The A-List Collection. Victoria Fox
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looked confused. ‘She’s in LA?’
‘Yup.’
Chris whistled through his teeth. ‘You’re on a tight leash, my friend.’
‘Hardly,’ said Nate cockily. As if to prove a point, he delivered a wink to a buxom blonde standing at the bar.
‘Is she filming anything?’ asked Felix politely. He’d bumped into Chloe on a video shoot a few years back and remembered how friendly she was.
Nate shrugged. ‘Not sure,’ he said, but he buried the last bit in his beer.
Three hours and countless drinks later, Nate and Chris stumbled out of Pellys.
‘Let’s carry on the party at our place,’ said one of the girls. They had managed to pull two red-headed identical twins, one of whom was slightly more attractive than the other. Nate knew if it came to it then he’d get dibs on her–but who knew what kind of twisted shit twins liked to get up to.
‘Lead the way, ladies,’ said Chris, as the four of them piled into a cab.
The twins’ apartment in Westwood was sprawling and filled with girly possessions, most of which were strewn carelessly about the place. Nate decided they must be extremely rich. It was definitely a single ladies’ pad–skimpy bikini tops hung from the backs of chairs, floor-to-ceiling mirrors covered the walls, sun creams and perfume bottles lay open on their sides and an array of pastel knickers littered the floor. He smirked, imagining they must spend a lot of time walking around naked.
Within two minutes of entering the apartment, Slightly-Less-Attractive Twin dragged Nate down on to a sofa and pinned him with her elbows. ‘You’re so sexy!’ she snarled, attacking his mouth with hers, which was sticky with lip gloss.
Out the corner of his eye Nate saw that the same thing was happening to Chris, only Chris had managed to pull the prettier one. It was a funny thing, like his one’s features were exactly the same only a little bit … off centre. He needed to steer this thing back on track.
‘Whoa, whoa,’ he said, gently pushing her away. In response she peeled off her top and buoyantly sprang free. No bra needed there, then.
She looked across at her twin and the other girl did the same. They were giggling and touching themselves up at the same time, which was a weird combination.
Chris looked like a little boy in a sweet shop.
‘Let’s just cool it a minute,’ said Nate, producing some smoking paraphernalia from the back pocket of his jeans. ‘Smoke a little, chill a little.’
Slightly-Less-Attractive Twin pouted and reached for her top.
‘No need to do that,’ clarified Nate quickly.
‘Let’s all get totally naked!’ squealed the other one. Yes, she was definitely much prettier. Nate would have her later–if he quickly swopped them round he doubted Chris would know the difference anyway.
Chris, scarcely believing his luck, stood to unzip his jeans.
Nate paused in rolling the joint and made a ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ gesture. His friend immediately sat back down.
God, Chris needed some serious tuition in the art of getting girls into bed–the trick was in keeping your cool, not giving away too much too soon. Deciding the same didn’t apply to the twins, he instructed them to remove the rest of their clothes.
It was pretty crazy, this seeing double malarkey. Both girls had identical bodies–there was no doubt their chests were surgically enhanced but the rest seemed real enough–apart from one having a mole to the left of her tummy button. Nate was pleased to see the cuffs matched the collar, which was definitely a turn-on. Yup, it was red-head all the way.
Chris was slack-jawed. It struck Nate that he didn’t get laid all too often.
After smoking a couple of joints one of the girls disappeared into the bedroom and emerged with a bag of coke. Things were looking up.
Several lines and lethal rum cocktails later, everyone was naked. Nate didn’t know any more which twin he was getting off with–at one point he might have been getting off with Chris-and he didn’t much care. His dick felt amazing: it was huge, a tower, the centre of the universe as the twins lapped at it and its length disappeared into one of their mouths, both, everyone’s. The rest of his body became a mere appendage to the pursuit of his cock, and the thought occurred that the rest of him might be shrinking as it grew and swelled, until he was nothing but a great big cock and that great big cock was set to take over the world.
Vaguely he was aware of Chris going down on one of the girls. Then the other one, or maybe it was the same one, was slipping a condom on, but it felt like it only covered the very top. Nothing was big enough to contain him. And, as he slid into heaven, he closed his eyes and gave himself up.
He was in America. He had arrived. And what Chloe French didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.
‘I got news for you, kiddo,’ said Rita Clay. ‘Your premiere’s going to the Orient.’
Lana sat down on the bed. She pressed the phone so hard against her ear that it hurt.
‘The Orient Las Vegas?’
Rita sounded confused. ‘Where else? We’re not catching a plane to China.’
Lana felt the ground go out from under her. Next summer came at her with gathering, terrible speed, like a train hurtling towards a gap in the line.
I’m going to see Robbie again.
Except he wasn’t Robbie any more: he was a world-famous billionaire. And he hated her.
She managed a small, ‘Why?’
‘Is something the matter?’ Rita asked. ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’
Lana squeezed her eyes shut. So she’d be meeting Robbie again–so what? It had to happen sooner or later and she’d just have to deal with it. She didn’t have to talk to him; she didn’t even have to look at him. Except when she thought of the pictures she’d tried to avoid seeing but ultimately couldn’t resist–pictures showing his smile, his chin, his kind eyes, his arms–she didn’t know how she would manage. She wanted him so much it stopped her heart.
Rita interrupted her chain of thought. ‘I’m serious, Lana, what is it? ‘
‘Nothing,’ she told her agent. ‘Shooting’s almost over and it’s been an exhausting few weeks.’
‘OK. You know I don’t believe you.’
Lana ran a hand over her crisp white bed linen–Cole’s staff were perfectionists in every task and never risked a thing. Her fingers were shaking.
‘I used to know the guy behind it,’ she found herself saying. She closed her eyes. ‘A long time ago.’
‘What guy?’
‘Robert St Louis.’ It was good to finally speak his name, though it trembled in her throat. ‘He owns the Orient.’
‘A ha!’ exclaimed Rita, missing her friend’s tone. ‘There’s a history there, I knew it. No wonder you’re acting so shook up. Was he good?’
Yes, he was good. He was so, so good.
Lana harnessed her emotion. ‘It was nothing, really,’ she lied. ‘Just a fling.’ Forget the rest of it. Forget that she had been deeply in love with him. Forget that he had saved her life. He might take the blame for it, but she knew better. The decision she had made that terrible night had been the truly unspeakable one.
‘He’s a little bit to die for,’ said Rita, a smile in her voice. ‘You are one hell of a lucky lady, Ms Falcon.’