The Tortured Rake. Sarah Morgan
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‘Tonight’s performance is cancelled. Please see the box office for a refund.’
Having finished her preparation for the interview, Katie rolled her aching shoulders and left the wardrobe department. Backstage, the theatre was eerily quiet. Everyone was watching Nathaniel Wolfe.
She stood for a moment, breathing in the smells and the atmosphere. History was embedded deep in the fabric of the building. How many famous actors and actresses had trodden the boards of this theatre?
For a moment she was a child again, six years old and playing dress-up with her sister, Paula.
You can’t be the princess, Katie, you’re too fat and your hair is curly. I’m the prettiest so I’ll be the princess. You can dress me.
What had started as duty fast became a passion. When Paula had decided it wasn’t cool to hang out with her dumpy little sister, Katie had continued to dress her friends. Every night after school they’d put on plays, and Katie had been the one who decided what they were going to wear. She’d loved experimenting with different combinations, loved the challenge of designing a costume that conveyed the essence of each character. A princess with a sword. A fairy in breeches and boots. She’d listened to her friends discussing roles and knew instinctively which costume they needed to fully express the part. She’d dressed her friends, she’d dressed dolls, she’d dressed her mother…
The only person she never dressed again was Paula, whose modelling dreams had taken her far away from her humble roots.
But Katie had continued to dream.
A loud crash from the wings brought her back to the present.
Katie turned her head and listened. What began as a purposeful masculine stride, suddenly increased to a run.
Frowning, she stood her ground, ready to point out to whoever it was that the noise could probably be heard all the way across London’s West End.
Who could possibly be running? An inexperienced stagehand, presumably. Or possibly one of the hangers-on who had been lingering backstage in the hope of catching a glimpse of Nathaniel Wolfe’s virile, muscular frame and flawless features.
Realising that the footsteps were coming straight towards her, Katie hurriedly stepped out of the way but she was too late. A powerful male body slammed into her and sent her flying. There was no time to gasp or cry out. Falling backwards, she braced herself to hit the ground but strong hands suddenly grabbed her and hauled her upright, holding on until she was steady.
Trapped against hard, packed muscle, something melted inside her. It was an elemental reaction that transcended common sense and the sheer power of it shocked her.
Sharp bones, black hair and eyes that could make a woman forget her own name.
‘Er, Mr Wolfe, I didn’t expect to see you here. I mean, obviously you’re performing here so I did expect to see you, but not exactly right here at this precise moment and especially not running backstage.’ Oh, shut up, Katie. ‘Is something wrong?
Well, I can see something is wrong,’ she blurted out, ‘otherwise you wouldn’t be thundering backstage like a herd of elephants, but—’
‘He’s here….’ His hands gripped her shoulders so tightly that Katie winced.
‘Er, who?’ She stared up at him stupidly, her heart hammering against her chest and her mouth dry as dust. Up close it was impossible not to stare. He was shockingly sexy, every line of his perfect features accentuating his masculinity. She tried desperately to form a lucid sentence but her brain felt as if it had been anaesthetised. ‘Mr Wolfe?’
‘Why now?’ Those blue eyes were two glittering slits of fierce anger. ‘Why?’ He released her and punched his fist hard into a piece of abandoned scenery, splintering the wood. Breathing heavily, he pressed his fingers to his forehead, barely coherent. ‘I can’t—I don’t—I have to warn Annabelle….’
Who was Annabelle?
‘Right, well, I can see you’re upset….’ Katie took a wary step backwards, watching him as he drew his phone out of his pocket and keyed in a number. His knuckles were grazed and raw, but he didn’t appear to have noticed. In that single moment, she understood why Nathaniel Wolfe excelled at playing deeply troubled heroes—underneath that perfect physique and breathtakingly handsome face he was a man every bit as troubled as the characters he portrayed. And that was part of the attraction, of course. There was a side of him that was untamed and dangerous. Registering the hard set of his jaw and the grim line of his mouth, she thought about the Special Forces soldier he’d played in his recent action thriller, Alpha Man.
He was the hunter.
And right now he wasn’t acting. She knew he wasn’t acting. And there was no point in her trying to persuade him back onstage. He was a man who followed no one’s orders but his own.
Out of her depth, Katie glanced around, desperately hoping someone else would arrive and take over. Where were the stage managers?
He held the phone to his ear, his movements restless and edgy. Apart from onstage, acting, she’d only ever seen him supercool. He was occasionally sarcastic, frequently bored, but never out of control.
Right now, he looked out of control. The force field of cynicism that surrounded him had been replaced by something close to desperation.
‘Is there an exit that the press don’t know about?’
‘Exit?’ Katie tried to breathe but there was something about the intensity of his gaze that made it impossible to do anything except stare. This was closer than she’d ever been to him before and he was spectacular.
‘If Carrie finds out, this whole thing is going to blow up—Answer the phone, damn it….’ Clearly no one did and he left a short, cryptic message before pocketing the phone again. Then he grabbed Katie by the arm, his tone raw and desperate. ‘You have to get me out of here. Fast.’
Still absorbing the fact that he obviously had two women on the go at the same time, Katie looked at him sternly and then froze because she saw desperation in his eyes. And knew she’d made a fundamental mistake in her assessment of him.
He wasn’t the hunter.
He was the hunted.
Someone—or something—was chasing him.
‘There’s a fire escape in the wardrobe department. It leads into one of the side streets.’ Without pausing to question her actions, she grabbed his hand and dragged him back into the wardrobe department, locking the door behind them.
‘That will hold them for a few minutes. The fire escape is over there. Good luck.’
‘I can’t do this without help!’ He yanked her up close. ‘Where do you live? Is it far?’
The strength left her knees. ‘You have to be kidding. I mean, you have a suite at The Dorchester and—’
‘—and that is the first place they’ll look. The press have been camped outside since my plane landed.’
Katie tried to imagine Nathaniel Wolfe in her cramped bedsit and her face burned. ‘My place is really tiny. Honestly, I don’t think—’
‘Please.’ He cupped her face in his hands so that she had no choice but to look at him again. Eye to eye, she was dazzled. Tumbling into that intense blue gaze, she forgot where she was. She forgot who she was. Dimly she remembered him asking her something but her eyes were locked with his and—
‘Katie?’
In the grip of a sexual excitement she’d never experienced before, she swayed towards him. ‘Mmm?’
‘Katie!‘ He snapped his fingers in front of her face and broke the spell.
Shaking her head to clear the buzzing in her brain, Katie felt as though