the prospect of escape, when Skye chimed in. ‘Celeste, you haven’t forgotten that it’s my Mum’s surprise party tonight, have you?’
Another flinch. Another fake smile. If Skye noticed, she let it pass. She’d always been the more circumspect of the twins and Mitchell was grateful that she maintained a polite relationship with Celeste because it made life easier. Isla’s restraint would already have left the building and she’d be calling Celeste out on her bullshit by now.
If his wife’s eyebrows had been capable of movement, she’d have raised them. ‘Of course not, darling. Although I still think it’s a crazy idea. Your mother hates surprises. Anyway, I’m looking forward to it.’ Another lie.
If Celeste had a choice between a night celebrating Agnetha and a cold sore, she’d chose the herpes virus every time.
‘Actually, that’s given me a thought – I might go shopping and pick up something new to wear after lunch, so I’m not sure when I’ll be back.’ Celeste’s eyes didn’t reach his.
Wow. Had she just grasped on to another excuse to stay out of the house and tell him another lie?
Some people might say he deserved it. After all, the woman he was married to now had been his ex-wife’s best friend. His current suspicions that Celeste had new interests elsewhere would suggest that karma had come back to bite him on the arse.
‘I’ll be in my dressing room if anyone needs me,’ she said, in a tone of reluctance that made it obvious she didn’t want to be disturbed. Celeste’s dressing room-come-sitting room was the one area that was off limits to everyone else. She’d converted a full double bedroom and bathroom into an area that had more square footage than the master bedroom. In it, there were copious wardrobes, an en suite bathroom, make-up and hairdressing stations, and a large TV that could be viewed from both the freestanding clawfoot bath and the overstuffed sofa in the middle of the room. She’d designed every inch of it and in the beginning, it had been just another glamourous achievement to brag about on social media, rather than somewhere she sought refuge. Over the last few months, though, she’d spent more time in there than in any other room in the house, including their own bedroom. Actually, especially their own bedroom.
After she’d gone, a few silent moments passed before Mitchell dropped his cup into the sink and headed to the shower, decision made. He definitely wouldn’t be getting any work done today. Nor would there be any relaxation. If she wasn’t going to be straight with him, then he was going to have to find out the truth for himself, and if that required a bit of subterfuge, then so be it.
Today was the day that Mitchell McMaster was going to follow his wife and find out if she was having an affair.
3
Agnetha and Celeste – 1997
Agnetha stretched her naked body across the cool white sheets and let the breeze from the window glide over her. She’d barely taken a second breath when she felt Aaron’s hand brush along her thigh, a soft sleepy moan accompanying his touch.
‘Happy birthday, baby,’ he murmured, leaning over and giving her a slow, sultry kiss. His Californian accent was unfailingly sexy and she’d been intoxicated by it since she met him, three months ago, on the day they’d arrived in LA.
Agnetha groaned, with both pleasure and pain. The prospect of spending her twenty-third birthday with Aaron made her deliciously happy, but the hangover caused by last night’s celebrations had a steel band using the inside of her skull for practice. And she really needed to brush her teeth. ‘Am I dreaming the bit where I danced on the bar in that nightclub and the manager offered me a job?’
‘Nope. He’s expecting you at 8 p.m. tonight. He’s providing the sequinned bikini.’
Agnetha’s chuckle was low and husky. Too much singing in the clubs last night too. It had been a pretty special introduction to Vegas. This was the first time she’d been, and they’d come on a whim – actually Aaron’s whim – to celebrate her birthday.
Unfortunately, she wouldn’t be claiming the sequinned bikini because this was a short visit. They were all heading back to LA the following morning and then she and Celeste would be flying home to Glasgow, via London, in a few days’ time.
Reluctantly, she pushed herself up on the bed, to an immediate objection.
‘Woah! Where do you think you’re going?’
‘To get showered and ready. I’d like to see a bit of Vegas before we go back to LA tomorrow.’
‘Screw it. Forget going home tomorrow.’ The way he said ‘home’ gave her goosebumps, because they both knew that LA wasn’t her home. It was only his. Yet, it sounded so right, it set off a flurry of tingles in her stomach. ‘There’s another bus the day after… and the day after… and the day after,’ he insisted, as his lips found hers, the need for dental hygiene temporarily forgotten.
‘Bus’ was probably a bit of an understatement for the luxury coach that had transported them here from LA. It had picked them up at a plush hotel in West Hollywood, a few blocks from Aaron and Zac’s apartment. She’d stared out of the window the whole way, loving the transition from the beach, to the desert, to the kaleidoscopic extravaganza that was Las Vegas. At his insistence, they’d checked into Caesars Palace, courtesy of Aaron’s credit card. Unlike the card that she’d put this holiday on, she was fairly sure Aaron could more than afford to pay it back.
Not that she’d worry about her burgeoning credit balance for a single moment. Not while she was here, in a gorgeous hotel room in one of the most exciting cities on the planet with a breath-takingly gorgeous man whose hand still appeared to be wandering up the inside of her thigh.
This trip had definitely taken an unexpected turn for the incredible. She’d landed almost twelve weeks ago at LAX with her best friend, Celeste, intent on experiencing everything Tinsel Town had to offer two twenty-something Scottish girls with a thirst for adventure. They’d checked into a chain motel off Santa Monica Boulevard, then showered, thrown on dresses and heels, and headed out to explore.
It was pure chance, serendipity, that Aaron and his mate Zac were sitting at the bar in the Chateau Marmont. Agnetha had dragged Celeste in there because she’d once seen it mentioned in a Jackie Collins novel and wanted to see it for herself. It didn’t take long to get chatting to the two handsome guys at the next seats.
‘So, actors, models or musicians?’ Celeste struck up the conversation with a coy seductive smile. ‘I’m thinking models?’
Agnetha could see she was flirting, but then, it was a standing joke that Celeste would flirt with a bamboo plant just for practice. She couldn’t help herself. It was her natural default setting. However, it had got them into more clubs than they could count, got them out of more sticky situations than they wished to remember, and led to some memorable nights with unforgettable fun, so Agnetha had long ago learned to roll with it.
‘None of the above. I work at CAA. I’m the assistant to an agent that represents TV and movie talent,’ Zac had replied. He was the shorter of the two, and gave off an unusual vibe of stockbroker crossed with surfer in his white dress shirt with his tie loose, smart dark trousers and long blond hair pulled back into a messy ponytail.
Celeste’s reaction made it obvious that she liked that answer. Anything less than five degrees of separation from someone who’d actually met a movie star and she was all over it.
