The Price of Fame (15 page)

‘This may not be the lake I imagined,’ Nic began. ‘And maybe the stars are already out, or maybe those reflections on the water are fallen stars—a bit like me. Because since we parted that’s how I feel. Like I’m at the bottom of that dark murky River Torrens.’

She crossed her arms, tightened her fingers above her elbows, so tight she could feel her nails bite into the flesh. ‘Perhaps you need to think about how you got there and find a way out.’

One warm finger touched the back of her neck. Gently, as if she might splinter into a million pieces. And she was very afraid it might be true.

‘Where are your pearls?’

‘I don’t need them to remember my mother any more. She’s in my heart.’
Like you
. ‘I’ve made some changes in my life, Nic.’

‘I can see that,’ he murmured, his voice like velvet, and she knew he was looking at her dress. ‘Told you you’d look hot in red.’

She heard the shifting of fabric and then his coat was over her shoulders, smelling warm and familiar.

His arms came around her. ‘I hope there’s room in your changed life for me, Charlotte, because I can’t stand not being with you. Because, you see, sweetheart, I love you too.’

Tears sprang to her eyes, blurring the water’s reflections, and she shook her head. ‘When people love each other they talk. Flynn didn’t talk to me. I never knew what he was thinking, that he was interested in politics, even whether I came up to scratch as a future politician’s wife. He never gave me a chance to change and then he left.’

Nic pulled her back against him so he could feel her body tucked tight into his. Breathed in her signature perfume. ‘I’m glad he did. Because now you’re mine.’

She stiffened and he felt her withdrawal and a knife of panic sliced through him.

‘I won’t be shut out, Nic.’

‘Then how about this … My name’s Nic Russo, I love you and I’m also a claustrophobic. Which means I dissolve into a quivering mess in confined spaces. I’d like to talk about it with you if you’ll listen.’ The silence was like a dark night with no end. ‘Will you listen to me, Charlotte? Will you hear my story and hold me while I tell you? Because the darkness in your cellar’s nothing compared to the darkness inside me right now.’

Her silence was the longest silence he’d ever known but then she nodded slowly. ‘I will.’

She turned in his arms, and stroked back the hair from his temples with fingers that were strong yet tender. Her eyes were the soft mist of the ocean and filled with compassion and love and understanding. ‘You know I will.’

He was barely aware of the glitter from half a dozen paparazzi cameras. ‘Then how about we get out of here?’

She jutted her chin at something over his shoulder. ‘I suppose we’d better give those guys something to write about first.’

‘You mean like this?’ He kissed her the way she deserved to be kissed; slowly and thoroughly.

When he finally let her go, she shook her head, but her eyes were dancing. ‘I meant give them a story. We’ve already done the public kiss.
Honey Pie
.’

‘Ah, so we have,’ he murmured. ‘So are you up for it? For them?’

Taking his hand, she began walking up the grass towards the press, his coat swinging from her shoulders. ‘You better believe it.’

He laid her on his bed and in the silvery light of a half moon, with fused gazes and hearts open and willing, they silently undressed each other. Skin on skin, nothing between them. With every touch a murmur, every breath a wish, every heartbeat, joy. They made love slowly, deeply, truly and when they’d assuaged the physical needs, they turned to each other. Only then did they talk.

‘I had a mother but I raised myself,’ Nic began, staring at the ceiling. He told her about his waitress poker-addicted mother and how he was often left alone as it grew dark and how his runaway imagination used to get the better of him.

‘Nic, I’m so sorry.’

‘It gets worse,’ he went on, still unable to look at her, the words tumbling out now in the relief of sharing and his
trust in Charlotte that he’d not be ridiculed. ‘The school was in a rough neighbourhood. The local bullies would wait for me in the park on the way home. Sometimes they’d hold me down, kick the crap out of me and laugh about it the next day in the school yard.’

Her love and her shock were obvious in her quiet voice. ‘Why didn’t you tell someone?’

‘I was too damn scared. But one day I did—I told my teacher. A big mistake on my part because a few days later they tied me up, blindfolded me and left me in a Dumpster at the back of some shops.’

‘Oh my God, Nic …’

‘I was there over twenty-four hours before the kids decided to own up and the police found me.’

The lack of emotion in his voice, as if it was just another injustice in a world full of injustices, squeezed Charlotte’s heart. She touched his hair, his face, his lips, wishing he’d look at her. No wonder he was so scarred. ‘That’s why you didn’t let me blindfold you …’

‘I had a lot of time to think in there.’ His tone was tinged with an odd humour. ‘I found I was pretty good at making up stories of how I’d escape and discovering weird and wonderful ways to get my revenge.’

‘And did you get your revenge?’

At last he looked at her. Smiled at her in the darkness. ‘I got that when I made my first million from those stories of vengeance and justice and fantasy I’d dreamed up. I used them in my games.’

She smiled back. ‘What happened after you were found?’

‘Mum changed jobs, we moved to a new flat in a better area and things improved. But I’ve been claustrophobic ever since.’

‘And you’ve not had professional counselling?’

‘No. But I’m ready now. I’ve learnt something else in
the last couple of weeks.’ He took her hand, pressed it over his heart where she could feel it beating strong and steady. ‘My greatest fear’s putting myself and my love for you on the line and having you not want it.’

‘Of course I want it.’ She covered his face with butterfly kisses. ‘I want it all. It was you not letting me in that I couldn’t deal with. It was like you’d already left and it hurt as deeply as when my family died and I didn’t want that pain in my life again.’

His eyes were dark and filled with determination and love. ‘No more pain, sweetheart. When bad things happen, as they inevitably do in life, we’ll deal with it together.’

Then he spent the next little while showing her how exactly it was going to be.

Finally, pushing up to a sitting position against the bed head, he gathered her against his chest. ‘Now it’s your turn to fill me in on your plans.’

‘My plans may have just changed.’

He stroked her hair. ‘Tell me anyway.’

‘I decided to use part of the house to try selling my lingerie. I’m closing off some rooms for private use and opening up the rest to the public to sell off the family heirlooms. People can come and taste Three Cockatoos wine and home-made nibbles and browse clothing and antiques at the same time.’

‘But you sold the winery, sweetheart …’ he murmured.

‘Yes, but their daughter, Ella, is interested in my idea. She’s going to come on board and help on a trial basis first. If it works out, I can put her in as a manager and it’ll give me time to do other things.’

‘Sounds like success all round.’

‘The only problem now is the long-distance relationship,’ she said.

‘There’s not going to be any long-distance relationship.

If Ella works out, she can take over when we go to Fiji. I can work anywhere. We’ll figure it out as we go along. The important thing is that we figure it out side by side. Together.’

And the future was suddenly rosy and filled with love and hope.

Three months later
.

T
HE
beach at sunset was officially perfect. The sand was pungent with the fresh scent of recent rain and strewn with petals, the air moist and warm, the sky a burnished gold shot with purple. Flickering kerosene torches surrounded the intimate circle of friends who’d gathered for the ceremony.

The only thing missing from the perfect scene was a perfect bride.

The anxious groom wore white; white trousers and a loose white Island shirt—as requested. His feet were bare. Also requested.

Nic held his breath as the faint sounds of banjos and ukuleles playing something dreamy and appropriate for the moment grew closer, heralding the bride’s arrival.

And then, suddenly, there she was. His heroine. His Charlotte. For a moment his eyes blurred, because his life, his love, his whole world, was approaching him, her eyes the colour of sea mist and locked on his, her smile radiant.

For once in his life, he didn’t mind traditionally conservative. Wearing one of Suzette’s creations, she looked like a princess in a white beaded gown that flowed to her bare feet. She’d threaded crimson flowers through her
long hair; two heavy garlands of those same flowers hung around her neck.

He let out that breath on a slow sigh of relief, and smiled back. It seemed his story was to have a happy ending after all.

‘Hi, there, you,’ she whispered, and lifted one of the garlands she was wearing and placed it around his neck.

‘Welcome, friends.’ The celebrant, a friend of Suzette’s, smiled at the group. ‘We’re here on this glorious tropical evening to make it official between these two people …’

‘So here we are.’ Charlotte linked her hands around Nic’s neck later as they danced—or, rather, swayed—across the makeshift dance floor under the stars to the surprise and delight of Vaka Malua’s guests.

‘Yep. Here we are.’ He bent to place a lingering kiss on her lips. ‘Did you ever think otherwise?’

‘There was a time …’

‘Nah. It was always a foregone conclusion.’ He leaned closer, nuzzling her neck. ‘I was yours from the first moment you stood in front of me in the queue at Tullamarine. And my instincts are always spot on.’

‘I’ve missed you,’ she murmured. ‘I never knew a week could take so long.’

‘Hmm,’ he agreed, smoothing his hands over her back and sending delicious tingles all through her body.

She had stayed on in Adelaide a week longer than Nic to ensure a smooth transition for Old and New, the only place she knew that offered lingerie and antiques over a choice of wine or coffee.

Never again—from now on it was always going to be the two of them. And it was official. She wiggled the fingers on her left hand to admire her newest sparkle.

‘Everything under control with the new place?’

‘Ella’s going to make a fine manager.’ She caught sight of Suzette and Tenika grinning at her and gave them a cheeky finger wave. ‘She spoke to me this morning; she’s already sold three sets of lingerie and a chest of drawers.’

‘Hmm,’ he murmured, the rough velvet rumble hot against her ear. ‘Speaking of lingerie, do you reckon this party can carry on without us? I can’t wait to see what surprises you’ve got in store for me tonight.’

‘I can’t wait to see what surprises you’ve got for me either.’ She grinned up at him, loving their sexy banter and innuendo. Loving the way they brought out the best in each other. Then she took his hand and began leading him away. ‘Come on, I’ll show you.’

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II BV/S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

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First published in Great Britain 2012
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited.
Harlequin (UK) Limited, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road,
Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

© Anne Oliver 2012

eISBN: 978-1-408-97466-7