Bad Blood

‘Completely single. Not that I mind being single,’ she added hastily, clearly worried he might think she was dropping hints. ‘Being single is good. I can do anything I like without having to check with anyone. I can be spontaneous. I can eat cereal for supper and wash up the breakfast things when I’m ready and until today no one ever knew or cared, although—’ she gave a tiny smile ‘—obviously from now on I’ll be tidier just in case a Hollywood star happens to drop by. And, being single, if I want to go and—and—well, whatever I want to go and do, I do it. Sorry. Talking too much again …’ Her voice faded and she shrugged awkwardly. ‘The short answer to your question is yes, I live alone. And now I’ve said that I’m realising that actually you’re a complete stranger and I’ve invited you into my home. And that is why this is weird. I feel I know you because I’ve spent so long staring at you in movies. I’ve seen you naked, but I don’t know you at all.’

‘You’ve seen me naked?’ The nerves on the back of his neck prickled. This wasn’t the way he’d intended the conversation to go. He should be on the phone, sorting out his monumental personal crisis, not flirting with a girl who had romantic stamped all over her.

‘You did that indie film.’ She stared down into her glass. ‘I think I saw it once—or maybe twice …’ The colour of her cheeks told him she’d watched it at least a hundred times. ‘The bit where you carried the daughter down to the beach was a bit of a cult scene when I was at university.’

Nathaniel struggled valiantly not to return the favour and imagine her naked. It didn’t help that they were having the conversation surrounded by red silk cushions and a deep, inviting sofa. Gritting his teeth, he blanked out a sudden image of him taking her, there and then, on that sofa. ‘I thought you studied costume design. Talk to me about what you do.’ Talk about something. Anything. Anything, but sex.

‘The naked body can be a costume—’ she sounded breathless ‘—if it fits the role. All I’m saying is that it’s weird to have seen you naked and yet actually not know you at all. You could be—well, I just don’t know you, that’s all.’

He bit back the suggestion that they get to know each other better. His life didn’t have room for any more complications. It was already a mess and looking to get worse.

‘You’ve worked with me for the past month so I’m not a stranger and I can assure you I don’t have any nasty habits,’ he drawled softly. ‘Don’t make the mistake of mixing me up with the parts I play. That’s not who I am. Just for the record, the only time I’d rip your clothes off is if you were ripping mine off too.’ And right now that sounded like a damn good idea.

‘Honestly, I’m not thinking for one moment that you’re going to rip my clothes off. I may be dreamy but I’m not delusional. I can distinguish between reality and fantasy, although—’ she kept it light ‘—there were definitely moments on my scooter when you seemed to think you were Alpha Man. Do people often do that? Mix you up with the parts you play? Mix fantasy with reality?’

‘All the time. The worst one was when I played a psychopathic doctor in Heartsink. For months people were coming up to me and asking me to diagnose their rashes.’ They were no longer talking about sex, so why was his body still throbbing? And why couldn’t he stop looking at her? ‘I haven’t thanked you for what you did tonight.’

‘You’re welcome.’

He was used to people behaving oddly around him—sometimes they were giggly, sometimes they were plain hysterical—but Katie was the first woman he’d met who was determined not to look at him. Exasperation flickered through him. ‘It’s really hard having a conversation with the top of your head.’

Finally she looked at him. Their eyes met and the explosion of awareness was mutual and instantaneous. ‘Are you feeling a bit better?’

‘Better?’

‘At the theatre you were incredibly stressed.’

‘Now you are delusional.’ He changed the subject smoothly. ‘Or maybe it’s the wine. How many glasses do you need to drink before you do the dance of the seven veils?’

Her laugh was nervous. ‘Your harem already seems a little crowded.’

‘It’s not crowded. Let me know any time you want me to play sheikh to your concubine. I could throw you over my shoulder and ravish you on that pile of silk cushions.’ And he was sorely tempted.

Who cared if she had pictures of him? He was more than willing to give her the real thing.

‘The sofa is really uncomfortable. Hence the cushions.’ Her cheeks were the same shade of scarlet as those cushions.

‘In that case I’ll make sure I’m the one on top.’ Without thinking, Nathaniel lifted his hand and stroked her face thoughtfully. ‘You’re very pretty. That’s why the Duchess of Gloucester has been so irritable for the past month. She hates working with people who remind her she’s ageing.’ His hand lingered and he saw her lips part as she snatched in a shallow breath.

It would have been so easy to kiss her….

So easy …

‘So—’ she backed away from him, snapping the tension ‘—er, what are your plans tonight?’

He found her tendency to speak without thinking surprisingly endearing. In his world, no one spoke without thinking. ‘I need somewhere to stay.’

‘Oh—’

‘That was your cue to invite me.’

‘You want to stay here?’ Her voice was a squeak. ‘Are you mad? You could be in the penthouse suite at The Dorchester ordering room service and wallowing in luxury.’

Or he could be lying on her decadent sofa, listening to the rain and wondering whether she slept naked or not. ‘Privacy is luxury. Can I sleep on your sofa?’

Her mouth opened and closed. ‘You don’t have any luggage. No pyjamas or anything.’

He managed to subdue the smile. ‘I don’t own pyjamas. So is that a yes?’

‘I—well, if that’s really what you want.’ She looked faint, and despite the dark clouds rolling into his life he couldn’t resist teasing her.

‘And if I’m cold in the night?’

Their eyes met. He watched the dreams chase across her face just before she gave a little shake of her head.

‘I’ll go and fetch you some blankets. You won’t be cold.’

CHAPTER THREE

HE WAS drowning.

The cold waters of the lake closed over his head, a murky coffin pulling him down to his death. As he opened his mouth to scream, the water poured into his lungs and the last thing he saw was the figure of a man as he walked away and left him to die.

Nathaniel woke drenched in sweat and shivering. Every bone in his body ached and his muscles screamed a protest at having been cramped in such an unforgiving position for a whole night. Despite the blankets, he was bitterly cold. His head ached from the after-effects of cheap wine and lack of sleep but he didn’t care. He was just relieved to be awake. If sleep meant the nightmare, then he’d choose insomnia every time.

He ran his hand over his face, still gripped by images of the lake. The vision lurked at the back of his head, refusing to fade. It had been years since he’d returned to the place—years since he’d had the dream. It depressed him to know that it was still lurking in the corners of his brain, waiting to burst to life. All it had taken was Jacob’s return.

Why the hell had he come back?

And why now?

Through the gap in the curtains Nathaniel caught a glimpse of a miserably wet February morning. The sky was a cheerless grey and he could hear rain sheeting against the window. He thought longingly of his enormous and extremely comfortable bed in his Californian home. He’d built a different life for himself and yet happiness was always just beyond the horizon. He’d thought doing live theatre would be a welcome change from the empty glass bubble that was Hollywood. He’d thought that in London he’d be safe from his past—he hadn’t reckoned on the past watching him from the front row on opening night.

Nathaniel stared up at the ceiling, reliving the moment when he’d been stranded in the spotlight, staring trouble in the face while a flabbergasted audience watched in shocked fascination.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he found a text from Annabelle, sent in the cold dark hours of the night. Just two words.

I know.

Nathaniel stared at the message, wondering what state she’d been in when she’d sent it.

Chased by his own thoughts, plagued by that feeling of powerlessness, he sprang from the sofa and stood for a moment in the centre of the tiny living room, forcing himself to breathe. He’d never been in a room where the walls were so close together. He was trapped with only his thoughts for company.

And he hated his thoughts.

A shout came from outside and Nathan moved silently to the window and glanced through a gap in the curtains to the street below.

Journalists and photographers were gathered four-deep, lenses poised, a sense of excitement in the air.

They were calling his name.

Nathaniel leaned back against the wall, cursing fluently, wondering why he was surprised. It was part of his life, wasn’t it? In no country in the world could he walk down the street unrecognised. And there was always someone willing to sell his whereabouts to a gossip magazine.

He glanced towards the closed bedroom door, his mouth tightening as he remembered how much she’d talked the night before.

‘Nathaniel! Katie!’

Hearing her name shouted alongside his, Nathaniel felt a flash of anger and launched himself towards the door she’d closed between them the night before. Without bothering to knock, he strode into the room. ‘Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. We’ve got crowd control issues.’

She came awake in an instant, her tousled dark curls spilling over her bare shoulders and her green eyes still dazed with sleep. ‘What? Who?’

Beautiful, Nathaniel thought, momentarily distracted by the arresting sight of a sleepy female. For a moment he thought she slept naked and then he caught a glimpse of the tiny lace straps of a camisole through the soft tumbling hair.

‘Thanks to your inability to keep a secret, we have company.’ Gripped by a vicious attack of lust, Nathaniel turned away and banged his elbow sharply on the wall. Pain arced up his arm and through his shoulder. The place was so cramped he could hardly move. He eyed the narrow single bed in disbelief. ‘How do you have sex in a bed that narrow?’

‘What do you mean, crowd control issues?’ She ignored his question. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Photographers.’ Three sketchbooks were stacked by her bed. Everywhere he looked there were sketches of glamorous dresses and yet he’d never seen her in anything other than jeans and boring tops. ‘Our own little pack of journalists have hunted us down and now they’re staking out the place, waiting to get a really revealing picture. You’re looking particularly savoury this morning, wardrobe. If you stand in front of the window like that you might even make the front page.’

‘Journalists?’ His words finally penetrated and she shot upright, her eyes wide. ‘Here? How did they find us?’

‘Surprising, isn’t it? Or perhaps it isn’t so surprising given that you warned me you talk too much when you’re nervous. They’re also yelling your name,’ he drawled, ‘so don’t waste your time pretending you don’t know how they got here.’

‘My name?’ She froze and stared at him, her lips parted as she drew in uneven breaths. ‘Oh, no—’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘I did not call the press.’

‘Well, someone did, angel, because they’re banging on the door as we speak.’

She flung the covers back and he had a glimpse of legs long enough to make a man lose his grip on reality. Dragging his eyes from slender perfection, he encountered pretty lacy underwear and then she was pulling on the same brown jumper and jeans she’d worn the day before. Sexy underwear—boring choice of clothes, Nathaniel thought absently. Strange.

‘Stop looking at me.’ With a flick of her hands, she freed her hair from her jumper. ‘Give me some privacy.’

‘Like you gave me privacy?’ Ruthlessly shutting down his libido, Nathaniel folded his arms and watched her performance with grim-faced anger. ‘I need to know what you told them.’ The thought of what discovery might do to fragile Carrie sent a blast of cold anger through his system.

He’d promised he’d protect her and instead he’d exposed her.

‘You think I called them?’ She pushed her feet into brown pumps. ‘Are you mad?’

‘Right now I’d describe my mood as moderately evil.’

‘You were the one who grabbed me! You were the one who begged me to bring you here and let you stay the night—’

‘I’ve never begged a woman in my life,’ Nathaniel said coldly, ‘and when I asked for your help at the theatre I was under the impression that you were a sweet, helpful young thing.’ He tilted his head and gave a smile loaded with ironic self-mockery. ‘But now we’ve cleared up that gross misconception, answer my question—who exactly did you phone and what did you tell them?’

‘No one! Nothing!’ Her voice rose and the horror in her eyes was replaced by anger. ‘This is all your fault. You put me in this position.’

‘The position of being able to make a mint from selling me out to the press?’

‘I drove halfway round London last night to try and avoid the press. Why would I bother doing that if I was just going to call them anyway?’

‘You tell me.’

‘You think I brought you safely back here to my

“lair” so that I could call the press, is that right? You think that’s why I helped you?’

‘If that isn’t why you helped me, then tell me why you did.’

‘Honestly? I don’t know. Clearly I had a moment of extreme insanity.’ Her voice was shrill. ‘At the moment I wish I hadn’t helped you because I certainly didn’t need this in my life. I’m not the sort of person who wants to pose in front of a camera! And I don’t know why you’re so keen to believe the worst of me. Why would I sell you out?’

‘People do it all the time, usually as they snap a picture of me on their phone.’

‘I don’t even have a camera on my phone! It switches on and off and that’s about all it does.’ Her hands in her hair, she sank down onto the edge of the bed. ‘I don’t want them printing my picture. I hate having my picture taken.’

Nathaniel drew in a breath. ‘How much of my phone conversation did you hear? When you were in the bedroom, were you listening at the door?’

‘Do you have any idea how offensive you are?’ Her eyes were very green and very angry. ‘I do not listen at doors. I am a very decent person and I have the utmost respect for the privacy of the individual.’

‘You were in the bedroom for ages. What were you doing?’

Her cheeks reddened. ‘I was staring in the mirror feeling about the size of a spec of dust because I had Alpha Man in my living room and I was looking like something that had been pulled through a hedge backwards.’ She rubbed her hands over her knees in an agitated movement. ‘You want to know what I was doing in the bedroom? I was wishing I was someone else—like a beautiful, long-legged actress-model-type, someone with visible hip bones who wouldn’t have been phased to be entertaining Hollywood royalty.’

Distracted, Nathaniel looked at her in bemuse-ment. ‘Visible hip bones?’

‘Yes. Skinny women always have visible hip bones. I’ve tried for years to get visible hip bones but frankly I like food too much to starve myself and it can’t be natural to go round with your stomach rumbling the whole time, and normally I’m fine with the fact that I have hips and a bottom, but last night I let myself be intimidated by you and I hate myself for that because underneath that handsome face you’re just an ego on legs who thinks that everything in the world is about him—’

‘Katie—’

‘I wasn’t listening to your conversation, but in future if you’re that worried, don’t make calls when you have an audience, don’t have an affair with two women at once and don’t pull innocent bystanders into it.’

Trying to ignore the incessant throb in his head,

Nathaniel pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, vowing never to drink cheap wine again. ‘I am not having an affair with two women at once.’ He spoke with lethal emphasis. ‘Listen—’

‘No, you listen! You want to know why I helped you last night? It was because you looked desperate. For once, you weren’t all remote and sarcastic. You weren’t acting.’ Shivering, she rubbed her hands over her arms. ‘And I hate the way the press hound you. They’ve been camped outside the theatre since the day you arrived. You can’t even breathe without them watching and actually I don’t think that’s fair. That’s why I helped you. And then I get you back here and suddenly you’re acting as if nothing is wrong and I’m imagining everything and I’m starting to wonder if I’ve gone mad.’ The words came tumbling out unrestricted and Nathaniel suppressed the urge to flatten her to her single bed and turn all that red-hot passion into something physical.

‘If you didn’t tip off the press, then who did?’

‘How would I know? I haven’t even spoken to any—’ She broke off in midsentence and a look of horror crossed her face, quickly replaced by guilt. ‘Oh, no …’

Nathaniel’s mouth compressed. ‘So you did call someone.’

‘No.’ Her eyes slid nervously to his. ‘But someone called me.’

‘And you couldn’t help confiding. You’re a girl, and girls just can’t help gossiping to one another. It’s that whole female bonding thing. Men share a beer. Girls share secrets.’

‘No! I didn’t share anything.’ Her eyes were wide with dismay. ‘My friend Claire rang when I was in the bedroom. We were supposed to be going speed dating together and she wanted to know where I was. Apparently the whole theatre was in a state of uproar because you’d vanished. She asked me if you were here but I denied it.’

He sighed. ‘Not a born liar, are you? I need to give you acting lessons.’

‘Claire would not have said anything,’ she said loyally. ‘No way.’

‘Well, someone did.’

‘Yes, but—’ Katie broke off and frowned. ‘The Duchess of Gloucester.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Claire mentioned that the Duchess of Gloucester was revelling in the fact that you’d walked out. She was nearby when Claire phoned so it’s possible she overheard. And it’s not as if she likes you.’ Rubbing her forehead, she gave a regretful groan. ‘I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have brought you back here. I was crazy to think we could keep it a secret.’

‘No, it’s mine.’ He should have known better. If he’d been thinking, he wouldn’t have involved anyone else. But he hadn’t been thinking. He’d seen

Jacob in the front row and reacted. ‘As you say, I was the one who forced you to help me.’

‘But I shouldn’t have answered the phone. I should have been more convincing when she asked if I knew where you were. On the other hand, they probably would have guessed anyway.’ Her eyes were bleak and tired. ‘Last night, you and I were the only two people missing. The cast would have known that. And the press saw us together. It wouldn’t have taken much for them to work out who I was and tracked us down to this address.’

Forced to concede that such a scenario was not only possible but probable, Nathaniel tried to be practical. ‘They’re here. We have to deal with it. They’re camped outside the front of the flat and they know you spent the night with me.’

‘What? I did not spend the night with you.’

‘Yes, you did.’

‘Well, yes, but not in that way. They’re not going to think that for one minute. I mean, there’s you, a global sex object, and then there’s me—I’m not a global anything.’ Self-conscious, she pushed her hair out of her eyes. ‘No one in their right mind is going to think you spent the night with me so don’t worry about that.’

‘You’re incredibly sexy.’

Her eyes widened with shock and her lips parted. ‘You—you think I’m sexy?’

‘Last night both of us were struggling to keep our hands off each other.’

‘No! I mean, I—You didn’t—’ Her cheeks were scarlet. ‘You’re Nathaniel Wolfe.’

‘What does that have to do with sexual chemistry?’

‘Well, because—because …’ She gave a hysterical, disbelieving laugh. ‘I’ve seen pictures of the women you date and they’re very depressing to look at.’

‘Equally depressing to be with. Perhaps it’s because they don’t eat breakfast,’ Nathaniel drawled mockingly. ‘And you’re definitely underestimating your own charms. The press are going to take one look at you and assume we’ve been swinging from the chandeliers all night.’ Looking at her lush mouth he wished he hadn’t settled for the lumpy sofa. ‘They’re going to want to hear your story.’

And she was such a talker, she’d tell it. And that would be disastrous.

She didn’t know much, but she knew enough to bring his nightmare to life. The fact that she’d drawn all the wrong conclusions was no consolation to someone who understood the unstoppable force of the media.

He thought about the number of years he’d kept his secret. He thought about the possible consequences of discovery.

There was no way he could leave Katie here alone and at their mercy. No way.

Katie tiptoed over to the window. ‘Stop worrying. I don’t have a story. Movie Star Sleeps on Holey Sofa. I can’t see that headline grabbing anyone by the throat.’

‘Don’t look out of the window.’

Ignoring him, she peeped through the curtains. ‘Holy crap.’ Flattening herself against the wall she looked at him in horror. ‘There are millions of them. Are you really that interesting?’

‘Apparently.’

‘There are really important things going on in the world and half the world’s press is outside on the pavement.’ Still plastered to the wall, she seemed afraid to move. ‘I wish I’d never helped you. They’re going to take my photograph and everyone will make comparisons.’

‘Comparisons with whom?’

She stared at him, her breathing rapid. ‘Nothing … this is a mess …’

‘For once, we agree.’ Nathaniel contemplated that truth with grim resignation. ‘You’re the female equivalent of an unexploded bomb. If I leave you here you could go off at any moment.’

Her spine was stiff. ‘If you’re implying that I’d tell them anything, then you’re wrong.’

‘I thought we’d established that you talk when you’re nervous.’

‘I don’t know anything to talk about!’

‘You know enough.’ He opened her wardrobe and pulled out a coat. Brown. Wondering why everything in her wardrobe was the colour of mud, he threw it towards her. ‘Get dressed. We’re leaving.’

‘Where are we going?’ Flustered, she pulled on her coat. ‘Being seen with you has already got me in enough trouble. We need to separate.’

‘Unfortunately it’s way too late for that.’

‘No, it isn’t too late. All you have to do is open the front door and walk out.’

‘Katie, they will crucify you.’

‘I’ll keep my mouth shut.’ She compressed her lips and drew her fingers across in a zipping gesture. ‘Silence will be the word of the day. Except I won’t say it out loud, obviously.’

Forcing aside thoughts of alternative methods of keeping her mouth occupied, Nathaniel focused on her eyes. ‘As a matter of interest, what’s the longest time you’ve gone without speaking? Not counting when you’re asleep …’

‘Actually, I talk in my sleep. If I’m really stressed about something, I talk about it.’ Her smile was obviously intended to be reassuring. ‘But don’t worry—I’m not going to sleep with any of the journalists.’

‘And that’s supposed to make me feel better?’

‘I’m just saying you have nothing to worry about. The press aren’t interested in me. I don’t know any details about Annabelle or Carrie. We spent an evening together and you said nothing—just sort of glowered a lot in a brooding Heathcliff sort of way. I’ve never known a man say less and I’ve known some uncommunicative types in my time.’

‘It’s hard for a man to get a word in edgeways with you and, Katie, they are interested in you.’ Intent on providing proof of that fact, Nathaniel removed his phone from his pocket and accessed the Internet with one stab of his finger. Following a hunch, he fed a series of keywords into the search engine and then clenched his jaw as the results sprang onto his screen. He held it up towards her. ‘Here is an example of how not interested in you they are. They already have all the information on you, including name, age and your Internet dating profile.’

She stood rigid, staring at the screen. ‘That’s my picture,’ she whispered. ‘Where did they get my picture?’

‘Here’s another—’

‘Wait a minute, when did they take that?’ Snatching the phone from him, she read the headline. ‘Is She the Reason Nathaniel Wolfe Walked Off the Stage Last Night? Well, of course I’m not the reason! I rescued you! We have to tell them the truth! Go out there and tell them the truth.’

He had no intention of telling anyone the truth.

‘The press aren’t interested in the truth. The best we can do is absent ourselves and hope they go and hound someone else instead.’

‘That isn’t very nice for the someone else.’

‘You’d rather they set up camp outside your flat? Stick cameras through your letter box? Interview your neighbours? Track down every boyfriend you’ve ever had?’

‘That would take them less than five minutes!’ Her face was pale. ‘I really hate having my picture taken. You have no idea how much I hate it. I don’t even share photos on Facebook.’

He frowned as he saw a sheen of tears in her eyes. Accustomed to spending time with actresses and models who would run their own mother over if it meant a decent publicity shot, he found it hard to believe she was genuine. But there was no doubting the misery in her face. ‘Why do you hate it?’

She dipped her head and fastened the buttons on her coat. ‘I just do. And I don’t see why anyone would be interested in my love life.’

‘Because you’re with me,’ he said gently. ‘People love reading about other people’s scandals and misfortunes over their breakfast cereal.’

‘I don’t. I hate reading about bad stuff happening. I like happy stories. Man Rescues Dog from Tree—that sort of thing.’

‘You’re not an average person. Which gives us a problem. Pack a bag and grab your passport. You’re coming with me.’

‘You cannot be serious.’

‘If I leave you here they’ll feed on you like sharks attacking raw meat.’

‘If I’m the raw meat in that analogy, then it isn’t a very flattering description. No woman wants to think her thighs would provide sufficient food for one shark, let alone sharks in the plural.’

‘Katie—’ he stifled his exasperation ‘—just get your passport. Move!’

She planted her feet firmly and straightened her shoulders as if ready to repel an invading army. ‘I’m not going anywhere with you. Apart from the fact I can’t relax around you, I have a job, friends, family—I have a life.’ She broke off as his phone rang. ‘Tell whoever it is that they need to pick you up right now and get you out of here.’

Nathaniel checked the identity of the caller. ‘It’s my agent. I need to take this. Don’t go anywhere. I’m going to arrange for us to be picked up.’

How long before the journalists made the connection with her famous sister?

How long before the comparisons started?

Katie paced up and down the bedroom, trying to stay calm.

Honestly, she was a grown woman, not a vulnerable teenager. She should have got over this by now.

She was who she was. Comparisons might hurt her feelings, but they wouldn’t actually damage her physically. She just needed to get on with her life and hope the fuss eventually died down. Maybe she could take a sleeping bag to the theatre and camp there until this all blew over. The security guys had always been really kind to her.

Through the open door she could hear Nathaniel’s cultured drawl as he issued a string of commands down the phone.

He found her sexy.

Gripped by a fit of shivering, Katie rubbed her hands up her arms.

‘Nathaniel Wolfe, screen god and global sex symbol.’

Did he really find her sexy? She’d convinced herself that the chemistry was all wishful thinking on her part….

‘Have you got your passport?’ He was standing in the doorway, and the way he watched her with those slanting blue eyes made it impossible to think of anything but sex. Wild, crazy, animal sex—the sort she’d read about but never experienced.

Seriously unsettled, Katie turned away. ‘I don’t need my passport. I’m going to go straight to the theatre and lock myself in the wardrobe department. They have security there, and—’

‘You’re not going back to the theatre.’

‘Of course I’m going back to the theatre. I have a job to do.’

‘I walked out on the opening night. The play has closed.’ He delivered the news bluntly and she felt her knees wobble.

Not her job.

No.

She had a plan. She had a dream.

‘You’re s-saying I’ve lost my job?’

‘Yes, and that’s my fault,’ Nathaniel growled, ‘and if you could try not to look as though I’ve just killed your favourite pet, I’d appreciate it because right now we have to get out of here and it isn’t going to help to be weighed down with guilt and recrimination.’

‘I—I’ve really lost my job?’

‘Yes.’ The word hissed through his teeth. ‘But I’ll fix it.’

‘How? Are you going to go back on that stage?’

‘No.’

‘Then you can’t fix it.’ The implications thudded home. ‘This play was an important part of my career plan. I was going to get noticed. It was the first rung of the ladder …’

‘There are other plays—’

‘Do you know how many people applied for that job?’ Panic drove her voice up an octave. ‘Eight hundred! And it’s the same for every job. You have no idea what it’s like—’

‘I’ll give you access to my address book.’

‘I don’t want to make it because of who I know.’

‘Then you’re being naïve,’ he said coldly, ‘because that’s what success in this business is all about.’