Devoted 2 : Where the Ivy Grows (5 page)

‘Marc Blackwell? Arrogant.’ Arabella is smiling now. ‘Never!’

I notice Marc has a quiet smile on his face.

‘He’s not arrogant, though,’ I say. ‘Bossy, yes. He thinks he knows what’s best for everyone. But he’s not full of himself. I’m not sure he thinks very much of himself at all, deep down.’

Marc turns to me, and our eyes meet. There’s that lost look again. That confusion. And I know what I just said is true. Beneath that cool, cold exterior, there’s much more to Marc Blackwell than meets the eye.

‘I’d say you’re right on the money.’

Oh?
Jealousy rears its ugly head. What does she know of Marc?

‘So tell me,’
Arabella continues. ‘When did you fall for him?’

‘I can’t pinpoint it exactly,’ I say. ‘Just little by little, I started seeing more of him. And of course I got a crush, just like every other student. I never thought in a million years he’d be interested in me.’ I smile, thinking of the time he rescued me from the lake. ‘Maybe he took pity on me.’

‘Nothing could be further from the truth,’ says Marc. ‘Believe me, Arabella. None of this was planned. If it had been anyone other than Sophia, I would have left the college, or just ... ignored my feelings.’

Arabella
is watching him closely. ‘My, my. Marc Blackwell, you’ve got it bad, haven’t you?’ She’s teasing him.

‘Have it bad doesn’t
come close to describing it,’ Marc says, his voice quiet.

‘I’ve never seen you this way,’ says
Arabella, cocking her head. ‘Your eyes look all mushy.’ She leans forward. ‘So what is it about our lovely Sophia that has the famously cold Marc Blackwell head over heels?’

‘I’m sure I’m not the only person to have fallen head over heels for her,’ says Marc. ‘Sophia is so natural. So genuine. A beaut
iful person, inside and out. The whole world will love her, given the chance.’

‘I’ve never heard you talk about anyone this way,’ says
Arabella. ‘And I must say, it’s rather lovely. And unexpected.’

‘Don’t get used to it,’ Marc snaps. ‘I’m doing this interview for Sophia. So that we can set the record straight, and hopefully at least some of the mongrels will leave her alone.’ He jumps up from the sofa. ‘Getty was at the college gates this morning.’

Arabella puts a hand to her mouth. She glances at me. ‘Oh no.’

‘What?’ I ask.

‘He’s dangerous,’ say Marc. ‘Everyone in the industry knows the lengths Giles Getty will go to get a story. He’ll stop at nothing. He hires actors to set people up. Alters pictures. The man is a criminal. But as long as he sells papers, no one stops him.’ He glances at me. ‘And there’s more. Where women are concerned. I’ve known him a long time.’

‘We’re not all like Giles Getty,’ says
Arabella, her eyes going watery and nervous. ‘Some of us are decent. Some of us just want to tell the truth.’

‘That’s what I’d like you to do,’ I say. ‘I want you to tell our story how you see it.’

‘The truth?’ Arabella smiles. ‘Well, there’s a word I don’t hear very often in this business. I’d be delighted to write the truth about you. Tell me more about how you two met. I’m guessing ... on campus?’

‘Actually
, it was at Sophia’s audition,’ says Marc.

‘Do tell,’ says
Arabella, putting her palm under her chin.

‘When I saw Sophia perform, there was something about her that just ... shone.’

‘She’s a beautiful girl,’ says Arabella.

‘There are lots of beautiful girls,’ says Marc. ‘Especially on drama courses. It wasn’t to do with what she looked like. It was ... something else.’

‘Love at first sight?’ Arabella raises an eyebrow.

‘
Perhaps. She was ... quite something.’

‘Did you think it would be a problem?’ asks
Arabella.

‘The only thing I allowed myself to
think about at that stage was her talent. What Ivy College could do for her. But, as I’m learning, nothing concerning Sophia is straight forward.’

Arabella
turns to me. ‘And how about you, Sophia? Were you attracted to Marc at that first meeting? Arrogance aside?’ Her eyes crinkle.

I smile and look at my lap. Attracted isn’t even the word for it. I felt utterly drawn to him. ‘I was ... captivated by him,’ I admit. ‘Like most women are, I guess. By his intensity.’

‘Yes, he is very intense, isn’t he?’ Arabella laughs.

I look at her, trying to work out if there was ever a relationship between the two of them. I hate myself for feeling this way. For this stupid jealousy.

‘Yes,’ I admit. ‘He’s such an amazing actor. I had no idea what he saw in me at first. I still don’t.’

‘
I mentioned before that our Marc has a reputation,’ says Arabella. ‘As being something of a control freak. Of liking his own way. Does he get his own way with you?’

Wow. She really is going in for the kill. ‘He likes being in charge,’ I admit with a smile. ‘But everything he does comes from the best place. I truly believe that.’

‘You seem like a nice, normal girl,’ says Arabella. ‘Doesn’t it bother you? Being with such a powerful man? Someone so domineering?’

‘I guess I’m hoping we’ll reach a middle ground,’ I say.

‘And if you don’t? I’ve known Marc a long time. What if everything has to be on his terms?’

I feel like all the air has been sucked out of me. ‘I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’

Arabella’s eyes crease up, and I see pity in them. Does she know something I don’t? What if she’s right? What if, despite Marc losing himself a little in the bedroom, he always has to be in charge?

‘And when you met again on campus
,’ Arabella asks, ‘what happened?’

Marc turns. ‘
Arabella. Remember how young Sophia is. We have to think about her reputation. What people will think of her. It might be best if we don’t lead readers into this territory.’

Arabella
makes a note on her iPad, and I can’t work out if she’s annoyed or not. A second later, her head pops up and she’s smiling. ‘Well then. If you want to keep it light, I guess we’re all done with the words. The photography studio will be ready for you this afternoon.’

‘
We’ll be there.’ Marc walks towards the door and holds it open. ‘Thank you, Arabella. I hope you understand my reasons for not wanting to go into detail.’

Arabella
nods. ‘I do.’ She picks up her coat and heads to the door. ‘Nice to meet you, Sophia.’

‘You too,’ I call after her. I feel bad for her. There was no need for Marc to chastise her like that.

Marc closes the door behind her and reaches me in two long strides.

‘I know what you’re thinking.’

‘What am I thinking?’

‘That I was too firm.’

I frown. ‘Yes. That’s exactly what I was thinking. She was nice, Marc. You didn’t need to cut her off like that.’

‘Yes. She is. But ... even nice people can have their own agenda.’

‘Do you know something about her that I don’t?’ Ugh. Why did I let myself say that? I can hear the sticky, dark jealousy in the words, and I know Marc hears it too.

Marc stands in front of me, hands on
his hips. ‘Meaning?’ The words are stern, but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips.

‘Meaning ... I just wondered how you two know each other so well, that’s all.’

‘I haven’t fucked her, if that’s what you’re asking.’

Oh
. I’m so relieved. ‘It wasn’t.’

‘It was.’ M
arc’s smile grows.

I can’t help smiling back and feel my lips sliding over my teeth. ‘Okay, it was. But can you blame me? She seemed to know plenty about you.’

‘She doesn’t know a thing. No more than any other journalist.’ Marc checks his watch. ‘I have to make a phone call in the other room. When I come back, I want you completely naked. I want to finish what I started in the lift.’ With that, he strides out of the living area into a neighbouring bedroom and slams the door closed.

My heart is still yammering away after the interview. Trust Marc to be so calm and collected that he can shift his mind so easily.

I’m a little tempted to listen in to his phone conversation. What’s so important that he needs to march off like that? But no ... I’d be mortified if he caught me, and we’re building a relationship. No sneaking around.

I look down at my clothes, wondering what he would do if he came in and I was still fully dressed. Would he be angry? Annoyed? Or ...

Will he stop loving me if I don’t let him stay in charge?

The words jump into my head, unbidden, and I don’t like them. I don’t like them at all.

I hear Marc’s low murmuring through the door, and then a shout:

‘
When?
’

I strain to listen, but nothing else is clear.

When what?

The bedroom door clicks open
, and Marc strides back into the living area. He looks at me, sees I still have my clothes on, then paces back and forth.

God, he’s gorgeous. I mean, just mesmerizingly gorgeous. If I wasn’t sitting down, I think my knees would give way.

‘You’re dressed,’ he remarks, his voice low.

‘Yes.’

There’s a chiming sound from the hallway, and Marc hesitates. Then he strides down the hallway and opens the suite door.

I blink in surprise at what’s standing behind it.

There, in the doorway, is a bellboy staggering under an enormous vase of white roses. But they’re not just any white roses. They’re the same white roses I saw in reception – the frilly ones with thick green stems, complete with the same glass vase.

‘
You’re an hour early,’ says Marc, ushering the bellboy into the living room. ‘But welcome nonetheless. Put them on the mantelpiece. Thank you.’

The bellboy places the roses over the fireplace, arranging them so they fan out towards the room.

‘Marc, these are ... they’re so beautiful,’ I breathe.

Marc slides a ten
pound tip into the bellboy’s hand, and the bellboy gives a little bow and heads for the door.

I stare at the perfect white flowers, smelling their beautiful fragrance.

‘Why did they bring these?’ I ask.

‘They’re for you,’ says Marc. ‘I thought you’d appreciate a little nature around the place.’

I put a hand to my mouth, feeling a smile spread from ear to ear. ‘For me?’ I stifle an astonished giggle. ‘They’re just like the ones in reception.’

‘They
are
the ones from reception.’

‘You’re kidding me. How did you ...?’

‘I’ve been coming to this hotel for a long time. You like them?’

‘I love them. Can’t you tell?’ Sometimes, I get so happy
, I feel like my smile is going to rip my face in half, and that’s how I’m smiling now.

I throw my arms around him.

‘Thank you,’ I say, planting kiss after kiss on his cheek. ‘I can’t believe you did that for me. It’s so thoughtful. I feel really special.’

‘
I love that such simple things make you happy,’ says Marc.

‘
Simple
things?’ I say. ‘A giant vase of roses from the Carlo Hotel reception area? Hardly simple.’ I stroke the soft petals. ‘No one ever got me flowers before.’

‘No one ever bought you flowers?’ Marc asks.

‘My dad used to buy me daffodils sometimes, but I don’t think that counts.’

‘None of your boyfriends ever bought you flowers?’

‘Never.’

‘They were idiots.’

‘Oh ... no, they weren’t. Just young, that’s all. You don’t buy flowers for people when you’re young.’

‘Are you calling me old, Miss Rose?’

‘Yes, Mr Blackwell. You’re very old. Didn’t anyone ever tell you?’

‘Funnily enough, no.’ Marc moves a stray piece of hair from my eye. ‘I’m glad you like the flowers.’

‘I don’t
like
them. I love them.’

‘Is that right?’

I nod.

He looks right into my eyes. ‘I’m going to
ignore the fact that you haven’t undressed and take you to the bedroom anyway. But I want you to keep totally still. Is that understood?’

‘You’re going to ... you want me to keep
still
?’ I ask.

He nods, sharply. ‘And silent.’

‘
What?
Why?’

‘To increase your pleasure. And mine.’

He scoops me into his arms so quickly that the bottom falls out of my stomach, then carries me into a bedroom and drops me onto a crisp white duvet. I’m aware of a soft canopy of flowery fabric draped above the headboard. But mostly, all I see is Marc.