Emma Darcy - The Master Player

‘She’s been having an affair with my husband.’ A double betrayal-a woman she’d trusted as a friend and the man who’d pretended to love her. ‘She’s pregnant…carrying his child.’ The child Tony had denied her because this new television show was too big an opportunity to pass up. Her mouth wobbled at having to speak the final sickening words. ‘He won’t leave me for her because I’m…I’m his cash cow.’

She closed her eyes as bitter tears welled into them.

‘He certainly won’t want to leave you,’ came the cynical comment. ‘The critical question is…will you leave him?’

A huge anger erupted through her, cracking open a mountain of old wounds she had buried in getting on with the life her mother had pushed her into from infancy onwards, cutting off other options, leaving her no choice but to follow the path set down for her. Her marriage to Tony was part of that…the baby she’d been talked out of having. No more, no more, no more, screamed through her mind.

She dashed away the tears with the back of her hand and glared at the man who was querying her response to the situation. ‘Yes,’ she answered vehemently. ‘I won’t let you or Tony or my mother sweep this under the mat. I don’t care if it hurts my image. I’ll never take him back as my husband.’

‘Fine!’ he said with a casual gesture of dismissal. ‘I just wanted to know how best to deal with the situation, given our abrupt departure from the Starlight Room.’

‘I won’t go back there, either,’ she threw at him in fullblown rebellion. ‘I don’t want to see or talk to Tony or be anywhere near him. Nor do I want to listen to my mother.’

He regarded her thoughtfully for several moments, the powerful dark eyes probing, assessing, speculating, making her feel like a butterfly on a pin being minutely examined. She wrenched her gaze away from his and took a gulp of brandy, wanting its fire to burn away the humiliation of being nothing but a cash cow to the people who had brought her to this.

Maximilian Hart was no different, she savagely told herself. He only cared about her because of the huge investment he’d made in the television show, redesigning it as a vehicle for what he perceived as her special talent. Whatever that was. Though she was grateful to him for getting her out of the Starlight Room. She couldn’t remember him doing it but he’d obviously observed the impact of Laura’s revelation and acted to minimise its effect on the launch party.

The show must go on.

But not tonight.

Not for her.

‘Since you don’t wish to be reached by your very tenacious mother, nor your husband, who will undoubtedly be plotting how to dump this on Laura Farrell and make himself out to be the innocent victim of a woman deranged with jealousy…’ He paused a moment watching for her reaction to that scenario.

Chloe was rattled by it.

‘Which, I assure you, would be a lie,’ he went on sardonically. ‘I observed them in very intimate conversation together just prior to her assault on you. She was furious with him. The connection between them was not fantasy.’

‘The baby would prove it anyway,’ she muttered bitterly.

‘Not if Laura is persuaded to have an abortion.’

Chloe looked at him in horror.

He shook his head. ‘Not by me.’

Tony. And her mother. She knew without him telling her they would both see that as a way out of an unsavoury scandal, a way of smoothing everything over so she would keep going as they directed. Her head started to throb at the thought of all the arguments they would subject her to.

‘I’ve got to get away from them. Got to…’ She was barely aware of saying the words out loud. Her mind was desperately seeking some way of escape, but everything she had was tied up with Tony and her mother…her money, her home, her whole life.

‘I can protect you, Chloe.’

Startled by a claim she had not been expecting, she stared at him in anguished confusion. The look of arrogant confidence on his face reminded her of how powerful he was. The dark eyes bored into hers with a relentless strength that set all her nerves twittering. Of course, Maximilian Hart could protect her if he wanted to. But what would that mean?

‘You need to move to a safe refuge where the security is so tight no-one can reach you unless you want them to,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘It’s no problem to me to arrange that.’

A peaceful haven, sheer heaven, she thought, though practical issues instantly raised difficulties. ‘I’d have to go home to get my clothes.’

‘No. Professional movers can pack and deliver them to you.’

‘I don’t even have my credit card with me.’

‘I’ll put a lawyer to work sorting out your financial situation. In the meantime I’ll set up a bank account for you that will cover your needs until you’re in charge of your own money.’

She winced. ‘My mother will fight to keep control.’

‘I doubt she has more weapons than I have,’ he drawled, ruthless intent gleaming in the brilliant dark eyes.

He was right.

Her mother was no match for him.

Freedom shimmered in front of her.

‘Trust me, Chloe. There is nothing I can’t do to set you on an independent path. If that is what you want.’

Seductive words, pulling her his way. Yes teetered on the tip of her tongue. Only the sudden sharp sense that she’d be walking out of one form of possession straight into another held it back.

‘Why would you do this for me?’ The words tumbled out on a wave of fear-fear that he meant to mould her into what he wanted, and the promise of independence was the lure to trap her into something worse than she had known.

‘I don’t want any disruption to the delivery of this show, which has been-and is-a project I’ve planned for a very long time. You’re the key player in it, Chloe. I need you functioning as only you can. If that means freeing you of every distressing influence, ensuring you won’t be got at by people who’ll cause you grief, I’ll do it. Throw a blanket of security around you that no-one can break without your permission. All I ask in return is that you keep working on the show for as long as your contract runs.’

Protecting his investment.

It made sense.

Maximilian Hart was always linked to success, never failure.

This wasn’t a personal thing to him. It was business. He simply didn’t want her private life adversely affecting what he had put in place.

Her fears suddenly seemed ludicrous. Strangely enough, she felt a surge of confidence that she could do as he asked-keep playing her part in the show-if she didn’t have to deal with her mother or Tony or Laura while she did it.

‘I’ll make them go away,’ he said softly, somehow tapping straight into her thoughts. ‘Just say the word, Chloe.’

Her battered mind started swimming with a vision of a white knight fighting all her dragons instead of a dangerous Svengali of a man planning to use her for some devious purpose of his own. It was more than seductive. It propelled her into accepting his offer without any further fretting over it.

‘It is what I want,’ spilled from her lips.

‘Yes,’ he said as though he’d known it all along and had only been waiting for her to confirm it. He rose from his chair with the air of a man relishing the sniff of battle. ‘You’ll be absolutely safe waiting for me here. You probably need to eat something. Order whatever you like from room service. Make yourself comfortable and relax, knowing you don’t have to face harassment from any source tonight.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘Back to the Starlight Room.’ He smiled a smile of intense private satisfaction. ‘By the time I’ve finished there, I doubt anyone will have the desire to harass you about your decision.’

Her decision.

An independent decision.

She felt weirdly awed by it as she watched the man who’d made it so easily possible walk away to begin putting it into effect. Maximilian Hart. Who had the power to do whatever he set out to do. And he was about to use his power to free her from the life she’d wanted to escape from for as long as she could remember.

‘WHAT’S going on, Max?’

The question was shot at him the moment he re-entered the Starlight Room-it was Lisa Cox, the editor for the entertainment section in one of the major newspapers, sniffing a story that might have more sensational value than a report on a launch party and waiting to pounce on the major source for it. She was a sharp-faced woman with big curly hair, inquisitive eyes and a dangerous tongue.

‘You whip out of here with Chloe, who looked like death,’ she swiftly put in. ‘You come back alone…’

‘Chloe is resting,’ he blandly stated.

‘What’s wrong with her?’

‘The energy drain of the party, continually responding to people without pausing to eat or drink. I think she needed a fast sugar-hit,’ he said with a frown of concern.

‘Does she have diabetes?’

‘I’m about to speak to her mother about Chloe’s condition, if you’ll excuse me.’

He stepped aside, his gaze already scanning the crowd for a carrot-red head.

‘Is this going to be a problem for the show?’ Lisa threw at him.

He returned a freezing-off smile. ‘No. Someone needs to take better care of her. That’s all. And I’ll make sure it’s done.’

Closure on that issue. No gossip to pursue.

Stephanie Rollins had moved to the far corner of the room, obviously involved in a heated discussion with Tony Lipton and Laura Farrell. They were unaware of his return, probably the only three people in the room who were since the crowd literally parted to make way for him as he took the most direct path to where they stood.

Laura Farrell was tall, model-slim, straight brown hair falling to her shoulder blades, wearing an elegant black dress, in keeping with her personal style of always appearing in good classic clothes. She had amber eyes-cat’s eyes. Max had seen envy in them when she was looking at Chloe. Contempt, as well. As though Chloe was stupid and didn’t deserve her status as a star.

It was a completely different story when Chloe was looking at her-sweetly helpful, indulgently helpful, happy to do whatever was asked of her. The two-faced bitch had shown her true colours tonight. Max was looking forward to banishing her from Chloe’s orbit.

Tony Lipton, as well, even more so, the smarmy con man riding his gravy train without any real caring for the woman who’d been carrying him. With his streaky blond hair and green eyes he could almost be a clone for Robert Redford in his prime, but his only talent was for looking good and talking himself up. The fall is coming, Max silently promised him as Tony caught sight of his approach, was visibly alarmed by it and quickly warned the others.

The two women sprang aside, automatically making room for him to join the group. Laura’s face held a mixture of fear and belligerence. She had to know she’d dug her own grave as Chloe’s personal assistant but she was going to fight to come out on top with a hefty slice of Chloe’s wealth through Tony’s mistake in getting her pregnant. No doubt she’d get long-term support out of his divorce settlement. The pregnancy would not have been a mistake on her part.

There was tight-lipped anger on Stephanie’s face. She’d obviously been counting the cost of the inevitable fallout and didn’t like the score. She’d like it even less when he slapped her with Chloe’s total disaffection from her domination.

The tension amongst the group was palpable, waiting for him to present them with a platform from which to push their hotly contesting barrows. Max wasn’t about to give it to them in full view of interested spectators.

‘No doubt you’re all concerned about Chloe,’ he said, barely keeping an acid sarcasm out of his voice. ‘I’ve taken her to a private suite. I suggest you all accompany me out of here so the situation can be discussed in private. I urge you not to speak to anyone as we go. You won’t like the consequences if you do.’

‘You can’t do anything to me,’ Laura jeered defiantly.

‘Shut your bloody mouth!’ Tony sliced at her.

‘Take my arm, Stephanie,’ Max commanded, holding it out for public linkage to Chloe’s mother.

No hesitation there.

Max shot a steely look at the gravy-train specialist. ‘Follow us, Tony, and bring your woman with you.’

The perfect golden tan on his face didn’t look so perfect stained with a guilty red flush, but Max didn’t pause to take pleasure in the effect. He retraced his path across the room with Stephanie Rollins in tow, his head bent to her in a pose of confidential conversation, murmuring a string of platitudes about the need to look after Chloe more carefully.

It only took a matter of minutes to have the three of them away from the party and in an elevator being whisked up to what they undoubtedly expected to be a showdown with Chloe. On the executive floor he led them to a door where a butler was standing, ready to let them in and hand over the pass card to Max, who had arranged for this second suite to be available on his way down from the one Chloe was now occupying.