Silently he mounted her. She groped for his hardness, a quick flash of disappointment that he had none of Robert’s size, and slowly began to stroke, guiding him in. It was as if she were looking down at herself from above, as if none of this was actually happening. This is Alberto Bellini. A man older than your father. But her heart was racing and her head was swimming and her body was all aflame.
When he entered her she screamed out loud. Her nails raked lines down his back. As he moved on top, beginning the climb, she tightened her legs around his waist and surrendered herself to the inevitable. Tonight she belonged to another man. And there was nothing Robert St Louis could do about it.
29
Santa Barbara
The happy couple were married on a rugged bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Press swarmed across the coastline like ants, not just to catch Danielle and George Roman but the host of stars they had invited to celebrate their day.
‘I’m delighted you could both come,’ said Danielle after the ceremony, kissing Lana and Cole on both cheeks. The fashion designer was resplendent in her ivory fishtail wedding gown, a great satin meringue studded with rhinestone and crystal.
Lana smiled. ‘It was really beautiful,’ she said. The bluff gave on to the wide azure water that glittered in the late-November sunshine. It was the perfect spot.
‘It reminds me of our wedding day,’ observed Cole, slickly hooking an arm round his wife’s waist.
Lana didn’t see why: their wedding three years before had been an extravagant affair held at a sixteenth-century castle in Europe. This had a much simpler charm about it.
However, the observation pleased Danielle, who clasped her hands together with glee.
Lana plucked a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. ‘I think it’s quite different,’ she said. Cole shot her a look.
‘It’s where George proposed,’ trilled Danielle, ‘a year ago today.’ On cue her much older husband joined her. He had a caddish forties look about him, a handsome, clean-cut movie producer with the Midas touch. George had been married when they’d met and he’d left his first wife, one of the most esteemed actresses of her generation, in a hive of controversy.
‘Darling,’ he crooned, ‘we’re needed for photographs.’
You could say that, thought Lana, looking across at the gathered press. It was bizarre to invite so many strangers to such a private day–but then she’d done it, hadn’t she? And why not? Her wedding to Cole had been a work engagement, there had been no intimacy to compromise.
A photographer swooped in and snapped the four of them together.
‘Please excuse us,’ said Danielle graciously, taking her husband’s hand. ‘Oh, look, there’s Kate!’
‘Darling …’ George gave Cole a ‘What are women like?’ look and trailed after her. Cole gave a weird sort of salute to indicate he knew exactly what women were like and laughed too loudly.
‘Kate looks well,’ observed Lana, watching Danielle drift over to greet Kate diLaurentis and her husband. The women were working together on a new fashion collection.
Cole stiffened next to her. ‘Why must you disagree with me in public?’ he hissed.
Lana turned to him in surprise. ‘What?’
‘We won’t talk about this now,’ said Cole, a pulse going in his neck. ‘You must never disagree with me in public again.’ He wasn’t looking at her.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Lana, feeling her fists clench by her sides.
‘Especially where it concerns our wedding.’
‘Am I not permitted to have an opinion?’
Cole’s face broke into a professional smile as he spotted an actor friend and his wife. A lot of back-slapping ensued as they greeted each other, before Cole brought Lana forward.
Thank God this marriage will soon be over, thought Lana. It was all she could think as she engaged in a conversation with the woman she barely knew. Thank God it will soon be over.
The reception took place in a five-star luxury resort on the coast. Hundreds of guests arrived for the celebrations in limos and private helicopters.
Chloe and Nate entered the hotel accompanied by Brock Wilde. ‘This is a number-one photo opportunity,’ he’d advised her days before. ‘Get photographed here, honey, and you’re on your way.’
‘I can’t believe this place,’ whispered Chloe, squeezing Nate’s hand. The lobby was huge, a glass ceiling gleaming hundreds of feet above and pillars soaring high into the vaults. It was like Daddy Warbucks’s house in Annie.
‘Keep it cool, babe,’ said Nate, grabbing a glass of champagne and downing it. He didn’t want to appear all