False Family. Mary Wilson Anne
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eyes narrowed. “Nothing more?”
“Not really.”
“What did you tell him?” he bit out.
For some reason she didn’t tell him about the meeting at the theater. She didn’t know why, but the words just never came. Instead she said simply, “He knows I’m an actress.”
“You told him why you were meeting with me?”
“No, I didn’t. I just said that I had to be here by six to see you. That’s it. I didn’t give him any details at all. I wasn’t about to. He’s a stranger. I didn’t even know he knew you until we got here.”
He was obviously relieved. “Henry was quite right. You’ll do perfectly.”
Mallory barely contained her own relief. “You still want me for the part?”
“Absolutely. Henry said that you agreed to the two-week run, so I think, all things considered, this will work out quite well.” He moved away from her to cross to a marble-topped table and two leather chairs positioned by the fireplace. “Come,” he said as he took one of the chairs. “Sit. We need to talk.”
She didn’t have to be coaxed to go closer to the warmth of the blaze in the hearth. She took the chair opposite Saxon Mills and watched him settle, resting his elbows on the padded arms.
As he steepled his fingertips, he peered at Mallory. “I have it on good authority that you are a very good actress. Are you also a quick study?”
“In fact, I am,” she said as she settled in the warm leather. “I never have trouble learning lines.”
“Good. There’s a lot of information you’ll have to remember to do this job correctly. And I expect a top-notch performance from you.”
“I’ll do my best, but I haven’t even seen the script yet.”
He flicked that away with the wave of one hand. “It’s not needed.”
“Excuse me?”
“There is no script. This is a rather…unique role—improvisation of sorts.”
“Mr. Mills, I don’t understand. Mr. Welting said you wanted me as a replacement for another actor. I assumed—”
He stared right at her, his cold blue gaze stopping her words. “Rule one, Miss King. Don’t assume anything if you work for me.”
Everything and everyone is expendable for Saxon Mills. Tony’s words echoed in Mallory’s mind, and she could feel the tension in her neck and shoulders coming back full force. She needed this job, no matter how uneasy this man made her. Tony worked with him, probably making lots of money, and he didn’t even like him. Pressing her fingers into the soft leather of the chair arms, she tried to keep her gaze level. “Of course. Why don’t you explain things to me.”
He lifted one eyebrow. “That’s exactly what I was about to do.”
She bit her lip, not trusting herself to say anything else, in case she said the wrong thing again.
“I don’t know how much you know about me, but you need a brief background. I am a self-made man. I was born in relative poverty, one of two sons of immigrants, and I promised myself I would never be poor again—no matter what it took. That’s how I’ve lived my life. I get what I want, and I won’t take no for an answer.” He tapped his forefingers together over and over again as he spoke. “This house is mine. There isn’t another like it anywhere. One of a kind. Very unique.”
So was the man speaking. “It’s a remarkable house.”
“That’s when you know you’re successful, Miss King, when you have something that no one else has, something that no amount of money can really duplicate. And it’s worth what it takes to get it.” He was silent for a moment, his blue eyes unblinking. “Do you understand that concept?” he finally asked. “Do you see the kind of man I am?”
No wonder Tony didn’t exactly like him. Saxon Mills was obsessed with Saxon Mills. “Yes, I think I do.”
He shifted the subject abruptly. “Henry told me that you’ve done a lot of stage work.”
“Mostly small theater.”
“Why do you work on stage?”
“I love live theater. You feel as if you’re really living the part when you hear reactions immediately.”
“Excellent. How do you feel about lies?”
She was beginning to feel a bit like Alice in Wonderland just after she fell down the rabbit hole. Nothing was making sense—from meeting Tony again on a rainy road in the storm, to sitting here opposite a man who wouldn’t have a problem taking the part of the Mad Hatter. “I don’t understand.”
“Lying, as in not telling the truth? Lying for a valid reason, without feeling remorse or regret?”
She shrugged. “I suppose acting is a lie. You take over a part, and you pretend that you’re another person for as long as the curtain’s up. You have to make people believe you’re that person.”
“Exactly,” he said with a sigh. “And that brings me to the reason you’re here. I have a part for you that’s one of a kind. It’s unique, and I’m sure it will be very demanding.”
“What exactly is the part?”
His hands dropped to the arms of the chair and his long fingers smoothed the leather. But his blue eyes never left her face. “Before I tell you, you have to agree that no one will know anything about it except you and me, and that it will go no further than this room and the two of us.”
Madness on top of madness. “If I’m on the stage—”
“You won’t be.”
She stared at him, her heart sinking. “You said I could have the part.”
“And you shall.”
“Mr. Mills, the request to come here was a bit odd, but I agreed to it because I was under the impression that this offer was legitimate. I’m serious about my career.”
“And you’re serious about getting more money for this job than any that you’ve had so far in your fledgling career.” He sat forward and she found herself pressing back into the chair to keep the distance between them intact. “Every job you’ve had, you’ve done for next to nothing. Most were insignificant roles, walk-ons at best, or parts in plays that were run on goodwill and the ridiculousness of people who would work for meals or the sound of applause.”
A feeling akin to hate rose in Mallory as she stared at the man. He had no qualms about cutting people down with words. She didn’t have a clue how she was going to walk away—would she find Tony and beg him to drive her out of here?—but she wasn’t going to stay in the room with this man. As she started to stand, he stopped her with a sharp command.
“Sit down. I’m only trying to reach an understanding with you. I guarantee you, Miss King, this is a legitimate offer. It’s a very sensitive issue, for reasons you’ll understand when I explain everything to you. Just give me your word that even if you walk out the door in the next five minutes, you won’t tell anyone what went on in here.” He drilled her with his eyes. “Anyone.”
She knew her position was tenuous at best. Her car was stuck, and this place was out in the middle of nowhere. And if she were honest, the last thing she wanted to do was get back in a car with a man who could upset her equilibrium with a single look. Leaving wasn’t a viable option at the moment.
“Okay,” she said. “I agree to that.”
“Excellent.”
“What is it you want me to do?”
“I want you to play the part of my daughter for the next two weeks.”
Mallory