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She was so annoyed she was still grinding her teeth in annoyance when Melissa turned back to the reception desk and said, ‘Right, change of plan. You’re my new maid of honour.’
Eloise blinked. ‘What?’
‘You.’ Melissa pointed at Eloise, jabbing a nail against her breastbone. ‘You’re going to put on the very expensive pretty dress I’ve already paid for and walk down the aisle in front of me. You’re going to smile for the cameras. You’re going to say wonderful things about me, and tell the reporter covering this wedding how close we were growing up, and how Hollywood hasn’t changed me at all. Okay?’
‘Why?’ Eloise asked, baffled. Then, as she stared down Melissa’s frown, she figured it out. ‘This is because of all those articles lately, isn’t it? The ones calling you a diva who’s forgotten where you came from.’
Melissa sniffed. ‘I don’t read that sort of trashy magazine.’
‘Isn’t it the same one that’s covering your wedding?’ Melissa didn’t answer that one. ‘So, let me guess. Your agent thinks that if you have an old friend as part of the wedding party it’ll show how down-to-earth you still are, with your million-dollar wedding at a five-star hotel.’
‘Something like that.’
‘Yeah, I’m not doing it.’ Not a chance. It was bad enough that she had to put Morwen Hall at the disposal of an ungrateful Melissa and her celebrity mates. The last thing Eloise wanted was to have to be part of this whole debacle. ‘Why don’t you ask Laurel? She is your half-sister.’
Melissa pulled a face. ‘No way. Besides, she wouldn’t fit in the dress. Have you seen that girl’s cleavage?’ Eloise had, and was rather envious of it, actually, but she didn’t think that would dissuade Melissa.
‘The chances are I won’t fit in the dress either,’ Eloise pointed out instead. She knew she was on the skinny side of slender, because that was just how her body and metabolism worked—especially when she was rushing around Morwen Hall all day, every day. But Hollywood celebs were a different category of thin, weren’t they? And Eloise definitely wasn’t that.
‘Oh, you will,’ Melissa assured her. ‘Cassidy had to put weight on for her last part, if you can believe it. Something about fat girls being funnier.’ Well, that sounded like a film Eloise would go out of her way to avoid. ‘So we’ll do the dress fitting first thing in the morning then.’
‘Wait! I didn’t say I’d do it!’ But Melissa was already walking away, her panic about her friend apparently forgotten now the role had been filled. ‘I already have a job at this wedding, remember? I’m in charge of the venue!’
‘Then you’d better find someone to take over for you. You’ll be fine,’ Melissa called back over her shoulder as she headed back towards the Gatehouse. ‘Just do everything I say.’
‘Yeah, because that always worked out so well when we were kids,’ Eloise grumbled as the front door swung shut. That was how she’d walked in on her mother kissing the first proper, grown-up boyfriend Eloise had ever had, a week before she’d left for university. Because Melissa had sent her down into the prop room at the theatre to retrieve something or other she obviously didn’t really need. Afterwards, Melissa had claimed that she couldn’t possibly have known that they were down there, but really, wasn’t it all for Eloise’s own good anyway? She’d practically done her a favour...especially since everyone had been talking about them for weeks behind Eloise’s back. Melissa had truly believed that she’d done the right thing sending her down there to find out the truth for herself.
And maybe she had. She’d certainly cemented Eloise’s decision to never trust another actor. If only she’d also warned her about business students.
Maid of honour for Melissa Sommers. How on earth had this happened? And the worst part was—
‘Sounds like we’ll be spending even more time together.’ Noah’s voice was warm, deep and far too close to her ear.
Eloise sighed. That. That was the worst thing. Because the maid of honour was expected to pair up with the best man, and that would not make her resolution to stay away from Noah Cross any easier at all.
She turned and found him standing directly behind her, close enough that if she’d stepped back a centimetre or two she’d have been in his arms. Suddenly she was glad he’d alerted her to his presence with his words.
She shifted further away and tried to look like a professional, instead of a teenager with a crush. Looking up at him, she felt the strange heat flush over her skin again at his gorgeousness. Then she focused, and realised he was frowning.
‘Apparently so,’ she agreed. ‘But I’m sure I’ll be far too busy with all the wedding arrangements—’
‘Oh, I doubt it,’ Noah interrupted, but he still didn’t sound entirely happy about the idea, which surprised her. Perhaps she’d misread his flirting earlier. Maybe he really was like that with everyone and, now the reality of having to spend time with her had set in, he was less keen on the idea. ‘Melissa has quite the packed schedule for the wedding party, you know. She’s right—you’re going to have to find someone to take over most of your job here.’
Eloise sighed. She did know. She’d helped Laurel plan it, after all.
And, now she thought about it, every last bit of the schedule involved the maid of honour and the best man being together.
Noah smiled, a hint of the charm he’d exhibited earlier showing through despite the frown, and Eloise’s heart beat twice in one moment as she accepted the inevitable.
She was doomed.
She had the most ridiculous crush on a man who clearly found her a minor inconvenience.
And—even worse—the whole world was going to be watching, laughing at her pretending that she could live in this world of celebrities, mocking her for thinking she could ever be pretty enough, funny enough...just enough for Noah Cross.
Eloise felt the blood drain from her head as she gripped the edge of the reception desk to try and conquer the dizziness that overcame her at the idea.
Ten years on and Melissa Sommers had just delivered her into hell all over again.
Perfect.
CHAPTER FOUR (#u669e95ea-7edd-5c3f-a502-2a8965d3bfc7)
‘YOU LOOK LIKE you need a drink.’ In Noah’s experience, that was a good line with stressed out women. But in this case it wasn’t a line—well, it wasn’t just a line. Eloise looked as if she might keel over at any moment. Her already pale skin had faded to the same white as the expensive sheets on his four-poster bed and her bright eyes were huge in her face. Most women he knew would have loved to have been tagged to play maid of honour for Melissa Sommers, and few of them would have objected to spending more time with him as best man either.
But Eloise, he was learning quickly, wasn’t quite like all the other women he knew.
Maybe he couldn’t indulge in the sort of fun he’d planned with her—not if he wanted that part, and he did. But they were going to be spending a lot of time together, it seemed. The least he could do was help her out, and get to know her a bit.
If not in quite the way he’d like...
‘I’m fine.’ Eloise’s voice was faint and not at all believable.
‘Sure you are.’ Noah didn’t bother hiding his sarcasm as he took her elbow. ‘Look, at least come and sit down for a few minutes.’
‘With you?’ Eloise’s gaze shot to his face, then she shook her head and looked away again. ‘I’m working. I can’t sit down and I definitely can’t drink.’
‘Yeah, well, you look like death—no offence. So you kind of need to do something if you don’t want to scare the guests.’
Eloise scowled at him, a little colour finally coming back into her cheeks. ‘If I’m so terrifying, why aren’t I scaring you away?’
‘I don’t scare easily,’ Noah said. ‘Haven’t you seen all my horror movies?’
‘No,’ Eloise said, but he was pretty sure she was lying. Maybe she was a closet star-struck fan. Except in that case he’d kind of expect her to be nicer to him. ‘Look, I’m fine. I just need a moment alone.’ She stepped away, towards the other side of the lobby. Noah followed, pausing at her side as she fiddled with the latch on the glass doors that led out to some sort of terrace. ‘You don’t need to watch me, you know.’
‘You’re nice to watch,’ Noah said with a shrug. Looking was still okay, right? Looking was discreet. He hoped. ‘It’s not exactly a hardship.’
‘I meant...I just need to get some air.’
‘Fine by me,’ Noah agreed. Then he followed her out onto the terrace, ignoring her heavy sigh.
‘What is it with you?’ Eloise snapped as he shut the door behind them.
‘Me? Nothing at all. You, on the other hand, looked like you were about to pass out, all because some blonde asked you to wear a pretty dress. I mean, I know it’s probably stupidly expensive, but still. Formalwear doesn’t usually cause fainting fits, in my experience.’
‘Yeah, well, clearly you’ve never experienced formalwear around Melissa Sommers before.’ She stalked to the edge of the terrace, leaning on the stone wall as she stared out over the river beyond. Noah gave her a moment then rested his arms beside hers, enjoying the view.
Despite the bitter cold, the air felt fresh on his face, waking him up after a long night of travelling. He felt...alive, somehow, in this place. More alert, more open to the world around him.
Or maybe that was the anticipation of his video call with Stefan, the director of Eight Days After. It was strange, but it felt as if that script and this place had become intertwined in his mind, as if being at Morwen Hall would help him become the actor he needed to be to do the part justice.
‘Why are you following me around?’ Eloise asked eventually, after long moments.
‘Honestly? I’m not sure.’ Noah shook his head, trying to make sense of it himself. ‘There’s something about you. The moment I saw you this morning, I wanted...’ He broke off.
‘I’ve seen the photos and read the reports,’ Eloise said drily. ‘I know what your sort wants when it comes to women.’ Of course she did. Because, apparently, he wasn’t at all discreet about that. He wondered what people would make of the truth—that most of those women on his arm were there to be seen, the same way he was. Often, that was as far as things went.
Noah gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘Reports of my promiscuity may be greatly exaggerated. Besides...that wasn’t what I was thinking.’
Colour flooded Eloise’s cheeks, the pink clashing with the vibrant flame red of her hair. ‘Of course not. I didn’t mean...I wasn’t assuming that you wanted to...’
Time to put her out of her misery. ‘Not because you’re not attractive. You’re gorgeous.’ Her cheeks turned a deeper pink at the compliment. ‘And don’t get me wrong. I’m totally planning on flirting with you some more later.’ If he didn’t at least flirt, the world’s media would think he was sick or something, and that publicity could be even worse. Maybe.
‘You mean you’re not now?’ If she thought this was flirting, he could have totally snowed her if he had the chance. He sighed at the idea of the lost opportunity.
‘Right now, I’m just making sure you’re okay. And wondering what the deal is with you and Melissa.’
‘That’s why you’re following me around? Because you’re nosy?’
‘Not nosy exactly.’ Men weren’t nosy, were they? Curious, perhaps. Nosy was for old ladies and people on the neighbourhood watch. ‘I just...you intrigue me. And I can’t explain why. Except that maybe it has to do with this movie I might be making... Anyway, that doesn’t matter. What matters is, I’m interested. I find myself wanting to know more about you, which is unusual for me, I assure you. But, since I do... I’m a good listener, really. If you wanted to talk about why the idea of being Melissa’s maid of honour makes you want to throw up or pass out, I’ll listen.’
‘You mean you’ll stand there until I tell you, whether I want to share or not.’
‘Basically, yes.’
‘Great.’ Eloise sighed, then turned to rest her back against the stone wall of the terrace, staring back at him with those big blue-green eyes. ‘Fine. You want the whole sob story? I don’t know what Melissa Sommers is like on set but when she was a teenager she was a bully, a cheat and she made my life a misery. In fact, part of me wonders if the only reason she’s holding her wedding at Morwen Hall—and the only reason she asked her half-sister to be her wedding planner, come to that—is so that she can lord her success over all the little people she left behind. And I know I sound bitter and jealous, but I’m not—really, I’m not. I wouldn’t be Melissa for all the tea in China. But that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to hate her a little bit.’
‘I never said it did,’ Noah replied, bemused. Where had Eloise been hiding all that anger and all that rage all morning? Ever since he’d arrived, she’d been professional, courteous, distant, and never even the slightest bit inappropriate. He’d been starting to think he might never get under that pale skin. But now it seemed that Eloise had limits—just like everyone else—and Melissa had just passed them.
What had she called Melissa? A bully and a cheat. ‘Well, I guess I can see why you don’t want to be her maid of honour.’
Eloise gave a watery chuckle and hid her face with her hands. ‘It’s going to be horrendous.’
‘Oh, it won’t be that bad.’ Noah slung an arm around her slim shoulders for moral support and she stiffened instantly. If she’d felt anything like the tingles that ran up his arm at the contact, he didn’t blame her.
That wasn’t like it was with all the other women he’d dated either. It seemed nothing about Eloise was usual.
‘You’ll wear the dress, pose for some photos, give a couple of short interviews, dance with me...’
Eloise groaned. If he didn’t have such a healthy ego, Noah might be starting to take some offence around now.
‘You don’t like dancing?’ he asked.
‘I don’t like any of it.’ Eloise lifted her face and he could see the edge of fear in her eyes. She wasn’t exaggerating. Something about the maid of honour job really had her off-balance. ‘I hate being the centre of attention.’
‘I’m pretty sure that’s going to be Melissa, however expensive your frock.’
Eloise shook her head. ‘You don’t get it. I hate people looking at me. I hate anyone noticing me, noticing what I do.’ Which explained her prickly reaction to his attentions, at least. ‘You can’t understand—your entire life is basically about shouting, “Hey, look at me!” and seeing how many people you can get to turn around.’
‘My whole career, a decade of work, reduced to a schoolyard attention grab.’ Noah gave an overly dramatic sigh, hoping it might lighten the mood. ‘The saddest part is, you’re right. But now I’ve seen the error of my ways, I’ll go and become a hotel manager instead.’
‘I didn’t use to be a hotel manager,’ Eloise said, ignoring his attempt at humour. ‘I was a chambermaid for years, then worked my way up. My whole career at this hotel has been about fading into the background, not being noticed by the rich and famous who come to stay here. Putting on a show, a spectacle, but not drawing attention to myself. The whole point is that every stay is supposed to go so seamlessly that no one ever notices I’m here, working away in the background.’
Noah couldn’t help it; he let out a bark of a laugh. ‘The background? Honey, you couldn’t fade into the background if you tried.’
Eloise pulled a face. ‘I know, I know, the hair stands out.’
‘It’s not the hair,’ Noah said, although that was part of it. ‘It’s you. Your beauty. That would stand out anywhere.’ At least, it did to him. Although, maybe that was just because he knew now that he couldn’t have her.
He pulled back, away from Eloise, and strode over towards the doors to the hotel again. It unnerved him, just a little, how easy it was to listen to Eloise talk. How natural his replies felt. How, without even thinking about it, he let in some real feeling between the jokes.
She was looking at him curiously now and he knew he needed to end this moment. People always wanted a secret in return for their own. And he had no intention of giving up any of his.
‘You think I’m beautiful?’ she asked, her eyes wide and vulnerable, and Noah swore silently in his head.
Because she meant it. He could tell that much straight away. This wasn’t the usual coyness of a Hollywood actress, or the ‘I’m a model but still don’t believe I’m pretty’ type of false insecurity. She was honestly surprised.
‘I can’t be the only person to tell you that,’ he said, searching for a way out. Because that lack of self-awareness, that would be his undoing. He’d only known one other person so artlessly unaware of her own beauty.
Sally.
And he really wasn’t thinking about her any more this weekend. It had been seven years, for goodness’ sake.
‘No, but you’re the first movie star to say it,’ Eloise said, and the moment was broken. Because he’d never been a movie star to Sally. He’d just been her best friend.
But to Eloise he was Noah Cross, the brand—and that was all he needed to be. She didn’t need to see any deeper, and he didn’t need to worry about having to let her in too far. He just had to keep his eye on the prize—his name in that little golden envelope when they announced the coveted award for Best Actor, once Eight Days After came out.
And all he had to do to achieve that was not sleep with Eloise, and knock his audition out of the park.
At least one of those should be no trouble at all. He just wished he could be entirely sure which one.
* * *
Eloise let herself back into the hotel, her dizziness faded but replaced by a strange confusion after the unexpected interlude with Noah on the terrace. At least he’d retreated up to his room to let her recover her wits in peace. She couldn’t cope with any more of that intense conversation and gaze right now.
What had all that been about? She’d expected to get hit on by sex-crazed or drunk actors looking for a fling at the wedding—it happened often enough while working at the hotel, however much she tried to fade into the background. The rich and famous, in her experience, seemed to expect to be able to seduce anyone they wanted. And actors were the worst—they were all about the quick, meaningless fling. Which was still better than the times they pretended it was something more, that they’d fallen for her charms at first sight and couldn’t live without her in their beds.
She knew better than to believe them. Her mother had been the queen of that game, and look how that had ended up.
No, she knew actors, knew the entitled clientele of Morwen Hall, and she knew how they behaved.
Noah Cross was not living up to the stereotype and it bothered her.
Of course there were probably some actors and actresses who managed to stay happily married and faithful, or who were looking for long-term love. She’d just never met any of them. Or seen them in the celebrity magazines in the staffroom. And she’d never expect Noah Cross, famed ladies’ man, to be one of them.
In fairness, she had no evidence that he was. He’d admitted he was flirting with her—even if he didn’t seem inclined to take it any further.
Either way, he hadn’t gone about it the way she’d expected. She’d expected the flattery, the lusty looks, the charm. She hadn’t expected him to ask questions about her history with Melissa, or to show such concern for her well-being.
