Bound by Ivy (2 page)

4

‘I … I don’t know,’ I say, glancing at Marc and feeling embarrassed.

I haven’t asked Marc about Christmas yet and I really have no idea what his plans are. I know I want to go back to the cottage
, but I don’t know if Marc will want to come with me.

‘You must be
so proud of Sophia, Mr Blackwell,’ says Tanya with a grin. ‘After all, she’s your pupil.’

‘I’m e
xtremely proud,’ says Marc. ‘But I always knew how talented she was.’ He moves his thumb around my palm.

I catch my breath,
feeling his thumb all the way through my body. My cheeks redden and I throw him an ‘easy tiger’ glance.

He rewards me with a ‘I’ll do what I
like’ twitch of his eyebrow.

‘So how’s the PR going?’ Jen asks Marc.

‘Not perfectly. But hopefully I’ll have things straightened out soon.’ The pressure of Marc’s thumb increases against my palm.

‘We should tell Dad that we didn’t get engaged yet,’ I whisper, my voice growing weak as Marc’s thumb pushes harder. I try to slide my hand away before things get too hot, but Marc holds it firm.

‘Fine with me,’ says Marc, sounding totally business-like.

The pressure of his thumb is making my knees go weak.

‘B
efore things get out of hand,’ I say, my voice beginning to break.

‘I wouldn’t want anything to get out of hand,’ says Marc, his eyebrows spiking up in that stomach-melting Marc Blackwell w
ay.

I swallow, f
eeling a glorious dull pain throb across my palm. I want to close my eyes and moan, but instead I press my lips tight together.

Marc slides his hand from mine, his fingers running up
my hand. He grasps my wrist tightly.

M
y skin tingles and shivers, and suddenly I want him so badly that I can hardly stand straight.

God damn it
.

Marc
accepts a glass of champagne, all cool, calm and collected.

I wish I had his self-
control.

‘Mr Rose,’ says Marc, taking a neat little sip of champagne and catching my dad’s eye. ‘May Sophia and I have a word with you?’

‘A word?’ Dad drags his gaze from the door.

‘Marc and I
just wanted to talk to you for a moment,’ I say.

‘Oh. Talk. Yes.’ Dad’s eyes flick to the doorway again. ‘What about?’

‘Shall we take a seat?’ Marc suggests, nodding towards the couch at the back of the room.

Dad holds out his glass to be refilled by a pass
ing waiter. ‘Yes. Okay.’

Marc leads us through the crowd
and gestures to a sofa made of carved, golden wood and upholstered in red silk.

D
ad dusts his jeans before he sits down, and perches on the edge of the couch as though he’s afraid he’ll crush it.

I sit down too, but Marc stays standing.

‘Are you okay?’ I ask Dad. ‘You seem a little … not quite yourself.’

‘Oh, just … Genoveva wa
s supposed to be here.’

‘Who’s looking after Sammy?’

‘A babysitter.’

‘Is Genoveva
okay?’

Dad downs his
champagne. ‘As far as I know.’

I throw Marc a quizzical look.

‘If this is a bad time—’

‘Not at all,
’ says Dad, glancing at the door again. ‘What did you want to talk to me about?’

‘I … we just wanted to tell you that we’re not engaged yet.’

‘Engaged?’ Dad blinks at his empty champagne glass
. ‘
Oh
. Right, yes. No, I didn’t expect … I mean, you’re far too young, and you’ve only known each other five minutes.’

‘
We sort of got interrupted.’

Dad’s eyes widen. ‘Sophia, you weren’t
… I mean, were you going to say yes?’

‘I
would have done.’

‘
But … Sophia, you’re such a sensible girl.’

‘
Dad, what are you saying?’

Dad’s eyes f
lick back towards the door. ‘In all honesty, I think you should wait a year or so before thinking about something as long-term as marriage.’

‘But
you gave Marc your permission.’

‘
Of course I did. It’s your decision love, not mine.’

‘
But Dad, don’t you understand? It’s not just your permission I want. It’s your blessing.’

‘
That’s a bit harder to give. Things have happened very quickly. And you’re so young. I just don’t want you getting hurt.’

‘I would never hurt Sophia,’ says Marc. He has his hands in his pockets
and his forehead is locked into a frown.

‘
Dad, you look so tired,’ I say. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘Oh
, just—’ He glances at Marc. ‘Family stuff.’

‘
I should leave you to talk with your father,’ says Marc, his hands still buried in his pockets. ‘I’m going for a walk’

‘Marc
—’

‘I’ll be back soon.’ Marc
gives me a light kiss on the cheek.

I watch him
stride out of the door, the long lines of his body moving through his clothing, and feel the usual disbelief that this Hollywood star, with his beautiful, handsome face and taut body, is my boyfriend.

I turn to Dad
. ‘So what’s the story?’

5

Dad focuses on his champagne glass, both hands clutching the crystal bowl. ‘Genoveva and I had an argument. That’s all. No big deal. Look, I know I gave Marc permission, but … I never dreamed you’d say yes.’

‘Dad
, you really don’t sound like yourself right now—’

‘
He seems very controlling of you, love. Very protective. The way he looks at you … it’s all very intense.’ Dad stares at the door. ‘I wouldn’t want you making a mistake. And getting hurt.’

I follow his stare.
‘Dad. Where
is
Genoveva? Why isn’t she here?’

‘T
his is your party. Let’s talk about you.’

‘We were,’ I say, taking a sip of champagne. ‘But
that didn’t turn out to be much fun.’

‘Sophia, if y
ou really want to marry Marc, I can’t stop you.’

‘I would never marry anyone
without your blessing. You know that. After what Mum said to us …’

‘
I’m going to get on home and let you enjoy yourself. We’ll talk about this another time.’

‘Dad, are you okay?
’

‘Just tired, love.
Will you be coming home for Christmas?’

‘Of cour
se. The play runs on Christmas Eve, but I’ll come to the cottage straight afterwards and we’ll all spend Christmas day together, just like always.’

‘Will he be coming? Marc?’

‘I don’t know. I haven’t asked him yet.’

Dad
hesitates. ‘He’s so much older than you.’

‘
I love him, Dad. I want to be with him. That’s not going to change. If Marc comes to the cottage for Christmas, will you be okay with that?’

‘
I’ll be okay with it.’ He stands up. ‘See you on Christmas Eve. Enjoy your big night. Don’t worry about me.’ He kisses me on the head. ‘Well done love.’

I
watch Dad head towards the door, but before he can leave, Jen corners him. She’s probably trying to work out what we were all talking about. She’s so nosy. The perfect PR girl.

I feel the couch jiggle beside me.

‘Hey pretty girl, why the serious face?’

I turn to see Leo
. He’s still holding a champagne bottle, and takes a long swig from it.

‘
What’s up? Where’s Mr Marc Blackwell? Out hunting vampires?’

‘
He’s gone for a walk.’

‘A walk? In the moonlight? Witho
ut taking the love of his life? I’ve never seen a man so crazy about a woman. He doesn’t take his eyes off you.’

‘He’s
protective.’

‘
More than just protective. I thought he was going to rip my head off when he walked in here earlier. What did I do?’

‘H
e didn’t like that I’d been to your dressing room before,’ I admit. ‘He doesn’t know whether to trust you yet. But he will.’

‘Does that mean my dres
sing room is off limits now?’

‘Of
course not. I don’t do everything Marc tells me. He’s not my keeper. There’s no reason for me not to hang out with you. Marc has nothing to be jealous about.’

‘
Oh no?’ Leo’s words are playful, but he slides a little closer.

I laugh and slap his shoulder
. ‘No! We’re just friends. You know that.’

‘
I guess I can’t compete with Marc Blackwell.’ Leo lifts my chin and affects a deep, serious voice. ‘Oh Sophia, Sophia. Where for art thou, Sophia?’

I feel
eyes on me, and turn to see Marc in the dressing room doorway.

Leo follows my gaze
and drops his fingers. ‘Uh oh.’

Marc
stalks towards us at such speed that waiters and guests step aside.

‘Sophia.’
Marc glares at Leo. ‘Is he bothering you?’

‘No.
Of course not. We were just talking.’

‘
He doesn’t need to touch you to talk to you.’ Marc’s voice is hard and angry.

‘Leo was just messing around.’

‘He can mess around with someone else. Someone who isn’t spoken for.’

‘Hey
.’ Leo stands up. ‘We were just talking. No hard feelings, huh? She only has eyes for you right now.’

‘
Right now
?’ Marc’s voice is positively boiling.

‘Marc.’ I put a hand
to his chest.

Over Marc’s should
er I see Dad watching. He has a look on his face that tells me he’s not impressed by what he’s seeing.

I lead Marc away from Leo. ‘We were just talking.’

‘Are you okay?’

‘Of course I am. Well ... e
xcept for everything with Dad. I’ll talk to him over Christmas. Hopefully he’ll be his old self again by then.’

Marc
wraps an arm around me. ‘I’ll talk to him too. And I’ll keep talking to him until he understands just how much I love you.’

‘Oh Marc,’ I sigh. ‘Why can’t life ever be easy? All I want is to
be with you. Why can’t Dad see that we’re meant to be together?’

‘He will. You look tired. I should take you home.’

‘But I’ve hardly spoken to anyone yet.’

‘Sophia, you’ll wear yourself o
ut. It’s been a long day.’

‘I need to at least thank everyone for coming.’
A yawn catches me by surprise, and my hand shoots to my mouth.

‘Come on,’ says Ma
rc. ‘Say your goodbyes. I’m taking you home.’

6

After I’ve said goodbye to everyone, Marc and I head to the limo.

Keith is waiting in the
car, reading a crime paperback and eating a bag of liquorice allsorts. He gives a joking salute when he sees us and leaps out to open the back door.

‘M’lady.’ He bows to m
e. ‘You were terrific. Wonderful. I nearly cried at the end. Don’t tell anyone’

‘You saw the show?’

‘Wouldn’t miss it. Marc made sure I had a good seat.’

‘I thought the t
ickets were all sold out.’

‘
Mr Blackwell bought plenty of reserves,’ says Keith with a wink.

‘Maybe Marc
was the reason they all sold out,’ I say, with a tired smile. ‘He bought all the tickets.’

‘Hardly,’ says Marc, helping me into the car.

Once we’re inside the limo, I fall against Marc’s shoulder, realising how truly tired I am. Marc sits upright, slipping his arm around me and pulling me into him. I feel his chest moving against my cheek and feel warm and safe.

‘Marc?’ I say
. ‘I wanted to ask you something earlier. About Christmas. What are your plans?’

‘That all depends on you,’ Marc
says. ‘And what you want.’

‘I want to be with you,’ I say. ‘But I always go back to the cottage at Christmas to see Dad and Sammy. And Jen – she comes over on Christmas day
too. I was wondering ... would you like to spend Christmas day with me? At my Dad’s cottage?’

‘Would
I be welcome?’ Marc’s voice rumbles against my cheek.

‘Dad
said he’d be okay with it,’ I say, chewing a thumb nail. ‘So? Will you come?’

‘If you feel I won’t be creating an uncomfortable situation. I don’t want to be disrespectful to your father.’

‘I ... he said it would be okay.’

‘Just okay?’

‘He really wasn’t himself tonight.’

London l
ights flicker through the tinted car windows, and I find myself closing my eyes.

‘
I wish I could visit Dad tomorrow,’ I say. ‘Make sure he’s okay. But I promised Leo we’d rehearse.’

Marc stiffens
. ‘You never mentioned that.’

‘Didn’t I? I meant to. I forgot. Leo asked me
during the interval. He wants to use the audience reaction to guide us.’

‘Nice to know he’s acting like a professional for once
.’ There’s an edge to Marc’s voice, but I’m too tired to worry about it. Instead, I relax into his shoulder, feeling my eyes closing again as the car jogs through London. Soon sleep overtakes me.