Star (Beautiful Book 5)

by Lilliana Anderson

  Star

  Beautiful Series, book five

  Lilliana Anderson

  Contents

  Foreword

  1. Sandra

  2. Jonathan

  3. Sandra

  4. Jonathan

  5. Sandra

  6. Jonathan

  7. Sandra

  8. Sandra

  9. Sandra

  10. Jonathan

  11. Sandra

  12. Jonathan

  13. Sandra

  14. Jonathan

  15. Sandra

  16. Jonathan

  17. Sandra

  18. Jonathan

  19. Sandra

  20. Jonathan

  21. Sandra

  22. Jonathan

  23. Sandra

  24. Jonathan

  25. Jonathan

  26. Jonathan

  27. Sandra

  28. Jonathan

  29. Sandra

  30. Jonathan

  31. Sandra

  32. Jonathan

  33. Sandra

  34. Jonathan

  35. Sandra

  36. Sandra

  37. Sandra

  38. Sandra

  39. Sandra

  40. Jonathan

  Epilogue

  Also by Lilliana Anderson

  About the Author

  Foreword

  When you’ve written as many books as I have, it’s easy to forget the tiny details in previous novels. Going back into Sandra and Jonathan’s story (one of my favourite in the Beautiful Series) I thought I remembered it all. But I was happy when I realised it didn’t. It caused me to accidentally add a chapter in Jonathan’s point of view when his point of view didn’t exist in the book before. I’m really glad that happened because we got to spend more time with him and his wonderful family.

  For previous Beautiful Series readers, I’ve woven some future characters into this one, so you’re going to get to meet some people for the first time here. Star is fun. It’s emotional, and it makes me feel all the things. I’m glad I got the chance to revisit this beautiful (pun intended) couple.

  Also, if you’ve picked this up as your first book in the Beautiful Series, don’t stress. It stands alone, so you don’t have to catch up unless you want to.

  Happy reading.

  One

  Sandra

  “Do you think two famous people can have a successful relationship?” Lisa asks while I concentrate on parallel parking. It’s an interesting question coming from my best friend, because she hates famous people. An odd distaste to have when you work for a magazine named Voyeur. But she’s in advertising, so I guess she can be like that if she wants to.

  “Well, Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell made it.” I cut the engine as I answer, pressing my lips together to distribute my burgundy lipstick.

  “Out of how many who didn’t?” We collect our purses and get out of my white VW Polo, dressed to the nines for our girls' night out. Her dark hair flows to her shoulders, meeting the cap sleeves of her black dress. She’s even wearing pearls and looks like she’d be at home on the set of Breakfast at Tiffany’s; a voluptuous Audrey Hepburn. “Remember how perfect Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston seemed for each other?”

  I bounce a shoulder as I check my appearance in the tinted window, running my fingers through my long blonde ponytail before I smooth out the wrinkles in my royal blue dress.

  “I reckon they should ban celebrities from marrying until they’ve made it ten years as a couple,” I say when I meet her on the footpath. “Then they’re allowed tie the knot.”

  She tilts her head like she thinks that’s probably a good idea, and we start walking towards our destination. It’ll be a fun surprise for Lisa. She doesn’t get out much, but I think she’ll get a kick out of going to one of Sydney’s most iconic music venues for a sit-down dinner and an intimate performance by a young Aussie talent. It’s my job as her best friend to broaden her horizons and introduce her to new things.

  “Oh, did you hear our very own Jonathan Masters’ latest engagement is on the rocks again?” I ask, keeping the conversation going. “How many is that now? Two? Three?”

  Unlike Lisa, I love celebrity gossip. In fact, I thrive on it. And I’ve built a career finding the truth behind it as a journalist for Voyeur. That’s how Lisa and I met. I found her wandering the office looking lost on her first day and we clicked. She’s been my bestie ever since.

  “I really wouldn’t know,” Lisa says of Jonathan Masters who’s Australia’s biggest movie export since the Hemsworth brothers. And I don’t doubt her, a few weeks back I asked her to cover for me by interviewing the most famous rockstar in the world, Marcus Bailey. She had no clue who he was and actually asked the man if he knew where to find himself. If she wasn’t so embarrassed by it, it’d be hilarious. She likes to live in her own little bubble where music comes from the sixties and all movies star Jason Statham. Hence my need to broaden her horizons.

  “Jonathan Masters is a man who should never be allowed to marry,” I continue. “Too busy dipping his pen in other ink pots.” Seems cheating is a sport for Mr Masters, his ex-fiancée caught him in the act then smashed his car through their living room window while he was still in there—not that he learned his lesson if recent rumours are anything to go by.

  “Ink pots?” Lisa laughs as we walk along the crowded street bumping shoulders.

  I grin and glance at her. “You like that one? That’s one of my dad’s sayings.”

  “I like the sound of your dad,” she says as a sadness sweeps over her. She never talks about her family.

  “Oh, he’s a riot. You’d love him. He could teach these celebrities a thing or two about how to treat a woman.”

  “Set a high standard, huh?”

  “He sure did. If you ever need an example of devotion, it’s my dad. He would break out of Heaven to get back to my mum if he left this world before her.”

  “That sounds kinda beautiful.” It is. My parents are as in love as two people can be. It’s gross sometimes….

  “What about your folks?” I try, wondering if she’s going to shut me down like she normally does. “Are they still together?”

  “Ah… yes and no,” she answers, surprising me. “They’re still married but they have a complicated relationship.”

  “Is that why you don’t talk about them much?”

  “Well, my dad disowned me a while back, and my mum, well… it’s also complicated.” She flashes me a smile, and I understand her sadness now. It kind of explains why she’s so shut off too.

  “That’s a shame,” I say. “My mum and dad are two of my favourite people.”

  “I envy you that.”

  I offer an emphatic smile then gesture ahead of us to the neon-lit entrance of Mary’s Underground, hoping this will cheer her up. “Here we are.” The musician playing tonight has been haled for redefining the blues genre, and the only people invited tonight work in the industry, so it’ll be quiet and low key.

  Lisa stops walking. “Mary’s Underground? Didn’t this used to be The Basement?”

  Slipping my arm through hers, I get her walking again. “Mary’s rescued and reopened it awhile back. It’s so much cooler now.” She’s going to love it.

  “This isn’t low-key,” she argues. “This place is a Sydney icon. Everyone comes here. Hell, my dad even pl—” She winces, and I feel bad for reminding her again of her family. “Came here when he was young.”

  “Well, it’s low key tonight,” I assure her. “Belle Adams was the winner of Triple J’s Unearthed competition last year. She’s headlining a few acts who are on the radar in the local scene, nothing huge.” The event is so low key that we had to sign confidentiality agreemen
ts when we were given our tickets. I’m one of a handful of press allowed to interview Belle after the show.

  “The amount of people streaming in there says it’s big,” she fires back.

  “Not noisy then.” I laugh, not understanding what the big deal is. No one here will be interested in us. It’s an industry event, so they’ll be too busy schmoozing bigger players to bother us. It’s the perfect night out for someone who doesn’t like other people much.

  As we make it to the front of the line, I give the bouncer my name, nominating Lisa as my plus one before we’re allowed inside.

  “Why are we on the door?” Lisa asks, her eyes darting. I didn’t realise her social anxiety was this bad.

  “Because I know people. I’m interviewing Belle. So I’ll have to slip away a bit after the show.”

  She stops walking. “This is… It’s a work thing?”

  I nod and rub my fingers together. “Free dinner, baby.” And booze. I’m driving, but Lisa can drink as much as she likes.

  “This is an industry night?” I feel like we’re talking in circles.

  “Isn’t it great? No general public to deal with.” Focus on the positives, Lisa.

  “I can’t be here,” she whispers as we’re seated at our table. She’s looking around like a nervous teenager worried they’ll get caught sneaking into a movie.

  “Nonsense. No one knows you’re not a reporter. And I’m sure others brought friends as their plus one. Just relax and enjoy a free night out. Here, I’ll order you a wine.” I wave a waiter over who places linen napkins over our laps and clasps his hands together before asking what we’d like. “I’ll take a glass of Shiraz and my friend will have a Pinot Grigio.”

  “Got it,” he says, backing away with a nod.

  Turning back to Lisa, I notice the way she has her head down like she’s trying to hide. Why is she being like this?

  “Oh my god,” I say, touching her arm. “I just twigged what’s got you so worried. You’re worried Marcus will be here, aren’t you?” Her eyes go wide as they meet mine and I know I’m right. Marcus Bailey showed an interest in her when she met him, and he pursued her pretty hard. Problem is, he’s kind of an ex-lover of mine. And since it’s hoes over bros, she ended things quick smart. It’s kind of why we’re out tonight, she’s been out of sorts since telling him to back off. And I understand; the guy is seriously charming. Even if he is a womaniser.

  But I have just the thing to help her calm down. Marcus’s brother, Theo, is here with his fiancée. The Bailey brothers don’t talk, so if Theo is here, Marcus is probably on the other side of the world. I tell her as much, showing her where Theo Bailey is in the room. It only makes her eyes go wider, and now her face is all pale. What the hell?

  “I think maybe I’m not feeling so great,” she says. “I think I should get an Uber or a cab. Or…” She swallows as she looks around the room without finishing.

  “Jesus. You do look a little pale.” Is she sick or just nervous in a room with celebrities? I turn and see Kurt Marx glancing at our table with interest. He’s the son of rock legend, Jimmy Marx. He fronts a band himself, but he’s best known for his part on the MTV reality show that follows his family around. I think he’s giving Lisa the eye. “How about you see how you feel after the first course?” I suggest. “Maybe your blood sugar is a bit funny from the long drive?”

  “Maybe.” She agrees, looking down and shaking her head a little. Is she trying to tell Kurt Marx she’s not interested? I glance between her and him, noticing the way he lifts his glass and nods. Jesus. No wonder Marcus Bailey pursued her if this is how she refuses men. She’s too timid which is like catnip for cocky men who love debasing women.

  I thank the waiter when he brings our wine and take a sip, deciding to point out the not-so-subtle elephant in the room. “Looks like you’ve caught the eye of Kurt Marx. He keeps looking over here.”

  “Ah, which one is he?” she asks, deliberately looking elsewhere.

  “The one you were making eyes at, obviously,” I say. “He’s cute. My age, I think; twenty-six? Although, I’ve heard he has a thing for older women.”

  “Is that a compliment or an insult?” She smiles weakly, clearly uncomfortable.

  “Neither. Just giving you the rundown,” I say, smiling a little. Tonight was supposed to be fun for us, a chance to reconnect after the weirdness of Marcus Bailey coming between us. But maybe bringing her here was a mistake. I mean, I know she’s not interested in famous people, but it’s not like she’ll need to speak to anyone. We’re here to have dinner and listen to some cool music. End of.

  Lisa picks up her wine and gulps. “Well, I don’t know who Kurt Marx is.” Her mouth twists then she grabs her bag. “I, um, need to use the bathroom.” She shoots out of her chair. Shit. Maybe she really is sick.

  “Ah, sure. They’re over there,” I say, pointing them out. She rushes off, hunched over, and I can’t help but notice Kurt Marx get up and follow her. Or maybe she’s off to fuck a muso in the dunnies… Would she?

  She takes ages, and I’m starting to think I’m right about her and Kurt Marx because he’s not back yet either. Wow. I never would’ve thought…

  Not that there’s anything wrong with it. Hell, I fucked Marcus Bailey after knowing him all of ten seconds. Then I did it over and over again during the course of a weekend. The man is an insatiable animal.

  A shudder runs through me at the memory. Fate plays cruel jokes on women by offering them amazing sexual experiences with men who have no interest in committing to them. They send us back into the world, listless and searching for someone, anyone who makes us feel even remotely similar. Rock star cock, it should be classed as an illicit drug.

  I sigh, looking at the time on my phone. Where the hell is Lisa? I’m seriously starting to worry until my phone buzzes in my hand.

  Lisa: Sorry to ditch. I’m too sick. Heading home xx

  Pressing my lips together, I glance over at the still-empty seat where Kurt Marx was. Sure you are. My fingers dance over my keypad, a simple, ‘hope ur ok’. I don’t even have the energy to call her out on this. I’m just super disappointed that she ditched me so fast. Maybe this is why she hates celebrities? She can’t resist them?

  Jesus. Downing the last of my wine, I drop my phone on the table and look around the room. A buzz moves through the crowd like a ripple over a pond after a stone is thrown. It dulls the hum of conversation as one name teeters on the edge of everyone’s lips. Leisel Marx.

  It’s her.

  Oh my god, it’s Leisel Marx.

  Leisel Marx.

  Leisel Marx.

  I sit up straighter. Leisel Marx? She’s the jilted ex of Jonathan Masters. She’s been missing ever since her father condemned her on national TV for attacking Masters. He said she needed to ‘grow up and realise men can’t be expected to drink at one watering hole when there are so many delicious options.’ Leisel retaliated by uploading Jimmy’s sex tapes to Porn Hub then vanishing soon after. If she’s here and I can be the first to interview her, it’ll make my career.

  Picking up my bag and phone, I sling it over my shoulder, striding purposefully towards the centre of the commotion. But I stop when I spot Lisa spinning in a panic.

  “Stop!” she screeches. “I’m not Leisel Marx!”

  Wait. What?

  Two

  Jonathan

  “Wait till you hear her,” my brother, Cooper, says as we walk towards the club entry. “Voice like a fuckin’ angel. If you didn’t get back in time, I was gonna say I was you just to get an intro.”

  “We don’t look that alike, mate,” I say with a laugh. We’re about the same height with blond hair and blue eyes, and we look like brothers, but not twins. Our bone structure is different, as are our mannerisms. Coop strides ahead of us and the bouncer takes one look at him and lets us in without even checking his list. Maybe not that different…

  “You totally do,” Joel, my best friend, lawyer and trainer, says as we push through the
second set of doors. We’ve been friends since we were fourteen, and he’s the only guy I trust with my business because he cares more about me than money. “He gets asked for his autograph a-fuckin-lot.”

  I laugh, looking at my brother who’s two years my junior. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, man. Signed some chick's tits a few weeks back.”

  “Bullshit.” I punch him in the shoulder as he cackles at his own joke. Cooper would never do something like that, our little brother Jayden on the other hand, wouldn’t blink at taking advantage of the mistake.

  “What the fuck?” Joel slaps his hand against my chest, stopping me before we reach the main floor. We’re supposed to be watching this Belle chick Coop has a hard on for, but there’s something going on. The energy is weird, like a thunderstorm is coming.

  Coop stops too. “Did I just hear what I think I heard?” he states, just as a woman bursts the seam of the crowd, running straight for us.

  “Stop!” she screeches. “I’m not Leisel Marx!”

  I barely have enough time to register I’m in the same room as my ex fiancée before she slams into my chest. “I’m not—”

  I grab her so she doesn’t fall, peering into a set of honey-coloured eyes I haven’t seen for years. “Leisel?” This is surreal.

  “Oh, fuck.” She looks as freaked out to see me as I am to see her—and I’m fucking floored. She’s a brunette now, and she looks like she’s actually eaten a meal since I saw her last, but there’s no denying it’s her.