by Joanna Rees
Back at Todd’s palatial suite in the Hôtel du Cap, Sonny Wiseman walked to the antique drinks cabinet, picked up a cut-glass decanter, sniffed the clear amber liquid inside and poured himself a large glass.
The hotel was possibly the best and most famous along the whole stretch of coast and the room was the height of luxury. Enormous bowls of roses perfumed the night air. Tasteful French furniture led the eye across Persian rugs and past the ancient tapestry to the vast windows with their giant drapes, framing the view down over the gardens of the hotel and the moon over the Cap Ferrat: the same view painted by Toulouse-Lautrec in 1892. Frankie should have felt privileged, thrilled even, to be here, but she didn’t care about any of it. She felt sick.
Todd leant back against the door and closed his eyes for a moment.
‘Nice to be away from the crowd, huh?’ Sonny remarked, as if everything was OK. He chuckled. ‘It was madness tonight. But trust Bruce to throw such a great party. You sure you don’t want go back downstairs and join in the singing? Todd, man, you were great on the piano—’
‘Sonny, you’re an asshole,’ Todd interrupted, snapping his eyes open. All the charming smiles had vanished. He looked between Frankie and Sonny. ‘How could you do that to her?’
Frankie was still shaking. When Todd had finally noticed how upset she was downstairs at the party, he’d taken her to one side and she’d had the chance to explain what had happened with Alex.
‘Have another drink, Frankie,’ Sonny Wiseman said. ‘Come on, it’ll relax you. Make you feel better.’
‘Relax me?’ she gasped. She had so much to say and so much pent-up frustration, she could hardly get her words out. ‘You owed me a favour. Do you realize what you’ve done?’
He topped up his drink and sighed. ‘Sorry, kiddo. I had no choice.’
‘No choice? What do you mean?’ Todd asked, flinging his tuxedo jacket over the back of an ornate gilt armchair.
Suddenly Frankie saw it. No choice. Of course. How could she have been so stupid? Why had she never questioned that Sonny Wiseman just ‘happened’ to be on the dock when Eugene had thrown her off the tender?
Alex hadn’t set it up. Alex didn’t know anything about it. Someone had made sure Sonny was there waiting to pick her up. And set her up.
Sonny smiled sadly at Frankie. ‘Look, I’ve no doubt you love the guy,’ he said. ‘Who wouldn’t love Alex? He’s smart and charming and rich. But you see, he’s not yours to love.’
‘That’s not true. He’s . . . he’s the boss. He can do whatever he likes.’
Sonny Wiseman shook his head. ‘He’s not the boss, Frankie. He never was the boss.’
Frankie thought back to all her conversations with Alex in Morocco. And suddenly, everything slotted into place. She slumped on to the peppermint silk sofa. ‘Yuri Khordinsky?’
‘Khordinsky the billionaire?’ Todd asked.
‘You betcha. What he says goes. And he doesn’t want his protégé having anything to do with you. Which is why he contacted me.’
Frankie gasped. Of course Alex hadn’t ordered her to be kicked off Pushkin. Boss’s orders . . . Yuri Khordinsky’s orders. Alex had been telling the truth when he’d said he’d stood up for her and had come to get her back.
But Yuri had thought of that possibility too. So he’d come up with some proof to go along with a rumour he’d already started about Frankie and Todd Lands . . .
The kiss. Right there on the red carpet. It had all been for Alex, not just the rest of the world to see. The fact that it had created a little extra intrigue and publicity around Todd Lands had just been incidental. A bonus. Just Sonny being efficient and killing two birds with one stone.
Jesus, Frankie thought, Khordinsky was clever. He had it all worked out. The one way they could turn Alex against her was to make it look as if she were with another man. If I were to see you flirting with another guy – well, let’s just say it would kill me.
And the one other person who knew that about Alex was Yuri.
‘But that’s so unfair. Yuri Khordinsky doesn’t even know me!’
‘He knows about what happened back in South Africa. He knows that because of what you uncovered your friend was killed. And he’s the kind of businessman that can’t afford to have anyone digging around into his affairs,’ Sonny said, an ominous tone in his voice.
Frankie stared at him, her chin trembling. How had Khordinsky found out about Sadie? How did Sonny Wiseman know about all of that? And how could this be happening? How could someone else eject her from Alex’s life like this?
Todd stepped forward to speak, clearly confused by everything Sonny was saying, but Sonny put up his hand to stop Todd interrupting.
‘Listen to me, Frankie,’ Sonny said, putting his drink down on the table. ‘Khordinsky could have done much worse. He might have dealt with you permanently. But I owed you a favour, so we came up with this instead.’ He walked over to the desk in the corner and plucked several tissues from the silver box. He handed them to Frankie but a few tissues were useless against the tide of anguish she felt now.
She’d lost Alex. It made her feel breathless with pain, as if her heart were being ripped out.
‘Look at it this way,’ Sonny continued more kindly. ‘You got a good dress and hair-do out of it, and a great story to tell your kids. You walked out with Todd Lands. How many girls would give everything they had to do that?’
Frankie swiped her tears away. ‘Khordinsky’s not going to get away with this. He’s not. I’ll tell Alex. And Alex will never have anything to do with him again.’
But even as she said it, she knew it was hopeless.
‘You think that Alex will listen to a stewardess caught on the world’s cameras kissing another man? You made him look like a fool. The proof’s already splashed all over the media. Even if Alex wanted to, he couldn’t take you back. Not now he’s lost so much face.’
His words stung like a slap.
‘Take it on the chin, Frankie. Walk away. Yuri Khordinsky is a very – and I mean very – powerful man.’
Frankie remembered what Eugene had said, and in the same instant she realized that Eugene didn’t really work for Alex at all. Khordinsky was his real boss.
‘I’m telling you, kiddo, if you get in his way again, next time you won’t be so lucky.’
Frankie put her head in her hands. Lucky! This didn’t feel like lucky. This felt like the worst thing in the world.
‘Look, I’m going to go to my room. Get some sleep,’ Sonny advised, standing up. He patted her on the shoulder. ‘You’ll feel better in the morning.’
After Sonny had gone, Todd sat next to Frankie on the sofa. ‘Hell, Frankie,’ he said, rubbing his jaw. ‘About tonight. I meant what I said downstairs – I had no idea about you and Alex. I’m so sorry.’
Frankie turned towards him, her eyes full of scorn. ‘What did you think? That I was just hired in?’
Todd unknotted his bow tie. ‘Why wouldn’t I? It happens all the time. Sonny told me that Lucy was out of the picture, which suited me fine. She’s a grade-A mega-bitch, believe me. And then he told me about you. How he thought you’d have amazing screen presence. How you were a big fan and you’d be happy for everyone to think we were together. And to be honest, a beautiful, mysterious stranger on my arm is good news. It’s just the kind of stunt that’ll mean more column inches. More publicity for the film.’
‘Stunt?’
Todd undid the top button of his dress shirt and looked at her. Frankie saw that something of the movie star about him had suddenly vanished. As if the high-voltage Todd had been switched off. Up close like this, he seemed like an ordinary guy. A short ordinary guy. With a big nose, at that.
Frankie’s head was buzzing, still trying to process everything she’d just heard. ‘I must seem like such an innocent hick to you,’ she said.
‘Not at all. I think you’re sweet. So much better than all the others. No one can pull off coy and shy like you did.’ Todd stared off into t
he distance for a second, as if reliving their evening. ‘Girls like you make a guy look so good.’
Frankie stared at him as he stood up and plucked a grape from the glistening bunch in the fruit bowl. ‘I wasn’t being coy and shy, Todd,’ she said. ‘I was being terrified.’
‘Well, you did great and you’re not even a pro, which is a result. Actresses . . . phew! Who needs ’em? Amy, my last fiancée . . . Boy, did she turn out to be a nutcase. And we paid her a fortune.’ Todd flicked the grape up in the air and caught it in his mouth.
Paid? Frankie was reeling from this succession of body blows. Amy-Kay Bowers and Todd Lands had been on the cover of every magazine in the world. And it was all a set-up?
‘You mean you and her weren’t for real?’ she asked.
Todd pulled a face. ‘Are you kidding me? She is so not my type. But people will believe anything.’
‘All of this . . . tonight? It’s just a charade, isn’t it?’
‘It might seem that way, but it’s just part of the job. You have to make friends with the fame, not fight it. It’s a machine and the trick is to be the driver.’
Frankie thought back to how Todd had worked the crowd and all the thousands of pictures that had been taken. ‘But don’t you feel . . . I don’t know . . . soiled? Over-exposed? How do you know what’s real?’
Todd laughed softly. ‘Let’s just say I have a way of keeping sane. A very well-kept secret.’
‘What kind of secret?’ Despite everything, Frankie couldn’t help being intrigued.
‘Well, it wouldn’t be a very well-kept one if I told you, now would it?’ He smiled at her gently: the kind of twinkly-eyed smile that Frankie had seen in a dozen of his movies. And despite her resolve to hate Todd Lands, she couldn’t.
Frankie wiped her eyes. ‘Oh God,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe this is happening.’
She realized now how colossal her enemy was. Khordinsky had everyone in his pocket. He could even manipulate the biggest movie star in the world to further his own ends. She couldn’t believe the lengths he’d go to protect Alex. His investment. The man he’d groomed since birth to do exactly as he was told – if what Sonny said was true.
But Alex had to know the truth. He was being lied to – by the very people who ought to be loyal to him.
And what was Frankie meant to do now? Take it lying down? Walk away? Let Alex go on thinking that she’d betrayed him? That their time together had meant nothing to her?
Hell no. She wouldn’t.
She couldn’t.
‘What can I do?’ Todd asked. ‘I hate seeing you so upset. You looked incredible tonight. But now . . .’ he said, pointing to her face and pulling a face himself, ‘trust me, it’s not a good look.’
Frankie was too exhausted to laugh. She wiped away her smudged mascara. ‘Will you help me, Todd?’
‘Sure.’
She studied Todd’s face. Was this all just another act? Was he only offering his assistance to ease the awkwardness of the moment? He didn’t look as if he was lying. It was a chance she was going to have to take, she knew, because even the faintest glimmer of hope was better than the black hole she found herself in right now.
‘Tell Alex,’ she implored, turning and grabbing his arm. ‘Tell him it was just a stunt, as you put it. He might believe it if it came from you.’
‘But I don’t even know the guy.’
‘Then talk to Sonny. Sonny will do what you tell him to.’
Todd stroked his chiselled jaw. ‘Yeah, but Sonny’s beholden to these Russian guys. I know. He’s in deep. Loads of gambling debts . . . the works. And they launder money through the movies. It’s all . . . complicated.’
‘But Alex and I . . . we’re meant to be together. I know it. Right in my soul. If I could just explain . . .’ she said, trying to focus. She thumped her chest, aching for everything she’d lost tonight. For everything that had been stolen from her – by a man she’d never even met.
There was no point in staying here talking to Todd. She couldn’t stand another minute knowing that Alex hated her the way he did right now. ‘I’ve got to go to him. I’ve got to make him see.’
‘You can’t go anywhere,’ Todd said. ‘I’m all for crusades of the heart, but come on, Frankie. It’s the middle of the night. You’re tired and you’re upset.’
‘Alex is having a birthday party on his yacht. If I can just get there . . .’
Suddenly, she knew it was the only way. She’d been so stupid to have been awestruck by Todd. She should have fought for Alex at the party. She should never have let him walk away.
‘I suppose trying to talk you out of it would be pointless?’ Todd said, then sighed and rubbed his eyebrows. ‘I can’t believe I’ve got you captive in a hotel room, and all you want to do is chase after another guy. It’s not very good for my ego.’
Frankie pulled a face at him. ‘I think your ego can handle it.’
Todd laughed. ‘OK, if you’ve got to do it, you’ve got to do it, but I can’t come with you. What if we get papped together again? That’s not going to help. Let me get some of my people to help you out.’ He moved towards the phone.
‘No. I’ve got to do this alone.’
Her mind was racing. She’d get to the dock. Yes . . . All those yachts she’d seen earlier this afternoon . . . Those yachts all had tenders. She’d borrow one – take one if she had to.
‘I’ll just slip away,’ Frankie said. ‘I’ve got a plan. All I need is some money. Just enough for a cab to get me back into town to the dock. I’ll pay you back.’
Todd walked over to the bureau and took a wallet off the table. He handed her some notes.
‘I’ll give you my private cell number,’ he told her. ‘If anything happens, I want you to call me. But don’t give this number out, OK? And don’t get into trouble.’
Frankie picked up a pen. ‘Shoot,’ she said, writing on her wrist as he told her the number.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Way out in the bay, Peaches could see the whole of Cannes from the top salon of Pushkin. A cat’s cradle of blue lasers lit up the sky above a beach party. Bursts of rock music wafted faintly on the warm breeze.
Close by, she noticed some kind of commotion kicking off. Twenty or so metres away, a coastguard vessel locked its searchlights on a small speedboat and pulled alongside it. French commands were being barked through a loudhailer.
A minute later, armed police boarded the small boat. Someone was being arrested – a woman in a long dress by the looks of things. Some bimbo trying to crash this Alexei Rodokov guy’s birthday party, no doubt.
Next to her, Peaches saw the captain look out over the scene and then turn away, smiling as he spoke into his walkie-talkie. She’d met his type so many times before: officious and bossy, usually with little boy tendencies in the bedroom. And a small cock. Peaches could always tell.
She kept scanning the faces around her, her senses on red alert. She’d been on board many private yachts before, but boy, this one sure was something else. A mega-yacht for the mega-rich. Smartly dressed staff wandered through the guests, carrying trays of canapés and cocktails. Peaches scoured each and every face, still nervous in case Valentin was at the party. But so far she hadn’t seen him, only a couple of Russian-looking bodyguards, one of whom was getting friendly with Daisy.
Film-industry players mingled with actors and hangers-on and a drunk crowd of Russian businessmen, who leered at the women and drank like they were at a frat party. Another crowd were dancing to the New York DJ in the top salon. The party was in full swing, but there was still no sign of the yacht’s boss himself.
‘Tammy, isn’t it? May I have a word?’ the captain said, discreetly gesturing Peaches to follow him. He drew her away towards the elevator. ‘I’d like to discuss the . . . entertainment with you.’
About time.
Inside the elevator, the captain crossed his hands in front of him and looked down at the thick carpet. Peaches draped herself against the rail a
s the doors closed, the white silky fabric of her long halter-neck dress falling so that the plunging neckline nearly exposed her entire breast. She fiddled with the long diamond and pearl necklace she was wearing, running her fingertip over each pearl, and stared hard at him. She wasn’t sure how tonight would play out, but it was always good to keep the captain on side.
‘I’m not sure whether you’re familiar with how these things work,’ he said, clearing his throat as the elevator started to slide down gently.
‘Oh yes, captain, I’m very familiar with how these things work.’
‘But . . . um . . . technically, as the captain, I’m responsible for everything that happens on board. So if anything untoward were to go on, it would have to be out of my sight.’
Even as he read her his little riot act, Peaches could tell that he was itching to touch her. ‘Whatever you say, captain,’ Peaches said.
‘You can call me Richard,’ he said.
He reminded her of a slavering dog. Given half the chance, he would hump her leg right this minute.
The elevator pinged open.
‘The master suite,’ he announced, like a realtor who’d saved the most stunning room for last. ‘Privacy and security guaranteed.’
‘Satisfaction, too, if we girls have anything to do with it,’ Peaches joked. ‘It’ll do just fine.’
Peaches admired the lounge room with its low sofas and plush fittings. It was classy. Understated and elegant. If she wasn’t mistaken, that was a Miró on the panelled wall. Ross had one from the same series in his consulting rooms.
‘I’ll just wait for you to say the word, and then we’ll come here. Just the girls and whoever’s coming to Alexei’s real birthday party,’ she continued, with a wink.
‘Good. Good.’ Richard rubbed his temple, clearly finding himself compromised. He could barely look at her and she could tell from the way he now shifted that that little dick of his was hard as wood.
