The A-List Collection: Hollywood Sinners / Wicked Ambition / Temptation Island. Victoria Fox
between them folded away like paper; the ocean of time passed emptied dry.
As he opened his mouth to speak, her cell rang.
‘It’s my agent,’ she told him.
He got to his feet, the moment broken. ‘Pick it up.’
‘I can’t, I’m not ready.’
‘Lana, you can. I’m here. OK? I won’t let anything happen to you.’
She held the blinking phone in her palm. ‘Do you trust this person?’ he asked. ‘She’s my friend.’
‘Then get her out here,’ he instructed. ‘You can’t hide for ever. And we can’t do this by ourselves.’
Lana soaked for a long time in the spa tub. Robert had given her the Pagoda Luxury Suite, a revelation of a room thousands of feet in the air, where the tip of the tulip punctured the sky. She was stunned by the size of it–with its separate living, dining and sleeping areas it was half as big again as her own living quarters in Cole’s LA mansion.
He had brought her up an hour before, swiping a gold card to let them in, and taken her to the unbelievable panorama, excited to see her reaction. One entire wall was a curved window looking out to the dazzle of the Strip. Together they had stood, watching the lights. She had wanted badly to hold his hand.
‘I need to find Elisabeth, explain all this,’ he’d said, avoiding her gaze.
‘Of course.’ She’d felt bad. This was a whole new imposition.
‘I’ll have some food sent up, something to drink.’
She had smiled gratefully. ‘Thank you.’ It wasn’t enough.
‘You must be tired. Take a bath, have a rest. Do you need anything …?’ He’d looked down at her stomach. ‘Sorry, I don’t know much about …’
She’d laughed. ‘Neither do I, as it happens. But, no, thanks, I feel good.’
He’d seemed relieved. ‘OK. So …’ He’d looked about him. ‘OK.’ This time they’d both laughed, nervously. ‘I’ll let you know when your friend gets here.’
‘That would be great.’ She’d wanted him to stay, knew he couldn’t.
‘I’ll be back.’ He’d scribbled down a three-digit number. ‘Any problems, use the phone.’
‘All right.’
He had touched her arm when he’d said goodbye. Now, like a teenager, she kept tracing the spot, expecting the mark to show on her skin somehow, so hot was the imprint he’d left behind.
She submerged herself in the fragrant bubbles, letting the afternoon go. Exploring the little silver-capped bottles contained at one end in a reed basket, she washed her hair with a jasmine shampoo and lathered her body, moving in slow, deliberate circles over her tummy.
‘We’ll sort this,’ she told the person inside. ‘You’ll see.’
Afterwards she patted herself dry with a soft towel, ran a comb through her hair and wrapped herself in one of the hotel’s downy white robes. She padded round the rooms for a while, opening cherrywood drawers and closets, fingering the cream silk hangers and the little perfumed sachets hooked on to each one. The linens were crisp and fresh, scented with orange blossom; pillows and cushions were stacked up on the bed, cool to the touch; and beneath her bare feet the plush lilac carpet was thick and soft. She fought an overwhelming desire to sleep.
In the living area a wall-to-wall media centre enclosed a plasma TV, stereo and Mac. Lana fiddled with the cluster of remotes, marvelling at the black glass doors that slid aside to reveal a series of screens, then panicking when they all at once came to life at deafening volume.
‘Shit shit shit!’ She punched some more buttons and the thing died.
There was a knock at the door. Surely Rita hadn’t arrived already? She checked the mantel clock. No, too soon.
Tentatively she peered through the eyehole. It was room service.
Robert had sent up a feast: a sticky platter of barbecue ribs, mini spring rolls and crispy duck with cucumber; silver domes housing wild herb salads, chicken in a lemon sauce with swimming fat green olives, strips of beef in rich black bean sauce, prawns with fresh ginger and spring onion–and the final one, a cheeseburger and fries. She laughed.
It was way too much but, then, she realised sadly, he didn’t know what she liked to eat these days. She took a little from each plate and, feeling comfortably full, poured herself a mug of steaming green tea. With her legs tucked up under her, she settled back to watch an old episode of Frasier.
A half hour later, fighting sleep, she forced herself to dress in a pair of old blue jeans and a grey sweater. She dried her hair and tied it back. Now all she had to do was wait.
Elisabeth frowned. ‘I don’t understand why she’s here,’ she said for the third time. ‘Hasn’t she got anywhere else to go?’
She’d emerged from the Orient gym and spa an hour ago. There had been an urgent message asking her to phone her fiancé. Now they were in his office. Elisabeth wished she could get in the shower–this afternoon had been non-stop.
Robert leaned back on his desk. ‘Darling, she needs our help.’
‘I should say so,’ said Elisabeth, pacing the room. She turned to him. ‘I asked if you two had history and you said you’d never met. You lied, Robert.’
‘I know I did. I’m sorry.’
‘Why the big secret?’ She lifted her chin.
He swallowed hard. ‘There isn’t a big secret.’
‘So, what, you used to be friends when you were kids—’
‘Yes.’
‘And then you fell out of touch.’
‘Yes.’
‘And now she’s here, asking for your help.’
‘That’s right.’
‘You’ve taken me for a fool once, Robert, don’t do it again. There’s more to it than that.’
‘Why should there be?’ He stood up and poured himself a drink.
Elisabeth narrowed her eyes. ‘I knew there was something between you,’ she said, not unkindly. ‘You made it so obvious. You couldn’t even handle hearing her name.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘Then tell me what is.’
Robert went to her. ‘OK. We dated for a while,’ he said. ‘It ended. She moved away. That’s it.’
A flicker of hurt. ‘Why did you split?’
He hesitated, grappling for the edited story he’d told so many times when Lana had first walked out on him. ‘We grew apart,’ he said, which was the truth. ‘Things changed. We changed.’
She looked up at him. ‘It sounds serious.’
‘It was, for a while.’
‘Who did it?’
‘What?’
‘The break-up. Who did it?’
Robert tried a laugh. ‘Does it matter?’
‘Yes.’
‘She did. She left me.’
Elisabeth nodded. ‘Did you love her?’
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘Don’t