she’d retorted. ‘It’s all an act. Nobody here cares about the real me. They want a certain image and so that’s what I give them-but I do it on my terms, enough to catch their interest, but nothing scandalous.’
She was right. He was an idiot. ‘And it’s as easy as that, is it?’
‘You know it’s not. I can’t do anything about it if some ex of mine decides to make a few quid by selling some holiday snaps, but I can manage my response to it.’ Reaching for the glass she’d swapped, she took a big gulp of his vodka and coke. ‘I won’t say it doesn’t hurt getting betrayed like that, but now I know not to trust anyone.’
‘You’re trusting me, though.’
She laughed. ‘The way I see it, this is about mutual risk. What do either of us gain out of betraying the other over this arrangement? However we spin it, people will be mad because we’re basically setting out to manipulate them.’
She had a point. ‘So, how do we play this?’
They’d laid down a set of basic ground rules, and so far it’d worked to their mutual benefit. The press loved the idea of them together, and Will had got his act together regarding drinking in public. His reputation had improved, and people had started to pay more attention to his work and less to his personal escapades. The relentless merry-go-round was growing tiresome now, and Will had started to wonder about whether it was time for him to get off the publicity ride completely. He had a good stable of clients, and several of his projects had been featured in the weekend supplements. Their order book was full for the next twelve months, with enquiries coming in daily. The balance of those enquiries had also shifted from people attracted to his celebrity, to word-of-mouth recommendations from previous clients.
Melody placed her hand over his where it rested on her hip-their agreed signal to move on-and he turned her away from the bank of cameras to the small flight of steps leading into the Leicester Square cinema. Releasing her hip, he climbed the first couple before turning back to offer his hand. Cameras flashed once more, and he urged her up the stairs, keen to be out of the glare of the spotlight for a bit.
Once inside, he left Melody chatting to a television producer she’d worked with on Bootcamp Babes and edged his way through the packed crowd towards the bar. There were servers circulating with tray of drinks, but he preferred to know exactly what went into his glass these days. Having secured two sparkling mineral waters, he wove back to where he’d left Melody in time to hear her saying. ‘Yes, Chris has mentioned the project to us, and it sounds like a lot of fun.’
The word ‘us’ had Will on immediate alert. If Melody was talking about what he thought she was, he’d wring her bloody neck. Handing her one of the glasses, he flashed her a look of warning behind the producer’s back, adding a brief shake of his head for emphasis. Blithely ignoring him, Melody took a sip of her water before continuing. ‘I think Digging Deep could be the perfect daytime show, a combination of This Morning and those garden makeover shows.’
Will downed half his drink as he counted silently to ten in an effort to hang onto his temper. Their manager had come up with a ridiculous idea for a combination gardening and chat show which Will and Melody would co-host. Whilst he showed some random celebrity or another how to make the most of their gardens, Melody would chat to them about their life and career. Although he could see the appeal of the show, Will had zero interest in expanding his current celebrity status any further. He already spent far less time than he wanted to with his hands in the dirt, it was just another distraction he didn’t need right now.
The producer nodded along with every word. ‘Right, right, that’s exactly the positioning crying out for something new.’ She glanced between the two of them. ‘And you’re such an attractive couple. The public can’t seem to get enough of real-life partnerships on screen together.’
Curling his arm around Melody’s waist, Will stared down into her eyes simultaneously hating and admiring the seeming love in her returning gaze. ‘It’s a shame I’m far too busy with my existing workload to consider taking on anything new right now, because I know Melody is just the kind of person to put others at their ease.’ Turning away from the tightness in her expression, he cast a deprecating smile at the producer. ‘Besides, I haven’t exactly got the right kind of face for television.’ He tilted his head, making sure the light would catch the thick scar across his cheek.
The producer’s smile wavered for a second. ‘I was under the impression you were fully on board with the project.’
Will shrugged. ‘Like I said, it sounds like a lot of fun. Maybe we can revisit it further down the road, but I’m still establishing my business and that’s my absolute priority for now.’
‘Yes, of course. Well, it was lovely to catch up, Melody. Speak soon!’ With a flurry of air kisses, the woman melted into the crowd.
Melody rounded on him the moment they were alone. ‘What the hell was that?’
Leaning close, he brushed the side of his face she hated against her cheek. ‘That was me refusing to be railroaded, darling. If you’re going to break the rules of our deal, I’ll push back.’
He felt her twitch against him before tilting her head back to meet his eyes. Through another brilliant smile she hissed. ‘Fine. But remember that goes both ways.’
*
Those warning words were still ringing in his ears the next morning as Will scrambled around his flat, trying to field a phone call from his assistant, Anna, while he got himself ready for the day.
‘But I thought they’d signed off the design a week ago?’ His left hand clenched around his phone. This was not what he needed to hear when he was running on empty. The film premiere they’d attended had been for the latest instalment of a high-octane blockbuster crash and smash franchise, so his chances of catching a nap during the show had been nil. Melody had insisted on them going to the after-party, a punishment for him shutting down her conversation with the producer, he was sure. Not wanting to risk a public row with her, he’d gritted his teeth and gone along, but things were going to have to change. He was not a lapdog, and he would not be treated as one, especially when all these late nights left him feeling bad-tempered in the morning.
Trying to rub his forehead to ward off the headache he could already feel threatening to build, he almost whacked himself in the eye with the training shoe clutched in his right hand. ‘Bollocks, hold on a minute,’ he said into the phone.
Sinking down on the bottom step of the floating staircase that dominated the sleek, minimalist open plan-lower floor of his two-storey apartment, he flicked on the loud speaker on the phone before placing it beside him. He was already running late and as if falling into bed after 1 a.m. wasn’t bad enough, he’d woken up on the hour, every hour, only to finally tumble into a deep sleep about forty minutes before his alarm went off.
To add insult to injury, one of the pods for his supposedly top-of-the-range coffee machine had burst, leaving him with a mug full of undrinkable brown sludge. And it had been the last pod in the box, of course. Exhausted and un-caffeinated was a dangerous combination first thing in the morning. He would have to make an emergency stop at a coffee shop on his way to his first appointment. ‘Sorry, you were saying …’ He aimed the comment towards his phone, bending over to put on his trainers at the same time.
‘They did. I had written confirmation from their PA that both Tony and Phillipa were thrilled with the design.’ Anna, his genius assistant and all-round saver of his sanity, sighed, the sound the perfect counterpoint to the frustration bubbling inside him. ‘Unfortunately, Phillipa
