The A-List Collection: Hollywood Sinners / Wicked Ambition / Temptation Island. Victoria Fox
the difference anyway.
Chris, scarcely believing his luck, stood to unzip his jeans.
Nate paused in rolling the joint and made a ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ gesture. His friend immediately sat back down.
God, Chris needed some serious tuition in the art of getting girls into bed–the trick was in keeping your cool, not giving away too much too soon. Deciding the same didn’t apply to the twins, he instructed them to remove the rest of their clothes.
It was pretty crazy, this seeing double malarkey. Both girls had identical bodies–there was no doubt their chests were surgically enhanced but the rest seemed real enough–apart from one having a mole to the left of her tummy button. Nate was pleased to see the cuffs matched the collar, which was definitely a turn-on. Yup, it was red-head all the way.
Chris was slack-jawed. It struck Nate that he didn’t get laid all too often.
After smoking a couple of joints one of the girls disappeared into the bedroom and emerged with a bag of coke. Things were looking up.
Several lines and lethal rum cocktails later, everyone was naked. Nate didn’t know any more which twin he was getting off with–at one point he might have been getting off with Chris-and he didn’t much care. His dick felt amazing: it was huge, a tower, the centre of the universe as the twins lapped at it and its length disappeared into one of their mouths, both, everyone’s. The rest of his body became a mere appendage to the pursuit of his cock, and the thought occurred that the rest of him might be shrinking as it grew and swelled, until he was nothing but a great big cock and that great big cock was set to take over the world.
Vaguely he was aware of Chris going down on one of the girls. Then the other one, or maybe it was the same one, was slipping a condom on, but it felt like it only covered the very top. Nothing was big enough to contain him. And, as he slid into heaven, he closed his eyes and gave himself up.
He was in America. He had arrived. And what Chloe French didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.
‘I got news for you, kiddo,’ said Rita Clay. ‘Your premiere’s going to the Orient.’
Lana sat down on the bed. She pressed the phone so hard against her ear that it hurt.
‘The Orient Las Vegas?’
Rita sounded confused. ‘Where else? We’re not catching a plane to China.’
Lana felt the ground go out from under her. Next summer came at her with gathering, terrible speed, like a train hurtling towards a gap in the line.
I’m going to see Robbie again.
Except he wasn’t Robbie any more: he was a world-famous billionaire. And he hated her.
She managed a small, ‘Why?’
‘Is something the matter?’ Rita asked. ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’
Lana squeezed her eyes shut. So she’d be meeting Robbie again–so what? It had to happen sooner or later and she’d just have to deal with it. She didn’t have to talk to him; she didn’t even have to look at him. Except when she thought of the pictures she’d tried to avoid seeing but ultimately couldn’t resist–pictures showing his smile, his chin, his kind eyes, his arms–she didn’t know how she would manage. She wanted him so much it stopped her heart.
Rita interrupted her chain of thought. ‘I’m serious, Lana, what is it? ‘
‘Nothing,’ she told her agent. ‘Shooting’s almost over and it’s been an exhausting few weeks.’
‘OK. You know I don’t believe you.’
Lana ran a hand over her crisp white bed linen–Cole’s staff were perfectionists in every task and never risked a thing. Her fingers were shaking.
‘I used to know the guy behind it,’ she found herself saying. She closed her eyes. ‘A long time ago.’
‘What guy?’
‘Robert St Louis.’ It was good to finally speak his name, though it trembled in her throat. ‘He owns the Orient.’
‘A ha!’ exclaimed Rita, missing her friend’s tone. ‘There’s a history there, I knew it. No wonder you’re acting so shook up. Was he good?’
Yes, he was good. He was so, so good.
Lana harnessed her emotion. ‘It was nothing, really,’ she lied. ‘Just a fling.’ Forget the rest of it. Forget that she had been deeply in love with him. Forget that he had saved her life. He might take the blame for it, but she knew better. The decision she had made that terrible night had been the truly unspeakable one.
‘He’s a little bit to die for,’ said Rita, a smile in her voice. ‘You are one hell of a lucky lady, Ms Falcon.’
Lana stood up and went to the window. She looked out at her world, the perimeter of Cole’s mansion as solid and unyielding as it had ever been. She would not think about Robbie today, she would not let herself. Later, lying in bed, her thoughts would turn to him as they had for the past ten years, only this time with a sense of inevitable collision, like two cars running head-on in the night.
Next summer. Seven months.
After the women hung up, Lana lay down on her bed. She stared up at the blank ceiling for what felt like hours, listening to the quiet.
Belleville, Ohio, 1997
Every day for the next two months, Robbie turned up at the trailer park, wanting to talk to her. The first few times she walked straight past him, but after he followed her one afternoon and discovered exactly where she lived, he became harder to ignore.
It was a Friday and she had finished late at school. She knew Lester would be angry. No matter that it was her fifteenth birthday today, a secret she hadn’t told anyone.
She saw Robbie straight away, leaning against the side of the trailer, his dark hair falling over his eyes. He wore old blue jeans and a grey T-shirt, his strong arms bronzed by the sun.
‘What do you want? ‘
‘Finally she talks to me.’ He grinned. For the fifteen-millionth time she noticed the dimple in his chin.
Laura couldn’t tear her eyes from his. She had become accustomed to his handsomeness but still she couldn’t get used to the way it made her feel, like there were a thousand stars exploding in her blood.
Just then the door to the trailer burst open and Lester loomed into view, a bottle of beer in one hand and a smoke in the other. Her brother hadn’t washed or shaved in days, his skin and hair, now worn in a straggly long ponytail that lapped over his right shoulder, were grey with dirt and there were sunken purple shadows under both his eyes. His chest was bare and alarmingly thin, the ribs jutting out like a prehistoric thing.
‘Get in here, bitch,’ he ordered, ‘there’s things t’do.’ He took a swig from the bottle.
Laura’s eyes switched to Robbie, just in time to see his shocked expression. Lester’s gaze travelled sluggishly to the other man.
‘Who the fuck’s this?’ he snarled.
Robbie took control. ‘Robert Lewis,’ he said, holding out his hand.
‘You fucking my baby sister?’
It was