Vanity (16 page)

Fuck you
, mouthed Ben, flipping the finger at her retreating back. Several crew members who had witnessed this cracked up in silent laughter, giving him the thumbs-up and high-fiving him as he walked past. Ben was proving unexpectedly popular on location. He was professional and good at his job, with natural comic timing, and the contrast between his charming bonhomie and Amy's incredibly stupid petulance was apparent to all.

In fact, Ben was still smarting from his encounter with Jennifer Jackson.
How could he have got it so wrong?
As a result, he had gained a little humility and lost just a touch of the old arrogance.

Back at the fish restaurant, Amy was sitting at an outside table, perusing the menu, Ben's cue to spot her from the street. Her face, a picture a minute ago of spite and self-regard, shone with innocence and sweetness.

‘Take … Six!'

Ben sauntered down the street, hands in his pockets, whistling. As he caught sight of Amy outside the restaurant, he did a double take.

‘I say.' He bowed slightly and doffed his panama. ‘Do excuse me for the interruption, but you look awfully familiar. Don't I know you from somewhere …?'

The cast and crew had taken over one of the restaurants on the
vieux port
. Relieved that the long day's filming was finally over, and that Amy had finally buggered off back to the hotel for her nightly meditation and ego-massage, they were letting their hair down. The mood was drunken and raucous.

Ben and one of the make-up artists, Eloise, were having a good old bitch about Amy.

‘God, she's a stupid little cow,' said Ben, a forkful of fennel-stuffed sea bass en route to his mouth. ‘How the fuck does anyone put up with her?'

‘You've been more patient than most,' said Eloise, who was trying not to let on what a crush she had on the outstandingly good-looking supporting actor. Dressed down this evening in jeans and a plain white T-shirt that showed off his tan and fantastic physique, Ben looked even sexier than he had earlier in the day, the casualness of the get-up only serving to emphasize his breathtaking beauty. ‘It'll be interesting to see how Jack reacts. He's not known for suffering fools gladly.'

Jack Meadows, the proper Hollywood A-list leading man, had not been needed on location yet. Ben was rather glad. It meant that, for the time being at least, he was without question Hot Actor Numero Uno.

‘Ben Jones?' They were interrupted by a teenage girl with a pierced eyebrow and a Home Counties accent. ‘Could I have your autograph, please?' She added shyly, ‘I loved you in
People Like Us
.'

Ben flashed her his megawatt smile.

‘Thanks, darling, of course you can. What would you like me to sign?'

‘Um – I don't know! I hadn't thought that far,' the girl giggled nervously.

‘Would this do?' Ben picked up the paper napkin next to his plate, and she nodded.

‘So … who's it to?' he asked, trying not to show his impatience. He was longing to get back to bitching about Amy.

‘To Sophie.'

To beautiful Sophie with love and kisses from Ben Jones xxx

Ben wrote his message with a flourish and handed the napkin to the teenager. When she saw what he'd written, she blushed to the roots of her dyed-black hair, then turned on her heel and ran, clutching the napkin to her breast.

‘You're quite a piece of work,' laughed Eloise.

‘Never take the fans for granted,' said Ben seriously. ‘We wouldn't be anywhere without them, after all.'

Natalia, sitting reading on her yacht as she ate her dinner of salad and calamari, could hear the chatter and laughter from the large group that had taken over the restaurant just across the way, adjacent to the internationally renowned Bar Sénéquier. That must be the film crew that her
florid-fa
ced neighbour on
Lady Garden
had excitedly told her about that morning. Maybe she'd wander ashore in a bit. For all her billions and apparent aloofness, Natalia loved the movies, especially Hollywood romcoms. She could escape for hours in a film, fantasizing about the happy ending she knew could never be hers. What harm could there be in taking a nightcap at Sénéquier, soaking up the atmosphere of the film people?

It was a beautiful, balmy night, the stars twinkling brightly in a soft purple sky. The air was fragrant with mimosa and lavender, mingling with delicious garlicky wafts from the red-awninged waterfront restaurants. Waiters in pristine white aprons weaved in and out of tables, wielding plates, bottles and corkscrews. There was a tangible buzz in the air as Natalia looked out at a sea of smiling, happy faces of myriad nationalities; people who had nothing more arduous to do than laze on the beach or by a pool the following day. The exception was the film cast and crew, of course, but even they seemed not to be giving much thought to tomorrow's duties, as they downed carafe after carafe of rosé wine, congratulating one another on a great day's work.

It was a magical night; the kind of night where anything might happen.

Her mind made up, Natalia slipped downstairs to her walk-in wardrobe to get changed. When she emerged, she was wearing a backless chiffon Lanvin minidress in shades of turquoise and mint green, her white-blonde hair swept up in an elegant chignon. She stepped off her yacht and onto dry land. Having slipped her feet into a pair of mint-green Chanel ballet pumps, she walked to the far side of Bar Sénéquier, the side adjacent to the restaurant occupied by the film people, and sat down with her back to them. This way she could overhear snatches of their conversation and not be seen to be listening. She laughed at herself
internally
for being such a film groupie, but felt that she deserved a little light relief after the turn taken by recent events. She still didn't know how she was going to stop Georgiou bleeding her dry; it was taking her considerable internal resources not to go to pieces over her current situation.

Ben was laughing at a particularly pertinent comment Eloise had made about Amy when something made him glance over at the bar next door. There, only a few feet away from him, was the most beautiful back he had ever seen. It was long, elegant and lightly tanned, topped with an exquisitely swan-like neck supporting a graceful head of pale blonde hair.

He had read somewhere that Johnny Depp was first attracted to Vanessa Paradis by her back. At the time he had dismissed it as fanciful nonsense, but now, gazing at the goddess at the next bar, he knew exactly what Johnny had been on about. Occasionally, her perfectly shaped head would turn just a fraction and he would catch a glimpse of sensationally high cheekbones.

The waiter brought her drink and the goddess thanked him. Ben could tell she was smiling by the way the shape of her face, still less than a quarter visible to him, changed ever so slightly. Without a moment's further hesitation – well, if it was good enough for Johnny Depp, it was good enough for him – he leapt to his feet and walked over to the next bar, leaving a slightly miffed Eloise mid-sentence.

As he approached the goddess, he paused.
What the fuck was he going to say?
Before the Jenny Jackson debacle, he probably would have charged in, all charm and puppy-dog eyes, but now … Oh, God, he couldn't get it wrong again.

Now he was so close he could touch her. From behind at least, she was absolutely flawless. Not a blemish could he detect on that wonderful, amazing back; not a hair was out of place.

She clearly sensed him standing behind her as she turned around slowly in her chair, frowning slightly.

God, the face was even better than the back. Ben had become used to young girls with cute faces that would collapse like little pug dogs as they got older. Amy Lascelles was the ultimate case in point – round eyes, pouty lips, no bone structure to speak of. This woman, with her almost feline attributes, would look good until the day she died, he just knew it.

‘Can I help you?' Oh, Jesus fucking God, the accent too.
Just pull yourself together, man.

‘Hi. I'm Ben. I'm with that crowd of reprobates over there …' Ben pointed at the film gang and Natalia did everything in her power to remain cool. He was
with the film
?
He was
so
good looking, the most handsome man she'd ever seen in her life, with those thick, dark lashes framing startlingly blue eyes, those eminently kissable pink lips now smiling to reveal perfect white teeth. He had to be the leading man, he just had to be.

She smiled tentatively, and Ben noticed that her teeth, while lovely, were not absolutely Hollywood perfect. There was a tiny gap between one of the canines and incisors on the left that added a certain sweetness to her icy glamour.

‘I was going to offer you a drink, but it looks as if you've beaten me to it,' he said, cursing himself for not coming up with anything wittier.

With a gleam in her eye, Natalia downed her Ricard in one.

‘Now there is vacancy.' She looked him in the eye,
challenging
him, and Ben laughed, hailing a passing waiter.

‘
Une bouteille de Dom Pérignon, s'il vous plaît
.'

‘But you did not ask me what I wanted to drink. I was enjoying my Ricard.' Natalia looked up at him from under her eyelashes. She hadn't flirted like this since she used to do it for money, when it was second nature. She had forgotten how much fun it could be, in the right circumstances.

‘Oh, fuck, I'm sorry. Would you really rather have Ricard?'

Natalia burst into peals of laughter, every angle of her face more uplifted than ever, her cat-like eyes crinkling with mirth.

‘I'm sorry. I mess with you. Dom Pérignon is wonderful. Please
,
sit.' She patted the empty chair next to her. This man was doing something to her that she had not experienced for years. He looked a little familiar, but that was because he was a film star, she supposed.

Ben sat down, gazing at her.

‘You're the most beautiful woman I've ever met in my life.'

OK, so he was more than a little drunk. But there was something else. Shooting his first film had stoked Ben's already fierce ambition, and he was buggered if he was going to remain supporting actor for long. He'd had enough of playing cads and bounders. No, Ben's next role was going to be the romantic lead and, somewhere in the recesses of his subconscious, he was aware that he had never been in love. Not properly. To play his next part convincingly, he had to fall hook, line and sinker for somebody. Whether he knew it himself or not, Ben was a sitting duck.

‘Oh, pouf! I cannot believe that!' Natalia waved her elegant hands in the air, trying to ignore those delicious eyes appraising her unashamedly. It didn't work. They locked gazes, each drinking in the other's face, until the waiter plonked down the bottle of champagne between them, breaking the spell.

‘
Ça va, monsieur, merci
,' said Ben, picking up the bottle and pouring it into two glasses.

‘
Salut
.' He raised his glass, wondering what it was about this woman that made him feel like a gauche 15-year-old.

‘
Santé
.' Natalia raised hers back, unable to stop the wide smile crossing her face.

‘So … Come 'ere often?' Ben put on a Mockney accent and immediately felt like a twat again, but to his relief the Hitchcock blonde laughed.

‘I am staying on my small boat – just there.' She pointed at an exquisite little yacht on the water across the way. Ben had noticed it earlier, right next to a monstrosity called
Lady Garden
over which the crew had been pissing
themselves
with laughter.

‘That's yours?'

‘Uh-huh.'

‘Not – erm – your husband's?'

‘Oh, fuck you, you sexist asshole.'

For a moment, Ben felt like the lowest, crassest piece of shit on the planet. But his heart lifted when she smiled again and said,

‘I have no husband. I make my own money from property.'

‘Wow. Good for you.'

‘So …' She sounded shy all of a sudden, which moved Ben in ways he couldn't explain. ‘You are big movie star, yes?'

‘Not yet.' Ben laughed. ‘But after this film, I hope so. It'd better be worth it.' And he started to tell her all about the nightmare that was Amy. They chatted about what it was like working on location, Natalia bursting with
intelligent
questions about the world that so fascinated her. She was gratifyingly amused, and amusing, and seemed to get all his movie in-jokes. They ordered more champagne, each fizzing with the other's company; the sheer, unparalleled joy of being alive on such a night.

‘So you enjoy the cinema?'

‘Oh, yes. It is my escape.' Did she
have to
look and sound so wistful? The unexpected vulnerability pushed him right over the edge, and, unable to stop himself, Ben took her face in both his strong hands and kissed her.

Natalia shut her eyes and let her mouth open, ever so slightly to start with. Then she kissed him back, with all the passion that she had missed for so many years. For a minute or so they were lost in one another, utterly oblivious to the drunken catcalls from what was left of the film crew at the next restaurant.

‘You want see my boat?' Natalia whispered. She had no idea why she was acting like this. She had been so guarded, so intent on her privacy for such a long time, and suddenly this man, this
film star
, was making her lose all her
inhibitions
. She just wanted to ride this magical night, to
ride this magical man …

‘Let's go,' Ben whispered back, chucking down several hundred-euro notes on the table. Taking Natalia by the hand, he dragged her purposefully in the direction of her yacht, until she upped her pace and they were running together, hand-in-hand, breathless and laughing. Nearly as tall as Ben in her flat shoes, Natalia had no problem keeping up.