Previously:
Private Residence, Nice, France, February 1, 2018
"I can barely believe that we're going to the Oscars," Anna exclaimed.
"And all because of Matthew, of all people," Mary shook her head. "It's one of the rare occasions where we're attending an event that even I've never been to before. I want to convince myself that it'll be just like any other awards show, but it simply isn't."
Anna outlined the itinerary for the week in California, then wished her best friend good night, hanging up the call.
Mary turned on to her side, propping herself upon the pillows and placing the tablet before her. She brought up another clip of Aline from the same film, this one a tense scene where she manipulated the family daughter to carry out her pointless attempt to poison her own mother. When she was confronted with the scheme, Aline laughed manically hurling insults at the family before leaving the house. Once again, with the way Paul framed each shot, it was impossible not to pay attention to Aline over the others.
Mary frowned and watched the scene again.
Chapter 3:
2 Place Vendôme, 1er Arrondissement, Paris, France, February 2, 2018
"Put your head in his lap. Yes, that's it, now look up at him. Yes, yes. Matthew, your hand – put it on her neck, just like so, no, no, not there, lower, yes, lower, yes, yes, hold that. Okay. And looking over to the window, Matthew. Yes, yes, perfect, hold, hold, wonderful!"
Matthew breathed slowly through his nose, trying to stay as still as possible. He still didn't consider himself a model by any stretch. Larissa, the girl currently with her head practically in his crotch was far more experienced in the industry than he was, but he tried to be as professional as possible during these photo shoots, if only so he could get it over with sooner.
Milan Fashion Week was currently running, with Armani having just debuted its Spring/Summer collection. As part of its social media campaign, the fashion house was shooting new material to go online later this month during Paris Fashion Week, and with Matthew conveniently already in the city, they had him take part, this time wearing both Armani clothing and their signature watch.
He kept staring at the far window as the photographer circled around them, snapping away from all angles. It was a shame that Mary had to miss out on this shoot. She already had invitations from various labels to attend shows after they got back from the Oscars. She would be in Nice through the weekend with her director, Paul Chaput, so she wished Matthew luck last night over video chat, and already instructed Alex to take photos for her to see later.
Matthew could make out his best friend on the edge of his peripheral vision, dutifully recording a video with his smartphone camera.
"All right, Matthew, for this one, I want you to look down on her and hold eye contact, and we make sure the watch is properly facing out, yes?" the photographer stated, waving his assistants over.
The hair and make-up people came forward to do touch ups and the lighting crew checked the glare from the large lamps set up around the room. They were shooting in a large studio space that was used by Louis Vuitton for runway shows. It had a very industrial and minimalist feel, the venue having not been set up for the show yet. The crew had thrown some white sheets over several large boxes and Matthew and Larissa had spent the past hour posing in different positions.
She turned over on to her back, lying across Matthew's thighs and looking up at him. One of the assistants adjusted the watch on Matthew's wrist until it was approved by the photographer. With the watch in proper position, she brought his other hand down to rest above Larissa's cleavage and placed his other wrist, with the watch on it, over top.
"There, stay like that," she ordered, getting up and leaving them.
Matthew nodded and looked down at Larissa sheepishly.
"Sorry about this," he mumbled.
"What are you sorry for?" Larissa asked.
"Just…erm…my hands…I obviously didn't choose for them to be on your…erm…" he struggled.
She smiled up at him. "I've been through worse."
They kept looking at each other as the photographer moved in and took his photos.
Hermes Boutique, Nice, France, February 2, 2018
Mary frowned at the three silk scarves spread out on the glass counter before her. She crossed her arms over her front, her eyes wandering from one large square sash to the next, weighing the colours and design of each one. They were 36 inches by 36 inches, versatile enough to be worn as a scarf, a bracelet or tied to one of the French label's designer bags. She could picture different outfits she could wear each one with, different bags that matched. That was her problem. She could make any of them work with the many items in her wardrobe. She sighed, perturbed that a decision wasn't forthcoming. Perhaps she should just take all three?
"What do you think? They are beautiful, no?" Aline asked, coming to her side.
"They are," Mary nodded. "I can't seem to decide."
"You cannot decide by just looking at them like this," Aline shook her head. She reached over and picked up one of them. "I like this one. It is so elegant."
She turned and wrapped the scarf around Mary's neck, looping it across her front. She smoothed the ends out, her hands ghosting across Mary's skin as she tucked it into the open neck of her top, just above her bra.
"There. Now, look," Aline ordered, taking Mary by the shoulders and turning her towards the full length mirror on the wall.
Mary looked at their reflection in the mirror. The scarf did look elegant, Aline was right about that. She could not help but notice the model-turned-actress still held her from behind, dark fingers on pale skin. Her grip was warm and firm, her smile white and pleasant.
"It is gorgeous, no?" Aline asked enthusiastically. "It makes any top immediately so much more sophisticated, and the blue goes with so many different colours. You could also wear it out instead of tucked in."
She reached around and pulled the scarf free of Mary's top, straightening the two ends and arranging them over Mary's chest.
Mary nodded slowly, watching the woman's hands. It reminded her of how Aline seemed to draw the focus of the audience in every scene from her films. She had a presence about her on screen, and also in person. Her voice, her height, her beautiful skin tone, darker than mahogany, the total package was all quite captivating. Now that Mary had spent more time with her, she could see how Aline had not only enjoyed a successful modeling career, but was able to transition into acting. She wasn't just a pretty face. She had a vibrant, carefree attitude that was rather refreshing. Even if she only had small roles so far, her talent was palpable.
"These pieces are so useful, they can be worn in different styles," Aline continued, undoing the scarf but keeping it around Mary's neck.
"The choker is very popular," Aline explained, sliding two fingers under the silk so as not to tie it too tight. Her fingers rubbed against Mary's skin as she worked, the warmth of her touch spreading across her neck. She tied the scarf tight and pulled the end around and down the back of Mary's nape. "It stands out more if you have your hair up."
Mary watched as Aline gathered her hair in her hands and lifted it up.
"Do you see?" Aline asked, her smile wide in the mirror, her breath caressing Mary's cheek. "With your hair up, they see the choker more."
Aline ran the tips of her fingers down Mary's neck and along her shoulder. "You look stunning. You should wear this to the party tomorrow!"
Mary raised her chin and turned her head, seeing how the choker looked from different angles. She finally smiled and nodded.
"Yes? You like it?" Aline asked eagerly.
"Yes, I like it," Mary confirmed.
Aline laughed and undid the scarf, pulling it from Mary's neck and setting it back down on the counter. She waved the salesperson over and told her to wrap the chosen one up, leaving the others. After handing over her credit card, Mary rubbed her neck slowly, glancing over at her reflection in the mirror. Her image seemed more staid and conservative without the splash of colour that the choker previously gave her.
"Marie! Let's go! They'll deliver to the house!" Aline called. She took Mary's hand and led her out of the store and down the street to continue their shopping excursion. Mary learned this morning that Aline didn't like hauling her purchases around. She didn't think that home delivery was generally offered to all customers, but considering how much she and Aline had spent so far, the store clerks were more than happy to arrange for it.
"This weather is wonderful!" Aline gushed, putting her sunglasses back on as they strolled. "I don't know if I'll do very well back in Paris. It is too cold at this time of year for me."
Mary smiled in amusement. "I would think you would be used to it, having grown up there."
"I'm used to it, but I still do not like it," Aline laughed. "I used to try and work in South America or Asia when it turned cold, stay away until Spring."
Mary nodded. "Well, you're an actress now. You must endure the horror of spending the Winter in Paris, I'm afraid."
Aline laughed. "I will survive. Papa says that we will be so busy, there will be no time to complain about the weather."
Mary smiled, still not used to Aline referring to Paul as 'Papa'. She didn't do it all of the time, but enough to raise Mary's curiosity. Was she simply referring to him as her mentor and the man who brought her into the film industry? Or, was there something deeper there? They were quite affectionate with each other, and Paul's words to Mary over dinner from months earlier rang in her head. 'A woman who wants to be with me must learn to share me.' Paul was over twice their age, but such relationships between older directors and young ingénues were not uncommon in the business.
"I should not speak so badly about my city," Aline smiled and shook her head. "You will get the wrong idea. I love my city. Paris is unlike anywhere else in all the world."
"It is," Mary agreed. "Although as far as the movie business goes, it lags behind."
Aline scoffed dismissively. "New York, Los Angeles, even London, they are not Paris. There may be more business there, more money, but Papa does not make movies for money."
Mary looked at her curiously.
Aline caught her inquisitive stare.
"In America, it is so different from here. The director answers to the producers, who answer to the studio, and the studio answers to the investors. There is always someone telling everyone else what to do. That is why Papa does not make his films there. Here, he can do what he wants, tell the story that he wants, in the way that he wants it. It is about art, instead of…how you say…materialism? Money."
Mary arched her eyebrow, unconvinced. "Art over money? You're serious?"
Aline laughed in understanding. "Of course he needs money just like anyone else. That is what the party tomorrow is about, in part. But, the difference is that no one is looking over his shoulder, no? No one is constantly checking up on him and asking to see what has been done so far. No one tries to cut his movie down to fit a certain running time or to appease a certain audience. Making movies here is more…pure, at least for him."
Mary looked away, contemplating her words.
"When I first started out, I wanted so badly to go to New York one day," Aline recalled. "I worked in Paris, Milan, Madrid, even Tokyo, but New York was where the supermodels worked, I thought. Europe was the old world. New York was the next level. If you make it there, you make it anywhere, yes?"
Mary laughed. "Something like that."
Aline smiled. "Well, when I finally got there, I was so nervous, and Tom Ford said to me – 'Aline, do not worry. You already walked in Paris, Milan, Madrid, Tokyo. New York will be easy.' I think he lied a little bit to make me feel better, but he was right. My first show was very easy, and I did not think New York was so important after that. All the models that I saw there, even the famous ones, they ended up coming to Paris, to my city, to work. So, you see? It is like this. America – everyone wants to go there. Everyone thinks it is this amazing place. It is nice, yes, but it is not Paris, and one does not need America to be successful."
"So, you have no desire to go work there? You don't want to try and break into films in Hollywood?" Mary asked.
"No, no," Aline frowned, waving her hands in front of her. "Hollywood reminds me of my first jobs as a model – when there were hundreds of girls all fighting to be in the same show. Everyone was so…impitoyable? Ruthless, yes. And so stressed out all the time. There was no fun, no joy. Just business. Money. I wasn't a person, a woman, just a number, a face. I am happier here. Here, I have work, Papa takes care of me, and I do not feel so…stressée…under pressure."
Mary looked at her carefully. "Why weren't you in The Muse? Did Paul not have a role for you?"
"Oh, no. I was not available, and he said that there was only a small part for me even if I could do it. But, he told me he had a better part for me in his next film, and here I am!" Aline replied happily.
Mary nodded. "And what will you do after this one?"
Aline shrugged. "Paul is always thinking about the next project, the next challenge. He said that he has an idea for the next one, and he thinks he has room for me. We will see. I am okay with waiting. If I audition for something else, probably going to be something small. Papa knows me. He knows what I can do. It's easier to work for him."
Mary kept walking. The idea of Aline being Paul's protégé certainly fit with all that she had seen so far. She was obviously in his circle of actors that he liked to work with, but was she only going to be in a supporting role, or was she being groomed to be his lead actress, even as early as the next film? Was Mary's own time with Paul going to be limited to these two films?
"Ah! Here! Come, Marie, come!" Aline cheered. She took Mary's hand and brought her into a nearby store.
2 Place Vendôme, 1er Arrondissement, Paris, France, February 2, 2018
Matthew sipped his water and scrolled over the different news items on his phone. He checked the time – just past noon. He hoped they were almost done. Not only did he not want to stay for too much longer, but he hated dragging Alex along. As easy as it was for his friend to use his tablet to review contracts, answer emails and do most of the work that an entertainment finance lawyer did, having him sit through a photo shoot for most of the day was hardly fair.
He checked his social media, a habit that he had reluctantly gotten into so that he could interact more with his growing fanbase. His Instagram timeline was filled with photos posted by Mary from the French Riviera. There were photos of her dinner at Restaurant de Bacon last night, a shot of the beach and the sea during her run this morning, and a picture of a vibrant blue and white Hermès scarf that she had just bought. He knew that she was taking her followers through small snippets of her day, and also stirring conversation as to why she was in Nice, but the photos only served to remind him that she was away from him.
He was about to go over and chat with Alex when his phone buzzed with an incoming call.
"Joe?" he said, answering the call from his agent's office.
"Matthew! Hello! Hello!" Joe answered cheerfully. "Is this an all right time to talk?"
"Yes, I'm on a break for the Armani shoot. What have you got?" Matthew asked, sipping his water.
"Right, okay then, well, I just wanted to call and say that your travel to London next week is confirmed. The studio has a jet for you and Mary, leaving Paris Le Bourget and flying into London Luton on Wednesday evening. The premiere is on the Thursday evening, and the studio will fly Mary back on the Friday, with your flight booked for Monday," Joe explained.
"Sounds good. We'll need space for Anna and Alex as well," Matthew advised.
"Yes, that's all taken care of," Joe confirmed.
"Good. Thanks, Joe," Matthew stated. The Black Panther premiere next week was a big deal. Marvel and Disney always went all-out for their film debuts, and even though Matthew had a small role in the movie, the amount of press, paparazzi and fans gathered to see him and Mary walk the red carpet would be much larger than they had for Shattered. Given how that London premiere was so horribly interrupted, it would be a bit of redemption to attend this one.
"Now, about the BAFTAs," Joe continued. "They keep calling asking if Mary will be coming with you."
Matthew rolled his eyes. "She hasn't decided yet, I'm afraid."
"Matthew, we're getting up against it now. It's two weeks away, just over," Joe noted, the worry in his voice evident, even more evident than it normally is.
"I know," Matthew replied quickly. "Having my premiere, the BAFTAs and the Oscars all in the same month is difficult. Her filming schedule is already stretched as it is. She's concerned about missing so many days, is all. It's a valid point."
"All right. I'll stall them a bit more, but another week is all they'll give, I imagine," Joe advised.
"Thanks. I'll mention it to her again," Matthew responded.
"Uh, Matthew, we've gotten a fair number of calls for you lately. I wanted to go over them with you," Joe mumbled.
Matthew glanced around the large room. Everyone was busy with some task and it didn't seem as if they were starting up again yet.
"Sure. Go ahead," Matthew answered, walking over to the window. "These are about future films?"
"No, no, they aren't that," Joe stammered. "They're other types of offers."
Matthew blinked in confusion. "All right…"
"Joe! Just tell him!" Phyllis scolding voice rang out in the background.
"Uh, well, it's just that we…I…I've never handled calls like these before. Let's see, uh, yes, all right, there's a gentleman named Mr. Chan. He, or his people, rather, mentioned that they would love for you and Mary to come to some of their exclusive parties over Fashion Week?"
Matthew smiled wryly. "No thanks. He's a promoter. He wants us there so he can charge the club by saying he'll guarantee that we're spotted there. Mary already warned me about such things."
"Oh…I see…all right, that's helpful. Uh, next we have someone calling you on behalf of, uh, 'the homie, Drake'. Apparently, 'the homie' has a concert in Paris in March and is putting you and Mary on the backstage list?" Joe struggled.
Matthew almost burst out laughing. "What's that, Joe? Could you repeat the man's name again, please?"
"Uh, the homie, Drake?" Joe repeated.
Matthew had to put the phone on mute while he laughed heartily.
"Matthew?" Joe called.
Matthew shook his head and unmuted the call.
"Right, yes, Drake, what a man. Alex introduced us in Los Angeles a while back," Matthew managed, still chuckling lightly. "That sounds good. Send the details over and I'll see if Mary wants to go, but I expect I should be able to make an appearance. Next?"
"Next, yes, ah, this one was quite interesting. Lewis Hamilton's assistant called and said that the French Grand Prix will be held in the South of France in July. They said that you wanted to know?" Joe asked.
Matthew smiled and nodded. "Yes. I'm already going to watch the races in Monaco and Silverstone, but I wanted to know about France, as well. I imagine we won't be in Paris in July, but I'll hold that weekend open anyway. Maybe I'll come down for it, depending on how he's doing in the championship."
"We'll make a note of that, then," Joe answered. "We have a number of calls like that – sponsors and event organizers inviting you to Wimbledon, Royal Ascot, those sorts of things. I can have Phyllis send them over for you to look at, and just let us know which ones you want to go to."
"Royal Ascot…I think Mother might enjoy that more than I would," Matthew remarked, only half-joking. "Yes, go ahead. Anything sports related, I'll do. Nightclub invitations and what not, you can probably just turn those down."
"Very well. Any progress on those scripts we sent?" Joe asked.
Matthew shook his head. "Not yet. I might pick something up for April to June, but outside of that, I don't know. The wedding is in September and I would like to take all of August off at least. The last thing I want it to get called back for re-shoots, or have the schedule pushed. Anything I take on has to wrap well in advance of the Fall."
"Understood. Give them a look and let us know," Joe replied.
"You got it. Thanks, Joe. Tell Phyllis I said 'hello'," Matthew stated. "Bye."
He hung up the call just as one of the photographer's assistants waved him back for the next shot.
Lingerie Caroline, Nice, France, February 2, 2018
"This is all so beautiful!" Aline exclaimed, moving through the store and glancing around at the various outfits.
Mary followed behind, decidedly less enthusiastic. While there were some lavish boutiques in the French Riviera, and this one seemed quite sophisticated, she wasn't lacking for underwear. Matthew saw to it that she was actually quite overstocked at all times. There were entire sexy ensembles that he had bought for her that remained unopened in her closet. The man thought that it was normal to wear a bustier and garter belt to bed each night, God bless him.
"I want to find something for our scene at the resort," Aline declared, flipping through a rack of silk corsets. "I hate what they have in wardrobe. It always seems so old, and never fits right."
Mary nodded in agreement. She'd had much the same experience working on Paladin and Shattered. She ended up buying her own lingerie to wear in the love scenes, not really trusting or liking what wardrobe offered.
"I'm going to try these on," Aline announced, waving a store clerk over and having her take some particular items to go and open a change room.
Mary waited patiently, thankful that the French staff was smart enough not to approach her. Casting an idle glance at some of the outfits, she took out her phone and checked her messages. Matthew was on a photo shoot for Armani and was too busy to text. There was the obligatory email from Sybil updating her and Edith on how Emily was doing, complete with photos and video, and complaining about the snow in New York. Her youngest sister also mentioned various protests going on in the city that she and Tom were thinking of attending. For the sake of their baby daughter, Mary recommended they make a donation to the cause instead and avoid the mob.
Her mind wandered to the morning when she and Aline had toured a beach house with Paul, one of the last filming locations they were considering. It was such a contrast having Aline there compared to yesterday when it was just the two of them. Most of the conversation was in French, which wasn't a problem, but was yet another indication of Paul seeming to favour Aline over her. They made constant references to past projects they had worked on together, inside jokes that only they understood, and the Frenchwoman often walked along holding on to the director's arm.
'Remember, Marie, you are the star,' Paul told her before they left Paris. She still believed it, but there was a different dynamic now, one that made her question how the party tomorrow with investors and studio executives would play out. Paul always made her feel as though they were collaborating, as though he was considering her opinion on decisions happening off-camera, that she was more than just an actress to him. With Aline joining them now, she felt more like an actress, assigned scenes and dialogue, and that Paul didn't need her voice on anything else.
"Marie! Come, come!" Aline called from the back.
Mary rolled her eyes and put her phone away as she walked briskly to the change rooms. The store was mostly deserted, leaving just the two of them alone in the back with the store clerks out at the front.
"See what you think," Aline said, opening the door of her change room.
Mary stepped in and closed the door behind her.
Aline was standing at the other end, facing the mirror. She was wearing a red thong and bra, with a lacy corset tied to long sheer stockings. Her thighs and calves were sculpted, but not overly so, and the thong showed off her toned ass quite blatantly. Mary's eyes moved up her back and met Aline's smile in the reflection of the mirror. She could see that the bra raised her perky breasts, the cups barely covering half of them.
"Do you like?" Aline asked.
Mary shrugged. "It's very nice, yes."
Aline pouted and adjusted the bra. "Yes, but what would Orlena think? Remember, when you see me wearing this for the first time, it is supposed to shock you and hold your attention."
Mary cast a more discerning eye over Aline's body. "Red is an interesting colour."
"I did not want black or white," Aline nodded. "Black is so typical, and doesn't really stand out. White, it is not appropriate for the character. I do not think that Ludivine wears very much white."
Aline's knowing laugh echoed around the small space. "For sure, I do not, either."
Mary smirked. "Red is rather bold, yes."
"You should wear white, I think, or maybe nude," Aline mused. "Did you see anything out there that you liked? You could try something on and we can see how we look together."
Mary shook her head. "No, not really. I have plenty at home that I can use."
"Ah, okay. You can show me in Paris," Aline stated. She turned so she could examine her profile in the mirror. She arched her back slightly and appraised her bottom.
"I love how it feels," Aline beamed, running her hands up her front. "It is so soft."
She reached out and took Mary's hand, bringing her closer and placing her fingers on the lace of the corset.
"Do you see? Even the lace is soft like silk, not coarse or rough," Aline commented.
Mary slowly rubbed the material between her fingers, the warmth of Aline's skin beneath her hand. "It's quite nice."
"Okay, there is one more piece I want to show you, so you can think of Orlena's reaction," Aline declared. She turned towards the other items hanging on the wall and undid her bra and corset, leaving her in nothing but her thong and stockings.
Mary waited, her eyes watching closely.
2 Place Vendôme, 1er Arrondissement, Paris, France, February 2, 2018
"I just got back from the gym. You caught me as I was about to jump into the shower," Anna said, her voice playful and light over the phone.
Alex blinked, his eyes looking down at the floor while the studio buzzed with the activity of Matthew's photo shoot. "Really?"
"Yeah," his wife replied. "I was considering not answering."
"But you saw it was me calling and so of course you did," he joked.
"Something like that, yeah," she laughed. "How's the shoot going? Are they almost done?"
"Who knows?" he grumbled. "Matthew's on to his fifth or sixth outfit. This one at least is pretty funny. He's wearing these pants that look like they were made from an old tablecloth."
"Be nice," she scolded him. "He's in demand right now. Everyone probably wants a piece of him."
"I'm sure. If he somehow goes and wins the Oscar, it'll get even crazier," he noted. "Speaking of which, what's going on for the BAFTAs? He told me that Mary still hasn't made up her mind?"
"She would rather not go, ideally," she sighed. "She thinks that Paul's getting annoyed with her skipping out so much lately. When she won the SAG, that was at least her award, but taking time out of filming so she can accompany Matthew to all these premieres and shows is different."
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," he stated.
"I'm just saying," she continued. "He's up for four awards over two months. It's a lot of travel. If he was working on a film right now, he'd be up against it trying to figure out how to fit everything in, too."
"If he was working on a film and Mary was up for these same awards, he would make time, and she would expect him to," he countered. "Don't think he doesn't know that, either."
"I never said I agreed with it, I'm just saying that's what she's thinking," she clarified. "Anyway, they'll sort it out. Don't go getting him all riled up."
"When do I ever?" he asked.
"You have a way of making comments that stick with him, you know you do," she remarked.
"All right, fine. No comments," he sighed.
"Good boy. Now, I should go. I'm freezing," she said.
"Why? It shouldn't be that cold in the apartment," he frowned.
"No, it isn't, but I'm not wearing any clothes," she answered.
His eyes widened. "You…you're not?"
"No. I told you that you caught me right before I was about to jump in the shower," she reminded him.
"Well, I didn't know you were being literal," he mumbled.
"Well, I was. I had to duck under the covers to stay warm," she grumbled.
"Ah," he grunted.
"You like that, don't you? I'm freezing my ass off and all you can think about is me lying naked in bed," she giggled.
"No! That's not true," he objected.
"So you're not thinking about me lying naked in bed, then?" she questioned. "The very thought does nothing for you?"
He groaned. "Well, now that you put it that way…"
"It's a shame that you're still busy with Matthew. You know how much I love showering with you, especially when I'm all sweaty," she teased.
He glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to him. "Love, come on…"
"Mmm, yeah, if only you were here, babes. God, I would go down on you in the shower straight away," she pressed.
He looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. "Stop it."
"Have a good afternoon. Love you," she laughed.
"Love you too," he said tightly. "This isn't over."
"I certainly hope not," she shot back, hanging up the call.
He put down his phone and exhaled. Looking across the set, he willed Matthew to hurry up.
Institut de Beauté, Hôtel Le Méridien Nice, Nice, France, February 2, 2018
Aline hummed in pleasure, her eyes closed, a smile on her lips. She lifted her bare leg at the woman's urging, sighing as she felt nimble fingers caress her calf before rubbing more firmly.
"Marie," she breathed. "Feel good?"
"Mmm hmm," Mary answered from the table next to hers. The masseuse was working on her shoulders, easing the tension without being too painful. After the long day roaming around Nice, a spa session was a brilliant idea. Though they were here to get manicures and pedicures ahead of tomorrow's party, she quickly arranged for facials and massages for them as well. Dinner with Paul wasn't for a while yet, and some pampering would do both of them good.
"Tell me more about this party," Mary asked, keeping her eyes closed. "Is it very stuffy?"
"No, no, it is quite fun!" Aline replied. "It is held at a villa owned by one of Papa's friends, up in the hills overlooking the town and the sea. It is very private and exclusive. Invitation only, and no press or photographers are ever allowed anywhere close. Most do not know that it even happens. The guests usually come in and leave the next day, without anyone knowing they were here."
"That sounds rather mysterious," Mary smiled. "So it isn't just a bunch of boring investors and studio executives."
"No. There are some, yes, but everyone is there for the party. Business is done, yes, but that is not the point of being there," Aline noted.
"And why are we there, then?" Mary asked. "Paul told me it was important that we meet his investors and contacts."
"It is," Aline confirmed. "But we do not discuss business with them. We are there to be seen."
"Ah," Mary noted. "Stand still and look pretty, I suppose."
"Look pretty, yes. Stand still, certainly not! You will see. I will show you," Aline promised.
Both of their masseuses asked that they turn over. Mary opened her eyes and moved on to her back, keeping her towel covering most of her. She glanced over to Aline, who still had her eyes closed. Her towel was draped across her stomach and hips. Her masseuse was working across her chest, just above her naked breasts.
Mary frowned for a moment before lying back and closing her eyes. She breathed deeply as her masseuse moved down to rub her feet.
Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, February 2, 2018
"I'm sorry, darling, but I just don't see how I can possibly manage it. Between your premiere and the Oscars at the beginning of next month, if I add the BAFTAs to that, I'll only be on set every second weekend. Paul will be incensed," Mary explained.
"Surely he can spare you for one Sunday evening?" Matthew noted, smiling encouragingly at her image on the television screen. "We don't have to go to any of the parties. I just think it would be nice if we could go to the BAFTAs together. It is our home show."
"It would be very nice, yes, but hardly realistic. You know how much time it takes for me to get ready for just the ceremony, let alone anything else. I'd need to go up on the Friday at a minimum, which takes away three entire shooting days, to say nothing for the fact that I'd probably be rather useless on Monday as well," she objected.
"Fine, then. Maybe I'll see if Edith wants to go," he muttered. "Mother will be in Singapore by then with Robert and Cora."
"You could always go by yourself," she pointed out.
"I think it would be far less suspicious if I showed up with your sister, as opposed to alone, don't you?" he objected.
"Since when do you care about what's written about us?" she asked, arching her eyebrow at him.
"I wish I didn't have to care. That's not the same as not caring," he grumbled.
"Fine. See if Edith can make it, but just don't let her accost anyone to ask for selfies," she replied haughtily.
"She'll be fine. Accosting people is more Sybil's specialty," he countered.
She laughed ruefully.
"Did you choose a venue yet? Mother mentioned that Cora has been rather busy with planning, lately," he asked, changing the subject.
"No, I haven't really put my mind to it," she admitted. "Mum's always sending me new ideas everyday, whether its centrepieces, flowers, even suggestions on where we'll have our photos taken. I'll look at it all next month. I just want to get through this party tomorrow and get back to Paris."
"I can't see how one party could be so important," he shook his head.
"Apparently it is," she shrugged. "There will be a fair number of power brokers there, to hear Aline tell it. We're supposed to impress them, somehow."
"By doing what?" he asked.
"God knows. Through lively conversation? Anyway, I'm actually relieved that we won't be pitching them on the movie or anything like that. Just smile and laugh and pretend that they're clever, I suppose," she guessed.
"Not unlike most of the Society parties you went to years ago," he joked.
She nodded in agreement. "Hopefully with far better company, but I'm not holding my breath."
"Powerbrokers…powerbrokers that none of us have ever heard of," he muttered.
"They still hold the key to the films being financed, made, and distributed," she noted pointedly. "We need to be on their good side."
"You'll be back in Hollywood soon enough, darling. You're just biding your time here, that's all," he reassured her.
She frowned and looked away. "That's a lovely thought, but for now, I'm here, and I need to make sure I have every advantage I can get. If that means I need to smile and listen to some investor tell me all about his yacht, then so be it."
"Just get through it and get back here. I miss you," he told her, pouting melodramatically.
She rolled her eyes. "That's very sweet. Now, I should get to bed. I'll text you sometime tomorrow. I won't be able to talk because of the party, but I'll see you the day after. Goodnight. Love you."
"Love you too," he nodded, hanging up the call. Once the screen went black, he got up and went over to the windows, looking out on the cold night. Resigning himself to a most boring weekend, he returned to the couch and opened his laptop, hoping that he could get a few more pages of his script done before heading to bed.
Private Villa, Nice, France, February 3, 2018
The first thing Mary noticed was the security. There was a gate at the bottom of the long driveway, and a guard had to examine their invitations before letting their car through. Sentries patrolled the grounds between the gatehouse and the large courtyard where the guests were dropped off. The home was immense, even larger than Alex and Anna's house back in Toronto. It had to be at least 10,000 square feet. The surrounding hills made it difficult to access, which was probably by design. She stepped out of her limo and took Paul's arm, heading inside with Aline on his other side.
The air was crisp inside the house, with hints of vanilla, citrus, rose and lavender. They were greeted and quickly ushered through the foyer and into the main ballroom, a large circular stage set up in the centre. Champagne was promptly provided, and she noticed that the staff were dressed in rather vintage uniforms. The men were all wearing black tuxedos, while the women wore maid outfits, complete with short, black skirts, black stockings, and white aprons and hairpieces.
"Stay close to me," Paul whispered in her ear. "I will introduce you to my friends now."
She smiled and nodded, holding on to him as he headed over to a corner of the ballroom. There were numerous stares thrown their way, and she didn't know if they were for Paul, Aline, or her. She liked to think some of them were for her. She had spent enough time getting ready to deserve that, at least. The choker was snug around her neck, matching well with her cream-coloured strapless dress and more noticeable due to her slicked-back hair drawn up in a bun. Aline had raved about her look when she emerged, though Paul hadn't said anything. Ignoring the stares for now, she followed Paul across the room.
"Paul!" he was welcomed warmly by a group of older men, all of them exchanging handshakes, hugs and cheek kisses as Aline and Mary stood by. After numerous pleasantries were exchanged amongst the group, Paul ushered his actresses over and introduced them. Most of the men already knew Aline, and kissed her with polite familiarity. When Paul ushered Mary into the group, they all looked at her with wide smiles.
"This is Lady Mary Crawley," Paul smiled and nodded. "We have finished our first film, to debut in March, and now we are working on the second."
He gently nudged her in the direction of each man as he was introduced. There was Vincent, the head of a giant multinational media corporation, and Max, the CEO of the studio producing Orlena. Jean-Paul ran a large investment bank and André a billion-dollar hedge fund. Mary greeted them in French, exchanging smiles and cheek kisses all around. They seemed to be far more interested in her than they were in Aline, and she enjoyed the attention, standing by Paul's side and listening to the various conversations. She was asked about Paladin, which had a significant following in France, and even received condolences on Granny's passing. A few of the men noted how they saw her at the Golden Globes when Matthew won, and there was even the odd congratulations on her engagement.
The drinks continued to come, never was she left with a flute empty of champagne or a glass low on vodka before a fresh one was served. She noticed expensive art on the walls and gorgeous chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. It was every bit a lavish party like her family used to host back at Downton Abbey, except that here, she was on her own, Paul being her only chaperone, and he was happy to let her do as she wished.
The opulent setting, playful music from the string quartet, abundant drinks and tasty hors d'oeuvres made her giddy. She didn't know quite what to expect beforehand but this was delightful. She laughed and smiled as stranger after stranger came over to meet her. She didn't keep track of how they knew Paul, or even how they knew of her, but she acknowledged their compliments and smiled benevolently. Her Mum and Aunt Rosamund would have been proud.
"Come. The entertainment is about to start. First, we must drink," Paul whispered, taking her hand.
She laughed and followed him to the bar, where his friends had gathered with several women outfitted in designer dresses and sparkling jewels. The bartenders set out a line of small crystal stem glasses, and placed tiny metal spoons on each rim, upon which rested a sugar cube. Mary watched on with fascination along with the rest of the crowd, wondering what was to come next. Paul brought her forward to get a better look, resting his hand on the bar so that his arm was around her waist.
The bartenders cheered as they brought forth rather ornate decanters of a green liquid. They poured a small amount into each glass with a flourish, moving quickly down the line. Next, they each took up large glass bottles of Evian water, and with careful precision, poured a smaller amount into each glass.
Mary watched as the sugar dissolved into the drink, clouding the green liquid. The bartenders paused before gracefully taking up each spoon and giving the drink a quick stir. The liquid changed to a brighter green, the colour swirling as the sugar and water were mixed together. Mary grinned at the concoction, as if she had watched some potion being prepared before her eyes.
"Absinthe," Paul stated, his voice low and smooth in her ear. "An old French delicacy. The government brought it back years ago, making it legal once again, but we prefer drinking it the old way. It is much stronger, much better."
Mary nodded as a glass was placed before her. She gazed at the green liquid curiously, seeing it appear to glow in the lights from above the bar.
Paul reached past her for his own glass, his absinthe seeming to be a darker shade of green than hers.
"Mine isn't mixed with sugar and water," he explained, taking up his glass. "I prefer it this way."
She nodded and raised her glass to her lips, taking a careful sip. As the smooth drink slid down her throat, she tasted liquorice, sweet and slightly bitter. She had heard legends about absinthe before – how it was supposedly 70% alcohol and had hallucinogenic effects – but this tasted quite nice.
"Good?" Paul asked.
She smiled and nodded before taking a longer sip. "Very good. What about yours?"
"Mine is very strong," he shook his head. "You must have sampled absinthe for years and years before you are able to drink it straight like this."
She arched her eyebrow at him and quickly finished her drink. "I'll have another then."
He smiled and nodded to the bartender.
She leaned on the bar and watched with rapt attention as her second drink was prepared.
"I'm surprised that I've never seen this served at any other party I've been to until now," she noted, smiling when her drink was ready and passed to her.
"American and English parties are all the same – uncultured and flashy," he scoffed. "We are more liberated here in France, especially in the south."
She laughed and shook her head. "You're all secret bohemians, are you?"
He chuckled and nodded. "You see my friends? They are worth billions. You do not see them showing off their cars, their watches, throw their money around as if they have never seen cash before. We are different here. No less powerful. No less rich. But we do not flaunt, or reveal ourselves. We save our indulgences for when we are in private, among friends."
She looked at him carefully as he took another slow sip. She'd been to wrap parties, premieres and awards shows full of celebrities wearing millions in rented diamonds. Paul was right in that this party felt different, the people she met so far seemed different as well. Up until now, she considered this lot inferior to the wealthy and powerful in America. She always assumed that she wanted to get back there as soon as possible, as soon as her exile was lifted. Standing here though, in a private villa overlooking the French Riviera and the Mediterranean Sea, surrounded by billionaires and the leaders of some of the largest entertainment companies in the world, she didn't feel as though she was missing out on anything.
"Come," he smiled, taking her arm. "The entertainment begins."
She took up her glass and followed him towards the stage in the centre of the ballroom, the crowd parting to allow her, Paul and Aline to come through. He stopped them several metres away, giving her a wonderful view. A polite applause rang out as two tall men stepped on to the stage and removed their robes, revealing they were wearing only skin-coloured briefs. Their bodies were firm and taut, covered in muscle. Walking to the centre of the stage, they bowed to the guests before turning to each other. A drum began to beat lightly in the background.
One man squatted and held his arms out in front of him. The second man came around to face him and lifted himself off the stage, balancing himself on his partner's extended arms. He pushed up into a handstand, holding the position while the first kept his arms straight all the while.
The crowd applauded lightly, trying to stay quiet so as not to distract the performers. The two men moved through a series of balancing positions, using their body weight and leverage to take on stunning contortions. At one point, one man was holding himself up entirely on one hand placed on top of the head of his partner. At another, one man did a handstand off the other's raised feet. Mary applauded heartily when they finished and took their bow. Before exiting the stage, the two men turned and kissed each other deeply, to further applause.
"They are beautiful, no?" Aline grinned, speaking to Mary softly as she applauded.
Mary nodded, sipping the last of her second absinthe. "I've never seen anything like that at a party before."
Aline laughed and hugged Mary pleasantly. "That's just the beginning."
Mary's empty glass was taken away and she watched in wonder as more performers came on stage. First was a troupe of pixie-like Chinese dancers, who did a spectacular fan dance with tumbling routines and spins. Next was a pair of topless male swordsmen, who battled each other in a storm of clashing blades and near misses. Once they took their bows and left, a bell chimed, leading to excited murmurs through the crowd.
"Come! Let's go!" Aline gushed excitedly, taking Mary's hand and pulling her towards the hallway.
"Where are we going?" Mary asked in amusement, laughing freely. She glanced back but saw no sign of Paul.
"The bell means the guests are allowed to explore," Aline explained. "The entire house is full of rooms with more performers and secrets to discover. It's what everyone looks forward to at the party every year – the moment we are set free."
Mary arched her eyebrow in confusion, but allowed the tall woman to lead her upstairs and down a darkened hall. They passed other guests moving from one room to another, different music ringing out as doors were opened and closed.
The first room they found seemed to be a library that had been converted into a jazz club, complete with a band and a sultry soul singer. Mary and Aline stayed for a song or two before leaving and going to another room. The second was a parlour and featured a scene straight out of the Moulin Rouge, a cabaret with scantily clad dancers and booming music. Mary and Aline laughed at the sight, admiring how limber the girls were before leaving to allow some drooling men to go in.
Mary lost track of time as she wandered through the house. She was delightfully buzzed, the strong kick of the absinthe setting in. The lights and colours all around her seemed more vibrant and vivid, as though she was seeing things was a razor sharp focus. At one point, somewhere between the stand-up comedian in the gallery and the speed painter in the empty bedroom, she lost Aline and went forward on her own, a thrill of anticipation filling her each time she opened a new door. It was strange how each new room seemed as if it were in a different place. In some rooms, she was the voyeur watching on in fascination, others she felt like she was part of the show. It all served to give a sense of detachment, reinforcing what Paul had said before. This was a private party, removed from the outside world, with its own rules.
Eventually she wandered back downstairs, the ballroom much emptier than before, the stage unused. Seeing no sign of Paul, she made her way down the hall to the back of the house. Though there was a slight chill in the night air, the terrace was open and some of the guests had come out here to have a smoke and admire the gorgeous view down to the sea.
She went over and leaned on the rail, smiling at the lights along the beach in the distance and the dark waves of the water. The moon was peeking out through the clouds above, casting a pale silver light over the area. She closed her eyes and smiled, letting the night wash over her.
"Here you are," Aline said, coming over and standing next to her.
Mary smiled up at her. "It's wonderful out here."
"The view is amazing, yes," Aline agreed, glancing out to the hills before looking at Mary again. "It has been a good party, yes?"
Mary nodded. "Like passing into a secret garden, or something."
She laughed and covered her mouth to compose herself.
"What was your favourite moment?" Aline asked, leaning towards her.
Mary looked up at the night sky and contemplated the question. "I would probably have to say the absinthe. First time I ever tried it. It was quite good."
Aline laughed and nodded.
"What about you? Anything memorable happen for you tonight?" Mary asked lightly.
Aline grinned. "Not quite yet, but it is looking promising."
Mary laughed.
Aline glanced past her and smiled.
"Turn around. Paul and his friends are over there having a smoke," Aline whispered.
Mary glanced to her left. Paul was huddled in a corner, puffing away on a cigar with his friends that Mary had met earlier in the evening. He didn't seem to notice Mary and Aline across the room.
"Do you know why they're all interested in you? Why they were watching you back in the ballroom?" Aline whispered in her ear.
Mary smirked. "I'm the new girl, the shiny new toy."
"Yes, is true, but you're so much more," Aline continued. "They see you as a star, and they want to be able to say they saw you at the beginning, that they were part of your rise."
Mary surveyed the men carefully. They were all laughing and smoking, carefree and at ease. Still, she could almost see the machinations playing out in their minds, each of them with his own scheme, his own designs, his own power play to make even more money, achieve more success. They were all industry heavyweights, and the thought that these powerful men were all focused on her, even if just for one night, was intoxicating.
"What rises can also fall," Mary hissed bitterly. "I've been around men in the business who wanted to raise me up before. None of them were around when I came crashing back down."
"But that is the beauty of it," Aline sang in her ear. "You have been betrayed already before. This is your chance to make it outside of Hollywood, succeed without them."
"Yet I would just be trading one master for another, wouldn't I?" Mary mused. "I must still rely on others to decide my fate."
"Maybe not," Aline replied. "Not if you show them you cannot be controlled so easily. Not if you show them that they need you more than you need them."
Mary turned and looked at Aline curiously. She was standing a breath away now, her dark gaze looking from Mary's eyes down to her lips and back up again.
Mary looked back at Paul and his gang. The director puffed on his cigar for several seconds before letting out a plume of blue grey smoke. As the haze lifted slightly, his eyes found hers. He pursed his lips and watched her closely. She saw curiosity and expectation in his gaze, as well as a question of some sort. She felt like they were back in Toronto in that small audition room, where they first met, where she had taken up his challenge to show him she was different from any other actress he knew.
She turned back to Aline, still feeling Paul's stare upon her. Aline's parted lips drew her attention before she looked up at her eyes.
"He's watching you," Aline whispered, her words sending a shiver up Mary's spine.
Mary nodded. "I want to rehearse something."
Aline frowned slightly. "Rehearse? Rehearse what?"
Mary reached up and seized the back of her neck and pulled her down towards her. Turning her head so that Paul could get a clear view, she kissed Aline firmly, pressing their lips together, holding the taller woman in place for a frozen moment before releasing her.
Aline blinked and gasped, staring into Mary's eyes in surprise.
Mary gave her a teasing smirk. She left the terrace without a word to Aline, or another look at Paul.
Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, February 3, 2018
Matthew bolted upright, a jolt hitting him as his ears picked up the sound of Mary's ringtone. He scrambled around, searching for his phone. Locating it finally in its usual place on the nightstand, he stared at the bright screen with bleary eyes, blinking tiredly as he answered the video call.
Mary's smiling face appeared on the screen.
"Darling? It's 3 a.m. Are you all right?" he asked.
"I'm fine, darling. I'm sorry to call you so late. I just got back in," she replied, looking and sounding far more energetic than he felt.
"Ah. Well, how was the party?" he asked, settling back against the pillows and holding his phone on his chest so he could see her face.
"It was quite fun," she nodded. "Quite unlike any party I've ever been to. I met some rather interesting characters, to be sure."
"The glitterati of French cinema," he mumbled, giving her a wry smile.
She laughed and nodded. "Matthew, I wanted to apologize for yesterday, or two days ago now, technically."
He frowned and rubbed his face, trying to remember what happened back then. "Huh? For what?"
She smiled patiently. "For saying that I wouldn't go with you to the BAFTAs and making light of the whole thing, as if it wasn't important. I'm sorry for being so flippant about it. I know what an honour it is for you, and you were right. It would be wonderful and special for us to go back home for the awards show."
He nodded and yawned. "That's all right. You're busy. I understand."
"Yes, you are more understanding than I deserve," she smirked, looking down for a moment.
He hummed contentedly. "I'm sure Edith and I will have a good time, so it's all sorted."
She smiled. "Edith isn't going. You're my man and it's my place to be at your side, win or lose."
His eyes widened as he tried to rouse himself fully. "What?"
She nodded. "I'm going with you. We'll fly up on Saturday morning and come back late Sunday."
He shook his head in confusion. "But I thought that you were busy filming and that you couldn't spare so many weekends?"
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I did say that, and I was quite mad, obviously. The truth is that we can never take these moments for granted. I know you don't put very much weight in things like awards and box office numbers, but this is such an exciting time in your career, and you should enjoy it as much as you can. Who knows what's coming? So many times you came to shows for me, even when you couldn't sit with me or enjoy it fully. I want to be there with you. I never should have tried to pick and choose what show to go to over another. You're going to be my husband and I don't want to miss a single moment. So, if the invitation still stands, then yes, Mr. Crawley, I would be honoured to be your date for the BAFTAs."
He laughed and sat up, fully awake now. "Lady Mary Crawley, the honour is all mine."
She grinned and nodded. "Thank you. Thank you for putting up with me. I hate that I sometimes forget just how steadfast you've been. I want to support you. You deserve at least that."
His face was lit up now. "What about Paul? Won't he be annoyed at losing his star for so many weekends?"
She smirked. "He'll just have to make do until I return. I'm not his. I'm yours."
"God, I wish you were here right now," he rasped, his eyes staring at her hungrily.
"I know. I'm going straight to the set once we land tomorrow, but I hope you haven't made any plans for tomorrow night because you are going to be quite occupied from the moment I get back," she promised, arching her eyebrow at him teasingly.
"I can't wait," he nodded eagerly.
She laughed. "Well, maybe I can give you something to tide you over."
He blinked. "Really? That would be great."
She shook her head in wonder. Other men would still be angry with her over how selfish she'd been acting lately, but not him.
"Lie back and make yourself comfortable, darling," she urged him.
He settled back down against the pillows, propping up his phone on her side of the bed.
She placed her tablet at the foot of her bed and sat up so he could get a full view.
"Now, here's some practice for you. You're going to get to play the director," she stated sultrily. "Tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it."
He let out a choked breath as he watched her remove her robe, revealing she was wearing nothing underneath.
"Ready?" she asked mischievously.
He nodded eagerly, his imagination running rampant. "Action."
Private Villa, Nice, France, February 3, 2018
"Your Lady Mary Crawley is quite the woman."
Paul nodded. "She is. You see what I was talking about?"
"Indeed. She is a prize."
"We still have months left before we finish this movie. She is committed to helping to promote The Muse also. I can see her staying with us at least through summer," Paul nodded.
"Will she commit to a third movie?"
Paul smiled. "I will see that she does."
