That surface level, palatable for TV insincerity stuck in his throat. Equally, he’d always had this sense that if he opened the crack a little on the door to the personal, answering questions about his love life, it was the start of a slippery slope that would invite them to dig into his past and maybe bother his family. Perhaps itwasbetter to fake it all, rather than shoot himself in the foot, time after time?
Nearly an hour later, the sound of Cassandra’s flip-flops on the clay tiles alerted him to her approach. He carried on reading while she pulled a chair out a mile from the table and folded herself into it, elaborately crossing her long legs towards him, like it took a concerted effort to fold and position them. He owned a pair of long legs himself; it wasn’t that hard to get seated at the average-size table. Small cars, public transport, children’s Wendy houses – they could all cause an issue – but tables were fine.
‘Rowan,’ she said mildly, leaning forwards. ‘There’s a pap with a zoom lens on the grounds of the neighbouring villa. Try to look a little more enthusiastic when I’m giving you my attention. Most men would kill to be in your position.’
‘How do you know there’s a photographer?’ he pointedly turned a page.
‘Because I had someone tip them off obviously.’
Rowan sat back slowly and squeezed the bridge of his nose. It helped to stop the blood from rushing up to his brain and blowing the top off his head like the emoji. ‘I told Gerrard I’m not interested in doing PDAs. And this isn’t even in public.’
‘Everywhereis public when you’re famous. Haven’t you learnt that yet?’ She raised her eyebrow at him, and he was beginning to understand how she’d fooled everyone for so long. ‘You need to wear this lie like it’s the truth. I’d thought as an actor you’d understand that?’
What was it with everyone thinking that because he was an actor, he should be fine with playing make-believe permanently? He’d spent years acting like everything was fine at home, to avoid the interest of teachers and deal with awkward questions – it wore you down. ‘We’ll be going our separate ways in a couple of days. I don’t think I need to go full Jim Carrey on this.’
‘Just because you’ll be in another country doesn’t mean you can act any way that you want, you know. You’re not the only person I know working on that movie.’ She rose from her chair, leaning her hands on the arms of his so she could bend down to speak in his ear. ‘And if I catch wind that you’re sleeping with someone else while you’re supposed to bemyboyfriend, I will personally remove your testicles and keep them to use as Christmas ornaments. I will not be humiliated by you. D’you understand me?’
‘Gerrard’s already given me the lecture,’ he said, in a bored voice.
Cassandra threaded her fingers into his hair, gripping so tight it hurt and tipped his head back. He braced himself. If she kissed him, he couldn’t push her away. Not with a photographer lurking. He stared her hard in the eye. ‘Don’t.’
She sent him a withering smile. ‘As if I want to. You’re not the only one doing this just to improve your career prospects y’know.’ She pushed herself away and strutted off back inside.
He waited until he heard the car leaving from the front of the villa and then went into the lounge, found the nearest sofa and collapsed down on it with a groan, pulling his book over his face, breathing in the scent of warm ink and paper.
This was going to end in disaster. He could feel it in his gut.
But would it be as big a disaster as losing his agent and his shot at the Sebastian Hayward film? Better to screw up because he’d been trying to do his best, rather than let his family down because he hadn’t been able to swallow his pride and comply.
