“You’re not off the hook yet,” Webb snarled at Olive, who’d been shuffling offstage. “Don’t think I didn’t hear that flub.”
He jabbed a long finger in Adam’s direction. “You, Wendice understudy. Do the scene with her.”
Adam felt an unusual nervous flutter in his stomach. It wasn’t because of Webb. He couldn’t give a fuck what that asshole thought of his acting. No, it was because Jess was watching the stage with great interest.
He probably should have stuck to the mediocre acting he’d done in the last scene on the day of rehearsals, but pride wouldn’t let him. He wanted Jess to see him at his best.
So, he’d strode onstage and knocked the hell out of the scene. When they wrapped, Jess’s eyes were glowing and she was biting back a smile. That had felt good.
Backstage, Olive was waiting, a bemused expression on her face. “Well, well, well,” she said. “Where have you been hiding?”
He bowed his head modestly. “Thanks.”
She sighed, lowered her voice. “I wish you were the actual lead. Tyler’s a dear, but he’s struggling.”
Katrina appeared from one of the dressing rooms, clomping on boots with a four-inch heel and sipping some kind of coffee drink that probably cost sixteen dollars. Her face was in her phone until Olive walked by and murmured, “Good morning, Kat.”
Webb’s daughter didn’t return the greeting, but she did watch as Olive made her way softly back to her dressing room. Her gaze was predatory, her lips pinched with hostility and her heavily-made-up eyes squinting.
It wasn’t the first time Adam saw her watching Olive that way, and frankly, it made him uneasy. He didn’t know if Katrina had expected to be the actual Margot instead of the understudy, but the way she looked at Olive was pretty creepy. Luckily, he’d managed to stay in her good graces. He didn’t want those calculating glances in his direction.
He gave her The Dazzler. “Looking forward to the party, Kat?”
She shrugged. “I guess. I should get some good press for it, at least.”
“Right,” he agreed. If she wasn’t such a beast, he’d feel sorry for her. Had she even had a childhood at all? Did she ever just think about enjoying a party instead of opportunities to be gained from it?
Now, he finished putting on his form-fitting suit and did an artfully messy styling of his hair. Jess wouldn’t be the only PR presence tonight, and he sure hoped he could stay away from the cameras as much as possible. Probably wouldn’t be too hard as they’d mostly want photos of Tyler, Olive, Webb and Katrina.
As an afterthought, he tossed some of his go-to thieving tools into his pockets. Tonight would most likely be about reconnaissance, but it never hurt to be prepared.
His cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen, surprised to see it was Jonno. Usually, Frank and Jonno only communicated with him via Tony. “What’s up?”
“Hey, boss,” Jonno said. “Somethin’ weird happened today.”
Adam caught his breath. “With Tony? What’s wrong?”
“Nah, not with my man.” Jonno laughed. “He’s fine. I’m pickin’ them up at the train station in an hour. Somethin’ at the theatre.”
Adam blew out a sigh of relief. “OK, what?”
“You know the kid, the skinny blonde bitch?”
Katrina. “Yes?”
Jonno paused. “She asked real weird so I’m not sure if I got it right...but I think she wanted to buy drugs from me.”
Adam blinked. Well, it was an understandable mistake. Jonno looked pretty shady. If you were trapped in the theatre all day looking to get high, he looked likely to have the right connections. “Pot? Coke?”
“That’s what I mean about the weird,” Jonno said. “She asked if I was the kind of man who’d know how to score some poison.”
Adam felt a chill go down his spine. He and Jess had already dealt with a woman who liked to poison in the last couple of months and it was not an experience he cared to repeat. Then again though, it was quite likely that “poison” was how the kids these days were referring to a certain kind of street drug.
“How’d you answer?” he asked.
Jonno laughed. “I just said, ‘Nope,’ and stared at her until she walked away.”
Adam laughed too. Sometimes Jonno’s reticence was surprisingly effective.
But, ugh. It’s not like they needed another wrinkle. The best-case scenario here was that Katrina was a recreational drug user looking for a new dealer—and it felt a little weird to be rooting for that. Worst case was that she was trying to poison someone. Probably Olive, so that she could take her place onstage.
Christ, Tony was going to owe him one when this whole thing was over.
Chapter Seven
Jess got to the townhome before anyone from the cast, crew or press. She was not a guest at this party; she was working. Lugging her camera equipment and laptop in a heavy bag on the tube had not been a treat. Nor had walking the four blocks from the station to his address in her heels and cocktail dress.
The dress was a basic LBD, but it was cut well and highlighted her slender, athletic physique and long legs. Her pink-streaked hair was up in a high ponytail tonight, and her face was still somewhat masked by the black glasses.
Webb’s large Chelsea townhome was a stunner. It had a classic white façade with black wrought iron balconies. As Jess approached, she watched Webb usher members of the catering company up the front steps, loudly chastising them for being slow and late. Clearly he didn’t limit his asshole behavior to the theatre.
Then, she noticed something interesting. Next to the front door, a small keypad. Still ranting to the caterers, oblivious to the fact that they were carrying heavy trays, he turned and punched in a long sequence of numbers to the pad. Twelve, if Jess was counting correctly. Then he unlocked the door with a set of keys and finally stepped back to let the caterers into the foyer.
Inwardly, Jess whistled. That was a long security code. If he was entering the code now, when he was on his own front stoop, it must be that it auto-engaged whenever the front door shut. It was too bad the job wasn’t tonight. Then they’d already be onsite and not have to worry about that layer of security.
“Hi,” she called. “I’m here to get the lay of the land before the guests arrive. Need to figure out the best places and angles, all that.”
Webb, already impeccably dressed in a sharp black suit, nodded impatiently. “I’ll give you a quick tour but then I’ve got to supervise in the kitchen.”
Those poor, poor caterers. “Naturally,” Jess answered.
He led her into the front hallway. “There’s four levels, but the party will take place only on the ground floor and first floor,” he explained. “The kitchen is on the lower ground floor, but the caterers will be bringing up trays, so I doubt you’d have any reason to go down there.”
He gestured to the right. “This is the study.”
Jess’s eyes roved over the white marble fireplace, gray rugs and black shelves. All the end tables were black as well. It was very angular and modern. Despite the fact that there were a lot of books on the shelves, it didn’t appear to be a very comfortable place to read. “Beautiful,” she murmured. Directly across the hall was the dining room. An enormous and shiny black table was perched under a chandelier that looked like a piece of modern art. All the chairs had been removed to allow more room for guests.
“Up here there are two drawing rooms,” he said, leading her up a steep flight of stairs. The modern décor continued up here. Both rooms were almost all white, and the only word Jess could find to describe them was stark. None of the guests better spill their drinks.
“The top floor is my master suite,” he finished. “That area is off-limits for the party.”
“Of course.” Jess nodded professionally. “And Katrina’s room?”
She nodded again. “That’s what I needed to know. Thanks for the tour—I’ve got it now. I’ll wander amongst the party rooms for a little while and prepare.”
Webb jogged down the stairs, presumably to torment the poor caterers. Jess noted the bar set up in the corner of the drawing room and wished she could have a bourbon. The effort of not pissing Webb off was truly exhausting.
She took her camera out of her bag so that she would look appropriate if anyone came looking. She didn’t think there’d be anything worth finding in the guest-approved rooms, but it would be sloppy not to look. But ten minutes later, her assumption was proven correct. There were no safes hidden behind artwork, no lockboxes in any of the drawers or cabinets. If Webb kept valuables in this town house, they were clearly up in his master suite or somewhere down by the kitchen. Hopefully she could meet up with Adam sometime midparty to relay the info. Maybe then they could split up and each take one floor for a search.
* * *
Another goddamn flash. Adam masked his wince with a smile and hoped that the photo wasn’t one of him. This party was a nightmare. The townhome was luxurious, of course, but it was still a townhome and there were way too many people squeezed in to these four rooms.
Once everyone had a few cocktails, it became even more claustrophobic. The reporters and photographers felt emboldened with their question and pictures. Members of the cast began to flirt with one another. Webb watched everyone like a hawk, softening his strident personality only for members of the press.
Adam hadn’t even really seen Jess yet. Her video camera had been in front of her face all night as she worked her way from room to room, from actor to actor. She must have been even more exhausted than he was.
There. In the corner of the room, she finally lowered her camera, a satisfied expression on her face. Olive must have given her an interview she could use. Olive extended a full champagne glass to her, and Jess accepted it. He read her lips. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“She’s kind of hot, isn’t she?” The actor playing Halliday’s understudy approached and took a long swallow of scotch.
Adam forced himself to pay attention. “Who?”
Halliday-understudy waved his drink in Jess’s direction. “Pink hair camera girl. I might have to give her a go. Win-win, right? A nice shag and if I do well, maybe I’ll get even more screen time.”
Adam’s nostrils flared. But all he could do was say, “Go for it.”
The dude ambled off in Jess’s direction. Adam was wondering how he might rescue her when he was accosted by Katrina. “Come in the hall with me for a second,” she asked, in a nicer tone of voice than she’d ever used before. He wondered how much she’d had to drink.
Too late, he realized she wanted to go to the hall so they could be in front of the aggressive photographers. As they raised their fucking cameras, he did the only thing he could think of to hide most of his face—he kissed her cheek.
That set them into a frenzy; romantic pictures sell for higher amounts. Katrina laughed with delight. Gritting his teeth, he gently pulled her down the nearest set of stairs, the ones that led to the kitchen. Behind them, the photographers took more and more photos, especially after one of them said, “Her bedroom’s down there.” Good God.
“Thanks,” she said, breezily. “Nicely done. Let’s wait a few minutes and then head back up.”
Fuck.
“You’re not worried about what your dad will think?” he asked.
She opened a door that led to a small bathroom, flipped on the light and started to apply lipstick. “Please. If the pictures generate more PR for the play, he’ll thank me.”
He leaned against the hall. Might as well try and get something useful out of the time. “Lovely necklace,” he said. Katrina wore an antique-looking ruby pendant tonight that went well with her wine-colored strapless gown. “Another piece from the family vault?” he teased.
She moved on to mascara. “Yep. Had to beg, but...” She made a jerking moment with the mascara wand, pointing it to the wall next to Adam. “He opened it up once I started crying.”
Adam had never met a father and daughter who deserved each other more. But wait, what?
He glanced where she’d pointed. A colorful floor to ceiling tapestry decorated the hallway wall. But when he peeked behind it, he saw a hidden pocket door with a steel, rather than wood, doorjamb. He could guess what was behind it.
“Panic room?” he asked, casually. “My parents have one with a door that looks kind of like this.” He injected a note of disgust. “Crazy fuckers.”
She laughed. “Yeah, exactly.”
“Bet mine are more crazy than yours,” he said. “They protect theirs with internal dead bolts and fingerprint scanning.”
Katrina hooted. “Don’t even try to match the crazy in this house,” she warned. “That one’s protected with iris scanning and voiceprint.”
“Holy shit,” Adam replied, only half in character. “That’s intense.”
She stuck her head out of the bathroom and smirked. “I know. Daddy’s a bit nuts for the biometrics. He has the whole same setup in our country estate too. That way, he can always have his very favorite jewels and other shit protected wherever he wants them.”
She pouted a little. “I tried getting through it once so I could borrow some of the jewelry. Half the London police force showed up in three minutes. Dad kicked me out for a whole week.
“Oh well.” She put the mascara away. “At least he’s keeping my inheritance safe. Let’s go back to the party now. I think we’ve been gone long enough for them to assume we’ve had a quickie, yes?”
* * *
Jess snuck out of Webb’s house behind a group of giggling smokers. They walked halfway down the block before pausing and lighting up. Smart, she thought. They probably realized that smoking on Webb’s front steps wouldn’t go over well with the Lord of the Manor.
She shivered. She hadn’t thrown her coat over her dress before darting outside. All of a sudden, she’d just needed privacy. Time away from the actors who wanted more and more screen time, away from that idiot who followed her from room to room doling out minor compliments like, “You’re kind of cute, do you know that?” She supposed he was hoping to play off of some insecurities. Maybe he thought she dreamed of being in front of the camera instead of behind it and that she would swoon over any sort of male attention in the presence of famous actresses.
Sorry, jerk. Wrong kind of girl.
Descending the front steps slowly, she walked along the side of the town house until she found herself in a small back garden. Inside, the lower ground floor was dark. The caterers had long gone. The party was still going full swing in the drawing rooms a floor up. She could hear Katrina shouting about the importance of indie films and Tyler Ryan’s patient laughter as yet another reporter cornered him.
She looked at the phone in her hand. Maybe she should call Drew. He was always good at teasing her when she was down. Telling her funny stories from when they were little. Reminding her of the simple and the good and the goofy in the world. The exact opposite kind of person than she’d been dealing with all week. Some of them, like Olive, were nice people. But so many of them were so shallow...always looking for the next publicity, the next role, the next thing that would make them famous.
“You look sad again.”
She looked over her shoulder, so happy to see Adam in the garden with her that her eyes filled with unexpected tears. She gestured up to the windows. “These people are just wearing me out.”
He removed his suit coat and placed it over her shoulders. “Me too.”
She batted her eyelashes up at him. “The ca
st is all agog at the new romance in our midst. How was your quickie in Katrina’s bedroom?”
With a deadpan expression, he answered, “Terrific. Best I’ve ever had. How was the blond bugger with the scotch-breath?”
Jess smiled. Adam never missed anything. “To be honest, I’m a bit insulted. If he had to choose between five minutes with my tits and five extra minutes of testimonial on tomorrow night’s webcast, he’d choose the latter without even thinking about it.”
His lips curved and his eyes flashed. “I suspected he was an idiot.”
He pulled her into the darkest corner of the garden, a spot of pure black night that couldn’t be seen by any of Webb’s windows. He pressed her against the stone wall that partitioned Webb’s property from his neighbors. “I need a lot more than five minutes,” he whispered, “but I’ll make do.”
He removed her black glasses. “I want to see your face.” Then his warm lips were on hers and his large hands ran under the coat resting on her shoulders and over the bare skin of her back.
Jess made a sound of need in the back of her throat and sucked his tongue into her mouth. She had missed him this week, this elemental closeness. His scent, his warmth, the hard muscles of his body.
His desire for her.
She reached up to twine her arms around his neck and his coat fell to the ground. “Sorry!” She stopped.
“Fuck it,” Adam whispered—and pulled her dress slowly up and over her hips. Her bare hips. Surprised, he stared in her laughing eyes. “You’re not wearing underwear.”
“I was hoping you’d discover that later,” she said. “But now’s even better.” She loved when his eyes glazed with lust, when his pupils dilated and made those bright blue eyes so dark.
Without another sound, he placed both hands on her ass and lifted her against the wall. Jess wrapped her long legs around his hips and hastily unbuckled and unzipped his pants, freeing him. Then she arched her back and pushed up until she found the perfect angle for him to slide into her heat.
“Mmmph,” was all she could manage, because it all went crazy from there. He was biting her lip and neck and thrusting so hard and the stone wall was digging into her bare ass and Everything. Felt. So. Good.
Wicked Stage Page 6
