The Monster of Fame (The Price of Fame Series) (2 page)

“Let’s get on with this, there’s still hundreds to see today,” Sander complained, raking a beefy hand through his cropped blond hair. Safri signaled to the cameramen and a member of the crew called the girl’s number over the loud speaker.

“Be nice, you two,” Safri whispered. “You’ve both acted like bears with sore heads all day.”

Miles rolled his eyes before fixing them on the doors leading to the waiting room. Safri was right. He was in a foul mood. They’d been there all day, and the auditions had gone from bad to worse. So far, they’d only put one young man through, and his voice wasn’t anything spectacular. Miles doubted the boy would make it past eliminations.

The doors opened and Annabelle walked through. His eyes widened as he took in her curvy frame covered by very stylish skinny jeans and a well-fitted, yet understated, floaty pullover. Her mousey hair was styled into elaborate curls and the barest traces of makeup made her bright blue eyes sparkle from her china-white skin. Miles could hardly believe it was the same girl in the photograph.

Annabelle walked right over to the star in the middle of the floor, her high heels clicking on the wood, and turned to face them. She held her hands clasped in front of her and he noted they were trembling profoundly. In fact, on second glance, she was trembling all over. Her shoulders were hunched defensively, eyes were fixed on a point on the floor. Stage fright, or something else?

Unease coiled in his stomach and his shoulders tensed. The show, the judges, the makeup artists, the personal trainer, the army of people hired to make sure Annabelle shone like a star would change her. More than physically.

And what happened to those cloned people? The pressure to look thin made anorexia a fashion statement. Mental breakdowns and cocaine habits were assumed as part and parcel of the industry. The transformation made those who’d undergone it obsessed with beauty and fame. Paranoia and a way to escape reality came shortly thereafter.

Miles had seen it reflected in his clients. Those young stars he’d mentored over the years. And, before that, his wife, Cassie. Never again would he give someone who wasn’t strong enough the chance to make it big.

The last time resulted in his wife’s death.

“Annabelle, is it?” Safri asked.

Annabelle merely nodded and flicked her wary gaze to Safri. The lights reflecting off Annabelle’s skin illuminated a fine sheen of sweat coating her temples. Again, Miles wondered if it was just stage fright.
Is that really a chance you’re willing to take?
He had enough guilt to contend with. There was no room for any more.

“What are you going to sing for us today?” Sander asked curtly. It irritated Miles that he was using that tone with her. Couldn’t he see the girl was terrified?

“
Somewhere
by Streisand,” Annabelle answered.

Shock jolted him causing his eyes to widen again. The song was a hard one to get right, but it was easy to murder. One thing was certain, he was definitely intrigued. Why would a young girl in her twenties sing an old song such as this?

“Please, go on,” Miles urged.

Her eyes darted to his for the first time and he curved his lips reassuringly. Rose tinted her cheekbones as she dragged her gaze away from him. A flare of heat reverberated through his body. He frowned at the reaction and decided to ignore it. Six years had passed since he’d felt any kind of attraction to another woman. Six years since Cassie died.

Before the grief of his memories could assail him, Annabelle started singing. At first, her voice stuttered. After missing several notes, she squeezed her eyes shut. Annabelle took a deep breath, then began again, her eyes still firmly closed.

This time, the first spellbinding note that left her lips snared his full attention like nothing else ever had. Her voice was a musical symphony in itself and she hit every advanced note to perfection.

At the chorus, her passion made her voice stronger, more powerful. He was vaguely aware Safri had leaned closer to him and was whispering in his ear, but he couldn’t hear her and didn’t particularly care what she was saying. Annabelle and her angelic, yet powerful voice were all that mattered at that moment.

No one interrupted her, not even Sander. They let her sing the song all the way through to the end where her voice hit all the high notes with a steadily increasing power, knocking the breath right out of him. She pulled off every one with intense emotion.

But could she survive the pressure of fame? Her terrified reaction to them when she first entered had to be more than just nerves. He’d seen the same reactions from Cassie before her first concert and every time thereafter.

Between the media and the pressure to ‘look’ the part, fame had destroyed his wife, making her turn to drugs and alcohol for weight loss and confidence. Both had killed her in the end. Miles couldn’t cope with the guilt if Annabelle fell into the same murky pit of despair. He was barely struggling with the blame for Cassie.

Panic clawed its way up his throat as the song neared its end.

There was no doubt in his mind Safri and Sander would put her through to the next round. He would have to get in first and persuade them not to vote her through. After all, they usually listened to him.

The song finished and Annabelle’s gaze went straight to the floor as she stood there trembling, waiting on their verdict. A quick glance at his colleagues confirmed his suspicions; both sat there—wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Safri even had tears in her eyes, which was surprising in itself. Safri never, ever cried.

“Thank you, Annabelle,” Miles said, aware that this audition was being filmed. “I have to say you have a beautiful voice. It flows smoothly and you are able to hold a tune spectacularly well.”

The smile which spread across her pale face lit up her shiny eyes. She was dazzling. For a moment he forgot what he was trying to do.

Clearing his throat, he got to the hard part. “However, this contest is not just about singing. It’s also about finding stars and selling albums. Do I think you can sing? Yes. Very well. Do I think you can make it as a star?” He paused as her smile faltered and her eyes filled with moisture.

Just looking into those eyes made him want to promise her the world. An image flashed in his mind of his wife’s pale, lifeless face the evening he returned from work and found her dead. The guilt lay so thick in his stomach he thought he might throw up.

There was no way he would do that to Annabelle. “I’m sorry, but I don’t. Where your voice is amazing, you don’t have star quality nor confidence. You were only able to sing once you’d closed your eyes, which is unprofessional. It’s a no from me.”

His voice came out harsher than he intended with the painful memories of guilt and heart-wrenching anguish resurrected. He was aware of his fellow judges’ gazes on him, although he couldn’t drag his attention from Annabelle. Her face crumpled in an expression which he could only describe as agony. The pain in her eyes mirrored that and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

He felt like the biggest arse in the history of the world. If only he could take the words back and see her smile her bright, breathtaking smile again.

But if he did, how long would that smile last?

Chapter 2

Eliminations

“It’s a no from me.”

The words rang again and again in Anna’s head, each time cutting her a little deeper. She straightened her spine and locked her knees to avoid falling to the floor and tried very hard to hold back the sobs bubbling up in her chest.

Anna tore her gaze away from Miles’s penetrating emerald eyes and returned her attention to an irregular floorboard in front of the judges’ table.

“Miles!” the female judge, Safri, chided. “You can’t be serious?” The incredulous note in Safri’s thick accent was obvious.

Anna looked up at Safri. Hope sparked anew. All she needed was two votes to go through. Maybe there was still a chance…

“I’m dead serious. She doesn’t have what it takes,” his deep voice rumbled.

Pain slashed across her like the lash of a whip. What did he mean? Wasn’t she pretty enough? He said she could sing!

“I disagree,” Safri said, turning to face Anna and squaring her broad, tanned shoulders. “I think you do and only an idiot would not take you through to the next round.
I
think you have winning potential
and
the star quality we’re looking for. It’s a yes from me.”

Anna managed to pull her lips into what she hoped was a grateful smile. Words still beyond her, she dragged in deep breaths through her nose to stop the tears from spilling over. From the corner of her eye she saw Miles’s brows pull down and his lips twist into a scowl as he glared at Safri.

What on earth had she done to goad such a response from him?

“I have to say, I agree with Safri,” Sander Chase said, breaking Anna out of her reverie. Still, the sorrow of Miles’s rejection almost swallowed her whole. “You’re through to the next round, Annabelle. Congratulations.”

Again, Anna forced herself to smile even though she felt like crying. This was what she wanted, right? Just the majority vote. It was enough, yet it didn’t feel like enough. She glanced at Miles again who was now pinching the bridge of his nose between a long forefinger and thumb, his eyes shut tight.

What she really wanted was
his
approval. The other two were talented recording artists, sure. But it was
his
opinion that mattered most.
His
company represented every ounce of talent in the UK and he didn’t think she had what it would take to be one of them. Was he right?

“Thank you,” Anna choked past the rising lump in her throat. Tremors continued to rake through her, and she used every ounce of strength she had to hold back the tears burning her eyes. Safri and Sander smiled encouragement, and she turned to leave the room. She felt unsteady on the cheap high heels she’d borrowed from her mum. She draped her arms beside her hips to try and steady herself.

Just as she made the exit and put her hand out to reach for the door a warm set of fingers wrapped around her wrist. Jolts of heat snaked through her arm. The spicy smell of aftershave made her stomach quiver.

Startled, she turned her head, tilting her chin slightly to look into Miles’s eyes. His pupils were fully dilated in the dim light and a tingle of heat skittered down her spine.

“I’m sorry for hurting your feelings,” Miles whispered huskily. The sound made her shiver. “I just don’t think you have what it takes. Wouldn’t it be better to walk away now than have your dreams blown to pieces later?”

The strange shaky feeling blossoming in her stomach froze in its tracks at his words. With her eyes narrowing in anger—both at his assumption and her body’s infuriating reaction—she frowned at him.

“I’ll deal with it
if
it happens,” Anna ground out through clenched teeth.

He dropped her wrist like her words burned him. After staring her down for a moment, he turned and strode back to the judging table. She pushed the doors wide and kept a death grip on her irritation with Miles, terrified that if she let it go she would burst into tears.

“Well? How’d it go?” Jess asked, jumping up from a seat to greet her.

“I got through.”

“Anna, that’s fab!” Jess threw her arms around Anna, and she felt some of her despair leak out to be replaced with a shred of Jess’s joy.

It
was
fab. It was exactly what she needed. Why couldn’t she just be happy about it?

Bleedin’ green-eyed know-it-all! Anna would show him she had what it takes…

* * * *

“Are you on drugs? What the hell were you thinking?” Dave yelled at Miles.

Great, back to hostility for the next few weeks.

“I don’t think she’ll cut it,” Miles replied, shrugging his shoulders to emphasize the nonchalance in his tone. He knew exactly why Dave called him into his office at Studio Four today. Dave had seen the tape of the Glasgow auditions.

His—sometimes—friend’s face turned scarlet with rage, making his hair appear whiter and the deep set wrinkles around his narrowed eyes more pronounced. Dave was pissed all right.

“Cut it? She has a better voice than anyone we’ve heard so far. Given the right style, public image, and exercise regime she’ll have more than enough to cut it!”

Miles could handle Dave’s fury; he dealt with it every year the show aired. Miles wasn’t one for sticking to his ‘ruthless arsehole’ stereotype, nor was he one for wasting time and effort training circus acts. Both were required for his contract and Dave insisted on both every bloody year.

But he couldn’t handle putting Annabelle MacIntosh through the stress and strains of fame, which he knew would eventually ruin her. Her angelic voice was exquisite, he couldn’t deny that. Having her alive with a broken dream was better than watching this business kill her off, piece by beautiful piece. Dave was already starting his crap with the contestants.

“Exercise?” Miles fumed, his hands fisted against Dave’s mahogany desk. He leaned forward. Didn’t Dave notice that the era of the stick insect was long gone? If it hadn’t been for the pressure to resemble a bag of bones in this industry, he had no doubt Cassie would have survived a little longer.

“Yes. Exercise. She’s too heavy on the hips for the camera. Ten or twenty pounds should cut it.” Sunlight shone through the expansive window. The beams made the various awards in Dave’s trophy cabinet sparkle and shine.

Twenty pounds and she’d be a thin waif like the rest of the girls he’d put through this week. Annabelle’s figure was full and curvaceous in all the right places. There was no way in hell he would encourage any weight loss.

“Shit, Dave. Her body’s fine.” It was more than fine. It stirred his blood and made him want things that he couldn’t have. “It’s not
that
I’m worried about.” He had to get the ridiculous notion out of Dave’s head before he started hand feeding Annabelle carrot sticks. “She’s not strong enough for the pressure fame puts on you. I doubt she’s even strong enough for this competition.”