AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Because I’m an international mo
del,’ answered Triss, unconsciously quoting her agent, word for word. ‘And my looks are too European to appeal to Americans.’
He shot her a disbelieving look. ‘And you believe that?’ he asked incredulously. ‘Why not let me ask around, find you something?’
‘No!’ Her response was swift and definite. ‘I want to be independent, Cormack.’
‘Then so be it.’ He shrugged, but his voice carried a trace of unmistakable disquiet.
So Triss flew first to Paris, then to Rome. And it was in London that she saw the first of the newspaper items, tucked discreetly into the corner of the country’s biggest gossip column. A picture showed Cormack with his arm resting lightly around the shoulders of a reed-thin girl with hair the colour of pale corn and a wistful smile as she gazed up at him, which gave her face a kind of dreamy look.
They had a fierce row about it on the phone that night, in which Triss interrogated him and he told her that the woman was an actress who would be staring in his film, and that she meant nothing to him. And also that, hey, he’d thought that their relationship was based on trust.
‘Oh, it is, Cormack!’ she sobbed. ‘You know it is!’
‘Then what the hell is this all about, sweetheart?’
‘It’s just that I miss you! And I want to be there.’
‘Then be here,’ he told her simply. ‘Catch the next plane out.’
‘I can’t. You know I can’t—this job is going to last another week.’
His Irish accent sounded matter-of-fact. ‘Then if you can’t or won’t change the situation you must accept it, Triss.’ A distant babble of voices hummed like bees on a summer’s day in the background.
‘What’s that noise?’ demanded Triss, hating herself for doing it.
‘Just some people. Brad. Louie. Nick. Jenna. We’re going out to catch that new film.’ His voice lowered. ‘I miss you, sweetheart.’
‘I miss you too,’ she gulped.
But the seeds of suspicion were sown in a mind which provided fertile growing conditions for more suspicion as each day passed. The times when they were together took on—for Triss, anyway—the sensation of standing on quicksand.
They were no longer completely at ease. Sometimes she found that they were eyeing each other warily across the room, like two predators sizing up the competition. She was aware that their relationship seemed to be shifting beneath the surface—and that there was nothing she could do to stop it.
She was in Milan when her mother kindly sent her the article with the accompanying photograph. It showed Cormack out sailing in the company of a group from the studio, with a tiny brunette peeping adoringly at him from underneath a thick, glossy fringe, and Triss experienced an extra- ordinary feeling which could almost have been described as relief.
Because, in a way, she had been freed from the prison of loving a man as much as she loved Cormack. Now she could stop hoping and stop trusting because, in the end, it turned out that he was just the same as every other man.
Triss had only her own experiences to base her life on. She had grown up in a world where money ruled, where infidelity was as normal as apple pie and where promises were made to be broken.
She went back to Malibu and packed her bags, then left Cormack a letter saying that she had made a mistake. And she returned to London.
He tried to contact her, but she refused to take his calls and ignored his letters. But she was unable to ignore him when he turned up on her doorstep one day, straight off the early-morning flight.
The change in him was frightening. He seemed so distant, so remote. Like a stranger—only worse than a stranger. And his eyes were as coldly sharp as razor-blades. What was more, he made no attempt to touch her. Perhaps, if he had, the whole scenario might have been different. But there again, what was the point of continuing their relationship if the overpowering sexual attraction between them was the only thing which sustained it?
His voice was tinged with ice as he said, quite calmly, ‘Do you intend to continue this elaborate charade of hysterical behaviour, Triss, or are you willing to sit down and discuss the situation like an adult?’
And, naturally, the insult with which he had begun his question evoked a similarly insulting response in Triss.
‘Get out of my flat, you no-good philanderer!’ she snapped, and was shocked and mortified when he turned around without another word and did exactly that.
She missed him so much that it was as if half of her had gone with him, and she sent him a tentative letter, saying that perhaps one day they could be friends.
She received a cold little note by return of post saying that no, they couldn’t—because one of the pre-requisites of friendship was the existence of trust.
And that Triss had not yet learned the meaning of trust...
