Page 26 of Hollywood Crush

The ruse was working, too. Sandra and Patrick’s manager were delighted by the whole thing, my Instagram following had doubled, and I was getting more job offers than I could handle. 35 years old and reaching a new zenith had the papers calling meThe New Fassbender, but for once I didn’t want it. I felt like my career was running me more than ever, when all I wanted right now was forsomeone to tell me tostop.

My phone pinged, and I swore as I took it out of my pocket to silence it. Roland looked over at me with an expression like I’d shot his dog, and I gave an apologetic wave. I caught sight of the message on the screen. It was from Tudor.My room tonight? Once you’re finished filming. Bring supplies.

It sent a thrill through me and I was glad I was wearing a big coat over my skintight leggings and tunic that the scene required me to wear. I had noticed since the Patrick deal my clothes on set had been getting skimpier and skimpier, and I suspected Roland and the producers in their ivory towers were capitalising on the success of our fake relationship just as much as we were.

“Right, places everyone!” Roland shouted. I was only needed for some establishing shots with Patrick, as our two characters would be sword-fighting and I was not remotely qualified to be trusted with sharp and pointy objects.

We both shucked our coats to the nearest runners and took our places on the beach. It was hard for cameras to pick up on the rain, but it still soaked us through pretty quickly.

“Action!” called Roland.

“You’re going to die, Lord Kazran!” I shouted over the rain.

“I, die? It is you who is going to perish!” Patrick shouted back. The cameras had pulled out into an epic wide shot that took in both of us and the beach.Even with my hatred of the Welsh rain, I knew the stormy beach would look absolutely amazing on camera.

“Face me then!” I stepped forwards and pulled out the plastic sword from its sheath. Patrick did the same, and we advanced towards each other across the beach. Each of us drew back our sword arms, the blades crashed together-

“Cut! Thank you!” Roland signalled for the cameras to move into position for close ups. I repeated my lines a few times more, this time with a stealthy umbrella held overhead. The cameras moved to Patrick and I took cover under the eaves as he recited his lines.

We took another seven takes with similar angles until Roland was satisfied.

“Right, that’s you two done for the day,” said one of the assistant directors. I hadn’t bothered to learn the poor man’s name as Roland had fired so many it was starting to not feel worth it. Somehow Dani had survived all the culls thus far.

Patrick sidled over and put one hand on the small of my back. I sidestepped slightly to make it more difficult for him.

“I think that’s enough of this for one day don’t you think?” I asked him.

“Sure. Gotta give the people what they want,” Patrick grinned. He was a genuinely lovely, likeable person. It just seemed like he was better at playing the media machine than I was. I got the feeling thathe enjoyed it more too.

“Right, I’m getting out of here. Busy day tomorrow.” The shooting schedule had us on set for about 12 hours. It was a high stakes scene being filmed with lots of stunts, and Roland’s poor time management and inability to go any more over budget meant that it had to be done quickly. And I always worried about stunt days being done quickly. It was a recipe for danger. But I was being paid to do a job, and I would do it for as long as I needed to.

Despite the many job offers I’d had, I needed time to reflect on my life. Perhaps being stuck in Wales full time wasn’t that life, but being with Tudor had taught me that things didn’t always have to be about the job. Maybe I’d go home, see my Mum. Maybe I’d take on an acting role in a low budget show off the West End, or volunteer myself to help with a community drama school.

One of Stacey’s assistants hurried over and grabbed my elbow, interrupting my thoughts. She walked me over to the tent without saying a word as Stacey removed the prosthetics and makeup that had been so carefully applied earlier in the day. I was aware of others taking pictures of my face for continuity as she did.

My whole body buzzed with the knowledge that I would get to see Tudor earlier than anticipated. With such a busy shooting schedule over the next couple of weeks I had no idea how much we mightget to see each other after that, and I still had no idea what I was going to do at the end of filming. Would Tudor take kindly to me sticking around if I did? Would he want me gone as soon as possible, like ripping a plaster off rather than trying to slowly peel it? I had no idea what he would want and no idea how to ask.

“Right, you’re done. Go get him, tiger.” Stacey had finished working on my face and legions of costume assistants had pulled apart my complicated costume as I thought.

“What do you mean?” I asked. I had been very careful to keep my romance quiet, not mentioning it to anyone. I didn’t even know if Tudor’s friends knew.

“I sleep in the room below yours,” said Stacey. “I heard noises before Patrick even arrived.” She smirked and smacked me on the bum. “Now as I said, go get him. Whoever it is that’s been making you so jittery.”

“You’re the best,” I replied. “I’ll see you up bright and early.”

“Six o’clock call, better not have bags under your eyes for me to cover.”

???

The hotel was quiet as most of the crew were still out at the beach and Patrick had stayed behind to flaunt himself in front of photographers.There wasn’t even anyone at reception so I headed upstairs to my room quickly. Tudor probably wouldn’t be expecting me for a couple of hours so I took my time to shower and grabbed a sachet of lube and a condom from the bedside drawer.

I checked my watch. Six o clock. Earlier than Tudor was expecting me but surely he wouldn’t complain if I was a little early. The more time we could spend together the better, I thought.

I left my room and headed down the stairs. Clare was at reception with a young girl I didn’t recognise. She was in jeans and a t-shirt, with chestnut-brown skin, dark hair and honey coloured eyes. The girl can’t have been much older than sixteen, and her eyes widened when she saw me.

“Hi, I’m Daniel,” I said. “Who are you?”

“Nadia,” she replied quietly.

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