Читать книгу Hot Nights with the...Australian: The Master Player / Overtime in the Boss's Bed / The Billionaire Boss's Innocent Bride - Nicola Marsh, Emma Darcy - Страница 7

‘WHAT’S going on, Max?’

The question was shot at him the moment he re-entered the Starlight Room—it was Lisa Cox, the editor for the entertainment section in one of the major newspapers, sniffing a story that might have more sensational value than a report on a launch party and waiting to pounce on the major source for it. She was a sharp-faced woman with big curly hair, inquisitive eyes and a dangerous tongue.

‘You whip out of here with Chloe, who looked like death,’ she swiftly put in. ‘You come back alone …’

‘Chloe is resting,’ he blandly stated.

‘What’s wrong with her?’

‘The energy drain of the party, continually responding to people without pausing to eat or drink. I think she needed a fast sugar-hit,’ he said with a frown of concern.

‘Does she have diabetes?’

‘I’m about to speak to her mother about Chloe’s condition, if you’ll excuse me.’

He stepped aside, his gaze already scanning the crowd for a carrot-red head.

‘Is this going to be a problem for the show?’ Lisa threw at him.

He returned a freezing-off smile. ‘No. Someone needs to take better care of her. That’s all. And I’ll make sure it’s done.’

Closure on that issue. No gossip to pursue.

Stephanie Rollins had moved to the far corner of the room, obviously involved in a heated discussion with Tony Lipton and Laura Farrell. They were unaware of his return, probably the only three people in the room who were since the crowd literally parted to make way for him as he took the most direct path to where they stood.

Laura Farrell was tall, model-slim, straight brown hair falling to her shoulder blades, wearing an elegant black dress, in keeping with her personal style of always appearing in good classic clothes. She had amber eyes—cat’s eyes. Max had seen envy in them when she was looking at Chloe. Contempt, as well. As though Chloe was stupid and didn’t deserve her status as a star.

It was a completely different story when Chloe was looking at her—sweetly helpful, indulgently helpful, happy to do whatever was asked of her. The two-faced bitch had shown her true colours tonight. Max was looking forward to banishing her from Chloe’s orbit.

Tony Lipton, as well, even more so, the smarmy con man riding his gravy train without any real caring for the woman who’d been carrying him. With his streaky blond hair and green eyes he could almost be a clone for Robert Redford in his prime, but his only talent was for looking good and talking himself up. The fall is coming, Max silently promised him as Tony caught sight of his approach, was visibly alarmed by it and quickly warned the others.

The two women sprang aside, automatically making room for him to join the group. Laura’s face held a mixture of fear and belligerence. She had to know she’d dug her own grave as Chloe’s personal assistant but she was going to fight to come out on top with a hefty slice of Chloe’s wealth through Tony’s mistake in getting her pregnant. No doubt she’d get long-term support out of his divorce settlement. The pregnancy would not have been a mistake on her part.

There was tight-lipped anger on Stephanie’s face. She’d obviously been counting the cost of the inevitable fallout and didn’t like the score. She’d like it even less when he slapped her with Chloe’s total disaffection from her domination.

The tension amongst the group was palpable, waiting for him to present them with a platform from which to push their hotly contesting barrows. Max wasn’t about to give it to them in full view of interested spectators.

‘No doubt you’re all concerned about Chloe,’ he said, barely keeping an acid sarcasm out of his voice. ‘I’ve taken her to a private suite. I suggest you all accompany me out of here so the situation can be discussed in private. I urge you not to speak to anyone as we go. You won’t like the consequences if you do.’

‘You can’t do anything to me,’ Laura jeered defiantly.

‘Shut your bloody mouth!’ Tony sliced at her.

‘Take my arm, Stephanie,’ Max commanded, holding it out for public linkage to Chloe’s mother.

No hesitation there.

Max shot a steely look at the gravy-train specialist. ‘Follow us, Tony, and bring your woman with you.’

The perfect golden tan on his face didn’t look so perfect stained with a guilty red flush, but Max didn’t pause to take pleasure in the effect. He retraced his path across the room with Stephanie Rollins in tow, his head bent to her in a pose of confidential conversation, murmuring a string of platitudes about the need to look after Chloe more carefully.

It only took a matter of minutes to have the three of them away from the party and in an elevator being whisked up to what they undoubtedly expected to be a showdown with Chloe. On the executive floor he led them to a door where a butler was standing, ready to let them in and hand over the pass card to Max, who had arranged for this second suite to be available on his way down from the one Chloe was now occupying.

They trooped in.

He closed the door.

Stephanie was the first to react. ‘Where’s Chloe?’ she snapped, eyes suspicious of having been maneuvred into a place that held no advantage to her.

‘Where she wants to be … out of reach from any of you,’ he replied, sweeping all three of them with a look of icy contempt before addressing Stephanie. ‘Since you hired Laura Farrell as Chloe’s personal assistant, I suggest you now fire her. She will not be welcome anywhere near Chloe again. Is that understood, Stephanie?’

She nodded, too smart to argue against what he was telling her point-blank was unfixable.

‘I wouldn’t work for her again anyway,’ Laura mumbled.

Max ignored her, targeting Tony next. ‘You’re fired from the script-writing team.’

‘You can’t do that. I’ve got a contract,’ he spluttered.

‘I’ll buy it out. My lawyer will be in touch with you to settle. Consider the contract terminated as of now. I don’t want you anywhere in the vicinity of Chloe when she’s working on the show.’

‘But …’

‘Go quietly, Tony,’ he advised, threat underlining every word as he added, ‘I could have you blacklisted from the whole television industry.’

‘For God’s sake! I just made a mistake in my private life. It has nothing to do with my profession,’ he protested.

‘It’s not private when it affects my business. Go quietly, Tony,’ he repeated.

He shook his head in shattered disbelief that his dalliance with Laura Farrell would bring such fast and comprehensive reprisal—banished from the golden star circle, in danger of being completely exiled from celebrity stamping grounds, and without Chloe at his side he had no leverage to change what was being dealt out to him.

Satisfied that Tony was now fully aware of consequences, Max turned his attention back to Chloe’s mother. His strong inclination was to get rid of her altogether, but family bonds were tricky. Without consulting further with Chloe, he had to check himself on that front.

‘I don’t believe you’ve acted in your daughter’s best interests, Stephanie, which you should have done both as her mother and her agent.’

‘This is none of my doing,’ she cried, one hand flying out in a cutting dismissal of Laura and Tony.

‘You chose Laura and you allowed Tony to attach himself to Chloe’s career. Bad judgement on both counts,’ Max bored in relentlessly. ‘You will meet with me at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning in my city office for a discussion on whether or not you will continue to be her agent.’

‘That’s between me and Chloe,’ she vehemently argued.

‘No. She has given me the power to act on her behalf and I shall, Stephanie. Believe me, I shall. You might want to bring a lawyer with you. Mine will certainly be there.’

‘Let me talk to her,’ came the swift demand, a flicker of fear behind the calculation in her eyes. ‘We’ve got too much history for you to interfere like this.’

‘Chloe does not want to listen to you,’ Max stated unequivocally, pushing the position through with calm ruthlessness. ‘I suggest you accept that your domination of your daughter is over and your best course is to move into damage control rather than try fighting me. I am a very formidable opponent, Stephanie.’

He left that threat hanging for several moments, letting it sink in before announcing, ‘I will now leave you to return to the Starlight Room. None of you will be allowed back into it tonight. The butler will evict you from this suite in thirty minutes. A prompt exit from the hotel would be your wisest move.’

He turned his back on them, let himself out of the suite, gave the butler his instructions, then, not anticipating any pursuit from the group he’d left to contemplate their future, he took an elevator down to the function room floor and rejoined the party in the Starlight Room.

Lisa Cox caught hold of him and inquired, ‘Chloe not returning?’

‘No. She’s been on a publicity treadmill this past week and needs a rest from it,’ he said in casual dismissal. ‘Why not chat to some of the other cast members, Lisa? I’m sure they’d all be happy to give you their view of the show.’

He smiled to wipe out the concern he’d displayed earlier and moved off to do some mixing with the cast himself, making his presence felt at the party for the next forty minutes, which was long enough to publicly distance himself from Chloe’s absence and long enough for the unholy trio to have made their departure from the hotel.

Then excusing himself on the grounds of celebration fatigue, he made a show of retiring for the night, returned to the executive floor, checked that the second suite he’d acquired was empty, then continued on to the one where he’d left Chloe. Only a little over an hour had passed since she’d made her decision. If she’d developed cold feet about it, he’d have to convince her there was no going back. Actions had already been taken.

She belonged with him now.

The thought jolted him, carrying with it as it did an immense satisfaction. It was too strong, smacking of a possessiveness that was alien to him where women were concerned. In maintaining his own freedom he’d always respected their freedom to make their own choices, as well. But he did own Chloe Rollins in a professional sense, for the duration of her contract with him, and she was now free in a personal sense, giving him the opportunity to pursue his interest in her. That was what was giving him this extra buzz of excitement.

She was the most fascinating woman he’d ever met and she was no longer tied to her husband. He could take her, keep her with him, explore the woman she was inside and out, for as long as he wanted to.

Chloe had not moved from the armchair where Max had left her. A review of her life had been churning through her mind—the whole horrible hollowness of being more important to her mother as an image on a television screen than a person with real needs that were ignored or dismissed.

She’d fallen in love with Tony because he’d seemed to focus entirely on her, the woman, making her feel truly loved, caring about what she wanted. All pretence. No sooner were they married than he’d started allying himself with her mother, adding to the pressure to maintain the image on the screen, sugar-coating it by telling her how special she was.

She’d fallen out of love with him very quickly, disillusioned by how he manipulated their life together to his liking, not hers, but he’d been easier to live with than her mother so she’d done whatever he’d required of her to make the relationship harmonious enough, even to this last deal with Maximilian Hart—Tony angling to be part of the script-writing team, arguing that he could share the show with her, be on hand to look after her interests, ensure she had everything she wanted.

Lies.

All lies.

He’d spent more time with Laura than with her, bedding Laura, getting Laura pregnant, while still pretending to be a loving husband. Not that she’d believed it anymore. He loved her career, the contacts, the celebrity whirl. She was the vehicle for the life he wanted, the life her mother wanted.

The marriage had felt empty long before this. Which was why she’d wanted a baby. A baby’s love would have been real and she would have loved it so much. So very much. A child of her own to do everything right for.

Chloe had kept sipping the brandy, liking the fire in her belly. It made her feel alive, made her feel more determined to take charge of her life once this contract with Maximilian Hart had been fulfilled. It felt good to have him on her side, knowing he would help her get through this huge change in her life. It made perfect sense that he didn’t want her so encumbered by problems that she couldn’t shine in his show. She understood that a man like him would want this project to fulfil the potential he’d envisaged. While it was true she was a key player in making that happen, Maximilian Hart was the master player, orchestrating whatever was needed to achieve the desired success.

A man like him …

The phrase had slid through her mind. She tried to analyse what it meant and all she could come up with was a sense of absolute control of himself and everything he did. Maximilian Hart exuded power. Was that what gave him the sexual magnetism that invariably rattled her? It probably rattled every woman who was subjected to his presence.

Chloe was totally unaware of time passing. Hearing the door to the suite being opened jolted her into leaping out of the armchair and turning to face the man who’d done whatever he’d done to ensure she was free of harassment. That was much easier to accept when he was not here. The moment Maximilian Hart came into view, her heart started skittering with nervous apprehension.

‘It’s all right,’ he instantly assured her. ‘You won’t have to see any of them again unless you wish to.’ His gaze dropped to the empty balloon glass she was still nursing in her hands, then quickly swung around the tables in the room. ‘You haven’t eaten?’

‘No. I …’ She flushed, remembering his instructions to order something from room service. ‘I just didn’t think of it.’

He smiled reassuringly. ‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Chloe. I’m feeling somewhat peckish myself, so I’m going to order us club sandwiches, which you can eat or not as you please.’

She watched him move to the writing desk, pick up the telephone, speak to room service. He added French fries to the order, then asked her, ‘Tea, coffee or hot chocolate?’

‘Hot chocolate. And tomato sauce.’

He raised a quizzical eyebrow.

‘I like tomato sauce with French fries,’ she explained, not caring if it sounded childish. She suddenly felt peckish, too, and wanted to enjoy the food he’d ordered.

His smile was one of satisfaction this time. Chloe wished his smiles would make him less daunting but they didn’t. They gave her the sense he was one move ahead of her and they were designed to make her feel better about falling in with him. He was probably ten moves ahead of her. She needed to get her wits together and find out what he’d done on her behalf.

Having completed the room service order, he wrote something on the notepad beside the telephone. ‘I’ve booked another suite for myself and stopped all calls to this one so you’re assured of an uninterrupted night. When you’re ready for breakfast tomorrow morning, call me on this number—’ he tapped the notepad ‘—and I’ll join you to plot out the next steps that have to be taken. Okay?’

She nodded, relieved to know he wasn’t thinking of spending the night with her. Not that she had worried about that in any sexual sense. It was a well-known fact he was currently connected to the model Shannah Lian, a gorgeous redhead who oozed class. While Shannah had not attended the party with him tonight, probably because of some other commitment, Chloe didn’t connect the model’s absence to any interest Maximilian Hart might have in herself.

This was business for him. However, he might have thought she shouldn’t be left alone, and the simple truth was she couldn’t relax in his presence. Her gaze drifted to the bed. It would be good to climb into it, knowing she was alone. A shudder of revulsion ran through her at the thought of Tony having sex with her after he’d been with Laura. Never again!

‘Tony will not be connected to the show anymore, Chloe. I’ve fired him from the script-writing team. Laura Farrell will be gone, as well. They’re both out of your professional life.’

Clearing the set for the show to go on, Chloe thought, but their banishment did give her a vengeful satisfaction. ‘Good!’ she said, swinging her gaze back to the man who’d used his power to free her from them in the workplace. ‘Thank you.’

He strolled towards her, gesturing towards the armchair she had vacated. ‘Room service will take a while and we need to talk about your mother.’

She sat down, seething with rebellion against anything her mother might have suggested to him, ready to fight any continuance of the control that had blighted her life. He took his time, settling in his armchair, the dark eyes observing her edginess, making her feel even more tense.

‘Do you want to keep her as your agent?’ he asked.

‘No.’ The word exploded from a mountain of resentments. A rush of doubts followed it. She had no idea of the legalities of the situation. ‘Do I have to?’

He shook his head. ‘I took the liberty of arranging a meeting with her tomorrow for the purpose of ending the business relationship between you.’

He’d already taken the initiative! Chloe stared at him in awed silence.

He made an offhand gesture. ‘You still have the choice.’

‘I don’t want her in charge of anything to do with me anymore,’ Chloe said vehemently.

He nodded. ‘My lawyer will sort it out for you.’

Just like that! She shook her head in amazement, scarcely able to believe that the shackles of a lifetime could be broken so easily. ‘My mother will fight against it. What did she say when you arranged this meeting?’

He shrugged. ‘She wanted to speak to you, which I would not allow.’

‘I don’t want to listen to her.’

‘I did pass that on,’ he said dryly, totally unruffled by whatever arguments had been thrown at him.

Of course he wasn’t emotionally involved, Chloe reasoned. To him it was a clear-cut business issue of ending an agent/actor contract and settling the financial fallout.

‘Do I have to be at the meeting tomorrow?’ she asked anxiously.

‘Do you want to be?’ He didn’t seem to be the least bit concerned about it, again leaving the choice up to her.

‘No.’ She could well imagine the harangue she would be subjected to—the long list of all her mother had done for her. Except it wasn’t for her. It had never been for her.

‘Are you frightened your mother will persuade you to keep her on as your agent?’ he asked curiously.

‘No. I just don’t want to listen to her. If you can work it without me …’

‘It will undoubtedly go more smoothly without you. I’ll have my lawyer join us for breakfast in the morning. You can give him your instructions and he’ll act on them.’

‘I think that would be best.’

Another decision made—by herself, for herself.

‘Yes,’ he agreed, rising from his chair. ‘If you’ll excuse me, Chloe, I’ll call him now. Will eight o’clock suit?’

‘Yes, but …’ She looked down at her blue silk party dress. ‘I have only these clothes.’

‘A bathrobe will be fine for breakfast,’ he assured her. ‘I’ll arrange for clothes to be brought to you from the hotel boutiques when they open. Don’t worry about appearances. The big picture is more important.’

The big picture … one she was drawing, not her mother or Tony or even Maximilian Hart, who was giving her choices, not making decisions for her. She watched him move away, taking out his mobile phone to make the call to his lawyer. Somehow his power didn’t feel quite so intimidating anymore. He was using it on her behalf—the white knight slaying her dragons.

She couldn’t help liking him for it.