Married Lovers (22 page)

T
he young couple Anya worked for, Diana and Seth Carpenter, were both lawyers and dedicated to their work. Every morning Anya arrived at their apartment promptly at eight thirty. Shortly after that, Diana and Seth left together. Once in a while Seth returned home at lunch-time, locked himself in the cubby-hole he called his home office, and worked on his computer.

Anya began studying him carefully. In her young life she’d observed many men, and Seth did not seem like the men who’d visited the brothels she’d worked in. He was quite serious, not at all sexual, and extremely work-oriented.

On some days she asked him if he would like her to fix him lunch. Occasionally he said yes, and while she was busy making him a sandwich he would play with the baby for a few minutes and make some phone calls. Then he would eat his sandwich and leave again.

Anya continued to study him. Seth Carpenter was a very tense man, he did not seem at all happy.

Sometimes when Anya arrived early in the morning, she heard Seth and his wife fighting. It happened more than once a week. The two of them argued about money, and his mother whom Diana didn’t like. They argued about the phone bill and how much time he spent on his computer. They argued about the clothes she wore and how long it took her to get ready. In fact, they argued about everything.

As the days, weeks and months drifted by, Anya formed a master plan. Her plan included never allowing herself to be used by men again
. She
would use
them
to make something of herself. They deserved to be used, they were all pigs, even if they presented a decent front–like Seth. She knew that she could use Seth whenever she felt like it. He was a man, wasn’t he? And all men had an undeniable weakness, a weakness she’d learned to exploit to her advantage.

One afternoon Seth returned home in a particularly black mood. She could see at once that he was angry.

“Should I make you lunch?” she asked.

“Not today, Anya,” he answered gruffly. “I have calls to make, then I’m off again. Are you taking Ali to the park?”

“I take baby to the park today, yes.”

“It’s good for her to get out.”

“You look tired, Mr Carpenter,” she said, softening her voice.

“I
am
tired,” he admitted. “I never stop.”

“In Russia I sometimes work as massage therapist,” she said. “You take jacket off, I give you shoulder rub. Very invigorating.”

“I don’t think so,” he said, although she could tell he was tempted
.

“It would be relaxing for you,” she encouraged
.

“I certainly need some of
that.”

“You will work better this afternoon, you will see.”

“Well, if you’re sure…”

She nodded, indicating a hard-backed chair by the kitchen table
.

Shrugging off his jacket he sat down
.

Anya moved behind him, and began pressing her thumbs deeply into the soft tissue behind his neck
.

“That feels good,” he said
.

“I told you,” she said. “In Russia we are trained to do this. A man who works hard must learn to relax.”

“You do it very well.”

“Thank you, Mr Carpenter,” she said, moving closer to him so that her small breasts brushed against his back
.

An involuntary gasp passed his lips
.

Men, they were so easy. Very soon he would be growing hard, and after that there would be no problem getting him to do anything she wanted. And she wanted plenty. She wanted retribution for all the years she’d been treated as if she were nothing but a piece of unfeeling flesh to be passed around from man to man
.

She wanted revenge.

“Y
ou’re having lunch with my daughter today,” Hamilton said, his tone brooking no argument. “My driver will drop you off at
Spago
.”

“I hardly know your daughter,” Anya said, hoping somehow or other to get out of meeting with Mandy. She could tell that Hamilton’s daughter did not like her.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Hamilton said curtly. “Mandy will show you around, advise you where to shop, what beauty salon to frequent, things like that.”

“If you insist, I’ll do it,” Anya said reluctantly.

“Yes, you will,” Hamilton said. “I spend a lot of time in L.A. so you’d better get used to being here.”

“You could leave me in New York,” she suggested. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Ah yes,” he said, his voice ripe with sarcasm. “
Now
I know why I married you, so I could leave you by yourself in New York with every old billionaire friend of mine trying to fuck you.”

“You know I would never be unfaithful to you, Hamilton.”

“Yes,
I
know it. But do they?”

Hamilton was extraordinarily possessive and jealous. He didn’t approve of her looking at other men, let alone talking to them, so she’d learned to practically ignore all his peers when they
were out at a dinner party or a formal charity event. Wherever they went, Hamilton always had one of his many assistants call ahead to make sure they were seated together.

Anya wasn’t quite sure whom he didn’t trust–was it her or was it his horny old friends? And they
were
horny, this army of very rich very married billionaires with mistresses on the side and multiple women at their beck and call.

In America, Anya had soon discovered, money can buy you anything you want. Hamilton knew this, and he had no desire to see his exquisite young wife offered the temptations of more than he could give her. And since he could give her plenty, Anya didn’t care about his possessiveness. In fact, she didn’t much care about anything except her shoe collection. Oh, how she loved her shoes.

Over the last five years–two years after first arriving in America–she’d accumulated five hundred pairs of shoes–most of them Jimmy Choos. They were her most prized possessions. Nobody would ever come between Anya and her shoes.

“Where did you and my father meet?” Mandy asked, vexed that she’d been forced to take Hamilton’s new wife to lunch. Her dear father had insisted–and there was no point in refusing Hamilton when he wanted her to do something.

She’d elicited the help of Lucy and Mary Ellen, she’d even invited Birdy Marvel, who so far had not put in an appearance, which was probably just as well since the baby Diva was usually so stoned out of her pretty trashy little head that she couldn’t even follow a conversation.

They were sitting on the patio at
Spago
. It was a glorious spring day and usually Mandy would be enjoying herself, but not today, not with three screaming brats running around her house to come home to–and some young Russian gold-digger whom she was being forced to entertain. Things were far from perfect.

Anya’s expression was blank. “A dinner party,” she said at last. “In New York.”

“Whose dinner?” Mandy asked, pushing for information.

“I do not remember,” Anya said, fervently wishing she were somewhere else. She was just as uncomfortable as Hamilton’s daughter, for she had still not had an opportunity to speak to Ryan and discover if he’d told anyone about her shameful past.

Was it possible that Mandy knew?

Yes, it was possible.

“You don’t remember?” Mandy said, imbibing her voice with just the right amount of disbelief. “How peculiar that you wouldn’t remember where you were the night you met your future husband.”

“God!” Lucy exclaimed, sipping a Mimosa. “I’ll never forget the first time I set eyes on Phil. He was at Brett Ratner’s house sitting by the pool in
the
most ridiculous Speedo you’ve ever seen! His rolls of fat were on fire, and the man was so hairy, like a gorilla!”

“Sounds enchanting,” Mandy murmured. “I bet you couldn’t wait to lure him into bed.”

“After a while we started to talk,” Lucy said, smiling fondly at the memory. “And before long he ambushed me with his amazing and outrageous stories. Phil is
such
a brilliant raconteur. I fell in love with his words.”

“I met my husband–well, I suppose I should say
ex
-husband- on a blind date,” Mary Ellen piped up. “We shared a mutual business manager who thought we’d make a great couple.”

“Hardly a
blind
date,” Mandy interjected. “You were both famous so you probably knew all about each other.”

“I suppose,” Mary Ellen agreed. She was not sure why Mandy had invited her to lunch. She’d decided to accept the invitation because it would probably please Don if she began mixing with his friends, and more than anything she wanted to please him. Don Verona was such a catch, so handsome and eligible and witty.
The press loved him, and they’d already labeled them a couple. It was an exciting time.

She fervently hoped her ex was finally regretting dumping her in front of the entire world. Bastard!

“Well, yes, of course she knew what he looked like,” Lucy pointed out. “But even so–he could’ve turned out to be a big bore.”

“What–instead of a cheater?” Mandy said.

Mary Ellen gulped down her glass of sparkling water. Ignoring Mandy’s barbed comment she said, “And you, Mandy, where did you meet Ryan?”

Mandy flashed back seven years. She was twenty-five and desperate to settle down with someone her father
hadn’t
chosen for her. Hamilton was always pushing men he could control in her direction, and she was always shying away. Instinctively she knew–in fact her shrink had warned her–that she had to meet a man who was not under her father’s influence–a strong-minded man who could stand up for himself. So who better than independent film-maker, Ryan Richards?

She’d been following his career and liked what she saw. He was young, hot and happening. The perfect candidate. The perfect antidote to Daddy.

After finding out everything she could about him, she’d set her stalking skills to work. Within three months he’d asked her to marry him and she’d said yes.

Hamilton was not pleased with her choice. Too damn bad. She was.

“Ryan saw my photo in the
Hollywood Reporter
and relentlessly pursued me,” she said, weaving fantasy. “How could I resist?”

“How romantic,” Lucy said, not revealing that Phil had told her that Mandy had introduced herself to Ryan at the première of his second movie and from that moment on she’d never let go. According to Phil, the poor guy hadn’t stood a chance. Like her father, Mandy was relentless.

“Did you hear from Don this morning?” Mandy asked, turning back to Mary Ellen.

“Actually, no,” Mary Ellen replied, somewhat crestfallen because Don hadn’t taken her home the night before. At least he should have called and apologized, but not one word. “I guess he’s very busy,” she added lamely.

“We were all at the opening of some new fitness place last night,” Mandy explained to Lucy. “Bit of a rat fuck, but the place might be worth investigating.”

“I need a new trainer,” Lucy said, waving at Wolfgang Puck who was diligently making his usual rounds of every table.

“I met a hunky trainer with an amazing body,” Mary Ellen offered. “He gave me his card. It’s a membership gym, I think I’ll join.”

“Give me his number,” Lucy said, fiddling in her purse for her BlackBerry while wondering how soon she could take off. Marlon had texted her that he had more pages for her to look at, and she couldn’t wait to read what he’d come up with.

Anya gazed off into the distance. She had nothing to say to any of these women. In a way they reminded her of the actresses from
Sex and the City
–all three of them immaculately groomed with their glossy hair and perfect complexions; dressed stylishly with ridiculously expensive accessories; indulging in light conversation that went nowhere.

Sex and the City
was still her favorite TV show. She’d purchased the boxed set of DVDs and watched them often.

“Whereabouts in Russia are you from?” Lucy inquired, trying to include her in their conversation because she felt sorry for the girl–she was so young, Hamilton had to be at least forty years older than her. Naturally Mandy was ignoring her. Mandy could be such a bitch without even trying. She should at least give the girl a chance.

“Moscow,” Anya replied, adding–“It is a magnificent city. Very cold in the winter.”

“She sounds like a tourist guide,” Mandy muttered under her breath.

“Excuse me?” Anya said.

“Nothing, dear,” Mandy said airily. “Oh goody, here comes Birdy. Now we can have some fun.”

“I’m renting you a house,” Ryan informed Evie. “And I am not listening to
any
arguments.”

“That’s so foolish,” Evie said, immediately getting into it. “Why should we move? We’ll go back to Silverlake. Marty can’t come near us with the Restraining Order and all.”

“That’s what you think,” Ryan said ominously. “I spoke to a detective friend of mine, and he warned me that you shouldn’t get too comfortable simply because you’ve got a piece of paper. According to him those things don’t mean shit; people ignore Restraining Orders all the time, and that’s exactly when something really bad goes down.”

Evie stared out of the window watching her three boys splashing about in the large swimming pool. Was it right that she was about to deprive them of a father? Should she give Marty another opportunity to make amends?

“I don’t know, Ryan,” she said hesitantly. “Maybe I should give him one more chance.”

“For crissake!” he said, frustrated and angry. “Get it through your head, you’ve
got
to move on. Marty is
never
going to change, and deep down you know it.”

“I suppose so,” she said, reluctant to admit that maybe he was right.

“Then it’s settled,” Ryan said firmly. “I’m renting a house for you, and enrolling the boys into a local school. Don’t worry about money, I’ll take care of everything.”

Unbeknownst to Evie, he’d already called a realtor and viewed
several rental properties. He hadn’t taken her with him because he knew she’d try to back out of moving.

It was all well and good having Evie and the boys around, but he was anxious to return to work. His latest movie was in the can and would be coming out in a couple of months, so therefore it was time for him to start prepping his next project, a gritty drama set on the streets of downtown L.A. The script was almost finished, and very soon he’d have to start concentrating on putting his crew together, scouting locations and casting. Getting back into production was his favorite thing to do.

Upon waking that morning he’d made a decision that he had to stop thinking about Cameron Paradise. He was only going to drive himself nuts by going over what might have been, and that was destructive and stupid. She was Don’s new girlfriend–end of story.

Cameron had to play out whatever was going to happen between her and Don, and he had to do the same with Mandy.

It was the only sane decision he could make.