‘It’s okay. I’ve checked it out, I’ll organise a limousine, we’ll get dropped at the red carpet. Don’t worry,’ he added when he saw her expression, ‘we’ll be there way before the celebrities. We have to be early, but it will be safe—security is always tight. I won’t let anything happen to you.’
* * *
Abi emerged from the bathroom after reapplying her lipstick. She wanted to pinch herself. She couldn’t believe she had just been to the film industry awards and was now at an awards after-party, rubbing shoulders with celebrities and stars that she’d watched on screen for years. Despite Damien insisting she would be safe, she had been terribly nervous when they had arrived at the theatre. She’d opened and closed her fingers repeatedly, searching for the reassuring feel of Jonty’s fur, but he hadn’t been beside her. But Damien had been, and he’d sensed her nervousness and taken her hand as they’d walked the red carpet, but that had only led to a whole different level of nervousness.
His touch had sent her hormones into overdrive but at least she’d forgotten to worry about her safety. All she’d been able to think of had been Damien, and once seated in the darkened theatre, still hand in hand, she’d been able to ignore the size of the audience by focusing on him. He anchored her and made her feel safe and eventually she’d relaxed, but she was even better now that they were in a smaller crowd and a private setting.
She saw Damien across the room. He was talking to Tony, his patient who had invited them to the ceremony and who had walked away with the award for Best Supporting Actor. In a room full of beautiful people Damien was still noticeable. Tall, dark and movie-star handsome, he was turning heads in a space that was crammed with stunning people.
He saw her and waved her over and she picked her way carefully through the crowd.
‘Okay, pretty lady, photo time.’ Tony’s voice was raspy from years of smoking. Which he said was fortunate as the surgery had made it even raspier but no one really noticed. It was his trademark.
He held his prized statuette in his hand and offered it to Abi as he manoeuvred her between Damien and himself. ‘You hold it. It’ll make a great pic for your social media posts.’
Abi wasn’t on social media but she wasn’t about to admit that. She was sure that no one here would understand her reasons. She knew that many of the stars saw social media as a source of free publicity and that publicity was their life blood, but social media didn’t have the same appeal to her.
She took the little gold statue from Tony, surprised he was willing to let it go just hours after receiving it, but she wasn’t going to argue. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for her.
Damien pulled his mobile phone from his suit pocket and handed it to a passing celebrity. Abi couldn’t believe that this young actress who had been nominated for an award was taking her picture.
Tony was on her right, Damien on her left as she posed for the photo, and the statuette glowed golden against the emerald-green silk of the dress she’d borrowed from Freya.
Damien wrapped his arm around her waist and the heat of his hand burned through the fabric of her dress. The dress was cut low at the back and she could feel his forearm against her spine, skin on skin. The award was heavy in her hand, her knees were weak and her heart fluttered in her chest.
The instant the photo had been taken she returned the statuette to Tony, afraid she would drop it.
Tony checked the photo. Although he was almost thirty years older than Abi, approaching sixty, he had a reputation as a heart-throb and once again Abi was conscious of the fact that these people made a living as much out of their looks as their talent. She was self-conscious about her own appearance so his comment caught her by surprise. ‘You look gorgeous, Abigail. If Damien hadn’t already snatched you up I’d invite you to—’
Abi opened her mouth to correct his assumption, to tell him she and Damien weren’t a couple, when she felt Damien’s hand on her arm and she stopped.
‘She’s off limits, Tony. Besides, you’ve got your prize already tonight.’
‘True, very true.’ Tony laughed. ‘Point taken. Go and have some fun.’ He kissed Abi’s cheek and said, ‘Enjoy the party.’
‘We will,’ Damien said, as he snared them both a glass of French champagne from a passing waitress.
‘Why did you let him think we were a couple?’ Abi asked as Damien handed her a glass.
‘Tony is a notorious charmer,’ he said. ‘No one is off limits and I didn’t think you’d want to be subjected to that. I didn’t think he was your type.’
What was her type? She didn’t know.
They sipped champagne and watched the crowd. It was an incredible evening to be a part of, even if she did feel like an outsider. Even though she didn’t believe in them, it felt a little bit like a fairytale. She could pretend she was playing a part in a movie—only as an extra, but it was a fun feeling being able to reinvent herself. Tonight she could be carefree, happy, loved. Tonight she could be anything she wanted.
The band began playing an old Frank Sinatra song. ‘Shall we dance?’ Damien asked.
He guided her around the dance floor with his hand on her back and his lips in her hair. She’d imagined he would be a fabulous dancer and she wasn’t disappointed. They danced chest to chest and Abi closed her eyes and pretended that she belonged at the party, pretended that she belonged in his arms as she continued with her fantasy of reinvention. Tonight she was a girl who could have anything her heart desired.
His hand moved lower to rest in the small of her back. She could feel each fingertip against her skin and his breath was soft on her ear. She let the occasion and the company seduce her as she imagined Damien kissing her. Tried to imagine how he would taste.
She was in a bubble, their own small world. Nothing existed except the two of them. Her senses had shut down, other than the most basic. All she could think about was sex, desire, want and need. And Damien.
Tonight she was a girl who could have anything her heart desired. And she desired Damien.
SHE SAT BESIDE him in the limousine. Their thighs were touching and the heat from his body scorched her skin and warmed her insides.
A bottle of champagne was chilling in an ice bucket. Damien reached for it and poured them each a glass. The champagne was cold and the sharp contrast between the coldness of the drink and the temperature of her body made her catch her breath.
Damien sipped his drink, drawing her attention to his lips. She imagined leaning forward, pressing her lips to his, tasting him, as she’d been longing to do all evening, but before she could decide whether to take that chance the driver had turned into her driveway and pulled up behind Damien’s car, which was where he had left it after dropping Summer off with Irma and George for a sleepover.
He took her glass from her hand and put it down in the limousine. He picked up the bottle as the driver opened Abi’s door.
‘Do you have champagne flutes?’ he asked.
She
