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"It’s a members’ club in Mayfair, and it’s not a euphemism for a sex club. Although there will be a space in the club for that purpose, too, yes. And, of course, all of you will get VIP membership to the space."
"Naturally." Christian nods.
"Aren’t there enough exclusive clubs in London?" Adrian murmurs.
"None like this. None where the entry will be restricted to billionaires… and those I deem fit to be given membership."
"You mean we, don’t you?" Michael drawls.
"If you invest, you’ll get a say, but the final decision will belong to me."
"And what’s in it for me?" Michael demands.
"This place will be a meeting ground for those who are the most influential, most powerful, and most exceptional. Membership will be based, not only on how much money you have, but also on what value you’ve contributed to the world. A veritable roster of who’s who, this will be the place to unwind without being worried about the media. A place to entertain and be entertained. A timeless combination of comfort, glamour, and intimacy, where what’s said and done in the club will stay in the club. In short, this will be the place to meet and network among the tastemakers, the influencers, those whose every choice has a ripple effect on the decisions of millions."
"Sounds intriguing," Seb offers.
JJ rises to his feet. "What do you say? Are you in, then?
"You helped my brother. It goes without saying I’m with you in whatever venture you want me to support." Michael shakes his proffered hand. "As for you..." He turns to face me. "Once the doctor gives you the all-clear, how about we get you home?"
56
One week later
Olivia
The hair on the back of my neck prickles. I glance over my shoulder, but nope, nothing seems out of the ordinary—just the flower stand at the corner, the coffee shop next to it with a bunch of teenagers hanging around the exit, a take-out delivery guy strapping his bag to his back—nope, there’s no one else. Definitely no one watching me.
So why do I feel like someone is following me? I shake my head. Probably just my overactive imagination. After the doctor discharged me from the hospital, Peter drove me to Massimo’s home. He told me they were arranging for me to move to a service apartment where I could stay on my own and figure out what to do next. I hadn’t wanted to accept Massimo’s generosity, partly because this meant he’d know where I was going to be, but who was I kidding? With JJ’s help, he wouldn’t have any trouble tracking me down in London, anyway.
Also, if I turned him down, I wouldn’t have anywhere else to stay in London. I gave up my flat before moving to Palermo to be part of the musical there. It would take me time to find another place to rent. Meanwhile, if I wanted space, then I had no choice but to accept Massimo’s plan and move to the apartment. Which I did. Peter dropped me off with my bags, and since then, I haven’t seen or heard from any of them. I keep glancing at my phone, but it has stayed silent. Guess Massimo took me at my word and decided to leave me alone.
I spent my days following up with Declan’s agent Kimberly, who already put me up for an audition for an indie film. It’s a small budget production, but the role is exciting. It’s where I was earlier today, and for once, I’m actually satisfied with my performance at the audition, too. The people at the audition didn’t seem surprised to see my scar. Best of all, the role doesn’t call for a character with a scar, either, and they still agreed to audition me. Which means, the crew behind this production is more open-minded than the people I normally meet in this industry. Which is good, right? I wrapped up the audition and took the tube home. The whole time, I felt as if someone was tailing me, but each time I looked over my shoulder, nothing seemed amiss. If someone is following me, they’re very skilled.
I stop off at the supermarket to buy a bottle of wine and some frozen pizza, because I feel like I earned it and because, unlike Massimo, I don’t have staff to cook for me. As a result, my diet has gone to the dogs but… At least, my career is looking up. I walk up the steps to my first-floor apartment and let myself in. I drop my handbag on the sofa and head to the kitchen, where I turn on the oven and slide the pizza inside. Then, I open the bottle of wine, pour myself a glass, and walk back into the living room. A buzzing sound from my bag reaches me. I sink down into the sofa, pull out my phone, and accept the FaceTime call.
"Helloooo!" Penny sing-songs. "How are you doing?"
"I’m good, now that I have a glass of wine in hand." I raise my glass, and Penny shows her own glass of wine to me.
"Salute!" she chirps.
We both sip from our glasses of wine.
I roll the wine around my tongue before swallowing it. "Mm, that’s good."
"How did the audition go?" she asks. I messaged her to let her know about it before I headed off earlier.
"I think it went well. I told you I sent in my audition clips earlier, right? They loved them and asked me to read in person, which is what I did today, and guess what? The casting director was very enthusiastic about it. He gave me positive feedback on the spot."
“How unusual,” she exclaims.
"Right?" I laugh. "I mean, usually they barely acknowledge you, and here, he pretty much told me he loved me and that I might need to come back for the second round to audition with the director."
"No way," she cries. "That’s such good news."
"I still can’t believe it.” I shake my head, "Apparently, I found the one unicorn director and casting team which doesn’t care about the scar on my cheek."
