The Director's Cut (25 page)

I take a guilty glance over my shoulder. I can still hear James in the other room, talking on the phone.

I pause for a second, and then I flip open the file.

And as my eyes make out the words, they widen in shock.

Inside is not what I was expecting. Not what I was expecting at all.

Three familiar words swim before my eyes. Words I’d hoped never to see again.

The Lipstick Stalker.

I hear myself gasp. Why is this here? I scan the first page in confusion.

It’s a
report which has been compiled on the Lipstick Stalker.

I thought that was all over with.

I leaf through the papers in fascinated horror. All the details on the Lipstick Stalker case are here, but there are surprisingly few details on the man himself.

I shut the documents with a snap, my heart racing.

What in the hell?

“Isabella.”

I turn to see James, standing in the doorway.

I’m still holding the documents. James walks towards me and slowly edges them out of my fingers. I realise my hands are shaking.

I stare at him for a moment.

“What is this all about?”
I ask finally. “Why do you have this report, on your desk?”

James rubs his forehead. He looks tired. “It’s really nothing
, Issy,” he says.

When my face shows a comp
lete lack of belief, he sighs.

“Honestly,” he says. “It really is nothing for you to worry about.”

“Then
why is it here?
” Terrifying memories of my brief capture are tunnelling back into my brain. And my voice comes out partway hysterical.

“
Shhh.” James pulls me close, and then takes me by the shoulders.

“The police sent me that report,” he says after a moment. “They seem to think that the stalker
was fascinated with Berkeley Studios for a long time.”

“What do you mean?”

“They uncovered a place they think the stalker stayed. It shows plans around my studios, going back years.”

I try to compute this.

“So why have you been sent the report?” I demand.

“The police want my help in piecing together some of the evidence they found. The stalker has remained very tight-lipped, and
they’re trying to build a full picture.”

I assess how I feel about this. From what we knew before, the stalker was obsessed with fame and celebrity. It makes sense he would have targeted James’s studio
from the beginning.

“So you’ll have to go visit with the police?” I ask.

“Yes. But not for some time,” he adds. “It really is nothing for you to worry about.”

Isn’t it?
Suddenly, I don’t know anymore.

“Issy
.” James strokes my cheek. “You have been through so much in the last few weeks. I didn’t tell you about this because I thought it better you forgot all about it. This doesn’t concern you, Issy. The stalker is locked away and you’re safe. I’m just helping the police with their investigations.”

That makes sense
, I guess.

I sigh out loud. “It’s just with the press leak and everything,” I say, trying to keep the tears from my eyes. “I feel as though everything is against us. I wanted the stalker thing to be done with. Buried.”

“It is,” James reassures me. He pulls me tight. “It is,” he repeats, murmuring into my hair. “I would never let anyone hurt you, Issy.”

“What about the press?” I insist, my mind flying to his last phone call. “Are we going to be hiding from them forever?”

I feel James shakes his head. He pulls away, so his eyes are on mine.

“
I just got some good news,” he says. “About the press leak.”

“Did you find out who’s been leaking?”
The words come out more urgently than I mean them to.

“No. But I found a way to find out who’s doing it.”

“Really? How?”

“I can’t tell you exactly,” he says. “But it involves relocating, later today.”

Relocating? Again?

I’m confused. That sounds like running away. Is James telling me the whole truth about the leak situation?

“Why can’t you tell me exactly?” I am challenging him. “You said before you would try and include me in decisions like this.”

He shakes his head. “Please
, Issy, you have to trust me.”

“No.” I set my jaw determinedly. “We talked about this. Stop shutting me out.”

“Issy.” James’s tone is stern. “Please, just take my word for it. What I’m doing is for the best.”

His eyes are pleading with me, and I feel my stubbornness slide away.

“Are we going somewhere else in Spain?” I say, finally.

“No,” says James. “We’re flying back to England.”

Back to the lion’s den.
Is this good news?

“So we’re no longer under threat from the newspapers?” I clarify
. “We can go back to the studio?”

“No
.” James is shaking his head. “The new location is strategic, for my plans to stem this leak.”

“Then where are we going?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

I huff out my cheeks, frustrated with all this subterfuge.

“James…” The words come out falteringly.

“Yes?”

“Do you really think you can find out this leak? Tell me honestly? Are we just running away?”

James’s face lifts in a
gentle smile. His eyes flick down to the desk. Beside the piles of documents is his Apple laptop.

“
I want to show you something,” he says, lifting the lid of the laptop and firing it to life. The screen display pops up, and James scans through a multitude of what looks like admin folders.

Then he clicks open a file, and an image pops up.

It’s a photograph of a woman lying on a chaise lounge. And it takes me a second to compute what he’s showing me.

Wow. That’s me.
But I look so different, the way James has captured me on camera. The unfamiliar sight takes my breath away.

“I never showed you the
pictures I took of you,” he says gently.

My eyes focus on the
image. I’m laid out on the chaise lounge in my underwear. My gaze is settled unwaveringly towards the camera.

I’m surprised by the boldness of my expression. I don’t remember feeling that brazen.

James flips to a second image.

This time the focus is only on my face. My eyes are slightly dropped, knowing.
And my lips are parted. If I were to describe the expression on my face, I would call it an awakening. As though a lifetime of sexuality has rushed into my body, just at the moment the camera flickered.

I’m astounded to see myself like that.

I turn questioningly to James.

“Did you alter the images?”

He smiles. “No. This is you. Pure and unadulterated. Can you see why I love you so much?”

I have no idea how to reply.

James takes his hand away from the laptop keyboard. The screen is still facing towards us, and I drag my eyes away from the woman on the display. “I only kept two pictures,” he says. “The second is my favourite. The close-up on your expression.”

His face is inches from mine now.

“Never, in all my time filming,” he says, “have I seen such layers of emotion distilled into one image. You have a beauty which is nothing short of decadent. It is all consuming. It is enchanting.”

I blink back into his eyes, heady with his view of me.

James reaches up and takes my face in his hands. “When I first filmed you, I was struck by your incredible eyes,” he murmurs. “And the truth you could show in them. But now I realise, it goes so much deeper. Your appearance is the tiniest factor in what makes you so beautiful.”

He kisses my mouth, and I feel my soul expanding towards him, drinking him in.

“You are courageous,” he says, between kisses, “you are lovely, and I can’t believe you are mine.”

“I love you,” I say, blinking away the
tears which have sprung into my eyes.

“I love you too,” says James. “And now I’m going to answer your earlier question with one of my own. You asked whether I could deal with the press leak.” He nods to the camera. “Do you really think
, there is
anything
I wouldn’t do for that incredible woman? Do you think I couldn’t move mountains to protect her?”

“Oh James.” I feel the insecurities rush out of me, and suddenly there is
no danger. Only him. “I love you so much.”

James holds me tight, and I feel myself safe in his strong arms.

“So aren’t you going to tell me where we’re relocating to?” I ask, after a moment.

James smiles. “
Yes. Filming has only brought the event forward. I had been meaning to take you there, in any case.”

“Take me where?”

“Can’t you guess?”

“No!” I bat his arm in annoyance.

“It’s a grand old country estate,” he says teasingly. “I think you’ll like it.”

“Tell me!”

James is grinning now. “We’ll all be flying to Berkeley Hall,” he says. “We’ll do some filming on the estate. The entire area is totally secure. And,” he adds, fixing me with his green eyes, “I’ll be able to take you to meet my parents.”

Chapter 31

For our return flight to England, James has managed to arrange a private jet, which delights Natalie. Inside the aeroplane is absolutely incredible. The interior is arranged like an enormous, sumptuous living room. There are sofas, huge comfy seats, and a big movie screen.

James and I are keeping a tactful distance apart. So I share my enthusiasm with Callum and Will.

“It’s a pretty sweet ride,” agrees Will, taking off his sunglasses as he takes in the inside of the plane. “Maybe Mr Berkeley will give us a ride back to LA,” he adds, grinning at Callum.

The extras are being flown home on a later charter flight. I got a chance to say a last farewell to Lorna just before we headed our separate ways. I’m hoping that I’ll see her soon. But with the press leak looming over us, it’s difficult to know when.

The flight is uneventful, but as we’re dipping low to land, there’s a clear view of a
huge manor house with miles of rolling estate grounds as far as the eye can see.

It’s absolutely enormous, and I
realise that Berkeley’s father doesn’t just have an aristocratic title. He owns a very decent chunk of England.

The plane
touches down on a private runway which backs onto the estate. And within minutes of disembarking, we’re transported to a small complex of cottages.

They’re in view of the enormous Berkeley Hall, but a fair way into the sumptuous grounds.
And James takes it upon himself to show us personally to our rooms.

“It’s a little cosier than you’re used to,”
he explains, taking in Natalie’s devastated face at the size of the buildings. “But the rooms are very luxurious inside.”

The
accommodation is a charming selection of tiny converted cottages, each with plenty of classic English character.

“The crew will be located on another part of the estate,” adds James. “They’ll be nearer the filming, since they’re on set for the longest.
Also,” he adds, “mobile phone reception is better over there.”

This strikes me as a
consideration which few directors would afford their crew. And I’m reminded of what Callum said about James’s staff being loyal to him.

Natalie’s face twists. “There’s bad phone reception?”

James shrugs. “This is the countryside, Natalie. We only have one mast, which my stepmother lobbied for years to be installed. You can usually make phone calls, but they might be patchy.”

I’m wondering if this is part of James’s plan. Perhaps a lack of good reception will stop leaks getting out. But this can hardly be a
long term plan.

I shrug the thought away, turning my attention to the accommodation.

Us actors each have a tiny cottage, and inside are bed and breakfast style rooms, finished to impeccable standard. They’ve been decorated to a five star finish, complete with designer sheets and fixtures.

“Ah, the English countryside!” announces Callum, opening the door to his cottage. “What could be finer?”

I can’t help but agree with him. Berkeley estate is astonishingly green and beautiful. It’s like being on a luxury retreat, rather than a filming shoot.

James leaves Callum, Natalie and Will instructions for where lunch will be served, and then steers me carefully away from the cottages.