Previously:
Deluxe Guest Room, The Westin Chicago River North, Chicago, Illinois, USA, January 21, 2017
Matthew turned off the television once the news anchor was done reading Mary's statement. He didn't want to hear the analysis, the nit-picking, the parsing of Mary's every word for some hidden meaning. He turned and took both of her hands in his.
"I may lose my show," she said quietly.
He nodded. "You might."
"The press will haunt me over this. Just because I said I wouldn't have any further comment doesn't mean they'll leave me alone," she said.
He nodded again. "Most likely not."
"The next few months could be quite painful," she said, cringing slightly.
He watched her closely. "They could be."
She found his blue eyes. "From now on, though, it's on my terms."
He pulled her into his embrace, rubbing her back as he felt her finally let go and lean into him.
"I'm with you, darling, no matter what."
Chapter 2:
Art Institute of Chicago, Grant Park, Chicago, Illinois, USA, January 24, 2017
Mary walked slowly through the gallery, taking her time and stopping to examine the more interesting paintings that drew her attention. It was mid-morning, the museum having opened a half hour ago, and it was another hour still before the lunch crowd came through. The immense space was refreshingly quiet and deserted, giving her the privilege of moving around at her leisure, hair tucked under her beanie, sunglasses perched on top of her head, unnoticed and undisturbed.
The past few days in Chicago had been strange, but welcome. Matthew was shooting his final scenes for Black Panther, and with the intense scrutiny around all Marvel films, it wasn't wise for her to accompany him to set, despite his assurances that it would all be fine. The last thing she needed was the comic book and superhero websites to notice her going into Matthew's trailer. Besides, this was his movie, and she wanted him to focus on the task before him, rather than be distracted by her.
Coming to Chicago had been a good idea. The media had no clue she was here, and the city was big enough and busy enough that she could move around in relative anonymity. With Matthew working long hours to wrap up in time for them to fly to California at the end of the week, she would have to fend for herself during the day.
Yesterday she went back to the Magnificent Mile and did some shopping. While it was quite romantic of her to spontaneously come down to see Matthew, she hadn't packed much at all in her rush to the airport. She only needed a few outfits to tide her over, and it was quite fun to be able to shop without any real time crunch. It had been ages since she had so many days off in a row, or was on her own without Matthew or Anna for company.
Though she was able to move along unhindered, some of the store clerks in the boutiques still recognized her and she was spotted by a few customers in Saks. She took selfies when asked, and signed a few autographs, but that was fine. Everyone who approached her was polite, and didn't say anything about Henry, which was more than she could say for her faceless detractors online.
'Mary Crawley is beyond stupid if she expects us to believe there was never anything between her and Henry Talbot. They were all over each other at the awards after parties earlier this month! The way they looked at each other, you can't fake that kind of heat!'
'If Mary Crawley is seeing someone else, I feel sorry for him, because the way she acted with Henry Talbot onscreen and off went way beyond just colleagues.'
'We consulted a body language expert to look at how Mary Crawley and Henry Talbot behaved around each other over the past few years. They have an 'obvious intimacy' and 'easy comfort' together, suggesting a familiarity that is typical of very good friends, or lovers.'
'That no-talent biatch ain't shit. Henry's better off without her anyway.'
'This is a tough time for them, but I know they'll get through it. Marbot 5eva!'
'Mary, wake up! Henry is just too damn hot for you to leave him now!'
She normally didn't read the comments on her Instagram posts, Facebook page, or mentions on Twitter. The numerous blogs and fan sites were to be avoided at all costs, especially now. Still, she did notice that Henry's supporters were rallying around him, and that there was the expected backlash against her. It was so typical of Hollywood gossip mongers and obsessed fans. He was the one who was caught in a scandal, but of course, she was the bitch for dumping him in his time of need, or so the theory went. All she could do was shake her head at such idiocy.
Truly, she had stopped worrying about Henry sometime on Sunday. Waking up naked in Matthew's arms, she felt rested and calm. They had a scrumptious breakfast, then he surprised her by taking her skating at the huge outdoor ice rink at Millenium Park. She was apprehensive at first, paranoia making her fear that she might be recognized, the two of them photographed together. However, just as he predicted, bundled up in their coats, scarves, hats and sunglasses, no one noticed them. It was delightful gliding across the ice holding his hand, spinning around with him and hugging him in public. Afterwards, they warmed up in a small café nearby, and finished a wonderful day at a cosy rare bookstore that he discovered during his stay. When they got back to his hotel for dinner, she vowed to move forward with a new determination. She had officially closed the chapter of her 'showmance' with Henry, and she likely would never work with him ever again. It was time to focus on her own career, and what dominated her thoughts now was the fate of Paladin. What would become of her show?
She moved on to another gallery of contemporary art, her mind drifting, apprehension tightening her chest. The network was still in talks, all anyone knew was that filming was suspended until next week, and maybe even beyond that. Aunt Rosamund said that there was no morality clause in Henry's contract, so there were no grounds to fire him from the show, at least not without paying him the rest of his exorbitant salary. She did want to finish Season 5. She felt she owed it to the fans, at the very least, and at this rate it would be difficult to find any other project to fill the same time in her schedule. Anna mentioned that a Season 6 seemed highly unlikely according to what Alex had found out, and Mary was still undecided about how that made her feel. She had never made up her mind whether she would go back for another year or not, and now that choice seemed to have been taken from her.
Taking a deep breath and sighing, she came upon Liz #3, the iconic Andy Warhol painting of the late Elizabeth Taylor. The trademark vibrant colours made the actress look comical in a way – the dark red lips, the pink skin, the turquoise eye shadow – so different from typical celebrity portraits, especially in 1963. Mary had seen a poster with the same print, but using different colours, at the Tate Gallery in London a while back. Granny often joked about some shenanigans that she'd gotten up to with "Lizzie" back when they were young actresses. Mary never cared if the stories were true or not. Just the image of the two British screen legends drinking, smoking and laughing together while being young and gorgeous made her smile.
She spent several minutes just staring at the painting, contemplating how Warhol was so fascinated by celebrity and the tenuous nature of it. In 1963, Taylor starred in the epic Cleopatra, the most expensive film ever made at that time. Granny often joked about how Taylor set a world record for most costume changes in a film with 65, but that number was nothing compared to what they would get up to in a typical weekend. Taylor was widely recognized as the most popular actress of her time, her lifestyle, fashion choices and love life followed closely, often dwarfing any legitimate commentary on her talent. Yet, both her health and career would decline mere years later, and she would be effectively retired by the mid-1970s.
Mary's eyes met Taylor's unblinking blue-tinged black irises in the portrait. She seemed so young here, still at the height of her powers, her life and career still stretching out ahead, stardom never-ending. Did she have any idea back then how it could all go wrong? Did she ever make any decision, and be terrified it would result in her ruin? Or, did she just assume the ride would go on for as long as she wanted, big budget roles, constant attention and handsome men always available, completely oblivious to her pending fall?
She frowned, pulling her gaze away from the painting. There were footsteps at the other end of the gallery, perhaps a school group, or tourists stopping in. Taking her leather gloves out of her coat pocket, she walked briskly for the exit, slipping away before anyone could see her.
Vaudeville Theatre, West End, London, England, January 24, 2017
Mabel signed one last autograph and smiled at the breathless fan before moving away and heading down the street. It was sweet how people still gathered near the theatre's back entrance after shows to wait for the cast to emerge. She liked receiving their adoration, while also being able to leave them behind and not have to worry about being mobbed. Theatre patrons were always more civilized than basic fans. They knew and respected boundaries.
She took out her phone and scrolled through her different notifications. A smile crossed her lips as she skimmed over the latest gossip columns and articles about Henry and Mary. With the video having been released days ago and their opposing statements hours later, speculation now turned to the weekend's SAG Awards. Some wondered if they both would attend, whether either one would win, or if they did, whether they would acknowledge the other. There was the usual rubbish from 'exclusive sources close to the situation' saying they had been in private talks all week trying to reconcile, and others saying it was all an elaborate sham and they would be hand-in-hand once more on the red carpet. She imagined Mary being disgusted by all of it. The great Lady Mary Crawley loved attention, but only the right kind, and speculation about her love life dominating over whether or not she would win the Actor for Best Actress was certainly not welcome.
Ducking into a café, she lined up and patiently waited her turn to order her usual latté. Tony hadn't been able to locate Mary over these past few days. There was an outside chance she had left Toronto, maybe to go to Los Angeles early and do damage control with the network. Mabel smiled at the thought. Damage control. No amount of her usual smiling, flirting or whoring herself out to studio executives would get her out of this mess.
She ordered her drink and watched as the teenager behind the bar prepared it for her, adding an extra flavour shot and lots of whipped cream. Normally, she would take it to go, but this time she found a quiet table in the corner and sat down and continued to browse her phone.
One of the more legitimate articles was an interview with Mary's stylist, obviously done more than a week ago, talking about different designers and options that she was considering for the ceremony. Of all the things that Mabel disagreed with Mary on, fashion wasn't one of them. Mary always made great choices, she thought, always preferring the refined and sophisticated look over the daring and risqué. As she sipped her coffee, she mused, not for the first time that under different circumstances, she and Mary might have been good friends. They both came up together, moved in the same social circles, had similar attitudes and sensibilities. Unfortunately they were competitors, adversaries for the same parts and seeking the same success, and Lady Mary Crawley was hardly the friendly type. She preferred to stomp on her competition. Mabel knew that lesson well.
Her eyes narrowed as she looked out the window, all the old, bitter memories flooding back, reminding her of all she had lost, all that Mary had taken. There were moments where she wondered if, at the last, she would let Mary know who was responsible for her fall. She fantasized about seeing the shock in those dark brown eyes, watching her face crumble when she was finally punished for all of her sins. Ultimately, she didn't need Mary to know who was behind it all. There would be more than enough satisfaction in seeing her crawl back to Yorkshire with her career in taters without having to reveal herself. No, better to focus on the plan. It had all gone brilliantly well so far. Soon she would deliver her next barrage, and watch as Mary was engulfed in the flames.
Earls Kitchen + Bar, Downtown Toronto, Canada, January 24, 2017
"And that should do it. Can I get you anything else? Anything at all?" the waitress said, smiling and reaching out to touch his shoulder.
"I think we're all right," Green said, nodding to her. "I'll be sure and let you know, though."
"Please do," the waitress replied, biting her lower lip as she looked at him, then turned and walked away.
Anna watched the exchange, then rolled her eyes as she reached for her water.
"What?" Green asked, smiling at her as he took up his fork.
"Nothing. I just was wondering if I should give the two of you a moment," she said wryly.
"I think what she has in mind for me will require more than a moment," Green said, smirking as he stabbed a forkful of chicken.
She frowned and went back to her salad.
"Don't worry," he said lightly. "I won't do anything so rude as to set something up with her while I'm here with you. I'll just see if she leaves me her phone number on the receipt at the end and deal with her later, if I feel like it."
"What do I care? It's no business of mine," she said.
"Be that as it may, we're having lunch and I'm enjoying myself. I don't need the distractions," he replied.
"You talk as though you have some experience with that sort of thing," she noted, taking another bite of her salad.
"What sort of thing?" he asked, looking at her in amusement.
She looked down and blushed slightly. "Well, it just seems to me that you're rather popular with waitresses. Whenever we go out to eat, they all pay you particular attention. They're all over you."
"Maybe, but that doesn't mean I always reciprocate, if that's what you're wondering," he noted.
"Are you saying you never have?" she asked, watching him closely.
"Have I never what?" he shot back.
She frowned. "You know what."
"I might," he said, laughing at her discomfort. "However, if you're going to ask me such a personal question, you should at least be brave enough to spell it out, don't you think?"
She scoffed and kept eating her salad.
He watched her eat for a moment, then casually took a sip of water. "I have, since you asked."
She looked up at him. He met her eyes, a playful smile on his lips as he leaned forward slightly.
"I've fucked a few waitresses in my time," he continued, his gaze unwavering. "No one in Toronto yet, but I've gotten a few offers."
She swallowed, then went back to her salad.
He returned to his chicken.
"How…" she began, stopping to gather herself before continuing, a frown on her face. "How did you manage that?"
He laughed and took another drink. "Now I know you aren't asking me for the precise mechanics of it all, surely?"
She blushed and looked away.
"Anna, you remember what it was like to be single, don't you? The challenge, the thrill of being pursued? I don't pretend that any of these encounters are meaningful, but it's quite basic, primal. I give them something they want, that's it," he said easily.
"Why you, though?" she asked. "I'm sure women like them get hit on by men all day."
"That's true," he agreed. "I don't know. Maybe it's that I don't slobber all over them, or try so hard to impress them, maybe it's my accent, who knows? You'd have to ask them. I've never had any complaints though, as far as I know, anyway."
She shook her head and kept eating her salad.
"Anyway, it's just a bit of mindless fun, no strings attached. They're using me, really, but that's all right. Everything doesn't have to be so serious all the time. Sometimes it's as simple as they want a good shag, and they think I can provide it," he finished.
She stayed quiet.
"What about you?" he asked.
"What about me?" she asked, frowning at him. "I'm married."
"Yes, but surely you notice when men are checking you out? Every woman has a sense for it," he said. "I know you must have noticed the manager downstairs."
She blinked. "What? No!"
He laughed and nodded. "He was looking at your arse as we were walking up the stairs."
She scoffed and picked at her salad. "Even if he was, that's hardly anything for me to care about."
"I'm not saying you should care about it," he replied. "I'm just saying that being married doesn't mean you stop drawing attention. Some men like married women. They see them as the ultimate conquest."
"Well, there no chance of that happening," she said firmly.
"Of course not," he agreed. "But then, I wouldn't know. I just think it would be a nice ego boost to be admired every once in a while, that's all."
She quickly popped a cherry tomato into her mouth.
"Don't get me wrong, relationships are far more fulfilling, but we all can't have what you have, Anna. Some of us heathens have to just make do with purely physical encounters," he said.
She nodded slowly.
"On the other hand, I suppose Mary probably regrets her most recent relationship, doesn't she?" he said.
"Most definitely, but she's doing better now. Ending it with Henry liberated her in a lot of ways," she said.
"I'll bet. Still, she must not be completely over him so soon? They were together for over two years," he remarked.
She blinked. "Oh, no, Mary and Henry were never actually together. That was all for show."
His mouth fell open. "What?"
She smiled and nodded. "It was for publicity. Henry probably wanted more, but Mary never liked him that way, and after the stunt he pulled last weekend, she doesn't like him at all."
"Wow," he sputtered. "I had no idea. I figured that they were being deliberately coy to raise their profiles, but I always assumed they were a couple."
"Then she played her part well if you were fooled," she said.
"I'll say," he muttered.
"Is Tony worried about the future?" she asked.
"Not as much as I am," he grumbled. "He's been through this type of thing before, not knowing whether a show will be renewed or not. He'll be paid regardless of whether the network proceeds with this season or not, so he's not too bothered. If they cancel the show after that, he'll just look for something else."
"That's a positive way of looking at it," she said.
"He's quite the optimist, actually," he said. "I, on the other hand, can be rather paranoid. Take this weekend. I'm already having nightmares of being stuck in traffic on the way to the venue, or some other disaster. If I can get him to the after parties without having a nervous breakdown, I'll be doing something right."
She looked at him curiously. "You don't strike me as the nervous type."
"I've tricked you so far then," he joked. "I plan on getting very drunk once it's all over."
"Hear, hear," she said, raising her glass to him.
He smiled and clinked glasses with her, then went back to his chicken.
23rd Screen Actors Guild Awards, Shrine Auditorium, Los Angeles, California, USA, January 29, 2017
"Ah, Matthew," Henry said, smiling and nodding to him. "I was wondering when you might turn up."
"Henry," Matthew said tightly, not bothering to look at the Actor statuette that Henry was obviously holding up to show off.
"Wonderful night, isn't it?" Henry continued. "It's been such a stressful week. Coming here, being amongst my peers has been such a relief. Everyone's been so supportive, well, almost everyone."
"Bringing your mother to walk the red carpet with you was…sweet," Matthew said.
"She had a wonderful time, but she had to go back to the hotel. She needed to rest," Henry explained.
"I'm sure," Matthew said curtly. "Good night, Henry."
"You know, it's such a shame about Mary," Henry called, stopping Matthew from making his escape. "Three times a loser. I do hope next year things work out for her. After all, it might be her last chance."
Matthew glared at him, a retort on the tip of his tongue. Taking in Henry's smug expression, he took a deep breath and walked away, resisting the urge to go back and punch the arrogant bastard in the face, but only just.
"I was going to tell you that you were robbed tonight."
Mary looked up and arched her eyebrow at Tony as he came to her side, a lopsided smile on his face.
"But?" she asked.
"But I expect that you've already heard that about a thousand times too many tonight, so I brought you this instead," he told her, presenting her with a Martini glass.
She smiled and took the glass from him, raising it before taking a long sip.
"Lychee," she said, looking at the glass and nodding in satisfaction. "You remembered."
"I remember everything," he said, still smiling.
The familiar alarm bells rang in her addled head, loud enough that even the alcohol couldn't silence them.
"And where is dear Mabel tonight?" she asked, looking at him pointedly.
He chuckled and nodded. "She's back in London. Oppenheimer is into its second block of dates and she couldn't make it. She just texted me, actually. Told me to pass along her congratulations to you."
"I'll bet she did," she said, taking another sip.
"I know it's petty to say, but I was rather annoyed when Henry won," he stated.
"You weren't the only one," she mumbled. "Anyway, it's done, and there's no point dwelling on it. Hopefully the show continues, with or without him, it doesn't matter, so long as it does."
"The two of you have done a wonderful job of being cordial tonight," he noted.
"We've mainly avoided each other, which is best for all involved," she said. "He'd just brag and I'd scratch his eyes out. It wouldn't do anyone any good."
"It would feel good, though, I imagine," he said.
She smiled. "It would be glorious."
"What time is your flight back tomorrow?" he asked. "I'm on Air Canada at 1:55."
"Oh, I'm not going back just yet," she said. "I blocked off this week to do promotional interviews for Shattered, so I'm staying over for a few days. I'll head back around Wednesday, although if we're still in limbo by then, I might just stay here and enjoy the sun."
"They have to reach a decision soon. We've already lost a week of shooting," he said, shaking his head.
"No one knows," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "You've seen the network executives here. They're all smiles and compliments, but no hints as to which way they're leaning."
"Well, here's hoping," he said.
"You'll be all right, Tony," she said. "You'll be paid in full and I would be shocked if you didn't line something else up straight away."
"That's all true, but we wouldn't get to work together, which is one the reasons I came over in the first place," he said, looking at her playfully.
"Well, let that be a lesson to you," she said easily, finishing her drink. "Don't count on such things playing out the way you want. I know I don't."
"There you are," Anna said, smiling as she found Green by the bar.
"Hi," he said warmly, leaning down to give her a hug and kiss her cheek. "Sorry that Mary didn't win…again."
She sighed and shook her head. "I thought that at the very least the show would win for Best Ensemble, which would have got her a trophy. It's just crazy to see Henry as the only winner. The show's not just about him."
"Tonight has been surreal on many levels," he noted, smiling at her. He took in her hair, pulled back and straightened to fall down past her shoulders, the strapless designer dress showing off just a hint of cleavage. "Can I get you a drink?"
She shook her head. "I'm actually on my way out. I just wanted to find you and make sure you got through the night. You know, since you become nervous so easily."
He laughed. "I survived. Thanks for checking up on me. Where are you off to? Another party?"
"Sort of," she said, smiling mysteriously. "I'm escaping with Alex. He has something planned, but won't tell me what."
"Ah, well, enjoy," he said tightly, leaning over and hugging her again. "Good night, Anna."
"Good night," she said cheerfully giving him a hug before releasing him and leaving.
He watched her go, his eyes narrowing as a frown crossed his brow. Waving the bartender over, he ordered a double shot of vodka straight and took his phone out of his pocket.
Mary kissed Anna and wished her goodnight, smiling as Alex whisked her away. Despite the disappointment of losing her category earlier in the evening, she was remarkably relaxed. The food and drinks had helped, as had dancing for the past hour, but it was more the freedom she felt tonight. Arriving by herself and walking the red carpet with just Anna following in the background, not having to kiss Henry when his name was called, and getting to now mingle and do as she pleased at the after-parties felt wonderful and liberating. The entertainment media was smart enough not to pry or ask her any difficult questions, and though she felt anxious when she ran into various network and studio executives, she handled it all in stride, giving out her usual array of smiles and hugs, acting as though she didn't have a care in the world.
She smiled as she weaved through the crowd and made her way towards Matthew. Yes, he had something to do with her good mood, she supposed.
It wasn't as though much had changed. She didn't feel comfortable holding his hand or standing too close to him, lest they be caught out. The media was following her every move, everyone trying to be the first to grab the next big headline. 'Mary Crawley moves on from Henry Talbot with hot Armani model!' She smiled at the very idea. He wouldn't enjoy being referred to as her rebound boy-toy, at least not without getting something in return from her, anyway.
Still, this party was a bit of a milestone for them. She could spend real time with him, just chatting and laughing, appearing as though they were just good friends. Aunt Rosamund kept imploring her to circulate and schmooze, which she did, but it felt good to just hang out with Matthew and not feel pressured to leave him after some arbitrary amount of time.
"Hello, darling," he said, smiling at her as she reached him. He was standing with Gwen, Sophie and a few other people she knew. He had made an effort to walk around and socialize, mainly with Alex at his side. Now that his best friend had left, he predictably stayed with who he knew. She smirked at how normal he was, how little he cared for the game, the business, the need to promote oneself at events like this. In a room full of narcissists and the people who kowtowed to them, the fact that he was so self-aware and at ease in his own skin made him so very attractive. Looking particularly delicious tonight didn't hurt either. Armani had taken care of him from head to toe, and the results were spectacular.
"How are you holding up?" she asked, glancing over at Gwen and Sophie, who had moved on to other conversations. "Not too bored, I hope?"
"Not now," he said, nodding to her. "How are you? Done your rounds?"
"For now," she said plainly. "I haven't found out anything, not that I expected to. Henry's moved on to another party, thank God."
He laughed knowingly. "No wonder the air seems cleaner all of a sudden. So, what's your next destination, my Lady?"
She gave him a playful smirk. "Back to the dance floor. Care to join me?"
His eyes brightened. She laughed.
He followed her eagerly as she led the way through the crowd.
Griffith Observatory, Mount Hollywood, Griffith Park, Los Angeles, California, January 29, 2017
"Babes, where are we going?" Anna demanded, frowning at her husband, which was difficult considering she was blindfolded.
"You'll see," he said, his voice light and playful as he patted her thigh.
She muttered another curse in annoyance, her hand covering his and keeping it on her leg. When they left the party, he escorted her to the waiting Mercedes saloon car, the driver holding the door for them as they ducked into the backseat. As the car wound its way through downtown Los Angeles, her questions on where he was taking her were met with a mysterious smile and a black piece of silk. She refused to wear it at first, wondering what he was up to, but when he teasingly threatened to call the whole thing off, she gave in. The car windows were tinted so dark that she could barely see outside anyway. Besides, it wasn't as if this was the first time she had ever worn a blindfold for him.
That was an hour ago, or so it seemed, and she had sat impatiently the entire time. She wondered if he hadn't deliberately told the driver to take a circuitous route to disorient her. It was the kind of frustrating trick he would pull, get her annoyed before revealing what he had planned. Still, she kept quiet, noticing how the car seemed to turn and tilt as they went.
The car came to a stop and she waited, wondering if this was just a pause at a traffic light or their actual destination. She heard a door open, and she turned her head, trying to discern what was going on.
"Hang on, love," he said, leaning over and kissing her cheek. "It's almost ready."
"What's almost ready?" she asked, turning towards him.
"Your surprise," he replied, his voice filled with childlike enthusiasm. He kissed her and she let him, slipping her tongue into his mouth as her hands reached up to take a hold of his face. Something about being denied her eyesight made the rest of her senses sharper, it seemed. She could smell his scent – a blend of cologne and sweat that she always found strangely irresistible – and his smooth skin beneath her fingers felt warm and soft. His mouth and tongue tasted slightly spicy, and she hummed in pleasure when he pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her just the way she liked. She almost didn't care what the surprise was. He could just have her in the car if he wanted.
"This way, love," he said, giving her one last peck before pulling away and taking her hand, helping her from the car.
A cold breeze hit her stockinged legs the moment she was outside. Los Angeles was a bit chilly at night in winter, but this was even colder than she expected. She was about to protest when she felt a soft blanket wrapped across her shoulders and Alex's arms around her. She walked in the direction that he guided her, her heels clicking off what felt like pavement. Intrigued, she didn't bother asking any questions, just going where he led. She was about to say something when he made her climb stairs blindfolded, but she just went along with it, not wanting to spoil the mood when he obviously had gone to a lot of effort.
"Ready?" he asked, his voice smooth and deep in her ear. She nodded, biting her lower lip in anticipation.
The blindfold came off and she had to blink to adjust to having the use of her eyes back. Her mouth fell open and she gasped as the bright lights of the city stretched out below her, a tapestry of coloured lines weaving into the distance. There was more of a haze over everything here compared to Toronto and London, even at night, but it was still a wonderful view.
"God, it's beautiful," she whispered, smiling as she recognized various landmarks.
"It is," he said, kissing the top of her head and gently taking hold of her shoulders. "Look over here, love."
She let him turn her around and gasped again when he pointed her in the right direction. The towering 'Hollywood' sign stood up the hill in the distance, lit up and bright. Looking around to get her bearings, she noticed that they were on top of the roof of a large white building.
"Is this?" she began.
"Griffith Observatory," he declared, taking her hand and leading her over to a conveniently placed couch covered in cushions and blankets. There were heat lamps and candles set up around it, and a small table holding a picnic basket.
"Babes!" she exclaimed, laughing as he led her over to the couch and had her sit down. "What is all this?"
"A bit of a late night snack," he said, smiling as he took out a bottle of champagne, two glasses, and a large tray of strawberries with chocolate sauce.
"You are unbelievable," she remarked, shaking her head as he sat down and handed her a flute glass. Removing the cork, he poured them each a decent amount, then turned and smiled at her.
"A toast…to my beautiful wife," he said.
She grinned, clinking glasses with him and taking a sip. The bubbly tasted sweet and crisp, and she laughed as he fed her a strawberry dipped in chocolate. Placing the tray next to him, he leaned back against the cushions, smiling at her invitingly. She laughed, removed her heels and snuggled against him, stretching her legs out next to his. He threw two of the blankets over them, holding her close with one arm as he reached for another strawberry.
"This is amazing, babes. Thank you so much," she said, marvelling at the view. She could see all of Los Angeles, and looking up, she could make out plenty of stars against the black sky. The heat lamps and blankets easily kept her warm, and it was so quiet and peaceful up here, as though the entire park was theirs.
He kissed the top of her head and fed her another strawberry.
"How did you manage this? The park can't be open all night," she asked.
"The park closes at 10, usually," he said. "I may have called in a favour or two to let us come up here after hours."
She laughed. "Or made a sizable donation or two?"
"I'm not saying I did, I'm not saying I didn't. But whatever I did, it's been totally worth it," he said.
She turned in his hold, raising her head and looking down at him. Running her fingers along his cheek, she smiled playfully. "And what about the fact that alcohol isn't permitted in the park, or that picnicking on the Observatory roof isn't allowed either?"
"I won't tell anyone if you don't, love," he said, raising his eyebrows.
She giggled and kissed him quickly. "And here I thought I had married a straitlaced, law-abiding citizen. It seems you're a bit of a rebel."
"Only for a worthy cause," he said, kissing her again.
"Who were all those people you were talking to at the party?" she asked, tracing his mouth with her finger. "Some powerbrokers?"
He nodded and kissed her finger. "Studio heads and ad executives, mainly. I met Jennifer Lawrence."
She blinked. "Oh. She's gorgeous."
"She's okay," he said lightly. "She's quite funny, actually. Not much of a filter."
"Hmm," she said, playing with his hair. She couldn't help but picture him, dressed immaculately in his tailored suit, surrounded by beautiful actresses sent by the studios, all vying for his attention. Though he was known mainly at the executive level, the fact was that Alex controlled the money. The multi-million dollar budgets that these celebrities needed to get their films made were all facilitated through him. If any of them knew who he was and what he did, she imagined he would be quite popular, and that was before even considering he was a handsome millionaire on top of all of that.
"I love you," he said softly, smiling up at her and drawing her attention. "I love you, Anna. I love you."
She grinned. "I love you," she replied, kissing him firmly. A jolt of arousal flared inside her as he deepened the kiss and tightened his embrace. She ground her hips against him, shivering with delight as he groaned in response, his one hand moving down to cup her arse.
"It's illegal to have sex in the park, isn't it?" she breathed between kisses, her hand slipping down his firm stomach and grasping him through his trousers.
"Probably. I've never looked into it," he replied quickly, grunting when her fingers squeezed him more purposefully. "But I would expect it would count as lewd conduct."
"Lewd conduct. I like the sound of that," she said wickedly. "Why don't we have some more champagne, finish the strawberries, take a few photos together with this wonderful view, then we can go back to the hotel and engage in some completely legal lewd conduct?"
He laughed and kissed her softly. "Sounds great, love."
Premier Balcony Room, Four Seasons Hotel Los Angeles, Beverly Hills, California, January 29, 2017
The doorman nodded as she passed him and went into the lobby. She didn't bother looking at the massive floral arrangements or the intricate marble tile patterns on the floor, passing through to the front desk and giving the clerk the agreed upon false name. The clerk nodded and gave her the room key, smiling and stealing a glance at her breasts as she grabbed the card and headed for the elevators. He was probably checking out her ass as she walked, but she didn't care. She probably would have been offended if he hadn't grabbed a peek. It would have meant her outfit didn't have the desired impact.
The elevator ride up was swift, the plush carpet quiet beneath her stilettos as she headed for his room. Weekends were always busy, and awards weekends especially so. There was always some big shot in from out of town who wanted to party, or one of her regulars who had a really good night and wanted to celebrate. She was usually booked months in advance, but on a hunch, she kept tonight free, and she was glad she did.
None of the other girls liked him. He was too creepy, too controlling, had way too many sick preferences, but she wasn't scared. She liked that he was so predictable, didn't care about any of his deeper issues. She wasn't his shrink and had no interest in knowing what secrets he kept. A booking with him meant she would be occupied for the night and would be paid very well. What more could a girl ask for?
Besides, she kind of liked performing for him. It was almost like preparing for a role, making sure she got the clothes, the look, the hair, everything just right.
Reaching the door, she smiled as she pressed the keycard to the lock and heard the familiar chirp in response. With this score, she would have enough for that convertible she had her eye on, as well as the trip to Barcelona she had been planning. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped inside. Showtime.
"Hi," she called, grinning as she came over and gave him a hug. "Welcome back."
He kissed her cheek and smiled before going over to the bar and getting their drinks. Passing her the requested vodka and tonic, he sipped his bourbon, his eyes moving up and down her body, pleased with what he saw.
"You look beautiful," he said, nodding with approval. "You always do."
"Thank you," she said, sipping her drink. She turned around and went over to the desk against one wall. Putting her glass down, she picked up the envelope and slipped it into her purse. Judging by the weight, he had given her a generous tip. He always gave her a good tip because she did as she was told. She smiled. She would be strolling on Las Ramblas by March.
"Well, I've been looking forward to this all day," she said, changing her voice to an English accent. She went over and stood before him, bowing her head a bit and glancing up at him with a playful smile. "I was so glad when you texted me. I was waiting all night to hear from you."
He took hold of her shoulders, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her. "What did you tell your husband?"
"Some bullshit about having to work late," she replied easily. "He barely listened. I told you. He doesn't give me the attention I need."
He grinned at her choice of phrase, his arousal coursing through his veins. The blonde hair tied up in a tight bun, the blue eyes, the slinky dress that showed just a hint of cleavage. She had gotten it all exactly as he asked.
"Besides, I would have come over even if he had said no," she whispered, keeping her head bowed as she ran her hand up his chest. "I can't resist you, you know that."
He pulled her closer, his hand drifting down to squeeze her bottom. Even her accent was half decent.
"What do you want?" he asked thickly.
Right on cue, her one hand moved down to fondle him through his trousers while the other moved up to pull his head down towards hers. "You know what I want. Fuck me like only you can. Treat me like your dirty little slut."
He growled and spun her around, her hands reaching out to brace herself against the counter below the large mirror. With one sharp tug, he yanked her hair free, watching it tumble down to her shoulders. She gasped but did not protest as he pulled the straps of her dress down her arms, the silk falling to her feet. He pressed himself against her from behind, pulling on her hair and licking her neck. His other hand shot down between her legs, yanking her panties aside and grabbing her roughly.
"You're mine!" he grunted.
"Yes! You fucking own me!" she cried, closing her eyes and wincing from the pain but still grinding her hips against him. She moaned long and loud, just the way he liked it.
He looked at their reflection in the mirror and grinned darkly. His hands worked quickly to remove the rest of their clothing, keeping her still as he readied himself.
"Take it, Anna," he grunted, clutching her hips hard enough to leave bruises. "Fucking take it!"
She screamed and bucked against him, her eyes shut tight, her mouth hanging open. He was being extra rough with her tonight, but she didn't mind. She actually was enjoying it. Whoever this Anna was, she brought out the beast in him.
Green watched them in the mirror, his eyes wide, his teeth bared in wild glee. Her cries fed his delirium, and he pounded into her harder and faster, not stopping until with a loud yell, he pulled out and pushed her down to the floor, finishing on her face.
Petit Ermitage Hotel, West Hollywood, California, January 31, 2017
"Matthew? They're ready for you," Lavinia called, waiting for him patiently at the door.
"Good luck," Natalie said, smiling at him as he got up from his chair. "Don't get nervous. The entire fate of the movie rests on your ability to be charming, but try not to think about it."
"Thanks," Matthew said, giving her a pointed glare. "And I'm not nervous. We should get a huge opening weekend just on teenage boys wanting to see Natalie Dormer in her underwear."
She cackled and clapped her hands as he left the room and followed Lavinia down the hall to the rooftop patio that they were using for the interviews. The studio had booked the entire top floor at this lovely boutique hotel to do promotion for their movie, Shattered. He had spent most of the morning filming behind-the-scenes featurettes and interviews that would be included on the Blu-ray release of the film. It was the first time he had a chance to watch any finished scenes from the final cut, and it seemed a bit strange to see himself onscreen. This felt real to him now, that it was actually going to happen. The movie was coming out in March and he was really going to be in it.
"How's wedding planning going?" he asked Lavinia, trying to fill the silence.
"Mum's being a bit overbearing and Dad's complaining about how much it's going to cost," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "I think my parents have more guests coming than I do. Still, when you're an only child, you have to put up with such things, don't you?"
"I'd like to think that Mother won't be too fussy when my time comes, but I tend to agree with you," he admitted. "It'll be her only child's only wedding, God willing, so it's a big deal."
"Right," she said. "Now all you have to do is find a bride."
He smiled and didn't answer.
They came out into the brilliant sunshine bathing the patio, a cloudless blue sky all around them. The patio had panoramic views of the Hollywood Hills, and had a very relaxed vibe, albeit a lavish and expensive one. They walked past the saltwater pool, the garden sanctuary and down the steps to the lower deck where the cameras were all set up. Mary was sitting in a large chair, sipping a bottle of water and going over her notes on a tablet.
"There you are. Good luck," Lavinia said, motioning for him to go on ahead, then heading over to speak to some of the production staff.
Mary watched the exchange surreptitiously. She suspected that Lavinia had a thing for Matthew during filming in the summer, but then learned that she was engaged. Though she would never admit it, she did have a bit of a jealous streak when it came to him. Now that he was becoming more well-known through his Armani campaigns, she knew that his thousands of new followers included women who drooled over his photos. Once Shattered came out, it would become even worse. Not only would Matthew be more popular for his strong performance, but the scene where he came out of the shower topless would become a fan favourite, she was sure.
"Hi," he said, sitting down in the chair next to hers. "How are you holding up?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing," she replied, handing her tablet to Anna and smiling at him. "Are you bored yet?"
"Actually, no," he said, shaking his head. "I figure that the more of these things I'm involved in, the less likely they are to cut my scenes from the movie."
She rolled her eyes. "You're not being cut. We'd have to redo all the posters and there's not enough time for that."
He gave her a wry look.
They soon settled down and began the procession of media interviews. Their co-stars, Rick Yune and Natalie, were doing their own interviews by the bar on the other side of the rooftop. Since the film was about infidelity, the studio wanted to pair the adulterers together in interviews, which was a pleasant surprise for Matthew. Up until now, Mary, Natalie and Rick had done photos and interviews together, with him mainly in the background. Earlier in the day he had been hesitant to talk too much, giving short replies to the questions posed to him. Mary had taken him aside and told him to relax, and the rest of the morning had gone much better.
It was a skill to answer the same questions over and over again as if it was the first time being asked. Mary had mastered it, using smiles, pauses, gestures, nods and the occasional laugh to charm the interviewers. Though Matthew received a small portion of the questions given to her, he tried to keep up, knowing that the interview would play better to an audience if both of them were more into it, rather than robotically taking turns answering questions.
"Now, Matthew, whenever there's a movie about adultery, there's a lot of pressure on the cheating part of the story, right? The audience is probably wondering why the happily married woman would break her vows, so does that put any extra pressure on you to present your character in a certain way?"
Matthew stopped himself from jumping right in, and instead nodded his head slowly as if he was considering his answer.
"Well, I think there's inherently going to be pressure because, as you say, the audience will wonder why such a gorgeous, brilliant woman like Christina would even look twice at a boorish ruffian like Nico," he began, gesturing reverently towards Mary, then dismissively at himself.
She smiled and watched him continue.
"But I think what makes our movie so different is that there's a real contrast between the characters, so you can see the differences between the relationships. Nico's a very direct and honest person, and I think Christina is very drawn to that. She doesn't have to pretend with him, she can just be herself, and that's very empowering for her, I think, which is why they connect so quickly," he finished.
"Speaking of powerful, obviously a lot of attention is going to be on the first kiss between you two, and how it escalates from there. I know it's just work to you, but can you look at it objectively and say 'okay, that's a hot scene?' Do you think about it in terms of whether it conveys the kind of emotion you want, or is it just, okay, we kiss, next?"
Matthew laughed and nodded. "Well, I know I was nervous filming those scenes, because they do seem so important, kind of like the opening third of the movie is building up to this moment, and when I saw the dailies, I thought they looked quite good. It is just another scene in some ways, but you have to make sure it does come across as showing the emotional state of the characters. I know for me, I tried to imagine what he would be feeling, kissing this woman who he wants so badly and thought he could never have. It must be quite a powerful sensation for him, and that's what I tried to focus on," he said, then turned to Mary. "What about you? Were you thinking sexy thoughts?"
Mary smirked, handling his challenge in stride, though her pulse jumped a bit and she arched her eyebrow at him pointedly. "Actually, those scenes did nothing for me at all, but if they affected you, then that means I did my job, so there's that."
The interviewer laughed. Mary smiled. Matthew met her stare, undeterred, his eyes telling her exactly what he had in mind as her punishment for later on.
"What do you think of the message in the movie, Mary? Is it sort of that temptation is all around us, that it's almost unavoidable?"
Mary pursed her lips, looking away in thought before replying. "I don't think the message is necessarily that negative. The film isn't trying to say that all marriage is bad. I think the idea is that love sometimes isn't conventional and neat, and that the right person for someone isn't necessarily who society might think it is. Christina and her husband appear to be a perfect match on the outside, but they aren't really, and the cheating is more a result of that. They're already broken when they each have their affairs. What I think is really great about the story is that the other characters aren't just convenient lovers for these two. They're actual people that they have real relationships with, and that raises all sorts of interesting questions that I think people will identify with."
"What she said," Matthew echoed, nodding and pointing at Mary.
The reporter laughed and nodded, then flipped the pages of his notebook.
"All right, so Matthew, this is your biggest role in your career. Was there any kind of adjustment period for you? How did the production go for you?"
"Oh, he was a total diva, honestly," Mary interjected.
"Yeah, I was super high maintenance," he said, smirking at her and laughing. "No, it was actually all quite easy. You know, Thea really trusts her actors, she's very collaborative. For a lot of our scenes, Mary and I would come up with ideas and she was always so receptive. It was great, really. I enjoyed every second of it."
"What about you, Mary? Did you enjoy the process?"
"Yes, it was quite fun, actually," she replied, looking at Matthew and nodding. "I'd worked with Thea before back in London. She directed me in a West End play, so that was kind of neat, seeing how far we've come from then."
"And how did you think Matthew did for his first major studio role?"
She smiled at him. "Oh, he did all right."
Giorgio Armani Boutique, Rodeo Drive, Beverly Hills, California, USA, January 31, 2017
"And just turn towards me, Matthew. That's it, that's it. Perfect. Hold it. That's it," the photographer called, zooming in on the watch on Matthew's wrist and snapping a series of shots. Matthew leaned on the table, trying to keep his arm as straight as possible.
Mary stood off to the side, watching on as Matthew continued with the photoshoot. Since doing a small photoshoot for Armani Code cologne in Toronto in the summer, his unexpected and unintended modelling career had taken off. The photos from that first shoot had gone viral on social media across the world, leading the executives at Giorgio Armani to sign him for a larger campaign. He wasn't utilized nearly as often as Chris Pine or Chen Kun, but he was steadily getting more work, including tonight's shoot for the new line of Emporio Armani Connected watches. It was only for a few hours and not particularly strenuous, so she decided to come along.
"Okay, we're just going to change the lighting," the photographer announced. "Let's get Matthew set up with the stainless steel first."
An assistant came forward wearing white gloves. He gingerly removed the watch from Matthew's wrist, then replaced it with a different model with a steel band.
A tall female model came out from the back of the boutique wearing a black tube top and jeans. Mary watched as they positioned her in front of the white backdrop, the hair and makeup people doing one last touch up. They called Matthew over and had him face her, placing his hand on her far shoulder so that the watch rested just above her breast. She put her arm around him so that her watch was in the foreground.
"And lean towards her Matthew. Closer. Closer. And look at her mouth. Closer. Right there," the photographer ordered as Matthew was almost kissing the other woman. She pursed her lips in a thin line and stared at the camera with a smouldering look, the photographer reeling off a series of shots as he moved around them.
Mary watched the scene before her with interest. The model was taller than her, almost as tall as Matthew. She was quite thin, Matthew's hand appearing large as he held on to her body. Her hair was a lighter shade of brown than Mary's, closer to a sandy blonde. They looked quite hot together, she had to admit.
"That could have been you up there."
She frowned and turned, looking at the photographer's assistant in confusion. She had worked with the same photographer and his staff for a Vanity Fair photoshoot last year.
"What do you mean?" she asked, trying to appear casual.
"When Armani was looking for models as part of this new campaign, they went through a list of actresses that they were interested in and your name came up," she explained. "They knew that you and Matthew were starring together in Shattered and they considered pairing the two of you together in their campaign to take advantage of that. It was too late to get a product placement in the film, but they thought you would look good together."
Mary turned back and looked at Matthew and the model, now locked in a tight embrace, staring at each other's open mouths.
"Why did you turn them down?" the assistant asked.
"What?" Mary asked, looking over at her again.
"You turned down the offer," the assistant said. "They got in touch with your agent and it looked promising at first, but when they explained the campaign in greater detail, your people rejected it. They said you had scheduling conflicts but would consider a campaign for the women's line in the future."
Mary struggled to keep her face placid and neutral.
"It was just bad timing," she said lightly, trying to appear unaffected. "Of course, I was grateful for the interest, but I have a lot on the go at the moment, and the last thing I would want to do is commit to Armani and be unable to put my full attention to the campaign. Their House is so important to me, I would never forgive myself if I couldn't give them my best."
The assistant smiled and nodded, accepting her answer. "Well, it's a real shame. I think the two of you would have been fantastic together."
Mary turned and looked at Matthew, her mind racing with this new information. "Yes," she agreed. "A real shame, indeed."