All That Glitters (18 page)

‘It was Nash,’ Ella replied quietly, and she shifted slightly and sunk back into the softest pillow she’d ever rested on. ‘He wanted to know where I was. And who was with me.’

Johnny raised an eyebrow. ‘So what did you tell him?’

‘I told him about us,’ Ella said simply. ‘I had to.’

Johnny pulled Ella towards him and kissed her on top of her head. ‘And what did he say?’

‘What could he say? He’s never really liked me, and I think I’ve made him hate me even more. He’s concerned that if news of our relationship gets out that I’ll ruin my marriage to Danny for ever, and it will reflect badly on him.’

Johnny held Ella tightly. ‘But it can’t be a great marriage if you’re here with me,’ he said. ‘Isn’t it already ruined?’

Ella shut her eyes. How could she explain her relationship with Danny without giving away his secrets?

‘What I have with Danny is special,’ she began slowly. ‘We have a great marriage, but we don’t have sex that much.’

‘So, what, if you had more sex with your husband I’d be out of the picture?’ Johnny asked. His voice was tense.

‘No!’ Ella exclaimed. ‘What I mean is I don’t feel that way about him. I love him, but it’s like the sort of love you have for a brother. There’s no passion, no extremes. There’s no spark. Not like what I have with you. I’ve never had anything like this with anyone.’

‘Not even with Fin?’ Johnny asked quietly, and Ella struggled to contain her surprise at how insecure he was being.

‘Not even with Fin,’ she confirmed.

‘So leave him,’ Johnny said simply. ‘You don’t have the feelings for Danny that you have for me, so you should leave him. Be with me. Let’s make a home and put our 1960s naked girl photos on our bedroom wall.’

‘I can’t,’ Ella replied, and it physically hurt to get the words out. ‘I promised Danny a marriage, and I can’t leave him.’

Johnny leapt out of bed. ‘You’re not making sense,’ he said angrily, and for the first time Ella could see a flash of frustration in his blue eyes that wasn’t sexual. ‘You don’t love him. Not like you love me.’

Silence hung in the air, and Ella drew her knees up to her chest under the expensive sheets of the bed.

‘I
do
love you,’ she admitted. ‘I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. But I can’t leave my husband. Not yet.’

Johnny looked torn. ‘So what am I meant to do?’

‘Wait for me?’ Ella asked in a small voice. ‘Danny isn’t my happy ever after – you are. I’m just not in a position to be there yet.’

Johnny sighed and sat down on the bed again. He put his arms around Ella and kissed the tears that had begun to run down her face.

‘I’ll wait for you for ever, princess. Of course I will. You’re everything to me, my whole world, and hopefully my future, too.’ Johnny’s ice-blue eyes began to well up in tears, and Ella clung to him. ‘I’m so in love with you,’ he said huskily. ‘You’re incredible. You’re the one.’

‘You’re the one too,’ Ella said honestly. Not only did she believe it, but she felt it, too. She felt it with her whole body. Johnny was her soul mate.

‘I’ve had the most perfect weekend with you,’ Johnny whispered. ‘I want you to remember this weekend for ever. And know that if you left Danny for me, our life would be as amazing as this all the time.’

Ella choked back her tears. This really had been the best weekend of her life.

So long as she had Johnny in her life, everything would be perfect. He was her Prince Charming. Her all.

Chapter Twelve

The mid-morning sun was streaming through the window of the Empire Suite at the Georges V. Ella and Johnny had woken up and had long and luxurious sex, and after a decadent bubble bath and a lazy breakfast, they decided to hit the streets of Paris again.

‘What shall we do today?’ Ella asked Johnny as she gazed in the mirror and applied a touch of mascara. She didn’t bother with any other make-up – why would she? She was glowing.

‘Whatever you want, sweetheart,’ Johnny replied absently. He’d been standing on the balcony taking in the view, but he didn’t seem very relaxed.

‘Perhaps another museum?’ Ella suggested. ‘Or a gallery?’

Johnny shrugged – he was fidgeting, and he appeared distracted. Ella walked over to him, wrapped her slender arms around his broad back, and rested her head on his shoulder. As soon as she began to kiss his neck she felt his muscles relax.

‘Is something the matter?’ Ella asked.

Johnny turned to face her and grinned. It was that sexy, wolfish smile that got her every time.

‘I’m just sad today’s our last day of being together like this,’ he admitted. Despite his smile his cold blue eyes were downcast, and Ella knew he was struggling with reality: they were together now, but soon they’d have to go back home. She’d return to Castle House and her perfect, footballer’s-wife life, and he’d go back to Hampstead to rattle around by himself. She could see why he felt wretched.

‘But I don’t want to ruin it by being miserable,’ Johnny continued. ‘Everything’s perfect – and today’s going to be great, even better than yesterday.’

Ella smiled tenderly at him. ‘So shall we go?’

Johnny looked Ella up and down appraisingly. She was wearing a black lace Stella McCartney dress that clung to every curve, and bow-embellished Miu Miu flats. She looked gorgeous.

‘Let’s go.’

Johnny took her hand, and they strolled into the lift laughing and talking quietly to each other. As the lift glided from the eighth floor downwards they started to kiss, and they were so lost in each other that they barely noticed when the doors to the lift opened up in the foyer. Ella laughed and tried not to blush as a couple of American tourists caught them in action, and she practically skipped along the polished marble floor as they crossed the foyer. When they reached the doorman he greeted them with a warm smile, and Ella didn’t think life could be more complete than what she was experiencing right here, and right now.

Johnny took Ella’s hand again, and he was just telling her how much he’d love to fuck her in the serene Jardin des Tuileries, when—

Flash! Flash! Flash!

For a moment Ella didn’t know what was going on, and her first thought was that lightning was crashing down on them. But then she heard her name being called, and as she squinted through the lights, she saw them: paparazzi, half hidden behind the carefully pruned bushes that divided Avenue George V in two.

‘Ella! Ella, over here!’

‘Johnny! How long have you been poking your co-star?’

‘Ella! Does Danny know you’re cheating on him?’

‘Ella! Don’t footballers do it for you any more?’

‘Ella! Ella! Ella!’

They both froze in the lights, and then Johnny sprang into action. He dropped Ella’s hand, spun her around and pushed her back into the hotel.

‘Oh my God,’ Ella whispered, as they rushed back to the lift and to the safety of their suite. ‘How do they know?’

‘Know?’ Johnny said. He looked as shocked as she was.

‘Know that we’re having an
affair
,’ Ella practically yelled.

Johnny sat on the edge of the bed and ran his hands through his hair.

‘We were holding hands,’ Johnny said simply. ‘If we weren’t having an affair I doubt we’d be doing that.’

Ella slumped on the floor and burst into tears.

‘Oh my God,’ she cried again. ‘This is so awful. I knew we shouldn’t have stayed here; I knew it was too open, too obvious . . .’

Johnny kneeled in front of her.

‘Shh, Princess. Shh. It will be okay. It might not be okay for a day or two, but it will be okay.’

Ella shook her head. ‘It’s never going to be okay. Everyone’s going to know I’ve been cheating on Danny. My reputation is ruined.’

Johnny stroked her hair quietly until her tears ran out.

‘I promised him,’ Ella moaned. ‘I promised Danny I wouldn’t get caught out, but I have. I’ve fucking ruined everything.’

Ella began sobbing in earnest, and there were no words that could rescue her from her desolation. No words that could comfort her. Johnny sat with her for half an hour, and then, when she’d calmed down, he lifted her up, put her in the bed, and kissed her all over her body.

‘This is so fucking bad, you have no fucking idea!’ Aaron roared the next day, as Ella and Danny sat very still, and very upright in their seats in the drawing room of Castle House. ‘You stupid fucking whore!’

‘Aaron, seriously, I’m as angry as you, but there’s no need for language like that.’

‘Oh no, posh boy?’ Aaron spat at Nash. ‘You fucking tell me what language is appropriate when
your
client goes and messes up the biggest football brand in the UK at the moment. Do you have any shitting idea how much money I stand to lose because of this?’

Aaron paced the room, not caring if pieces of furniture got in his way or felt the wrath of his kicks. What use were Hepplewhite cabinets or a Chippendale chairs when your clients couldn’t even keep their knickers on? That’s if they even
wore
knickers. Aaron wasn’t sure Ella did.

‘There’s no proof that Ella’s having an affair,’ Nash said calmly, and Ella looked at him in surprise. Was he on her side? ‘All the newspapers have are photos of Ella and Johnny holding hands. It could be seen as a friendly thing. Or we could say that Ella hurt her foot and Johnny was helping her. There are a million ways we can spin this.’

‘Don’t give me that,’ Aaron yelled. ‘They’re having an affair and the sexual tension in that photo is bloody obvious. What were you even
doing
in Paris?’ He spun and turned on Ella. His black hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, and he looked like a thug. She tried not to shrink in her seat, but it was hard not to.

‘Having sex,’ Ella said as honestly as she could. But as soon as it left her mouth she knew it was the wrong thing to say. It had sounded glib. Like she didn’t care.

‘Having sex?’ Aaron screamed. ‘We didn’t give you this lifestyle, these designer clothes, these jobs, so you can have fucking sex with a two-bit TV presenter. You’re here for one reason only – to be the best footballer’s wife you can be. And now you’re nothing.
Nothing
. And you could take down Danny with this. Is that what you want? You stupid little cow.’

‘I’m sure it will all be okay,’ Danny piped in, but Aaron turned on him too.

‘Oh what do you know? All you know about is playing football. You know fuck all. You’re useless, the lot of you.’

‘Aaron,’ Nash said firmly. ‘I really think you should calm down and think about the situation. Yes, it looks bad, but there’s no proof about what Ella’s been getting up to, and we can sort this out. We can sue.’

‘How can we sue if the papers are right?’ Aaron bellowed. ‘She’s been fucking him! She just bloody admitted it!’

‘Can you please stop talking about me like I’m a hooker,’ Ella said, her voice wobbly. ‘I know I’ve messed up, but like Nash said, there has to be a way out of this.’

Aaron eyed Ella for a moment. Even though this was the darkest moment of his career, and he hated Ella with a passion that he hadn’t known existed, he was still struck by how lovely she was. She was dressed in a simple cream Fendi dress, and despite her face being pale and her hair hanging limply, Ella exuded glamour and natural beauty.

‘A way out of this? Says who?’ Aaron remarked, as he narrowed his eyes. ‘Says Little Miss Slut, here?’

‘Really, that’s enough!’ Nash said, and he stood up. ‘Aaron, you’re obviously upset, but insulting Ella is not going to help. I suggest you go outside and get a breather, and we’ll talk about this when you’re calm.’

‘Are you telling me what to do?’ Aaron said in a low voice, as he squared up to Nash. Nash was big and burly, but he was nothing compared to Aaron, who’d grown up in the boxing rings of the East End of London.

‘I am,’ Nash replied calmly, and there was a moment’s pause as both men eyed each other. Ella held her breath, and then Aaron backed down.

‘I’m not fucking happy about this,’ Aaron muttered, and he stormed out of the drawing room and slammed the door behind him.

Ella, Nash and Danny all breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Oh shit,’ Ella said, as she massaged her temples and shut her eyes. She slumped back on the Chippendale chair and dug her bare feet into the Oriental rug. ‘I’ve really messed up, haven’t I?’

‘Well, yes, you have,’ Nash said, his eyes flashing with restrained anger.

‘What are our options?’ Danny asked calmly, and Ella looked at him properly for the first time since she’d arrived back from Paris. He looked pale and drawn, and Ella felt a pang of regret. She’d hurt him.

‘First of all, we can issue a statement saying that Ella and Johnny are just friends, and that they were in Paris for research purposes,’ Nash began. ‘Although I’m not sure how that will wash with the press. They’re not likely to believe it.’

‘So what else can we do?’

‘We can get an injunction out, which will effectively stop the papers and magazines from writing about the affair, but if we do that it’s almost like admitting guilt. And it won’t stop the rumours on the web.’

Ella rubbed at her eyes. She was trying very hard not to cry and to stay strong, but she still couldn’t quite believe this was happening. She couldn’t believe that this was the consequence of her falling in love.

‘We can admit the affair, of course,’ Nash continued. ‘We can say Johnny seduced Ella, and that it was a one-off moment of weakness on her part. Make him out to be the bad guy—’

‘No!’ Ella yelled. ‘We can’t do that. This isn’t just his fault.’

‘Or we can do nothing. We can say nothing, you can put on a united front, and it can be business as usual. It’s worked for footballers in the past when they’ve been caught in difficult situations, and it could work again.’

‘I don’t know what’s for the best,’ Danny mumbled. ‘Everyone thinks Ella’s cheated on me. What if they start digging into our relationship? What if they discover the truth? That’s the last thing I want.’

‘If we put out an injunction, journalists will definitely start examining you both a lot more closely. They’ll want to know what it is you’re hiding.’

‘So we won’t do that,’ Danny said. ‘And I don’t think we should admit the affair either. It reflects badly on me. Like I’m not a real man. Like I can’t keep my wife happy.’