Where the Ivy Grows (#2 Bestselling Devoted Series) Read online

  Davina raises a thin black eyebrow. ‘Sophia, my dear, do you live in a cave? Press photographers. So we can get some good headlines for the play.’

  ‘Oh. Right.’ Headlines. Of course. Silly me.

  ‘We missed some good shots,’ says Davina, sounding annoyed, pushing me through the double doors into the theatre itself.

  I can’t help catching my breath when I see the auditorium. It’s huge and beautiful, with tiered seats running up so high that it’s a wonder the people at the top can see the stage.

  Yellow tassel fringes run along the tiers, and an enormous crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling.

  I see a huge, curved stage, decorated with a menacing forest backdrop – all twisted trees, evil-looking birds and grey branches.

  There’s a very broad, very handsome man on stage with chin-length, sun-bleached blond hair.

  Leo Falkirk.

  43

  ‘Leo!’ Davina calls out. ‘She’s here! Your leading lady.’

  Silence. Then a long shout that makes me jump.

  ‘Oooo – eee! At long last.’

  The man takes a great leap from the stage and lands squarely in the aisle. He bounds towards me.

  Wow. Leo Falkirk. The real one. From the movies.

  Even with images of Marc churning around my mind, it’s impossible not to notice how good looking Leo is. He’s big and broad, with muscled brown arms under a white ‘surf shack’ t-shirt, and long legs in ripped jeans. His sun-bleached hair is tucked behind his ears.

  I’ve seen a few of his movies. He usually plays the lovable rogue in romantic comedies, and although he’s no Marc Blackwell, he’s certainly very likeable.

  Leo heads towards me, hand outstretched, and I let him shake mine.

  ‘Hey, good to meet you.’ His accent is pure Texas, and as warm as syrup on toast. ‘I can’t wait for you to be my girl.’ He smiles and his brown eyes twinkle. ‘On stage, of course. Off stage, you’re someone else’s girl, right? That’s what’s going to get us all this great publicity.’

  ‘So I’m told.’

  ‘Tell me,’ says Leo, ‘how is Mr Blackwell?’

  He hasn’t let go of my hand, so I slide it from his warm grip.

  ‘He was in one of my first movies, did you know that?’ Leo strokes blond stubble on his chin. ‘Gideon’s Wish. Did you see that movie?’

  ‘Once. Years ago. Marc was amazing.’

  ‘He sure was amazing,’ says Leo. ‘Acting with him was ... quite something.’

  ‘You were in that movie?’

  Leo laughs. ‘Kind of. I played the skateboarder in the waiting room. Remember him?’

  ‘No.’ I smile.

  ‘It wasn’t a speaking part. But I was happy to get it. Hell, happy isn’t the word. Over the moon. I told all my friends back home, and my parents held a party. They couldn’t believe their little boy was in a Hollywood movie. They still can’t.’ He grins. ‘I can’t believe it either. One day this will all go pop, but I plan to enjoy it while it lasts. So anyway. I remember Marc. He was a good guy. Kept himself to himself. Didn’t talk a lot. But when he did, everyone listened.’

  ‘That sounds like Marc.’

  ‘When the movie wrapped up, he treated everyone to dim sum and champagne at this amazing Chinese place. And I do mean everyone. All the stunt guys. Costume people. Even bit parts like me. I’d never had anything like dim sum before – I couldn’t believe this big star was treating me. I never forgot that. Things like that, the press never write about. But I guess, I don’t need to tell you.’

  ‘Shall we start rehearsing now?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Last night, I got a good feel for the script. I didn’t manage to memorise everything Davina wanted, but I think I learned enough.

  Today, we’re scheduled to rehearse scene twelve where Beast shows Beauty around his castle. Leo and I throw out a few lines, and I soon discover we work well together. He’s so easy to be around, and he puts his heart and soul into his performance, just like I do.

  But when Leo mentions trying out a song, my mouth goes dry.

  ‘I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet,’ I say.

  ‘Come on, try it,’ says Leo. ‘Davina’s out there making calls.’ He jabs a thumb at the lobby. ‘No time like the present. And if I can sing, I’m sure you can.’

  ‘Where did you do your musical training?’ I ask.

  ‘Promise you won’t tell?’

  ‘I won’t tell.’

  ‘The school choir.’

  I laugh.

  ‘How about you?’

  ‘I’ve hardly done any,’ I say. ‘I was really surprised when they offered me the part.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll be great,’ says Leo. ‘With practise.’ He bounds off stage, and I hear magical, other-worldly music float through the sound system.

  It’s beautiful, and I recognise it.

  ‘Davina sent me that track yesterday,’ I call out. ‘But ... this version sounds a little different.’

  Leo bounces back on stage. ‘It’s been arranged by Geraldine Jones. I love it too. How come you aren’t singing?’

  ‘I sort of missed my cue,’ I say. ‘I got a bit lost in the music.’

  ‘Shall I start it again?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ I take a deep breath and shake my arms. ‘Okay. Ready.’

  Leo starts the music again, and I clear my throat.

  I sing the first few lines, ‘Lost in this castle, my heart feels afraid ...’ and then I stumble. The next line. It’s like a bird in a cage.

  My throat grows tight, and I put a hand to it. Tears come, and I shake them away, furious with myself.

  ‘Like a ...’ I try, but I can’t get the line out. More tears prickle, and I run down the stage steps to my bag, rummaging inside, looking for tissues. My bag is such a hopeless mess that all I can find is chewing gum, loose coins, a beaten up notepad and a whole load of chocolate wrappers.

  ‘Hey, are you okay?’ Leo asks, appearing behind me. ‘You were doing great. What happened?’

  44

  I shake my head. ‘Nothing. I just ... that line. I found it hard to say.’

  ‘Some of these songs are pretty emotional, huh?’

  I nod.

  ‘Hey, let’s take a break.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  We take seats in the fifth row, Leo resting his long legs on the seat in front. We’re a few feet back from the stage, and the set looks completely beautiful from where we’re sitting. All dark, twisty trees, like a gothic fairytale. It’s a bit spooky, but I like that.

  ‘You did good,’ says Leo. ‘You have a pretty voice.’

  ‘Thank you. I know it’s not the strongest, but maybe with practise ... I need to speak to Denise Crompton. She’ll help me.’

  ‘Denise Crompton? As in the Denise Crompton?’

  ‘She’s a teacher at Ivy College.’

  Leo slaps his forehead. ‘Of course! She and Marc are great friends, right?’

  Damn it! I’d just stopped crying. Now I’m off again, tears leaking down my cheeks.

  ‘Did I say something wrong? Is something up? Was it ... because I mentioned Marc?’ Confusion pulls at Leo’s blond eyebrows.

  I know my silence speaks volumes, but I can’t manage to get any words out.

  ‘Did you two have a fight or something?’ The little dimples disappear from Leo’s cheeks.

  I bite my lip. ‘We’re ... it’s complicated right now.’

  I hear a cough behind me, and turn to see Davina. ‘Complicated?’

  ‘Oh! Davina.’

  ‘What do you mean, complicated?’

  ‘We ... there are things we need to talk about.’

  ‘But you’re still together?’ Davina barks.

  ‘I think so, but ... I don’t know right now.’

  ‘You don’t know?’ Davina’s eyes narrow. ‘Sophia, without Marc, you’re nobody. You do understand that, don’t you? You’re no good to us without Marc.’

  �
��I don’t know what to tell you,’ I say, humiliation rising. ‘I can’t promise Marc and I are still together. I’ll understand if I’m not right for you anymore. I didn’t mean to mislead anyone.’

  ‘Hey.’ Leo puts a hand on my shoulder. ‘It’s fine. We need a leading lady, and we’ve got one. What’s the problem?’

  Worry wrinkles appear around Davina’s eyes. ‘She’s ... look, I don’t mean to be rude, Leo, but we hired her for the publicity. If she can’t bring us that, what good is she?’

  ‘Don’t you read the papers?’ says Leo. ‘She beat thousands of actors to get into Marc Blackwell’s college. Which should tell you she’s a pretty decent actress. We were lucky to get anyone at such short notice. You’ve been on the phone all morning, and no cigar. Am I right?’

  Davina puts red fingernails to her forehead. ‘You don’t get it, Leo. Publicity is our lifeblood. Without it, we die. We’ll have to find someone else. Short notice or not.’

  She stalks towards the stage, taking a front-row seat and tapping at her mobile phone.

  ‘Thanks for sticking up for me,’ I tell Leo. I sigh. ‘So much for me making good decisions.’

  ‘Good decisions?’

  I shake my head. ‘Oh ... nothing.’

  Leo leans in closer, his green eyes soft and kind. ‘You can talk to me. I’m not Davina. I won’t sell a story on you. Have you made some bad decisions, or something?’

  ‘Maybe. Marc thought I shouldn’t take this part. So I wanted to show him ...’

  ‘Show him that he was wrong?’

  ‘Does that sound very childish?’

  ‘No. It sounds like you’re laying down some ground rules.’

  ‘I guess it doesn’t matter now. I’m just sorry I let Davina down.’

  Leo puts his whole arm around my shoulder. ‘Don’t worry. Her bark’s worse than her bite. She hated me at first. Now she wants me to come to her daughter’s sweet sixteen party. Anyway. I have an idea.’

  ‘An idea?’

  ‘Yep. To get Davina all the publicity she wants.’

  Leo’s arm feels nice. Comforting. I wonder what Marc would think if he could see me now. My stomach begins to churn.

  I lean forward. ‘Publicity?’

  Leo’s green eyes twinkle. He really is cute, in a tanned, boy band sort of way. I’ll have to make sure Jen gets to meet him.

  ‘Sure,’ Leo grins. ‘You really do have the most amazing eyes. Did anyone ever tell you that?’

  ‘Oh.’ I look down, embarrassed. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Don’t go all shy on me, it’s the truth. Wait there.’ Leo leaps up and heads down the aisle. ‘Hey Davina. Hey!’

  45

  ‘Yes, Leo?’ Davina looks up with a sugary smile.

  ‘I’ve been thinking.’ Leo winks at me over Davina’s shoulder. ‘You want publicity, right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So how about this? Sophia and I head out for a coffee. The press see us. Snap, snap, snap. The gossip mill starts turning. Leo gets close to his leading lady. And hey presto. We’ve got ourselves a cover story.’

  Davina drums her fingers on a wooden armrest. ‘I suppose it could work. It’s a possibility. And lord knows, I’ve had the worst luck trying to find another lead. It seems this is the time of year everyone checks into rehab. Okay, fine. Go try it. I’ve already told the press Sophia’s here.’

  Leo swaggers back towards me, flashing the lovable rogue smile that makes him perfect for all those romantic comedies. ‘See? No worries.’

  I chew a thumbnail. ‘Are you serious? You actually want to go out and purposely get papped?’

  ‘Yep. Welcome to the world of show business.’

  ‘But ...’ I think about Giles Getty. ‘Mightn’t it be a little dangerous?’

  ‘Live by the sword, die by the sword. Look at it this way, what choice do we have right now? I need a leading lady, Davina needs publicity and you need to show Marc what you can do. Right?’

  As Leo and I head into the box office, my feet feel heavy.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ I ask.

  ‘Too late now.’ Leo points up ahead. ‘They’ve already seen us.’

  I follow his finger and see a dark mob of photographers outside the box office.

  ‘I guess Davina must have called them when you arrived,’ says Leo. ‘You should be proud. I’m not interesting enough to get that many photographers in one place.’

  ‘Oh my god.’ I grip his arm. ‘What should we do? We can’t walk through them.’

  ‘Why not? All they want is a picture.’

  ‘I just ... maybe I’m not ready for this sort of attention. Not yet.’

  ‘Come on. You’ll get used to it. They’re not that bad.’

  ‘To you, maybe. Did you see the stories they wrote about me?’

  I look at the mass of photographers, jostling each other, thrusting their cameras between shoulders and over heads, jeering and shouting.

  Their words seep through the box office doors.

  ‘Sophia. Sophia. Is it true Marc ties you up, Sophia? Does he like to be in charge? Do you have to do as he says? Sophia, where’s Marc right now? Does Marc know you’re with Leo?’

  ‘Rough questions,’ Leo breathes. ‘Don’t worry. They’ll back off when we go out there.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Pretty sure. Only one way to find out.’

  He pulls open a door, and we drop down onto the single step outside.

  The shouting is magnified, and I put my hands to my ears. It’s too much. Too intense. Everyone is surging forward, and I want to run back inside.

  I’m aware of the door closing behind us, and being jostled back and forth. I grip Leo’s arm tighter.

  ‘Hey, it’s okay,’ he whispers. ‘Just play along, and then we’ll go back inside.’ He slings his arm around my shoulder, and my hand drops from his arm.

  I know it’s for publicity. I know that. And I know I should just play along, but it just feels wrong. The only person I want putting his arm around me is Marc.

  I take a step forward, ducking out from under Leo’s arm, but I forget we’re on a step. Tumbling forward, I feel a leather jacket under my fingertips, then I’m thrown back and forth in the crowd.

  Hands grab me and cameras are thrust in my face. I try to shield my eyes from the bright lights, but flash after flash leaves my vision swimming.

  Before I know it, I’m lost in the crowd of photographers, and hear Leo calling my name.

  ‘Leo,’ I call back, but I can only see photographers. One is taller than the rest, with tapered sideburns and black hair.

  Oh my god.

  Giles Getty.

  He’s far back in the crowd, but he’s pushing the other photographers aside, getting closer.

  There’s a look of fury and triumph on his face, and he’s moving his jaw round and round in a restless, twitchy way.

  A hand grips the back of my sweatshirt, and my hair catches on something – a zipper, I’m not sure, and I twist and turn, watching Getty push his way forward.

  Getty holds up his camera and takes snap after snap of my terrified face. He looks amused. Excited. I hate for my face to be exposed to him like this.

  I try to cover my face, but doing that throws me off balance.

  My hair rips free and I lurch backwards, my feet stumbling over pavement.

  I fall and shut my eyes, steeling myself to hit the ground. But it doesn’t happen. Instead, I’m lifted into the air.

  I open my eyes and find myself staring up into the blue eyes of Marc Blackwell.

  46

  The cameras go wild, snapping and flashing, but the photographers are backing off. Keeping their distance. Something about Marc makes people obey, and the look on his face right now says get the hell away.

  His blue eyes are dark and cloudy, his cheekbones taut, and his brows almost one straight line. I feel he could turn people to stone just by looking at them.

  I see white sky above me, and London’s
buildings as Marc carries me through the crowd. His arms feel so strong. I’m lowered down and see the shiny black of Marc’s limo.

  There’s a click, then I’m carried inside the limo and placed on a leather couch. The limo door slams shut, daylight disappears and the car starts moving.

  I pull myself upright, my trainers skidding over the leather seat. I see Marc sitting opposite, watching me.

  ‘Thank you for getting me out of there,’ I say. ‘I was ... it was scary.’

  ‘Would you like to tell me what the hell you were playing at?’ Marc’s clasping his hands together, his fingers and knuckles a bloodless white, the scars on his knuckles standing proud.

  I sit up, dusting hair from my face, my hands shaking.

  ‘We ... Leo thought ... the play needed publicity.’

  ‘Leo thought?’ Marc’s blue eyes darken.

  ‘It was just a stunt. That’s all.’

  ‘He had his arm around you.’ I see the tendons stand out on Marc’s neck.

  ‘Yes, but ... I mean, no. I tried to slip away from him. That’s how we got separated.’

  ‘What the hell were you doing there? At the theatre?’

  ‘I ... I was rehearsing.’

  ‘Rehearsing?’

  ‘Yes. I took the part.’

  Marc’s neck grows tight. ‘Now do you see why it’s a bad idea? Taking this part?’

  We’re back on this again. ‘I know what I just did was stupid. A mistake. But taking the part -’

  ‘Don’t argue with me, Sophia.’

  I take in a deep breath and let it out. The motion of the car is calming me a little, but my hands are still shaking.

  ‘I’m not arguing.’

  ‘Can’t you see you’ve behaved foolishly?’

  ‘Yes. Just then, but ... you’ve never made a mistake?’

  ‘I’ve made plenty of mistakes. When I had no one to guide me.’ Marc’s face softens. ‘Let me take you back to the townhouse. Or at least Ivy College.’

  ‘So you can keep me like a bird in a cage?’

  Marc laughs. ‘A very safe bird in a cage.’

  I stare out of the window. London is beautiful today. We’re driving by townhouses, and there are red and orange leaves scattered all over the pavement.

  I sigh. ‘What would happen, Marc, if I forgot all about this part and headed off into the sunset with you?’