§ § § -- September 12, 1997: Fantasy Island
Lunch had been sumptuous and Julian had been impressed with it. Afterwards, he and Melanie had gone to the pool, where the man had attracted just about every woman in sight—not only single ones, but married ones as well, which made for some very angry husbands. Many of them, flocking around him, observed with wonder that he reminded them of "Julian Noble, that sexy hero in those fabulous books." Melanie, watching him, had been unwillingly flattered at the compliment to her writing, but simultaneously almost as annoyed as the men. In some ways she had to admit that she was to blame; this was, after all, one of the attributes she herself had assigned to the character. So why, then, did his easy, careless way with women get so far under her skin?
Finally she had had enough and wormed her way through the throngs of females surrounding Julian till she caught his attention. "Okay, Julian, enough of this. Let's go."
"Excuse me?" Julian said, staring at her. "Look, if you want to go, then go. I'm going to stay. Too many pretty women around here—I don't have much time, and I intend to meet every last one of them that's here."
"Well, you can't. That would be impossible," Melanie informed him. "At least take a break, anyway. I thought you and I could hit the casino and see if we have some luck."
Julian waggled his eyebrows. "I always have luck," he said, sweeping a quick look around his gang of admirers, and they all laughed. "Go ahead, Melanie."
She scowled, frustrated. "What about dinner?"
"Don't wait for me," he said, shrugging.
"Julian, look." Melanie grabbed his arm and glared at him. "You're with me, understand? We're together. You're supposed to be helping me. Don't forget, that's why you were brought here in the first place."
"So when are the auditions?" Julian asked with strained patience.
"Tomorrow," Melanie said.
He nodded decisively once. "Fine, then we don't really have to meet till tomorrow," he said. "You'll be okay on your own till then."
Desperate, she tightened her grip on his arm. "Julian, please," she insisted. "At least spend some time with me this evening, will you? I still need to know some things about you. Besides, I offered to be your hostess, and it's pretty rude of you to run out and do your own thing without even thinking of me."
Julian's eyes narrowed. "Don't cling, Melanie," he warned her.
"I'm not—" she began.
"Look," Julian broke in, cutting her off. "I can already see the signs—you're getting too attached to me. You were on me like a barnacle at lunch, sitting right beside me the whole time. Now you keep insisting that I spend my time with you. Don't get possessive. You, of all people, ought to know that I'm the last guy any woman can keep for more than one night. I'll meet you tomorrow for the auditions, but that's it. Until then, there's no real reason for us to hang out. Now go to the casino or something, but lay off me." And before Melanie could quite recover from her disbelief, he hung his arms across the shoulders of the nearest two women and moved away from her without another glance.
Finally Melanie stalked out of the pool area, seething and muttering to herself. "So he thinks he can just hang out with any female he wants, huh? He keeps conveniently forgetting that I created him—he has to do what I say he does! Just wait till he falls in love and he finds out the woman doesn't care a whit about him! Wait'll it happens to him! And wait till my next book! I'm going to write in a hot and heavy romance and make him fall crazy in love, and then the girl's going to just up and walk out on him without looking back and he'll be absolutely as miserable as I can make him! And he'll never be free again as long as he lives! He's going to think of nothing but her for all his days…oh, just you wait…"
"Are you all right, Ms. Downs?" someone asked, and Melanie stopped short on the path, startled to see Roarke standing in front of her as if having just materialized from the air. His expression was a mixture of concern and not-quite-hidden amusement.
Melanie grew hot with embarrassment. "Okay, so you caught me talking to myself. I was just blowing off some steam."
"What about, if I may ask?" Roarke inquired.
She heaved a huge sigh and hung her head, watching her feet as they strolled along. "It's Julian, Mr. Roarke. All he wants to do is let women fawn all over him."
"Indeed," said Roarke with interest. "But is that not one of the character's most famous traits—his attractiveness to women?"
Melanie nodded. "True," she said grudgingly. "Right now, though, it's about the most annoying thing on the planet. I was just thinking—my next book, I'm going to make him finally fall really in love for the first time in his life, just to get revenge. And more than that, whoever he falls in love with will simply walk away, and the experience will haunt him for the rest of his life…or the end of the Julian Noble books, whichever comes first."
Roarke raised an eyebrow; he might have laughed, but she sounded serious. "So," he said, "you are seeking revenge on him because he doesn't return your interest in him."
That stopped Melanie again. "What?" she demanded.
"Ms. Downs, though you may not see it, I believe you are falling in love with your own fictional character," Roarke said. "What you are saying betrays jealousy." She gawked at him, rendered speechless, and he nodded. "Think about it…do you see the pattern?"
Melanie's gaze slid out of focus and to one side as she considered what had been happening that day, and slowly her features grew suffused with realization. "Oh no," she breathed at last and met Roarke's sympathetic gaze. "Now that you mention it, I can see it. In fact, I think I might have been half in love with him long before I ever asked you to bring him to life." The admission clearly cost her a good bit of her pride; she was turning very red in the face, and Roarke put a hand on her shoulder.
"You are falling for a fantasy," he said gently. "I'm sure you understand that it's not at all healthy for you."
"What I don't understand is why he doesn't feel the same thing for me," Melanie protested. "I mean, I created him! I'm the one who decides what characteristics he has! How can this be happening?"
Roarke said, "As a fictional character, on the page, Julian Noble is indeed under your complete control, and can do or be anything you wish. But he has been brought to life for these two days: and while he is an actual flesh-and-blood being, he is a soul unto himself. He is now capable of making his own decisions and acting upon them, independently of you; therefore, you can no longer ascribe your chosen qualities to him and must deal with him as he is, and as he chooses to be."
Melanie digested this in silence. When she met Roarke's gaze again, her eyes had taken on a glassy sheen. "What'm I gonna do now, Mr. Roarke?"
"I suggest that you concentrate on the task at hand—choosing an actor from the ranks of those who would like to portray Julian Noble in the film," Roarke said.
"Will you come with me, then?" Melanie asked hopefully, facing him with a pleading look. "I could sure use your input—it's always good to have someone there who isn't as deeply involved. You're impartial, and I'm sure you'd have some good suggestions."
Roarke smiled. "Well, perhaps I can be of some assistance. Very well, Ms. Downs, if you will come to the main house tomorrow morning half an hour before the auditions are to begin, I will accompany you and try to provide advice."
"Thank you so much, Mr. Roarke—you don't know what that means to me. I think you'll be a big help." Melanie smiled a little self-consciously. "Actually, you already have been. I really appreciate everything you're doing this weekend."
"Not at all," said Roarke dismissively. "Don't worry about Julian—I'm sure that you'll see him again eventually. In any case, he will cease to exist after tomorrow evening, except as a figment of your imagination."
Melanie grinned ruefully. "That's probably a good thing. Okay, see you tomorrow, Mr. Roarke…and again, thanks so much." She headed away down the path, and Roarke lingered a moment, watching her go. Fleetingly he considered having Julian Noble brought to the main house, but decided against it. When all was said and done, Roarke himself could take charge of the situation if necessary, and he doubted it would be. After all, Julian Noble wasn't Jack the Ripper—and he'd dealt with that personage once! Chuckling to himself, he continued down the path.
§ § § -- September 12, 1997: Tokyo, Japan
The suite in which Christian and Marina were staying was essentially an apartment, located on the top floor of the hotel. When Christian and Leslie came in, Marina stood up from her chair and came to meet them at the door. "Hello, Christian…and welcome, Leslie. It's good to see you again—you're looking well."
"Thank you," said Leslie and smiled. "How's your trip been going?"
"It's very tiring," Marina said, "and I grow weary much too quickly. But Japan is a lovely place, and I find it impossible to resist. Come and sit, both of you, and let's decide what we'll have for dinner."
They consulted a menu on the low coffee table and chose several appealing items; then Marina called in the order. "While we wait," she said, "tell me, Leslie, how is life on Fantasy Island lately?"
Leslie grinned. "Never boring, I can say that," she remarked, and they all laughed. "I don't think there's a more interesting job in the world than the one I have."
"Is it breaching privacy to ask about some of the fantasies?" Marina asked, bright-eyed with intrigue. "I'd love to hear about them."
"I can speak in generalities," Leslie said. She went on to regale Christian and Marina with stories of fantasies Roarke had granted in the last few months; in the midst of one of her tales, their dinner arrived and they moved their conversation to the table. In the lull following Christian's and Marina's laughter at an anecdote, she swallowed a bite and asked casually, "How's your father, Marina?"
Marina's cheer vanished and her eyes lost their twinkle. Christian's features seemed to seal over, and he began to eat with particular vigor. Marina glanced fleetingly at him, opened her mouth as if to speak, then hesitated. Leslie looked up from her plate and went still, a little surprised by their reactions to her offhanded question.
Marina put her fork down after another moment and drew in a slow breath. "Leslie, may I speak frankly?" she asked.
"Of course," Leslie said, mystified.
"I am very worried about my father, to tell you the truth," Marina said slowly. Her voice seemed more whispery than usual, Leslie thought. "You see, my father and my sister both have the same terminal disease I do. Papa has had it for so many years, I'm not sure when he first contracted it. In fact, it's something of a miracle he still lives. Perhaps it's the amakarna…I don't know. It may be the only thing keeping him going."
"That, and seeing to it that Marina and I stay married," muttered Christian.
Marina smiled just a little. "That too, I suppose. In any case, even amakarna and his will to live won't be enough, and the disease will eventually kill him, just as it will my sister and me. Of course, as you've just heard, there's no love lost between Papa and Christian."
Leslie's own smile was wry and rueful. "So I noticed." Christian looked up at that and added a tight smile to theirs, but remained silent.
"I think you should know," Marina went on, "that if Papa passes on before I do, I'll see to it that things change. I will have this marriage annulled, and Christian will be free to return to Fantasy Island and wed you, Leslie. Once Papa is gone, everything will be under my control, and the ties that currently bind Christian and me will no longer have reason to exist. I'll continue to provide King Arnulf and his family with amakarna, without strings attached to the transactions. In that way, not only will you and Christian be together, so will my own love and I, for however long I have to live."
Both Christian and Leslie stared at her; Leslie, moved by Marina's quiet declaration, reached out and gripped her hand. "I can't tell you how grateful I am."
"I too, Marina," Christian said with a warm smile at her. "I must admit, you've proven to be a very good friend to me throughout all this—not to mention uncommonly shrewd. You know exactly how to handle my cold-hearted brother and your father."
"You flatter me, Christian," Marina remarked through a chuckle. "But I appreciate it. Now for the frank part."