Illusions of Love (75 page)

‘What do you mean?’ Michael asked, sitting back in his chair, glancing briefly over at
India
and Dominic who seemed engrossed in some kind of intimate conversation.
 
He ignored the tiny stab of jealousy.
 
Nobody had said that forgetting her was going to be immediate.
 
It was still a work-in-progress, but at least he’d stopped fighting for the impossible now.

‘I think you should make an honest woman of me, Michael Walsh,’ Layla smiled, taking his hand.

He looked at her, smiling too.
 
She made him smile.
 
She’d always made him smile; he’d just never really allowed himself to enjoy her.
 
Something he was starting to regret a little now.
 
‘An honest woman, huh?
 
Layla… you
do
know how old I am, don’t you?’

‘When did we start talking about age?
 
I don’t care how old you are, Michael.
 
All I care about is that I finally get to be with the man I love – without having to share him.
 
Because that’s all over now, isn’t it?’

He nodded, squeezing her hand, still smiling at this incredibly beautiful young woman in front of him.
 
He was lucky to have her.
 
He was very, very lucky to still have her.
 
‘It’s all over, Layla.
 
I promise.’

She leant over to kiss him, his heart skipping that proverbial beat, making him feel about sixteen again.
 
And it felt good.
 
It felt good to be having those feelings for someone other than a woman he’d thought he could never be without.
 
But he’d been wrong.
 
He
could
live without her.
 
Of course he could.

‘Then let’s start as we mean to go on, Michael.
 
Make an honest woman of me and let’s give this new baby the family he or she deserves.
 
What do you say?’

He was still smiling, a smile that came from the heart, because he was genuinely happy.
 
No more pretending, no more settling for second best.
 
He was happy.
 
With Layla.
 
With the prospect of a whole new start.
 
With life.

‘I’d say, Layla Boyd, will you marry me?’

***

Kenny finished yet another bottle of beer and watched as Yasmin, the stunning model-turned-actress he’d met at the bar earlier, sashayed sexily onto the dance floor, joining her friends in some moves so provocative they wouldn’t look out of place in a strip joint.
 
He wondered if that skill was listed on any of their CV’s.
 
Certainly looked as though they’d had some practice.

Grabbing another bottle of beer from the barman he slid down off his stool and left Yasmin and her gang of sexy but empty-headed model friends to their writhing.
 
She wouldn’t miss him.
 
She seemed to be quite happy entertaining herself – and anybody else who was watching.
 
He was sure she’d still be around if he felt like taking her back to his suite later.
 
The night was still young, and he’d already surprised himself by hanging out at this party longer than he’d originally intended.

Wandering out onto the terrace area he looked around, trying to spot
India
amongst the crowds of people all grabbing themselves some fresh air, the noise of chatter and laughter resonating above the thumping bass of a Lady Gaga track.
 
He finally spotted her hanging around the sidelines, almost hidden behind a clutch of palm trees, up close and personal with Dominic MacDonald.

He took a long swig of beer and turned away, beginning to make his way back inside before thinking better of it.
 
He wasn’t really in the mood for Yasmin anymore.
 
Maybe it would be better if he hung around out here for a bit.
 
Grabbed a bit of time to himself.
 
On his own.
 
Something Kenny Ross was fast getting used to.

***

Charley watched as Vince walked back over to her, a smile on his face that made her stomach do a double-flip, because it looked genuine.
 
Things were getting easier; she couldn’t say they were perfect – he’d forgiven her for what had happened with Kenny, but she couldn’t expect him to forget quite so quickly.
 
She didn’t expect miracles.
 
But it was good to see flashes of her wonderful husband’s incredible smile light up his face.

‘Hey.
 
I’ve missed you.
 
Where’ve you been?’ Vince asked, circling Charley’s waist with his arm, pulling her against him.

‘I’ve been talking to India,’ Charley replied, playing with the collar of Vince’s shirt, glad of the cool breeze she could feel against her back because the heat of the night had started to become quite stifling.

‘She actually left Dominic’s side for a few minutes then, did she?’

‘Well, if you ask me, I’m not entirely sure everything’s quite as perfect in that relationship as we may have been led to believe.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Vince enquired, raising an eyebrow.
 
‘What’s she been saying?’

Charley shrugged.
 
‘She hasn’t actually said anything.
 
Not to me, anyway.
 
I just know her, that’s all.’

‘She just needs to let herself be happy, Charley.
 
Because that’s a lesson I’ve learnt myself over the past couple of weeks.’

Charley looked up at him, into his eyes.
 
She loved this man so much.
 
So, so much.
 
He’d saved her, made her forget that world that had almost destroyed her and given her a new life that she still sometimes thought was too good to be true.
 
She should never have risked that.
 
Never.
 
Not for anything.
 
And she’d never, ever do it again.

‘We can be happy, Vince.
 
Can’t we?’ she said quietly, still fiddling with the collar of his shirt until his hand closed around hers, stopping her.

‘We
are
happy, Charley.’

She was still looking into his eyes, searching his face for the tiniest hint of something that might make her think he was only telling her what she wanted to hear.
 
But she couldn’t find anything.
 
He was telling her the truth.

‘Yeah,’ she whispered, closing her eyes as his mouth lowered down onto hers.
 
‘We are.
 
We
are
happy…’

***

Nobody took any notice of the man in the Stetson, except the tall, blond-haired security guard who stood aside to let him in, both of them exchanging a brief nod of recognition.

Nobody noticed him walk across the crowded dance floor; it was almost as if he didn’t exist, as if he was just some apparition that nobody could really see.
 
Nobody paid him any attention.

Nobody cared about this face in the crowd as he strode through the club on his way to the outdoor terrace area, because that’s where they all were.
 
All of them.
 
All in one place.
 
Just how he’d wanted it to be.
 
And they’d made it so easy – so unbelievably easy.

Nobody noticed him.
 
Nobody tried to stop him.
 
Even as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the small but powerful hand pistol, nobody seemed to notice him, nobody seemed to be aware that this party was about to be brought to an abrupt and terrifying end.
 
Nobody had any idea.
 
Until it was too late…

EPILOGUE

The paparazzi swung into action as the car drew up at the foot of the red carpet. Everyone was waiting for the doors to open, waiting to see if the rumours were true.
 
Waiting to see if
Hollywood
had the happy ending it had wanted after that night in Vegas.
 
A night which had changed lives, and ended one.

The flashbulbs popped, filling the air with a barrage of light and noise as she emerged from the black limo, her long legs covered by dark skinny jeans and knee-high boots with sky-scraper heels, her hair loose and tousled round her tanned shoulders.
 
Was she alone?
 
There was an almost audible sigh of disappointment from the crowd of paparazzi and press; from the mass of people who’d turned up outside the theatre to see if what the papers were saying was true, because nobody really knew.
 
There was no photographic evidence to back up the rumours, no statement from anyone to say that it was true.
 
Someone had just put two and two together and assumed that was the outcome.
 
But surely, tonight, everyone would know.
 

She stood by the door of the limo, smiling at the photographers, waving to the crowd, but giving no reply to the endless questions being thrown in her direction from anxious reporters, all of them wanting to be the first to get the scoop, the first to get that story, that photograph.
 
But, so far, it seemed as though she had, indeed, arrived alone.

And then she turned briefly to that still-open door of the imposing black car, her smile now directed at someone else, someone who slowly started to emerge from the interior of the spacious limo, and the flashbulbs and clicks of the hundreds of cameras, the questions from the waiting press, they all picked up pace as another figure exited the car.
 
Was it who everybody expected it to be?

The once audible sigh of disappointment gave way to a gasp of expectation as her smile grew wider; her hand sliding into the hand of the person who’d emerged from the limo.
 
It was a
Hollywood
love story twenty years in the making.
 
That’s how
Hollywood
itself had been describing it anyway, even though there’d been no concrete proof that it had happened.
 
Until now.
 
Because now it was obvious that all those rumours that had been flying around ever since that night in
Las Vegas
all those months ago, they were true.
 
The rumours were true.
 
And, as she leaned in towards the man who’d stepped out of the limo, closing her eyes as he kissed her long and slow, it seemed as though
Hollywood
finally had the kind of happy ending it craved.
 

***

That night in Vegas – the night of the wrap party at The Amber Palace – was still very fresh in the mind of everyone involved.
 
A chaotic, terrifying night when both
India
and Charley had feared that Jimmy Cash was, once more, going to take from them people they loved.
 
Because he’d tried.
 
Of course he had.
 
He’d tried.

One shot was all he’d managed to fire at first – one shot that had been forced to veer off-course by Dominic MacDonald, who’d acted with the quickest of reactions to knock the gun from Jimmy’s hand, causing the bullet to skim Vince’s shoulder rather than hit him where it had originally been aimed.

And whilst Dominic’s reflexes had been quick enough to enable him to pick up the gun, allowing him to face up to a manic Jimmy Cash, he’d been no match for a man on some kind of deranged revenge mission.
 
And from then on, things had played out so fast that still nobody was entirely sure how everything had happened.
 
Parts of it were very much blurred, or maybe just deliberately resigned to the backs of people’s minds because they didn’t particularly want to remember.
 
But some things were hard to forget.

Jimmy had pulled another gun, somehow, from somewhere, and as the second sickeningly loud shot had pierced the night air, Dominic had fallen to the ground, the gun slipping from his hands.
 
A third shot closely followed.
 
And then it was over.
 
He was gone.
 
He’d tried, and he’d failed.
 
There was nothing else he could do.
 
It was over.
 
And from that moment on, all that had been left for people to do was to pick up the pieces, and try and get on with their lives.

***

Michael held tightly onto Layla’s hand as they walked the red carpet.
 
She was heavily pregnant but had insisted on coming to this premiere.
 
After all, considering everything that had happened in Vegas during the shooting of this movie, it was a miracle Michael had managed to get it this far.
 
But it was finished, and initial reports were nothing but glowing.
 
The chemistry between the two leading stars was electric, Michael’s direction was being praised for producing a funny and poignant romantic comedy, and all signs led to a box office success.
 
But, in the grand scheme of things, this movie was the least important thing to have come out of that whole Vegas experience.