The shakespeare sisters.., p.16
The Shakespeare Sisters--The Complete Box Set, page 16
‘Oh, I was sure I’d had more than that.’
‘Not unless you were downing it under the table.’ He sounded amused. ‘I’d say you drank the perfect amount.’
‘What is the perfect amount?’
‘Enough to relax you without losing all control of your faculties.’ She could see his mouth twitch. ‘Somewhere in between lucid and being carried up to bed.’
‘I thought we’d agreed not to mention that again?’
‘I don’t remember agreeing to anything of the sort. I kind of like mentioning it, because it makes you blush. And you’re very pretty when you blush.’
There he was again with the compliments, and of course they made her cheeks redden even more. She searched in vain for the perfect retort. ‘Well, you’re so much more handsome when you call me pretty.’
He laughed loudly. ‘In that case I’ll call you pretty more often.’
‘You should.’
‘All the time.’
‘Steady on, nobody can be pretty all the time. Or handsome, for that matter.’
‘That’s true. You were singularly unpretty the morning after I carried you to bed.’
‘It’s hard to look pretty with your head halfway down the toilet.’ It was so easy, this back and forth banter. She marvelled at how comfortable she felt talking to him.
‘Well, if anybody can pull it off, you can.’
‘It was a once in a lifetime show, I’m afraid.’ She looked up at him, smiling. God, he really was handsome, even when he wasn’t shooting compliments at her. Not that she intended to tell him that. ‘You’ll have to be content with the memories.’
Sam inclined his head, pressing his lips to her ear. ‘Don’t get big-headed, but you’re also easy on the eye when you’re not throwing up.’
The way his breath fanned against her skin sent a thrill straight through her. Her toes curled up in delight.
‘You have a wonderful way of complimenting a woman.’ She raised a single eyebrow. ‘I don’t think anybody’s ever told me that before.’
He smirked. ‘Glad to be of service.’
Staring up at him, Cesca wondered if he was going to kiss her. She tried to imagine how his lips would feel against hers, if they would feel as silky soft as they looked. Whether he would push his hands through her hair, coiling it around his fingers. There was a hint of hair growth on his jaw, dark and shadowy. Would it scrape her skin as they embraced? Her own lips opened, a soft breath escaping, and Sam lowered his face until it was inches from hers.
That’s when the flash went off, transforming the air around them from a mellow darkness to a bright white flood. Sam moved back, dropping his arms from her waist, and the warm night air flooded between them. Cesca’s eyes flew open and she looked to her left, where a young girl was holding a cellphone in front of her, a wide-eyed look of wonder on her face. The next minute she was joined by three others, all pointing at Sam and staring, saying his name over and over again as if he could ever forget it.
‘You should get in the car.’ The way he said it, low and short, invited no conversation. He almost pushed her inside, closing the passenger door behind her. Walking towards the girls holding their phones, he began to talk in rapid Italian.
The first girl – a pretty teenager – nodded rapidly, and grabbed something from her bag. Was it a magazine? Cesca couldn’t tell from there. Whatever it was, Sam was frowning at it.
The next minute he was talking to the girls again, flashing that smile she’d seen before. Beating his eyelashes and flirting like crazy. Cesca felt her stomach contract, all that food she’d eaten making her feel bloated.
Sam took the first girl’s phone and stepped between the four of them, letting them wrap their arms around his waist as he took a selfie of them all. Then he kissed them on the cheek, leading to high-pitched giggles, waving as he walked away.
As soon as he climbed back into the car, his flirty façade crumbled. His face looked like thunder.
‘They deleted the photos of us,’ he said shortly. ‘So you don’t have to worry about being seen with me.’
‘I wasn’t worried.’ She was more concerned about his mood. It had spun on a dime.
‘Well you should be. The last thing you need is your face all over the tabloids.’
Cesca swallowed, though her mouth was dry. His expression of anger was enough to silence her for the whole of the journey home.
Back at the villa, Sam parked the car in the garage as Cesca opened up the house, and the two of them walked into the hallway. Cesca opened her mouth, wanting to ask him why he’d reacted so strangely. Why a fan taking a photograph had soured his mood so much. But before she could form the words, Sam was already halfway towards the staircase.
‘Goodnight, Cesca,’ he said quietly, then turning until his back was to her, he climbed the stairs.
‘Goodnight, Sam.’ She stared at his retreating body. It had been a good night, right until that girl took the photograph. The way he’d looked at her had been exhilarating, and she’d been so sure he was about to kiss her. Even stranger, she’d wanted him to.
And now he was gone, and she was standing here in the hallway all alone.
It felt like the story of her life.
18
For where thou art, there is the world itself . . . And where thou art not, desolation - Henry VI Part II
Sam slammed the bedroom door behind him, barely slowing down as he stalked across the marble floor to the bathroom on the far side. Wrenching on the tap, he cupped his palms beneath the stream, lifting them to splash the ice-cold water on his face. It was only after he’d done this three times that he finally lifted his eyes to the mirror, seeing the damp-faced, dark-eyed stranger staring back at him.
What the hell had he been thinking? It was like Serena Sloane all over again. He’d let his libido do the talking, taking a pretty girl out to dinner, practically kissing her in front of a camera before he finally came to his senses. And all his plans to stay in Varenna out of the public eye would disappear with one touch of an Instagram button.
To hell with fame. To hell with photographs splashed across tabloids. He didn’t like that game any more.
Running his wet hands through his hair, he slicked it back, but the water did nothing to cool his fevered skin. He was too het up for that, too riled, too full of the memory of Cesca and that almost-kiss.
It was impossible not to think about it. Even with his eyes open the image of Cesca staring up at him was branded in his mind. The way her eyes had widened and her mouth fell open as he leaned down towards her, leaving him in no doubt that she felt exactly the same way he did.
But how did he feel? That was the question, and he wasn’t sure he was willing to answer it. Because there was no future in this, he wouldn’t let there be.
He’d learned his lesson after Serena Sloane. He’d let their friendship cloud his judgement, believing he could trust her. And now here was Cesca, with her pretty smile and probing questions. He was in danger of making a fool of himself all over again. Pushing himself away from the basin, he grabbed a towel, drying his face before throwing it in the hamper.
He should leave. Get on the next flight to Hollywood and face the crap he’d left behind, before he managed to mess things up more than he ever had. Before Foster and his mom got wind of where he was, and got hold of him to tell him just how much he’d embarrassed the family.
But the thought of getting on a plane and leaving Cesca here in Varenna made his head hurt. In spite of their confrontations, he felt alive for the first time in forever. He enjoyed being with her, reading her play, watching her cook. He’d told her he was her friend.
There was another thing, too. Something deeper. Something he wasn’t sure he was really ready to admit to himself. Because he liked her, as well. Really liked her. And Sam wasn’t sure how he was supposed to deal with that.
He splashed his face again, as if the first time wasn’t enough. The water clung to his skin, and he shook it, droplets flying into the basin. He couldn’t let himself give in to his feelings for her. Friends, that’s all they were. And he could handle that, couldn’t he? A superficial summer friendship he left behind at the end of the season, brushing it off like sand from his shoulders.
In a few weeks he’d leave Varenna, and leave Cesca Shakespeare far behind him.
It was as simple as that.
Every time Cesca looked down at the screen she could feel Sam’s scrutiny warming her face. If she glanced up, he’d be deeply absorbed in the paper in front of him, scribbling across her typed words, making suggestions or corrections to her grammar. But as soon as she looked away, she could hear him stop writing, and the minute shuffles in his seat, as he resumed his intense study of her once again.
It was both perplexing and exhilarating. And if she was being honest, Cesca was irritated by his pretence at a lack of interest in her, at least whenever she was looking. Because she wanted him to be interested, had wanted it ever since that night they went out to Grotto Maria, when he’d come within a breath of pressing his lips against hers.
How strange it was that the man she’d hated had become the one she desired. And yet there seemed to be an inevitability to it that soothed her dramatic heart, a closing of the circle, a righting of a wrong. It was as though she had finally opened her eyes for the first time, and was seeing him as he really was, not the devil-in-disguise her brain had imagined him to be.
‘Sam?’ She stared at him over the edge of the screen. He frowned momentarily before looking up. Even their eye contact was enough to give her a jolt.
‘Yes?’
‘How long are you planning to stay here?’ She’d been wondering that for a while. When he’d arrived he’d made it seem as though he was just passing through, but he wasn’t showing any signs of leaving yet.
He shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. I think I’ll see out the summer, then fly back to LA after that. I haven’t got any work pencilled in until the fall, so the world’s my oyster until then.’
Cesca nodded, used to the feast-or-famine nature of the entertainment industry. ‘But aren’t you bored? I mean there’s only me here, and really nothing much to do. You must be going crazy without the Wi-Fi or connectivity.’
Sam tapped the lid of his pen against his lips. ‘I’m not bored at all,’ he told her. ‘To be honest it’s a relief not being able to be contacted. I don’t get to spend time alone very much in Hollywood. I’m either working or networking, and my phone is constantly ringing. I’d kinda forgotten what silence sounded like.’
‘And do you like it? The sound of silence, I mean.’
He tapped his lips again. ‘I do, very much.’
The past few days had been just like this. Mornings and afternoons in the library together, Cesca writing and printing out pages while Sam wrote the corrections in red pen in the margins. Then they’d cook, eat dinner, before Sam would disappear, telling her he was tired, and that he wanted to have an early night. The first day she’d been amused by his disappearance, the second she’d been confused. By the third night – last night – she’d started to get angry. Why was he ignoring her after that perfect evening in the restaurant?
‘What about your family?’ she asked. ‘Wouldn’t you like to visit them while you have some free time?’
‘It’s more that I don’t think they particularly want to see me,’ he told her.
‘What do you mean?’ She frowned. ‘Why wouldn’t they want to see you? I can tell they’re proud of you, your photograph is on nearly every wall of this place.’ He was being evasive again. Maybe she should have Googled him after all.
‘My mother loves me.’
‘And your father?’
‘That’s more complicated.’ Sam gently placed the pen down on the pile of paper in front of him. ‘Foster and I, well as I hinted before, we don’t see eye to eye. He’s an asshole.’
‘It’s hard to see eye to eye with an asshole,’ she agreed. ‘And Foster sounds like the king of them.’
Sam burst out laughing. It made his whole face light up. ‘That’s true. And what’s worse is that he’d love that description.’
‘Well, when I see him, I’ll tell him exactly what I think.’
She watched as Sam’s face fell. ‘Jesus, don’t go anywhere near him. I shouldn’t have mentioned him.’
‘I can look after myself, you know,’ she said crossly. ‘I’ve dealt with enough assholes in my time. He doesn’t frighten me.’
‘But he frightens me,’ Sam said, rubbing his face with his palms. ‘Or at least the thought of him near you does.’
She tipped her head to the side. ‘What is it about him? What hold does he have on you that makes you like this?’
It was a shock to see Sam stand up and walk over to her. She was so used to him keeping his distance these past few days. She could feel her pulse start to speed as he came closer, leaning over the desk where she was sitting.
‘It’s not about him,’ Sam said. ‘It’s about you. He’s poison, Cesca, and the worst kind, too. The kind that looks good, tastes good, so you take a big swallow. And it’s great, right up until it starts to sting at your gut.’
She pushed the chair away from the desk, standing up, but still he towered above her. She reached out, cupping his jaw with her hand, feeling the warmth of his skin against hers.
‘I promised not to ask about him,’ Cesca said. ‘But I can tell you this. Whatever he did, he can’t hurt you any more. You’re a grown man, a success. The world’s at your feet.’
There was a haunted look in his eyes that cut right through her, making her want to envelop him in her arms.
‘You don’t know him like I do,’ Sam whispered. ‘No one does. They’d laugh at me if I told them the truth.’
‘What truth?’ she asked him. ‘Shit, sorry, I promised not to pry. I’m going to shut up now.’
He winced. ‘Don’t worry. It doesn’t matter anyway.’
‘Of course it matters. I don’t get what hold he can still have on you. You’re better than him. When we first met I just thought you were some big-headed actor who sold me out. But that’s not who you are.’
‘Who am I then?’ he asked with a whisper.
‘You’re Sam Carlton. The boy who walks into a theatre and makes jaws drop open. The man who sets Hollywood on fire. You’re the person who can sell a movie just with a smile and a wink.’ She leaned into him. ‘You must know who you are, Sam.’
‘And yet in his eyes I’m nothing.’
‘Then he’s blind.’
‘I’ve spent my life trying to make Foster Carlton like me. But he can’t even stand to look at me. And now I’ve embarrassed them all . . .’ Sam went suddenly silent.
‘How have you embarrassed them?’
‘It doesn’t matter, none of it does. Because I don’t want to see Foster, or my mother, and I definitely don’t want to see my sisters. I’m going to see out the summer here, then I’ll fly back to Hollywood, and you can forget you ever met me.’
Cesca stepped back, as if she’d been stung. Even touched her face with her hand to check it didn’t hurt.
Sam shook his head. ‘Look, I’m sorry, I know I sound crazy, but I promise it’s better this way.’ His face softened as he reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ears. ‘Why don’t I go and get us a drink? All this talk about Foster has left a bad taste in my mouth.’
With that he left the library, making his way across the hallway to the kitchen. Cesca stared after him for a moment, frowning.
Sam Carlton was an enigma, and clearly the master of avoidance. For some reason that only made her want to know him even more.
19
A ministering angel shall my sister be – Hamlet
‘We’ve missed you on our video calls,’ Lucy told her. ‘It hasn’t been the same without you.’
‘I’ve missed you, too.’ Cesca leaned her head on the glass of the telephone box. ‘But there’s no way to join in. There’s no Wi-Fi at the house, and the Internet café closes on Sunday afternoons.’
‘We could change the day?’ Lucy sounded hopeful.
‘It’s not worth it,’ Cesca said. ‘I’ll be coming home, soon. In the meantime I’ll keep emailing.’
‘How are things over there?’ Lucy asked, her tone sympathetic. ‘Is that actor giving you any trouble?’ Cesca had told her sisters about Sam’s arrival at the villa, appreciating their sympathy at her past colliding with her present.
‘He’s behaving for the most part,’ Cesca replied, not wanting to go into all the details. She wasn’t even sure how to explain it to herself. ‘Anyway, enough about me. How are the others?’
‘Juliet’s OK,’ her sister told her. ‘She’s busy setting up the flower shop, and running after Poppy. Thomas hasn’t changed at all, more’s the pity. And Kitty’s good. Enjoying life in LA, I think. But more importantly, how are you? I hear you’ve been writing again.’ Lucy sounded intrigued.
‘I’ve been trying.’ Cesca didn’t want to get her sister’s hopes up. ‘It’s early days so we’ll see. Who told you anyway?’
‘I spoke to Hugh last week. Dad got locked out of the house and I had to track down the spare keys. Easier said than done when you’re three hundred miles away.’
‘That doesn’t sound like Dad.’
‘He’s getting older, it’s natural for him to be a bit forgetful.’ Lucy said. ‘It was fine, all’s well that ends well.’
‘Very Shakespearian.’
‘That’s us all over.’
Cesca glanced at the display in front of her. ‘I guess I should go. This will be costing a fortune.’
‘OK then, but keep in touch. Email me when you can. Oh, and Poppy got your postcard, she was really excited apparently. She says she wants to visit Italy when she grows up.’
Cesca softened at the mention of her niece. Juliet was the only one of the sisters who’d had a child, and none of them saw Poppy as often as they’d have liked to. Another reason to dislike Thomas.
