The Modeliser (36 page)

“Talia,” Tamara said as she finally stopped in front of her.

“Tamara,” Talia’s reply was measured and clipped.

“You look well,” Tamara said and Talia raised her eyebrows.
“It must be all that success.” Talia gave a small shrug. “You’ll probably want
to thank me,” Tamara continued with a small ironic smile and Talia couldn’t
help but laugh.

“How do you figure that?” She demanded though there was no
real bite to her words.

“If I hadn’t got you sacked – would you be a Hollywood
bound writer or just another storyliner on some soap?” Talia raised an eyebrow
at Tamara. The woman was unstoppable.

“Well it seems things are working out for the best,” Talia
finally said. Tamara smiled again and then she held her hand out. For a moment
Talia hesitated and then she held her own out, shaking Tamara’s hand briefly.
Life was just too short to hate.
 

Talia
watched as Tamara turned to walk away before she stopped and turned back to
face her.

“And if you ever have any more roles for me..,” Tamara said.
“I like the way you write.”Talia gave a small incredulous laugh as she stared
at Tamara’s retreating back. No doubt about it, the woman had balls.

Alex
was spent. After the ovations he’d locked the door and collapsed on the floor
of his dressing room unable to move or speak. The fear tonight had been
crippling and yet he had gone past it, pushed himself, risked everything,
fuelled by one thing; that kiss with Talia. He had to see her. It was this
thought that propelled him off the floor, that forced him to get out of his
make up and costume and head for the party.

He’d
run the gauntlet of photographers with their shouted questions and their
blinding flashbulbs and finally he was in, immediately surrounded by
well-wishers and peers and people he admired so that it was almost an hour
before he had a minute to himself. Helena hugged him tightly.

“You liked?” He asked.

“I liked very much,’ she replied. Alex smiled at the praise.
With Helena he’d always been able to count on a straight to the point answer.
He glanced around, scanning the room until he spotted Talia talking with a
small group of people.

“I should say hi to Talia,” he said as casually as he could.
He had no idea what Talia might have told his sister.

“Please do and if you can, run an intervention for me. The
crazy girl only went and slept with Max Maguire.” Helena laughed. “Still I
guess a bit of movie star action won’t kill anyone.”

Alex stilled. The din in the room seemed to recede into nothing.
He heard ringing in his ears. He could see Helena gazing at him concern on her
face.

“You OK?” She asked. And Alex shook his head.
   

“Exhausted,” he admitted. I need to get some water. He began
to move towards a corridor, still nodding at the glasses raised to toast him or
the person here or there, who wanted to shake his hand or congratulate him with
a kiss on the cheek. He had almost reached the double doors that would take him
into a hallway away from the people when their eyes met. For a moment Alex
froze and then he changed his mind. He needed to talk to her.

Tamara
stared across the room at Vassily. She had covered her shock well when she
first saw him, had held her breath and then released it when she realised that
his date for the evening was Sasha. Father and daughter were in conversation
and even from across the room, Tamara could see the awe in Sasha’s eyes, which
were darting around the room drinking in the sight of all the famous faces.
Tamara knew the moment Vassily spotted her, saw the way he stood a bit
straighter and stiffened. He nodded in acknowledgment to her. Sasha’s
acknowledgment, at least, held more warmth.

“Tamara,” Sasha called out. Sasha moved quickly towards her
and kissed her on both cheeks. “I loved you on The A List, you were so cold.
You’re like the female Simon Cowell.” Tamara laughed, pleased at Sasha’s
ringing endorsement. Whatever her worries about doing reality TV, they had
proved unfounded.

“I didn’t know you were a theatre lover,” Tamara asked as
Vassily followed slowly in his daughter’s wake. Sasha rolled her eyes.

“More like an Alex Golden lover,” she said, then she stopped
looking embarrassed. “Sorry.. You and he..” Sasha trailed off.

“Are good friends,” Tamara said. Sasha nodded relieved and
then a look entered her eyes.

“You couldn’t introduce me? The girls at school would die.”

“Of course,” Tamara answered. She turned to Vassily an arch
expression on her face.

“You coming?” she asked and Vassily fell into stride behind
them as they pushed towards the private room. As Sasha pushed ahead of them
through the throng, Vassily gripped her arm.

“We need to talk, Tamara.” She shot him a look, deliberately
moving out of reach so that he had no choice but to let go of her.

“We have nothing to talk about,” she snapped back. And then
she turned to Sasha with a smile. “Let’s go and find Alex.” And they
disappeared up the sweeping staircase leaving Vassily at the bottom of the
stairs watching them a resigned look in his eyes.

Talia
felt a shiver of desire run through her as she caught Alex’s gaze. She had
watched him talk with Tamara and a young girl but now it seemed he had eyes
only for her. Her arms had broken out in goose pimples and she felt a warm,
prickly sensation shoot through her. This feeling was unlike that she’d had
with Max. She realised in a flash of insight that she wasn’t playing or testing
the waters or trying to be a bad girl. What she felt for Alex was real. His
hair was shorter than it had been when he first arrived in London and his skin
had lost the aggressively LA tan that he had been sporting when he’d arrived.
Talia continued to stare trying to pinpoint exactly what had changed about him.
He still carried himself with the confidence of a movie star but there was a
stillness about him now that was different, he wasn’t constantly running his
hand through his hair or fiddling with his phone. The louche, overly laid back,
aggressively blonde playboy was gone. Talia looked at him and realised for the
first time that he looked like a man. Could The Modeliser have grown up? She
gulped watching as he pushed through the guests. She was rooted to the spot as
he weaved his way towards her. Her mouth was dry as Alex finally arrived in
front of her. He leaned down and kissed her softly on the cheek.

“Talia,” he said. But she cut him off, had to say what was on
her mind.
       

 
“You were…” she
trailed off for a moment as she tried to find the words. “You were
magnificent.” She saw a flare in his eyes and then just as quickly the look was
gone.

“Thank you,” he finally said. There was a formality in his
tone that had never been there between them before – even when they had
been arguing and scathing and contemptuous, there had never been this distance.

“Alex?” Talia asked, a question in her voice. She could sense
that something had changed. The intimacy of the moment before the play was
gone.

“Thank you for coming,” Alex said. “It means a lot.”

Talia
nodded in confusion and then her eyes widened as he leaned in towards her. Was
he going to kiss her? Here? In front of all these people? Her breath was
suspended in her chest and then he was whispering into her ear.

“I hope Max was able to give you the Hollywood experience
too.”

Talia’s blood ran cold as he pulled away from her. He looked
down at her, his gaze filled with a contempt that he did not try to hide and
then he turned back to his adoring crowd, leaving her standing alone. Suddenly
the glass of champagne that she held in her hand felt heavy and Talia felt
something in her sway. Carefully she set the glass down and turned and walked
purposefully towards the exit, her head held high, willing herself to hang on.
She did not look back until she hit the streets and the cold air whipped about
her face. She took a long deep breath as she finally accepted that whatever
dream she had secretly harboured about Alex; it was now over.

He
had built from nothing a multi-billion dollar empire. He had faced world
leaders and financial geniuses. His ice cool in the boardroom was legendary and
yet on a cool autumn morning, on a London doorstep, Vassily Romanov was
nervous. He held a bouquet of flowers in his hand and pressed hard on Tamara’s
doorbell and then he waited.

Even before the money and the success had come, Vassily could
have any woman he wanted, his looks had guaranteed that. And once he’d made his
first million and then his first billion, it went without saying that women
fell, threw themselves even, at his feet. For the first time in his adult life,
he had encountered a woman who was not a sure thing and forgetting Tamara, he
was finding, was not easily done. After the night at the theatre, Sasha had
turned to him with characteristic bluntness and told him that she expected him
to sort out whatever he had done to upset Tamara. The fact that Tamara was
everywhere hadn’t helped. Her new show was a ratings winner and daily as he
rode in the back of his chauffeur driven Bentley
 
– there she was on billboards from Chelsea all the way
into the city.

Vassily leaned on the bell again and shook his head, if only
his rivals could see him now. He could ad-lib a speech to the New York Stock
Exchange, wing his way through remarks to the IMF and yet to talk to Tamara he
had gone through several mental drafts of what to say. In the end though he had
settled for flowers. Keep it simple he’d decided. Past form had shown that
jewellery and even paintings could backfire with Tamara. She really was unlike
any woman he had encountered. Vassily heard footsteps from within the house,
the sound of the door bolts being opened and then there she stood. She was
barefoot he noticed and something about this fired his blood, he wanted simply
to grab her, swing her over his shoulders and take her to bed. Somehow, he
suspected that much of the confusion and complication between them could easily
be worked out that way.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Tamara asked watching him
a wary look in her eyes.

“I want you back.”

“You’ve never had me,” Tamara snapped back, feisty as ever.
“I threw myself at you and you sent me packing,” she hissed and then
immediately fell silent, her eyes darting around the street for prying eyes.
“Just come in.” She stepped aside and for the first time, Vassily was in her
inner sanctum and Tamara wondered if she’d made a mistake.

He
strode into her sitting room his eyes picking up everything.

“You have a nice home,” he said.

“You didn’t come here for small talk.”

“I didn’t reject you because I didn’t want you. I…” Vassily
trailed off, he was unused to having to explain himself. “You were in a bad
place and I wanted you to come to me not because you were desperate but because
you wanted me…” Vassily stood silent, his clear blue eyes drilling into her as
he tried to read her response.

“I’m myself now,” Tamara said quietly, finally setting set
aside her schemes and games and plans, fully opening herself up to the
attraction between them. There was a heated silence and then in a heartbeat,
Vassily was across the floor and on her. His arms closed around her crushing
her to him and she welcomed him. He lifted her off the ground, his mouth never
leaving hers and she barely noticed the journey from living room to her
bedroom.

At the foot of her king sized bed, he stopped, still carrying
her, her legs still locked around his waist and then in a swift movement, he pulled
away from her and dropped her on to the bed. Tamara bounced on to the mattress
but she never took her eyes off him. Not when he threw his jacket off, or
pulled his shirt over his head not bothering with the buttons. She watched as
he kicked of his trousers and boxers in one and then he was on her, gloriously
naked. Back at her mouth, kissing and sucking her already swollen lips. Her
hair had come loose and fell about her shoulders. With one hand he raised her
hips up and pulled the dress up over her head so that she was now naked but for
the tiny lace underwear.

“You are beautiful,” he said against her breasts running his
tongue over the hardened tips before he bit her, leaving a red mark against her
skin.

Tamara looked down at the mark he had made on her skin and a
feeling of wildness spiralled through her. She grabbed his head pulling him
back up. She felt his cock jump against her hip and she slid her hand between
their bodies to touch him. He pinned her free hand above her head and then in
one thrust he was inside her, all the way. Thrusting, harder and faster and
Tamara was spiralling out of control, hovering on the edge between pain and
pleasure and so far gone, when suddenly he pulled out of her. In a dizzying
moment she found herself spun around, on her hands and knees as Vassily thrust
into her again from behind, one hand gripping her hip, holding her steady as
the other stroked her. She felt his tongue against her neck, in the shell of
her ear and he was whispering something.