Page 82 of Private Lives

‘And go easy on me next time you’re trying to stiff me in court, all right?’

‘Only if you don’t go trying to stiff Donovan Pierce,’ she said, resuming her cool.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Your job for Matthew. He might think a non-disclosure agreement will hold you, but we both know you’ve got the morals of a jackal.’

Wayne gave a wicked laugh.

‘That’s what you love about me.’

‘I mean it. Don’t mess with me or I’ll come after you, and I won’t stop until the damages you have to pay to my clients run your business into the ground.’

Anna turned on her heel to go back to the office. She glanced behind her and watched Wayne disappear into a coffee shop. She didn’t trust him. There was no way she was going to let him shaft Matthew. It was time to fire him a warning shot.

Seeing a council parking attendant in his green uniform, she crossed the square to speak to him.

‘Excuse me?’ she said, pointing over at Wayne’s Ferrari. ‘That red car’s been parked up on the pavement for hours. It’s blocking a fire exit too. I think you should call a tow truck.’

She took out her mobile and texted Wayne.

‘I’m watching you. PS. Stop drinking coffee and get to your car.’

24

‘You ready?’

Lauren Silver stood at the door of Sam’s house in the Hollywood Hills, an architectural triumph on stilts that overlooked the whole of the LA bowl.

Sam whistled through his teeth. She was wearing a black silk cocktail dress that hugged her curves and had a see-through mesh back panel that hinted at a smooth, creamy expanse of skin.

‘Someone’s looking very va-va-voom tonight,’ he laughed, not attempting to hide the soft spot he had for the vice president of marketing for Oasis, the studio behind his latest movie.

‘Don’t get any ideas, lover boy,’ said Lauren, turning on her heel and heading back towards the limo waiting on the drive. ‘I’m your babysitter, remember, not your date. And we’re late, so hop to it.’

Sam looked at his watch as he pulled on his suit jacket, a bespoke Anderson & Sheppard that felt like a suit of armour. It was already five o’clock. The premiere was due to start in an hour and the traffic was usually chaotic when there was an event in town. He jumped into the car beside Lauren and sat back as they raced down the windy lanes towards the City of Angels.

‘So are you prepared for this?’ Lauren asked, giving Sam a sideways glance. ‘This will be your first time out in public since Billington. The press are going to go crazy.’

‘They won’t be looking at me, not with you by my side,’ said Sam, sounding more confident than he felt. For the past forty-eight hours he’d felt so sick with panic, convinced that the crowd were going to pelt him with eggs, that he’d even suggested hiring a stand-in from the lookalikes agency to make a quick appearance on the red carpet. The studio chiefs had other ideas, and had sent Lauren along to hold his hand.

‘I’m serious, Sam,’ she said. ‘You need to be on your A-game tonight. All charm and smiles.’

‘What do you think I’m going to do? Try and touch up the reporter from Fox News?’

‘Who knows? The last time you went out in public you were arrested on battery charges.’

‘That was different,’ said Sam sulkily. He was still smarting at having been charged with assault for the supposed attack on the paparazzo backstage at the Billington show and had to return to court in New York at the end of the month.

‘We just want to keep things tight. Secure.’

Sam looked out of the window.

‘You make it sound like I rob banks.’

Lauren’s expression was firm. ‘We just can’t afford any more bad press on this movie, Sam. You know how it works. This isn’t about you, it’s about the money. The studio needs a hit and so do you.’

Sam fell into a brooding silence. He knew he’d be feeling more relaxed if he had actually seen the movie in question. Despite shooting Robotics almost twelve months earlier, he’d yet to view a final cut. He’d been shown a worrying version of the sci-fi film two months earlier, and had not been surprised when he’d been told that it had gone back into the editing suite for revisions and additional CGI. Ordinarily that would have worried him, but he knew Robotics was one of the studio’s ‘tent-pole’ movies; it had cost over two hundred million dollars to make, and apparently had another hundred million spent on marketing. No, the studios could not, would not let it fail.