The Couple who Fooled the World
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“Sure,” she said. “What time?”
“I’ll pick you up at five. We have to walk the carpet, then we get to view the movie.”
“Wow.” So a lot more social interaction on the docket. Goody. “Neat.”
“You sound thrilled.”
“About the movie, yes.”
“Great, see you at five.” He hung up and she leaned back in her chair. Then she scrambled forward and hit the intercom on her phone. “Thad.”
“Yes?” Her assistant’s voice came through the speaker.
“I need a dress. A hot one. Get Ally on it, please. And I need to get my hair done.”
“Formal? And by when?”
“Yes, and I need to be waiting out front of the building at four-fifty.”
Thad sighed heavily. She knew she was asking the next-to impossible, but she also knew if anyone could get it arranged, it was him. “As you wish.”
“Great. Thank you. You rock. I have to go.” She pushed the off button and rested her chin on her desk, her hands on her lap. Then She took a breath and straightened. She was going to be fine. She wasn’t going to think about how ill-equipped she was to show up at a Hollywood premiere on the arm of a man like Ferro. She wasn’t going to think about how likely it was that she would drop a shrimp cocktail into her cleavage during the party.
No. She was going to sit back and let the professionals she hired to make her camera-ready do what they did best. If nothing else, she would look good. She would look strong.
Money might not buy happiness, but it bought an image that made it possible for her to go out in public.
And yes, she was Ferro’s date. But it wasn’t a date-date. Thank God. The last time she’d had a date it had been an unmitigated disaster. And that guy hadn’t been Ferro sex-on-a-cracker Calvaresi.
Not that she was all that familiar with sex. On a cracker or otherwise. But Ferro was. Her face got hot when she thought of some of the more revealing parts of Ferro’s unauthorized bio. Yes, she’d read it. And it made it hard to look the man in the eye.
He wasn’t just hot. He was the kind of man who made women lose their minds. Who inspired respectable members of society to throw off the bonds of convention and flaunt him at social gatherings. He’d been the much-younger stud of a few women back in his home country, setting off scandalous headlines and dissolving marriages.
Of course, that was assuming that version of his life was true. And that was assuming a lot. And as Ferro had said, he never confirmed or denied.
She took another fortifying breath. Great. Fine. She could do this. Tonight, she was going to be yet another rumor to add to Ferro’s list. And she wouldn’t confirm or deny.
When Ferro’s limo pulled up to the curb in front of Julia’s high-rise, he was genuinely stunned by her appearance. She was utterly captivating in a long black dress—the woman didn’t seem to own another color—that skimmed the gray sidewalk. The sleeves were long and full, like a kimono, and the neck high, revealing very little of her pale skin.
Her blond hair was pulled back in a low, messy bun, her makeup done all in shades of pale pink and gold. Her lips were painted the lightest rose, and it created the strangest curiosity in him. A fascination with what they might look like darker, flushed with arousal. Strange because he never felt curious about those things. He knew all about sex. There was no mystery left.
He’d opened the door and let her into the limo, and then both of them had spent the drive down the interstate on their mobile devices, finishing up the day’s interrupted work.
When they pulled up to Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, the streets were already blocked off. Ferro’s limo was given immediate access, and they were let out near the end of the red carpet. This sort of thing had never been his favorite aspect of fame. The fortune was his biggest draw. These events did very little for him. Giving fake smiles to even faker people ranked low on his list of things he’d like to do with his Friday night.
Julia had the most purposeful look of boredom on her face he’d ever seen. Like she was forcing her lips to stay pulled together, forcing herself not to smile. She was stiff, walking with her head held high, her posture overly straight.
But beneath all of that, she was vibrating under the surface. Energy was pouring from her in waves, though he knew no one standing far away from her would ever be able to tell. But he could feel her shaking.
She seemed to like a spectacle, her presentations were so ostentatious it was unreal, but then, she was in control of them. The press played by her rules in those situations. Perhaps that was the cause of her unease now. It wasn’t her security keeping the fans at bay. The press weren’t being held to her guidelines.
He pulled her to him, lacing his fingers through hers. “We’re ready to walk the carpet.” He could feel her fingers trembling in his. “Relax,” he said. “We aren’t the A list. We won’t be mobbed.”
“I’ve seen pictures snapped of you while you were getting coffee at Roasted. You’re mobbed frequently.”
“Yes, but not when there are movie stars around. Come on. Anyway, if we are mobbed, our purposes will be served even better.” He tugged her along and when they stepped onto the carpet, he turned his smile on full.
Julia did the same, waving at the crowd lining the velvet rope that partitioned the masses from the golden few, hand-selected to enter into the realm of the elite. Very often Ferro felt like he still had more in common with those behind the rope.
She walked a bit ahead of him, her steps nervous and quick, and that was when he noticed the back of her dress, or rather, the lack of it, for the first time. It was cut low and wide, a swath of white skin on show from her shoulder blades down to the indent of her back, just above the curve of her butt.