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

looked genuinely impressed. He opened his mouth to speak.

      ‘Thanks,’ she trilled, before he had a chance to say anything. ‘It’s moving so fast I can barely keep up! George is flying me to London this week. Jimmy, this is my ticket back to the top!’ She wondered why he didn’t get up, give her a kiss, anything. It was like they were business partners. God, is that what we are?

      ‘So you didn’t get the Carl Rico?’

      The question threw her, before she remembered the degrading audition she’d attended a few months ago. She tensed. Why did Jimmy have to bring that up? This was her big moment, her big news–trust him to want to ruin it.

      ‘No, thankfully,’ she said crossly, recalling Carl Rico’s shifty eyes roaming over her breasts like a starved beast.

      He grinned. ‘So you won’t get your tits out for this one, then?’

      It was the wrong thing to say. Kate put down her fork, her expression cold. ‘No, I won’t.’ Then she muttered, ‘I don’t know why you can’t be happier for me.’

      Jimmy sat back. ‘I am happy for you! If you’d just—’

      ‘By making wisecracks at my expense?’ She downed her glass of wine and poured another, not bothering to refill his.

      ‘Calm down a second, Kate—’

      She let out a harsh laugh. ‘It’s not me who’s acted out of line, Jimmy. It’s always you, making a joke of me, bringing me down.’

      ‘You think I bring you down?’ He held up his hands. ‘Come on, we’re having a nice evening, aren’t we? Do we have to argue?’ When she didn’t respond he rolled his eyes, exasperated, and picked at the meal, which was practically inedible. ‘I’m sorry I mentioned Carl Rico,’ he said finally. ‘OK? Can we forget it now?’

      But the damage was already done. Why did Jimmy have to shit all over her good news by reminding her of having to get naked in front of some pervert? He didn’t even seem interested in taking her to bed.

      He must be fucking around again, there was no other excuse.

       Again? When exactly did he stop, Kate?

      She wasn’t standing for it a second longer. Oh, no–things were about to change. Kate diLaurentis was on the brink of the biggest career revival in Hollywood history and she didn’t intend to indulge a husband who was messing around.

      Jimmy kept his eyes on his food. Without warning Chloe French popped into his head, the cute English actress he’d met at Harriet Foley’s party in December. She was a hot little piece. He wondered if he’d left it too late to call her.

      Locked in their private worlds, husband and wife finished their meal in silence. When Kate had cleared her plate, she filled her glass one more time and with a sudden, unexpected flourish threw it in Jimmy’s face. He sat, stunned, dripping with sticky Rioja, his palms upwards. He looked like a religious painting.

      She stalked off to bed, alone. ‘You can do the dishes.’

52

      With shaking fingers, Lana laid the pregnancy test down on the side of the bath tub.

       It might be OK. You don’t know anything yet.

      Except she did. She had a feeling in her gut and it had been keeping her awake, stopping her sleeping, wringing her out. It had been eight weeks since Sam Lucas’s party. The first period she’d missed had rung alarm bells–they’d been at the Awards at the time and she hadn’t been able to focus on anything else, not even when Cole went up to collect his gong–but fear had made the warning easy to ignore. At missing her second, they’d sounded more loudly, insisting she listen.

      She washed her hands, dried them then sat on the floor with her knees pulled up under her chin. Cole had expected her at a society function this afternoon but she had pleaded illness. She had to be alone for this.

      The white stick looked back at her accusingly.

      Maybe she wasn’t pregnant, maybe it was a false alarm.

      Plenty of women experienced them. Tomorrow she’d get her period and everything would be back to normal. But a persistent voice told her different. Something felt changed, deep inside, something fundamental. Her body wanted to tell her what she didn’t want to hear.

      She hadn’t seen Parker Troy since the party. She couldn’t contemplate his reaction if she told him he was about to become a father. To the child Cole Steel’s wife was carrying.

      Fear throttled her when she thought of Cole. Parker’s response was the least of her worries, she knew. Quite simply she couldn’t be carrying another man’s baby. It was not an option.

      Her heart thumping wildly, Lana reached out for the test. She closed her eyes.

      Seconds passed.

      When she opened them, it took moments before she was able to digest the information. Confused, she grabbed the box and examined the guidelines. Three times she read them over, looking between the pictured results and those of her own, before she was sure.

      Lana put her head in her hands and breathed out slowly. For a long time she stayed like that, not moving.

      Suddenly her phone trilled from the next room. Her hands were shaking so it took time to open the bathroom door, which she had wanted to lock even though she was alone. She stood, confused, not knowing where the sound was coming from. Her attention was drawn to the bed, where her cell blinked its red eye. She considered not picking up, then, realising she’d been avoiding calls recently, forced herself to reach for it.

      It was Rita. She sat down and answered cautiously.

      ‘Hello?’

      ‘It’s me. Is everything OK? I’ve been trying to get hold of you all week.’

      ‘Everything’s fine.’ The words seemed to come from the other side of the room.

      ‘Good. What do you think of the matricide project?’

      Lana winced. ‘What?’

      ‘The Paramount script I had biked over. What did you think?’

      Lana bit her lip so it hurt. ‘I’m reading it today–um, I had something else I needed to take care of.’

      ‘You only just got to it? Lana, we have to move quickly on this–what’s up?’

      It was tempting to tell her. But while Rita was her closest friend, she was also her agent and they had a working relationship to protect. After all the work Rita had put into the contract with Cole, the nightmare negotiations with Marty King, it was indulgent to expect her support.

      ‘Nothing’s up,’ she said instead, summoning her strength. ‘I’ll finish today–we’ll talk in the morning.’

      ‘Hmm.’ Rita wasn’t convinced. ‘Fine, but make sure you pick up this time. I’ll call at eleven. Get some sleep if you’re tired.’

      ‘I will.’

      Lana hung up and dragged herself back into the bathroom. She looked in the mirror. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Haunted shadows pooled around her eyes, the dim glare of inevitability.

      In her reflection she saw a fugitive who knows she is about to be caught. You’re done for.

53

      Cole called Marty on his way back from the function. He was furious.

      Lana had been a no-show. She’d let him down again. He was enraged. Humiliated. Wasn’t the whole point that they were a freaking couple?