.

she had worked but none she had become great friends, watched her from gaunt, pale faces, eaten up with envy. Chloe was naturally lovely–she didn’t have to try.

      ‘Thanks, Jared.’ She smiled. She could hardly wait for Nate, in the front row in the audience, to see her tonight.

      The show went off brilliantly. Chloe was the main attraction and first out on the walk, donning a striking collection of silver high-necked, short-length dresses from a debut designer. The heels they put her in made her about six-five and she had visions of toppling over and landing with her face buried in Anna Wintour’s lap. A row of slim, neatly crossed legs lined the length of the runway, sharp suits and straight backs, as famed spectators knew they were as much on show as the models.

      Afterwards Melissa Darling met her backstage. It was like a mannequin production line, with long, slender limbs in various states of undress.

      ‘Melissa!’ Chloe greeted her, giving her a kiss on both cheeks. She was half-naked and struggling into a pair of jeans–Melissa didn’t seem to notice.

      ‘You were fabulous,’ said Melissa. She was in her twenties, with light brown hair that was pulled into a thick, swinging ponytail. Always managing to strike a balance between glamour and ‘What, this old thing?’, she wore leggings with chunky boots and a cashmere wrap.

      ‘Thanks! Did you see Nate?’ Chloe let her hair down, tried to get a brush through it before it got well and truly stuck, and laughed.

      Melissa shook her head. ‘No, but listen, if I could just grab a word—’

      ‘Somebody said my name?’ a cocky voice interrupted. A pair of hands covered Chloe’s eyes from behind.

      ‘Nate!’ Chloe broke free and turned to kiss him. He wore a white shirt, tight tweedy waistcoat and skinny jeans. His hair was styled to within an inch of its life and Chloe thought he must have spent longer getting ready than she had.

      ‘What did you think of the show?’ she asked.

      ‘Not bad, babe,’ he said, wrapping his arms around her waist. ‘You were the best thing in it.’ He leaned in to kiss her again.

      Melissa cleared her throat. ‘Chloe?’

      She pulled away. ‘God, sorry! You were saying?’

      ‘Can we have a chat?’ Her agent’s eyes flew to Nate.

      ‘Oh,’ said Chloe, waving her hand, ‘anything that concerns me concerns him, too.’

      They took a seat. A blonde model with glittering blue eyes and an upturned nose flitted past, catching Nate’s attention and batting her lashes.

      ‘Do you know her?’ asked Chloe.

      Nate shrugged. ‘Never seen her before in my life, babe.’

      ‘OK,’ said Melissa, ‘it’s about LA.’

      Chloe’s hands flew to her face. Nate frowned.

      ‘The part’s yours, if you want it.’

      ‘Oh, Melissa!’ Chloe jumped up and embraced her agent, who was caught off guard and took in a mouthful of black hair. ‘I’m ecstatic, truly. Thank you thank you thank you.’

      ‘What?’ said Nate, looking from one to the other.

      Ignoring him, Melissa went on. ‘You’ll need to meet with the director, but it’s just a formality. As soon as the producers saw your photo, they knew you were it. You’ve got the right image, the right reputation’–she threw a glance at Nate–’and the right profile. Congratulations.’

      ‘Hang on a minute,’ he interrupted. ‘What’s all this about?’

      Chloe was unable to contain her smile. ‘I wanted to wait till it was confirmed before I told you. The right part finally came along, Nate.’

      ‘It did?’

      She nodded happily. ‘And I’m filming with Lana Falcon.’

      Nate was taken aback. ‘Lana bloody Falcon?’

      ‘That’s right!’

      Nate’s mouth fell open.

      ‘I know–unbelievable, isn’t it?’ Chloe took his hand. ‘But I don’t want you to worry about us, you know, the long distance thing. I’m totally committed to—’

      Melissa stood up. ‘Chloe, I’ve got to dash. I’ll send the script over tomorrow and you can review your part.’ She smiled. ‘I’ve looked at it myself and it’s a gem of a role.’

      ‘I’m so made up, Melissa. A million thank-yous.’

      ‘Don’t thank me–it’s on your own merit.’ She winked, gave her client a final hug goodbye and was gone.

      Chloe sat back down. Nate’s mouth was still hanging open.

      ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.

      Nate found his tongue. ‘Just a bit of a shock, that’s all,’ he said, refusing to meet her eye.

      There was a brief pause. ‘Aren’t you glad for me?’ she asked quietly.

      ‘Of course I am,’ he said quickly. ‘It’s just that Hollywood’s kind of a fucked-up place. Maybe you’d be better off staying here.’

      Chloe reached for him. ‘You’re so sweet to always think about me first. But I promise you, it is the right thing for me.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘It’s something I have to do, Nate.’

      After a moment Nate seemed to find his feet. ‘As it goes, we might not be so long distance as you thought.’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘Seems I’ve got some news of my own.’ Nate shrugged, smoothly reclaiming the limelight. ‘We’ve been signed up to work with this shit-hot producer on the new album. In LA, as it goes. Everyone thinks with a bit of hard work we might break the US market.’

      Chloe was thrilled. ‘No way!’ she exclaimed. ‘Oh, that’s so awesome-we’ll be out there together!’

      Nate gave a weak smile. ‘Hmm.’

      ‘I’m serious!’ She kissed him. ‘I can’t wait. I’m so glad you’re coming with me.’

      Nate laughed and stroked her hair. ‘Or you’re coming with me.’

      Chloe frowned. ‘Whichever.’

      Jared dashed over, frantically waving his arms. ‘Car’s here, let’s go!’

      They were hitting Movida, where the couple were scheduled to make an appearance. The paparazzi would be out in full force. Chloe and Nate were definitely the people to arrive with.

19

       Los Angeles

      ‘I’ve got to fuck you. Now.’

      Stark naked, Parker Troy lay back, already hard to bursting. He feasted his eyes on Lana’s magnificent figure. Those perfect breasts; that nipped-in waist and beautiful ass, her creamy skin that always smelled clean, like lemons. She was a hundred per cent real.

      ‘Shh,’ said Lana, taking his hands and straddling him, ‘don’t speak.’ Deftly she slid on protection. There was no time for foreplay, never had been. And this wasn’t about tenderness–it wasn’t about the other person at all. For both Lana and Parker it was a selfish act of make-believe: a high-risk, utterly irresistible ride right into the heart of the storm.

      They raced to the climax quickly, urgency running thick in their blood. For Lana, who was starved of sex and craved it like air, it was a necessity. For Parker, as it was every time, the experience was one of ecstasy and just a pinch of disbelief, as he looked up