The A-List Collection: Hollywood Sinners / Wicked Ambition / Temptation Island. Victoria Fox

smiled, entwining her fingers with his. She adored Robert’s hands–they were strong and capable, the hands of an artist. ‘I know. That’s why I love you.’

      He didn’t say it back. She pretended not to notice.

      Picking up her celebrity magazine, Elisabeth flipped past a piece on Kate diLaurentis and her goofy–though strangely attractive–comedian husband. Kate had been pulled over for speeding in a white sports car and she had been photographed in conversation with a policeman, a borderline manic look on her face. Two miserable kids stared out from the back of the vehicle.

      ‘Ugh, welcome to Hollywood,’ she muttered. ‘Vegas is in for a treat.’

      Over the page she caught sight of A-list movie star Lana Falcon and her husband Cole Steel. Cole was remarkably handsome but Elisabeth thought Lana had a slightly weak look about her. These days they called it the ‘girl-next-door’ appeal, but surely that was just a euphemism for ‘rather plain’.

      ‘Ah, the main attraction,’ she said, waving the magazine in front of Robert’s face. She read out the article headline: ‘CoLa–I can’t bear it when they do that–more in love now than ever?‘ She chuckled. ‘Not sure I believe it.’

      Robert glanced up, caught sight of the page and instantly averted his gaze.

       She’s a different woman, he told himself. Not the girl you knew.

      ‘Lana Falcon,’ he said flatly. Her alias died on his tongue. ‘I guess so.’

      Elisabeth squinted. ‘Do you think they’re happy?’

      He cleared his throat. ‘Who?’

      ‘These two. Lana and Cole.’

      ‘God knows. Who cares.’

      She looked at him sideways. ‘You obviously do.’

      Robert’s head snapped up. ‘What’s that supposed to mean? ‘

      Elisabeth laughed. ‘Do you know her?’ ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

      ‘It’s only a question.’

      ‘It’s a stupid one.’ He resumed looking at the page, though the words were little more than a blur. ‘I’ve never met Lana Falcon before in my life.’

      It wasn’t a complete lie.

      Elisabeth stared at him. She’d never seen Robert lose his cool over anything, not even her father’s constant interfering. ‘There’s no need to get aggressive,’ she told him.

      A muscle went in Robert’s jaw.

      She decided to change the subject. ‘Her husband clearly adores her.’

      Robert stood up. He could bear it no longer. There were many things he wanted to tell Elisabeth, but none of them he could: how once upon a time he had adored Lana; he’d carried her, helped her, saved her damn life. Not this Cole Steel jackass, whoever he was.

      ‘I’m going for a swim,’ he announced. He dived cleanly into the water.

      When he emerged, Elisabeth had joined him. Her blonde hair was secured in a knot and she had removed her bikini top. A pair of golden breasts bobbed invitingly on the surface.

      ‘Let’s not fight,’ she said, reaching for him.

      Robert swam up and put his arms around her. ‘Do you fancy a trip?’

      ‘OK,’ she laughed, pleased he was no longer cross. She kissed him, feeling his growing hardness. ‘You always take me where I want to go.’

      He smiled. ‘No, I mean, like a vacation.’ He kissed her back. ‘I’m meeting investors in the South of France. We leave at the weekend.’

      She put a finger over his mouth and wrapped her legs around his waist. ‘St Tropez?’

      Robert put his hands on her ass, pulling her close. Deftly she freed him from his shorts.

      ‘It sure is,’ he managed, the words catching as she pulled aside her bikini bottoms.

      ‘In that case, yes,’ she said, lowering herself on to him. ‘Yes yes yes!’

13

       London

      Chloe French stepped out of the car into the cold September evening, cursing her decision to wear such a flimsy dress. She wanted to look special for Nate, especially as she couldn’t wait to tell him her big news.

      There was some commotion at the entrance to the club, a renowned hotspot in Mayfair and venue for tonight’s gig. She punched a number into her phone. It rang a few times before he picked up.

      ‘What?’ Nate said snappily. ‘We’re testing, I can’t talk.’

      ‘Can you come let me in?’

      The line crackled. ‘Why?’

      ‘There’s more people out front than I thought.’ Silence. ‘It’s more discreet?’

      ‘For fuck’s sake.’ There was a pause while Nate mumbled something to the band. She heard them laughing in the background. ‘All right,’ he grumbled. ‘Come round the side in three, I don’t want to get mobbed.’

      He made her wait at least five. Just as she was contemplating calling him again, the door sprang open and Nate stuck his head through.

      ‘Come on,’ he said twitchily, scanning for groupies, ‘I’m on in ten.’ He briefly put his tongue in her mouth by way of hello and gave her tit a quick squeeze, which seemed distinctly unromantic. She decided to forget it.

      Chloe trailed him through the dark corridor, the low thump of music bleeding in from the lounge. The club was famed for its unusual decor–glinting chandeliers dripped from the ceiling while tired old sofas crouched down below, their stuffing bursting free at the seams. It was a fusion of the sophisticated and the shabby that was perfect for young, rich clientele who couldn’t decide which camp to affiliate themselves with.

      She knew Nate didn’t like to be distracted before a gig, but couldn’t wait to spill her LA news as soon as the time was right.

      ‘What’re you doing after?’ she asked his back. She noticed his jeans were hanging so low he had to wear two belts to keep them up. Maybe that was the point.

      ‘Dunno, babe.’

      ‘I’ve got something to tell you, it’d be good if we could …’

      When they got backstage Nate turned round in front of his band mates. ‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’

      Chloe was embarrassed. ‘No, don’t be silly.’

      ‘Hey, man,’ said Chris, the band’s drummer, ‘for luck.’ He produced a bag of white powder from his pocket and threw it at Nate, who caught it with his left hand. Then, turning to Chloe, ‘All right?’

      ‘Fine, thanks,’ said Chloe. ‘Break a leg.’ There was something about Chris that Chloe didn’t trust: the way he and Nate talked together about women, and how they sometimes shared private glances when they thought she wasn’t looking. He was a bad influence on her boyfriend. Plus he had greasy hair that went down way past his shoulders–yuck.

      Twenty minutes later The Hides were on stage. Watching them in action was a kick, and when they broke into their top ten single ‘Red Rock Road’ the crowd went wild.

      Chloe was up front in the swarming mass of devotees next to a pretty weekend TV presenter called Erica Lang and a balding socialite in tragic slacks, apparently a friend of Prince Harry. Her hair kept getting pulled and someone trod on her foot, which hurt. This is a million miles from Hollywood, she thought excitedly, just as a man in a sweaty black T-shirt with