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

Once she’d closed the patio doors, she hissed, ‘What are you doing calling me? I could have been with Robert!’

      ‘Are you?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Then we can talk.’

      She put a hand to her head. ‘Bellini, we’ve talked before. Please. We must put a stop to this. Don’t make it harder than it already is—’

      ‘Somebody knows, bellissima!

      Elisabeth was quiet. ‘What did you say?’

      ‘Somebody knows.’

      Horror clawed at her. ‘Knows what?’ she squeaked.

      ‘Perhaps we were not so careful as we thought …’

      ‘Bellini,’ she snapped, ‘what exactly are you saying?’

      ‘I have received two anonymous phone calls,’ he explained. ‘I could not identify the voice, I think it had been–how do you say … modified. It could have been a woman or a man. Both calls came direct to me at the Desert Jewel.’

      ‘Well?’ Elisabeth demanded, panicking. ‘What did they say?’ She turned to check her sister and Christie were still safely outside.

      ‘My darling, it is not good news for us. You must tell St Louis–or they will.’

      Elisabeth clamped her hand to her mouth. What? Was it someone she knew?

      ‘I can’t,’ she spluttered. ‘Just pay them, anything it takes.’

      ‘Bellissima, I regret that it is not so easy. I cannot capitulate, I have a reputation to consider.’

      ‘And my reputation?’ Elisabeth squeezed her eyes shut. ‘Have you thought about that?’

      ‘Of course, my darling, I am always thinking of you.’

      She was shaking. They had been careful–so who the hell was it? More important, just how much had they witnessed? She felt violated.

      ‘How could this have happened?’ she whispered.

      ‘My darling, we could never have hidden our true intentions for ever. My desire for you is alive, panting at my feet like a beast. It is there for all to see.’

      ‘Then put it away!’

      ‘I cannot.’

      Elisabeth felt a cool shudder. Something in Alberto’s voice wasn’t right. ‘Aren’t you worried about this?’ she asked.

      ‘Of course I am worried,’ he said smoothly. ‘St Louis is a powerful man and he is my friend. It would be much better coming from you than from these … thieves.’

      Elisabeth shook her head. ‘I’m not telling him.’ Her eyes pricked with tears when the full force of her betrayal hit. ‘There’s no way. We’re getting married.’ She clenched her fists. ‘I love him.’ He’d never believe it. Even if Robert did find out, he’d never believe it.

      Alberto gave a soft chuckle. ‘Then we have a problem,’ he said. ‘For I love you.’

      ‘Please, Bellini …’ She faltered. ‘Don’t say that.’

      ‘It is true. Elisabeth, mi manchi.’

      ‘You must stop.’

      ‘You must tell him.’

      ‘I can’t.’

      A pause. ‘Do I mean so little to you?’

      She reached for a stool and sank on to it, trying to steady her breathing. ‘Of course not,’ she said quietly. ‘I … I can’t stop remembering you.’

      ‘Then do this.’ His voice was gravelly.

      There was a long silence. Each sat listening to the other.

      ‘You know what you have to do,’ said Alberto finally, softly. ‘Call me when it is done.’

      The line clicked dead and he was gone.

55

       Los Angeles

      The sun woke Chloe, spilling through the blinds in lemon-yellow ribbons. Tentatively she blinked against the light.

      A gentle snore was emanating from the other side of the bed. She rolled over, pulling the rumpled sheet up to cover her breasts. Shit.

      ‘Wake up.’ She nudged the man. When he didn’t respond she nudged him harder.

      ‘What time is it?’ he asked groggily.

      ‘Gone eleven.’

      Sleepily the man stretched his long, muscular body, lithe as a panther’s, and opened his eyes. ‘Hey,’ he said.

      ‘Hey.’ She gave him a smile.

      It was Mateo, the model she’d shot a fragrance campaign with the previous afternoon. After the shoot he’d invited her to a bar, then hours later, somehow, they’d ended up back at her place. It was hopelessly unprofessional.

      ‘You’re beautiful in the morning,’ he said, reaching for her.

      She resisted. ‘Thanks. I’ve got things to do, you’ll have to go.’ She slid out of bed and padded towards the en suite.

      Hungrily he watched her naked body, marvelling at the way her jet-black hair fell so smooth, right down to the dip of her ass where it cut off in a blunt line. ‘So soon?’

      ‘Yes, so soon.’ She grinned. ‘Last night was fun–let’s leave it at that, OK.’

      He sat up. ‘I’m sad.’

      ‘Don’t be.’ She grabbed a towel.

      Dragging his jeans on, Mateo fought down his erection. Chloe French made him indescribably horny. He approached her from behind, burying his face in her hair.

      ‘You were incredible,’ he murmured, his hands moving down her body. She smelled like sex. ‘Last night blew my mind.’

      She pulled him off and wrapped the towel around her. ‘Mateo, I mean it. It’s late and I’ve got things to do. Go.’

      When she came out of the shower he’d gone, his number scrawled on a scrap of paper he’d left on her chest of drawers. She looked at it, smiled, tore it in half and threw it in the bin.

      An hour later her phone rang. She was in the fitting rooms at Fred Segal and had to fumble, half-dressed, to free it from her bag.

      ‘Hello?’

      ‘Is that Chloe?’

      She frowned. ‘Who is this?’

      ‘It’s Jimmy Hart.’

      Unexpectedly her stomach did a somersault. In the three-way mirrors she could see her top half, clad only in a lacy pink bra, from every conceivable angle. She folded her arms across her chest, feeling exposed.

      ‘We met at Harriet’s dinner party in December,’ he went on. She could see the glint in his eye when he added, ‘Please tell me you remember.’

      ‘Of course,’ she said evenly. ‘Hi.’ She’d thought about Jimmy intermittently over the past three months, vaguely impressed that he hadn’t yielded to another extra-marital temptation and yet slightly disappointed that he hadn’t. The episode with Nate had taught her one thing: men couldn’t be trusted and fidelity didn’t exist. In the game of love and war, if you didn’t become a player you ended up getting played. Kate diLaurentis knew it as well as she did.

      There was a pause. ‘Are you busy today?’

      ‘Yes,’ she said smoothly.