A Legacy of Secrets - By Carol Marinelli Page 0,50

the barbs. He thought of the cards he had had her dictate to the florist. Except there had been none in recent months, for the familiar, well-used lines had stopped coming so readily. Jewellery was a far easier option with a quick, simple line about matching her eyes...

And Ella had written them.

‘It was a lot more than sex to me and I didn’t want you to know how I felt, but now you do.’

‘Taylor’s taking her place.’

‘Santo...’

‘Get to work, Ella.’

She was shaking as she walked away from him. She had told him everything and he had given her nothing back.

Not everything.

Ella knew she hadn’t been completely open with him—but how? She wasn’t about to play the sympathy card. She’d declined the chance to talk to him on too many occasions. It wasn’t exactly fair to demand that right back now.

‘Ready?’ Ella checked in with her leading lady.

‘You want to take my place?’ Taylor asked when she saw Ella’s brimming eyes.

‘Right now, I probably could,’ Ella admitted, ‘except it wouldn’t be acting.’

‘If I get this right you can buy me a drink tonight,’ Taylor offered. ‘And I’ll lend you an ear.’

Taylor did get it right.

Whatever place Taylor took her head to, she was in agony and it was a privilege to watch. To witness her pure pain. There was no question that Vince would be drawn to her. Absolutely the viewer would understand why the characters would make love on the beach a few minutes later. Ella almost wanted to tell Taylor to stop, to breathe, because even though Taylor was hardly making a noise, it was clear she was broken.

Her eyes were screwed closed against tears that squeezed out, her lips were pressed tight and there was this river of pain building. She was locked in hell, just as Santo had been that morning where she had found him crying in the bath.

It hit her then.

She remembered the tears that Santo had shed that morning, the hell he had been in, all they had shared. It had been, she was sure now, far more than sex for him too, and she’d just walked away from him.

The one time Santo had needed another, had been himself with another, she’d closed off.

Frantic, she looked away from Taylor for a second, and over to Santo, but he just stood there, his arms folded, watching the action, watching Taylor, as she now must.

Taylor’s blue eyes were open. She was choking in tears. Then, even though they already had the shots, she repeated it just in case, turned her head to Vince, blanched as if she expected criticism and then her face moved in for his kiss. And what a kiss it would be, because now Ella knew for sure that this movie would work.

‘Cut.’

The second Ella said it Taylor burst out laughing, from the high and the elation of a perfect scene.

‘That was amazing!’ Ella enthused. ‘Just brilliant.’ And she told Taylor the same again later when she bought her a drink, shy to be sitting and talking with someone as famous as Taylor Carmichael.

‘You’d better get used to it,’ Taylor said when Ella admitted how nervous she was to be talking to her off set. ‘If this film does well, you’re going to be known soon. You’ll have scripts arriving...’

‘I haven’t really thought about after,’ Ella admitted. ‘I’m just trying to concentrate on getting this right. I know there won’t be an opportunity like this again.’ Her voice trailed off for a moment. ‘I’ve been so focused on work I’ve forgotten what’s important.’

‘We all do it at times,’ Taylor said. ‘Santo will understand that.’ Ella burnt red that what was going on was so obvious to everyone, but then it turned to guilt as Taylor continued. ‘But things are pretty hellish for the Correttis at the moment.’ She was direct without being indiscreet and Ella caught her eye. Taylor would know only too well what was going on at the moment, that compromising photo that surprisingly hadn’t contained Santo had still had the scandal of the Corretti name attached to it! ‘Maybe it’s time to forget about work for a while,’ Taylor suggested.

It was.

Ella finished up her drink and thanked Taylor again for her amazing work today and then headed to the lift, not to the safety of her room, but the danger of his, for she wanted to say sorry again. She wanted to explain, and properly this time, why she had flinched when he had raised his hand. And it had