As she moved past the pews her heart was so full it was difficult to breathe; she had never felt so much love, nor so much guilt and fear. She tried to concentrate on her bridesmaids, Matty and Tierney, or on Robbie who
looked
so handsome as a page-boy, even though he didn’t think so. He’d seen her crying earlier and had been meek as a lamb ever since. There had been so many tears that by the time she’d got into the car with her father she’d felt utterly drained. But, having made the decision to go through with it, she wasn’t going to ruin the day for Michael, so she forced herself to smile while silently praying to God for forgiveness.
She was halfway up the aisle when she finally saw Michael, and a moment’s panic tore through her. But she kept on going, and as he turned to watch her she felt the love in her heart eclipse everything and everyone around them. She’d known he would adore her dress, as it fully revealed her shoulders and hugged her figure all the way to her knees, where it fish-tailed out around her ankles. But she could tell from his eyes that it wasn’t the dress he was seeing, it was her, and in there with his familiar mix of irony and love she could see the relief. It was at that moment that she knew she had done the right thing in coming, for the pain she’d have caused him by staying away would have been so much greater than anything that might follow.
At last she was standing beside him and they were facing the priest. Her veil was pulled back and her flowers were with Matty. She listened as the priest spoke, felt oddly faint, but willed herself to stay calm. That morning, for the first time, she’d thrown up, though whether it was anxiety and nerves that had caused it, or the baby, she had no idea.
The priest continued to speak. Then Michael turned to take her hand and as she looked up into his eyes he began to repeat his vows. The only time she looked away was to watch the diamond-clustered band sliding onto her finger, then it came time for her to repeat her vows too. Her voice was thin and shaky, but as her lips started to tremble she saw the humour in Michael’s eyes. It was his way of giving her strength and she took it.
Then everyone was singing the first hymn; the lessons were read, mass was held and the priest gave his sermon. One of Michael’s nephews complained he wanted to go to the toilet, and someone at the back had a coughing fit.
At last the final words of the service were spoken, then turning to look up at Michael she felt herself fill with emotion as his lips came gently down on hers and he kissed her with all the love in his heart. Then he was leading her back down the aisle, and everyone was smiling and laughing, taking photographs and shooting videotape, and she was looking at them and laughing too, holding Michael’s arm and feeling the euphoria starting to wash over her. But the moment she saw Tom it stopped, and as her smile began to wane she looked at Sandy and felt suddenly afraid.
She turned away quickly, reminding herself that she was Michael’s wife now, and no matter how much Sandy hated her, or wanted Michael, it wasn’t that that was ever going to come between her and Michael.
The reception, which was being held in one of the magnificent ballrooms of the Four Seasons hotel, had been going on for some time now. The buffet luncheon was over, the toasts and speeches had been made and Michael and Ellen had taken the floor. The band was inundated with requests from the two hundred guests and as the dancing became faster and more outrageous, and the champagne continued to flow, many new and sworn-for-eternity friendships were getting under way.
Ellen and Michael danced and danced, until finally to a bawdy chorus of howls, catcalls and laughter they disappeared upstairs to change, and lookouts were posted ready to inform everyone when the happy couple were ready to depart for the airport.
Certain his absence wouldn’t be noticed, Tom slipped quietly away from the party and headed upstairs to his
room
. He didn’t need to be a part of the group that saw Ellen and Michael off, nor did he want to be there as any kind of reminder to Ellen.
As he rode the elevator to the fourteenth floor he was picturing the way she had danced in Michael’s arms and thinking of how lovely she had looked – lovelier than he had ever seen her. The rich, honey-coloured skin of her shoulders and the desire in her eyes when she’d looked at Michael had reminded him of the night he had made love to her himself, a night it seemed he was now destined never to forget.
Unlocking the door to his room, he flicked on the lights and crossed to the mini-bar. Instead of opening it he stood with his hands on the top and stared absently out at the night. He was thinking of Rachel now, and how different his life would be had she lived. Certainly he wouldn’t be here, reliving almost every day they had spent together for the sake of a movie. In fact he couldn’t imagine Hollywood ever even touching their lives, they were so much a part of another world. But he was here, and as painful as the reasons were, and as much pleasure as he took in the time he spent with Ellen, he was under no illusion about his feelings for her. He liked her, deeply admired her and desired her a great deal, but he wasn’t in love with her.
If the circumstances had been any different there was every chance he might be, but he was in no doubt about her feelings for Michael, and despite what had happened between them that night he had no wish for it to be any other way. Except now it was possible she was carrying his child, and no matter what he tried to tell himself, it did make a difference. At this stage he wasn’t going to explore what kind of difference, as he doubted he could come up with an answer. What he suspected, however, was that she probably hated him now for being a part of the terrible dilemma she was in. Certainly she had gone out of her way to avoid him these past few
hours
, dancing and chatting with everyone, and only pausing briefly to thank him for taking care of her family at the church.
He returned his thoughts to Rachel, and wondered what was going to happen to the movie now. God only knew when, or even if, Ellen was planning to tell Michael about the problem with the baby, but if she did and it turned out to be sooner, rather than later, then Tom didn’t even want to think about what kind of nightmare it was going to be for the three of them working together. And there didn’t seem much choice but to go ahead with it now, for they were simply too far in to back out. Were it possible, he would probably pull out himself, and leave it to Michael and Ellen to produce. But this was Rachel’s story, and though he knew Michael would never turn it into some kind of testosterone-triumph-over-crack for the likes of Stallone or Segal, there was simply no way he could allow himself to walk away from it. It would be like letting Rachel down all over again.
Reaching inside the mini-bar he took out a bottle of chilled champagne and a couple of glasses from the shelf above. He’d noticed Sandy leaving the party long before he had and guessed she was alone in her room, trying to deal with what was probably one of the first truly crushing blows of her life. As blows went Tom didn’t rate it particularly highly, but she hadn’t experienced the world the way he had, nor had she caused the death of someone she loved. But that wasn’t to say this was easy for her, and considering how reluctant he was to spend the evening alone, he reckoned they could at least have a shot at cheering each other up. Besides, tonight wasn’t a night he wanted to be dealing with any more of the phone calls from Bogotá that had lately been coming his way, so out of here was going to be the best place to be.
Sandy had stayed only until the speeches were over, then, having other matters to attend to, she had slipped
quietly
from the reception and up to her room. It had been such a relief to get away, as being forced to watch the way Michael was so attentive to his bride, so witty and involved with everyone else, and so far from her reach, had been almost impossible to endure. Her single, burning hope now was that this baby would blow it all apart. But it would only do that if it were Tom’s, and no-one would know that for certain until the child was born. Which meant that the big question hanging over them now was, would Ellen wait until the birth to break the bad news to Michael – if indeed there were any bad news to break – or would the pressure of not knowing force her to break down and confess long before that?
At first Sandy had considered it to be more in her interests for Ellen to confess now, but after taking some time to think about it she was starting to realize the disastrous effect it would have on the movie, which was something, as a businesswoman, she didn’t want at all. A lot of people had put a great deal of trust in her over this project, and as she had no more wish to let them down than she did to see World Wide suffer, she realized she would have to think more carefully about how she was going to play this.
It hadn’t taken long for an alternative route to present itself, and when it did she could only feel amazed that she hadn’t seen it sooner. Indeed she might have done had Ted Forgon not been forced to cancel dinner the other night, for it was seeing him at the wedding that had reminded her what a perfect ally he would make. It was just a shame she hadn’t thought of him before, since there was no doubt he’d have stepped in with pleasure to tell Michael about the baby, then this galling spectacle of a wedding might never have taken place. But perhaps it was better this way, for if anyone had the power to force Ellen and Michael to continue with the movie, despite their personal problems, it was Forgon.
Today was the first time Sandy had seen Forgon in a couple of months and the first thing she’d noticed was that he’d definitely put on weight. Obviously the overindulgence in Martinis and lack of executive stress was finally kicking in, but at seventy-one he could still, at a stretch, be considered a handsome man – though slightly ridiculous with his woven mahogany hair and dazzling capped teeth. The only accoutrement that was missing was the bimbo – indeed it had surprised Sandy a lot to see him with a woman who was at least his own age. She’d soon found out that it was his sister from Florida, the one who had nursed him back to health after the major heart attack he’d suffered a couple of years ago, when in true Hollywood fashion he’d almost taken off to his maker while in the throes of giving it to some secretary or starlet.
Getting him to meet her upstairs in her room had only been difficult insofar as she hadn’t wanted anyone to see them leave, or to connect their absences. However, it was unlikely anyone would as all the focus was on Ellen and Michael, and a considerable amount of champagne had been consumed by then. What they’d had to discuss hadn’t taken long: a few minutes for the imparting of the information she had; a few more for what she wanted in return, then a small added incentive for him to play it her way.
They were at the incentive now, meaning that he was sitting on the edge of the bed, trousers undone, while she knelt in front of him and gave him the kind of satisfaction he craved. She’d guessed there’d be a price, and considered herself fortunate to be getting away with this, as she’d desperately not wanted to go the whole way. If it had come to that, she wasn’t sure what she’d have done, as it was well over a year since she’d last had sex and she certainly didn’t want to end that unhappy state with Ted Forgon. As it was, the very idea that she was up here doing this, while Michael was downstairs
celebrating
his marriage, was so depressing she could have wept. But that wasn’t going to get rid of Forgon, so, blocking all else from her mind, she threw herself into the task with the same practised vigour she had used during her days as an escort.
At last it was over and as he zipped himself up she turned discreetly away and offered him a drink.
He laughed. ‘Don’t think I don’t know you want me out of here now,’ he told her. ‘And there’s a wedding going on downstairs. Let’s get back to it.’
She shook her head. ‘You go,’ she said, closing the mini-bar and turning to face him.
He cocked a single eyebrow and gave her a look that suggested he might prefer to stay a while longer.
Beneath her pastel pink Dior suit Sandy could feel her skin crawling. She glared at him, as though daring him to ask for more, certain now that she would blow the entire deal they’d just made rather than allow him to put a hand on her again.
As though sensing this he laughed, and taking out his wallet he dropped a ten-dollar bill on the bed.
She looked at it, then at him.
‘In the States, hookers get paid,’ he explained.
Her eyes remained on his. Not for a single second did she show how deeply the insult had cut, but she did have the satisfaction of glimpsing a momentary discomfort as he very nearly squirmed beneath the contempt in her eyes.
Tucking his wallet back inside his jacket he said, ‘Right, I’m out of here.’
She watched him walk to the door. ‘Before you go,’ she said, ‘you never did answer the question – how come you let Michael take control of World Wide when you had it, and him, sitting in the palm of your hand? Or should I say, what does he have on you?’
Forgon’s shrewd brown eyes were sparkling with humour. ‘You’ve got to be crazy if you think I’m going
to
tell you that,’ he responded. ‘But I will tell you this, it isn’t going to be worth diddly a couple of weeks from now, so the information you just gave me couldn’t have been better timed.’
She looked at him and suddenly wished she could take everything back.
His pointed white teeth showed in a grin. Then rubbing his crotch he said, ‘Great head, by the way.’
As the door closed behind him Sandy continued to stand where she was, staring at it and fighting hard to hold back the anger and humiliation that was tightening her throat. It was hard to know whom she hated the most, him or the woman whose heart was thudding inside her skin. He had no right to treat her like that, but nor had she been compelled to behave like that. The truth was he hadn’t even suggested the incentive, she had, though God only knew why when she loathed the very idea of what she’d done almost as much as she detested whatever it was that had made her do it.