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

was going on.

      Turning away from the window, she lifted the phone and dialled.

69

       London

      Nate Reid belted out the final line of The Hides’ number-one single and the Apollo ruptured in applause. Chris’s drum roll wheeled on and Nate grabbed the mike stand, raising it aloft his head like a weightlifter, mouth open, roaring back at his fans. They clamoured for an encore, stamping their feet and chanting his name.

      ‘Nate! Nate! Nate!’

      It was electrifying. Banners rippled in the audience, girls telling him that they loved him and they wanted to marry him. They craved him. Every single person here did.

      Chris counted in the first song of their farewell set, a slower number that had people waving lighters and sending whistles into the air like balloons.

      Nate looked out at his minions with pleasure. Since the release of Nowhere Town, The Hides had been the hottest band in British music. And, in a move that surprised everyone save Felix Bentley, they were now smashing the charts in America. The past few months had been a roller-coaster of wild parties, champagne and cocaine, drink, drugs and groupies; girls who did things they didn’t even know had been invented yet.

      When Nate came away from the mike the whole auditorium took on the lyrics–he’d given this to them; he’d given them someone to love.

       ‘This girl’s the only one for me; tell her I love her, she just cannot see …’

      It was a song he had written for Chloe, one of the many times he’d resolved to try keeping it in his pants. Focusing on the lyrics, he fought the rising surge of fury that accompanied her name. It had been three months since the night she’d castrated him–and she may as well have done for the lack of action he’d received in the ensuing weeks. Fortunately things had picked up again, in almost direct correlation with his growing status, but still her rejection stung like nothing he had experienced before.

       ‘This girl’s the only one for me; can’t she see I want her, can’t she see we’ll be …’

      He almost stumbled over the words when he remembered how brutally Chloe had done it, the force of her character assassination and how public a humiliation it had been. Well, fuck that. Things had been shit for a while but he’d managed to steer things back on track. He’d done a few interviews that had set the record straight: finally he had broken free from a stifling, claustrophobic relationship with clingy Chloe. Yeah, he was a ladies’ man, he was born that way. It complemented his image to a T. Possibly more than Chloe ever did.

      Two harder numbers later, the lights went down and the cheers went up. Cameras flashed in the crowd like stars. By the time The Hides had left the stage, the noise was deafening. Nate clapped his bandmates on the back and they shared a sweaty, euphoric embrace. The band was rock royalty–and, fuck it, he was the king.

      The after party took place at 17 Village, a private club in Kensington favoured by the fashionable London set.

      Nate settled in one of the booths and draped an arm across the shoulder of the blonde beauty either side of him. One of them placed a possessive hand on the inside of his leg; the other leaned in and sucked his earlobe.

      ‘Let’s get out of here,’ the plumper one purred. Bite-sized patches of flesh peeped through her netted dress, the straps digging in a bit, making her look like a Sunday joint prepped for roasting.

      Nate knocked back the rest of his beer. Felix was partway through a DJ set and he had no intention of going anywhere. Besides, he could have the pick of any woman there.

      Spencer ambled over with a clutch of vodka shots. ‘Check it out–Kate diLaurentis is at the bar. Random or what?’

      Nate peered over his guitarist’s shoulder. He recalled meeting Kate at the Romans’ wedding last year. She was also an acquaintance of Felix–he must have invited her. Nate wondered if she’d seen The Hides perform.

      Yes, it was her all right. Only she looked … different. She was dressed casually, in a loose-fitting trousersuit and boots, her platinum hair falling around her shoulders. It was a far cry from the uptight Hollywood wife he remembered–for a start, she looked ten years younger.

      Kate was chatting to a balding British actor, a renowned Lothario, who had been doing Shakespeare in the West End. Something about her face had changed, too–it was more animated, kinder, more composed. Either she had a very good surgeon, he reckoned, or she was finally getting some: the cure, in Nate’s world, for most ailments.

      Nate threw back a shot, then another one.

      Spencer held his hands out. ‘Oi!’ Peeling off both blondes, Nate ambled over. Once he would have felt weird approaching a Hollywood legend like Kate, but not any more.

      ‘Kate.’ He treated her to his most charming smile. ‘Good to see you again.’

      She looked him up and down. ‘I didn’t think we’d met.’

      The Brit actor melted away–Nate couldn’t be sure if he’d been trying to pull her, though he doubted it. Kate was attractive in a predatory way. Any man who took her on would have to have balls–and you’d think twice about putting them anywhere near her mouth.

      ‘Actually, we have,’ he said, undeterred, and signalled for a bottle of Cristal–her poison of choice, he guessed. ‘Drink?’

      She sighed then said with zero enthusiasm, ‘Go on, then.’

      Cute. He liked when birds played hard to get.

      They settled into a booth. Kate looked uncomfortable. He imagined she was there to get photographed, nothing else.

      When she reached for her champagne he noticed her hands were big in contrast with the rest of her, quite masculine.

      ‘Did you catch the set?’ he asked.

      ‘Yes.’ She seemed in a bad mood.

      ‘Why don’t you go if you’re not having fun?’

      Kate looked at him. After a moment she said, ‘I want to get drunk.’

      Nate shrugged, refilling her glass. ‘OK.’

      ‘Keep it coming,’ she instructed, chucking it back.

      ‘Any reason?’ he asked.

      She shook her head briskly. ‘Not that I’m prepared to discuss with you.’

      He held his hands up. ‘Suit yourself, lady.’ He pushed the bottle towards her. ‘Knock yourself out.’

      Several drinks later and Nate had managed to find a weakness in Kate’s hard exterior–which, like a lot of hard things, was brittle.

      ‘My husband’s having another affair,’ she slurred. ‘He sickens me.’ Her mouth screwed up. ‘Of course you’re aware he can’t keep his dick to himself–everybody is.’

      Nate thought it might not be the best time to extol the virtues of being a bachelor. ‘That sucks,’ he said instead.

      ‘It’s so fucking predictable,’ she snapped bitterly. ‘He thinks he’s hiding it–ha! He couldn’t hide a peanut in his asshole.’

      Nate shrugged. ‘Maybe you should confront him?’ Not in front of half the city you live in, he wanted to add.

      ‘And lose the father of my children?’ Kate laughed hollowly. ‘No chance. I’ve got a better plan.’

      ‘Yeah?’

      ‘Oh, yes. Hit her where it hurts.’

      ‘You know who it is?’

      Kate ran a finger round the rim of her glass. ‘Oh, I know all right. Nanny walked