The A-List Collection. Victoria FoxЧитать онлайн книгу.
44
Las Vegas
The Orient was just as Lana had dreamed, a mine of gold shimmering in the desert.
Christmas had come to Vegas in glittering style–a great, sparkling tree soared into the sky outside the hotel, cherubs and baubles dripping from its flanks; three reindeer, their antlers tough and wide, stood with their keeper in a little wooden stable, their noses gently patted by tourists under a snow-capped roof. To Lana it was scarcely real, like finding a door to her imagination. She half expected to feel a hard pinch and wake up back in LA.
An army of waiting paparazzi swarmed out front, cameras brandished like weapons. Lana held her breath as the car pulled up. Word had got out: hordes of screaming fans, a crowd three-deep, waited to catch a glimpse of Hollywood’s most famous couple.
Cole adjusted his tie and smirked. ‘Ready?’ he asked, as he always did. A flush wrapped round his neck like a scarf, a badge of adrenalin at what was to come.
He had produced a new gown for her to wear this evening: a backless silk cream dress that clung in all the right places. She wore her auburn hair loose and only a light dusting of make-up. Cole liked to have the final say in her wardrobe.
Lana nodded. He seemed to have forgotten their earlier dispute–not that she expected him to act any different when there was press waiting.
She took a deep breath. Robbie Lewis was seconds away. She fought down panic, remembering what she had to do and what she had to tell him. What was it they said? In Vegas, anything was possible.
In Vegas, you can be whoever the hell you want.
The door was pulled open and noise flooded in like water. The force of it was like a vacuum and Lana had to push herself to step out into it, smile in place, the luckiest woman in the world. And there was Cole’s hand taking hers, moving her forward, presenting her to the cameras. She knew the routine and didn’t put a foot wrong.
They were calling for her over and over until it didn’t make sense any more. It wasn’t her: it was just two words, a made-up name.
Cole guided her inside, stopping once or twice to look into her eyes, whisper something in her ear and make her laugh. The whisper was always a direction, like ‘Left, three o’clock’, and they would both giggle like besotted lovers before turning in sync to any camera that had missed the killer angle. Cole was a masterly director, and in part she was thankful to him for steering her through. She did not have to think at all, just smile, always smile and never let it slip.
Inside the lobby, Lana took in the sheer opulence of it and shook her head in wonder.
‘Wow,’ she said.
‘Hmm,’ said Cole.
There was a man at Reception with his back to them. He was tall, with broad shoulders and dark hair cut neatly at the neck, where she could see a thin band of skin just visible above his white collar. It was this part of him that told her who he was, like a country she had visited a hundred times; a land she knew as home.
When he turned, Lana gave nothing away, even though her heart was thumping so fast she feared it would soon burst free of her chest, and wouldn’t it be a shame to spoil this beautiful clean floor.
He looked the same, only older. There was no other way to describe it. He was Robbie.
She met his eyes for a split second and it went through her body like lightning.
‘Hello,’ he said warmly, stepping forward and holding out his hand. ‘It’s my great pleasure to welcome you both to the Orient.’
He was handsome in a midnight-blue suit, his eyes dancing as he smiled, and oh, that dimple in his chin. She realised she had kept every detail locked away, she hadn’t forgotten any of it, because it wasn’t like remembering what was lost as much as reminding herself of what had been there all along.
It’s still you.
‘It’s our pleasure to be here,’ said Cole easily, shaking Robbie’s hand. ‘It’s a beautiful hotel, very unusual. Lana’s not been to Vegas before, have you, darling?’
Lana opened her mouth. ‘No, as a matter of fact, I—’
‘So we’re very excited,’ finished Cole. Lana saw he was still holding firm to the handshake, placing his other hand on Robert’s arm in an assertion of power. There was quite a difference in height between them and in a lifetime of looking up at people, Cole was loath to let the taller man think he had the advantage. This guy might be a billionaire hotel magnate, she could hear him thinking, but he wasn’t a movie star.
Lana smiled politely as she extended her own hand. ‘It’s good to see you,’ she said, wanting to hold him, hug him, love him, her friend.
To her dismay she couldn’t read his face. He glanced at her briefly and she detected a flicker of something, a splinter in his composure, but then just as quickly it was gone. Instead Robbie took her hand, smiled and gave it a single shake.
‘I’d like to give you a tour of the hotel before supper,’ he said, looking only at Cole. With a twist of desire Lana could tell he was good at what he did–you put your trust in Robert St Louis straight away, you let him take the lead.
Except maybe for Cole, who now placed a protective hand at the small of Lana’s back. ‘I’d prefer to eat first,’ he said, changing the order of things for the sake of it. Like a test he added, ‘If that’s OK.’
Robert held out his hands in an easy gesture. ‘Of course, whichever you prefer.’ He smiled again, but still he didn’t look at her. ‘If you’ll follow me.’
The Aromatique restaurant was vast and empty, closed for the night in their honour. They took a booth overlooking the glittering Strip. The window was curved and the glass ran right down Lana’s side and under her feet, so it was like sitting in the sky. The illusion was clever and it made her smile. She felt Robbie’s eyes pass over her. When could she get him alone? It was all she could think about.
Robbie requested a Lotus, the Orient’s signature aperitif, for four, and then suddenly, stupidly, Lana remembered that his fiancée was joining them. How could she have forgotten? In planning her great confession, she had neglected to think once of Elisabeth Sabell.
He was conducting a brief, rather formal phone conversation.
‘Darling, we’re in the restaurant now … Yes, that’s right … Of course, see you then.’ He snapped his cell shut and turned to Lana and Cole. ‘My apologies, Elisabeth’s on her way.’
That was never how you used to talk to me, Lana thought.
‘I’m looking forward to meeting her,’ Lana said, to make out like she didn’t mind, but it sounded bitchy and stupid.
When the drinks arrived, Robert focused almost exclusively on Cole as they discussed the ways in which Vegas had changed over the years. Every so often Cole would reach to stroke Lana’s hand or her arm, his small, soft fingers trailing over her skin. He was sending out a very clear message to Robert, communicating that his relationship was an intimate, physical one. Lana didn’t know if this was an antidote to his own insecurities or because he could pick up on something between Robert and his wife. To her it was glaring, the atmosphere too much to bear. She needed to get Robbie alone. She had to.
Just then the far door opened and a dramatically beautiful woman swept in. Her enviable figure was cloaked in a stunning grey gown. Jewels glinted like light on water as she drifted towards the table, a mane of blonde hair cascading down her back like liquid gold. She exuded a clean, musky scent. Lana didn’t know what she had expected, but never a creature as glamorous as this.
‘Good evening.’ Elisabeth smiled, the epitome of charm, as the three of them stood to greet her. ‘It’s wonderful to meet you both.’ She kissed Cole and