eyes during that brief instant she'd looked at him. An ice cold fist had clamped around his heart.
"I'm sorry. I should have told you about him."
"Yes, you should have."
Her barely audible whisper had settled in his gut like lead. She'd turned her back on him, resolutely staring out of the window. When they'd finally made it back to the house, she'd darted away from him. The slam of the bedroom door had echoed round the still corridor.
He was turning off the shower unit when he caught sight of his grim-faced reflection in the mirror of the guest bathroom. Fuck, he had so blown it. But how did you tell someone you had a son no one knew anything about? A son he hadn't known about, damn it, until six months ago. He'd sought refuge at his parents’ place after that kiss-and-tell debacle had blown up in his face, driving the last nail into his coffin that was his public image. Then Cherine had turned up out of the blue. An old girlfriend he used to hook up with every once in a while and hadn't seen in years, Cherine had brought along a shy two-and-a-half-year-old grubby little boy, hiding behind her legs.
He'd been floored completely by her curt announcement that Torsten was his son and it was his turn to look after the boy. The DNA test had proven without doubt that the little fellow was his. Not that he'd needed that kind of proof. Once all that grime was washed off the boy's face, he'd found himself staring at a miniature version of himself. Cherine had not hung around. She wanted money, of course. Didn't they always? Since leaving Torsten with him, she'd turned up twice on the pretext of seeing her son, but, really, she'd stopped by to fleece him for more cash. Her brief visits left the boy more confused than ever.
Damn the whole lot of womankind. You couldn't trust any of them. But, even as the thought flitted through his mind, his gut clenched, and an image of Sylvia's expressive face swam in front of his eyes. His chest tightened, and regret washed over him. He was such a goddamned jerk. He had to talk to her. He had to make her understand. Thank God, they were miles from London, or, he'd no doubt, she'd have thrown him out on his ear. He wouldn't be surprised if she wasn't packing her bags right now. Wrapping a towel round his hips, he crossed the distance to the master bedroom, and stopped at the door to listen. Deathly silence greeted him as he carefully opened the door. He drew in his breath at what he saw.
****
Furiously scrubbing at the useless tears she just couldn’t stop, Sylvia was engulfed in a heap of misery. Did she need any more proof she was wasting her time here? He didn't trust her, and he no doubt never would. Why had she ever thought she could reach him? She was good for his image, and, yeah, he clearly liked the sex, but you couldn't build a relationship on sex alone. That bitch knew about his son, yet she didn't. Why the hell had he not told her?
You know why. You're nothing more than a roll in the hay, and, once he's had his fill, you'll be discarded like all the rest.
Peggy's snide words in their last phone call rung in her ears now. She'd been right, of course. What could a thirty-five-year-old mother of three have to offer a man like Sven Larsson anyway? She'd known she was out of her depth the minute they set foot in this place, and tonight had just confirmed their differences. Her righteous anger at Julia had got her through the evening, but she'd felt like a fish out of water. She would never belong here. None of that would matter if he actually loved her, but he didn't. She would pack her bags and ask George to take them all to the airport in the morning. If she maxed out her credit card, she might just have enough money to get them all home, and, if not, she'd just have to use that expense account Vera had been droning on about. She'd repay him every last penny. At least that way she could hold her head high, and he'd never know how much of her heart she'd left behind. Thank God, she'd never told him how she felt.
Sylvia heard the quiet click of the door opening. She wiped the last of the tears away and straightened her shoulders as her eyes met his in the mirror. He'd showered, and a fluffy towel was slung low on his hips. Unwanted desire coiled low in her belly. He'd no right to come in here looking sexier than any man ought to be allowed to look and… What the hell was wrong with her? He'd lied to her, used her, and yet, still, here she was, her knickers getting damp at just one look at his half naked body. The uncertain expression on his face tugged at her heart, and the heat in his gaze stoked the low burning arousal in her core.
Damn her treacherous hormones, and damn the slump of his shoulders, and damn the whole fucking mess.
His gravelly tones washed over her, and her eyes filled with new tears. She screwed them shut, and hid her face behind the curtain of her hair, which had come loose from its restraints.
"I'm so sorry, min sköna. I never meant to hurt you."
****
Sven's relief at finding her sat on the bed was so overwhelming he hadn't trusted himself to speak at first. She looked so lost and small huddled on that bed. Her face was blotchy from crying, her nose and eyes red, and her silky hair fell loose. A far cry from what he'd planned for this evening. He'd be lucky if sh
e let him touch her ever again, let alone submit to him.
The way she flinched at his growled apology caused a fresh wave of pain to settle in his chest.
"Yes, well, you did. Why the hell did you not tell me about your son?" she asked
The anguish behind that question meant he had to get closer to her. Close enough to touch and to soothe. His gut churned anew at the subtle way she shifted from him. Fresh tears fell on the hands clenched in her lap.
"I didn't know how to," he said.
"Bullshit."
The hurt behind that forceful reply slapped him in the face. Her head shot up, eyes blazing. She'd never looked more beautiful to him than in that moment. Sylvia's scent wrapped itself around him, and a slow blush stole into her cheeks, increasing in redness the longer she stared him down.
"Four little words, that's all it takes, Sven. I … have ... a ... son. How hard is that to say to someone? And to throw your own words back at you. What the fuck are you doing here, when you have a son to take care of?"
"It's complicated."
She did slap him that time, the sound of the impact loud in the quiet room. Her exasperated groan made him smile despite everything. That's it, get angry with me, baby. Anger he could cope with. Fuck, he deserved it. Her earlier quiet desperation just made him want to howl and throw things, knowing he was the cause of all that anguish.
"Complicated, my ass. That's your excuse? It may have escaped your notice, but life is complicated and messy, and, quite frankly, it sucks most of the time. Do you think any of this has not been complicated for me? Hell, Sven, I follow you halfway across the world. I trust you with my kids. I give you my submission. I fight in your corner, alienate my friends and family, and for what? All this time, you've been lying to me. And what about this son of yours? Does he mean so little to you that you can just leave him behind on a whim? Because I don't think you're the man I thought you were if you can do that."
Breathing heavily, her voice broke on the last few words, and she furiously blinked away the fresh tears filling her eyes. The icy hand squeezed his heart a bit tighter as his own anger rose to the surface.
The Housewife and the Film Star Page 16
