Page 33 of Just Like in the Movies

‘Oh, yes, of course,’ she said, not buying his qualifications for a second.

Luke Devlin might want to be all business. He might not even realise what was happening here. But The Royale’s magic was already working on him, a little bit.

She took a moment to study him in the half light. That fall of hair that had dropped back over his forehead, the lean lines and perfect angles of his face, the square jaw, and the dimple in his chin. Luke Devlin was breathtakingly handsome, but it occurred to her she didn’t even notice the physical similarities to his father anymore. Had it been their ‘Over the Rainbow’ duet, their arrest, their day in court, or the thought of the weeks ahead while they worked together that had turned him very much into his own person in her eyes?

‘Ruby, you do get that nothing’s changed,’ he said, carefully. ‘That me doing this court-ordered community service to help you fix up the theatre isn’t going to magically find you two million bucks to fill the black hole in your finances?’

Her lungs squeezed tight, the question suspended in time as she wondered if he was really as clueless about what was going on here as he was making out. Unlike his father on a movie screen, with Luke it was impossible to tell what he was really feeling.

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Absolutely.’

Maybe Luke didn’t get it yet. But he would, or she wasn’t the smartest film buff in West London – with a string of classic movies chosen by a maestro to indoctrinate him with.

She took a sip of the lemon-tini, only to find her glass empty. How had she finished that so quickly? ‘I should probably get back to the theatre,’ she said reluctantly.

She needed to start plotting with her co-conspirators how they were going to get him to stay for About a Boy on Saturday night. And then figure out which of Matty’s other Classics might be useful to show Luke the healing power of cinema.

‘Not so fast,’ he said as she got up. ‘There is one other thing.’

‘Yes?’

Anything, anything you want.

‘It can’t get out, that I’m working at the theatre,’ he said. ‘Gwen has already briefed our press team, they’re putting out the story to anyone who wants to know that I’m in Alaska on a fishing trip. Luckily for us, the press in the UK don’t put reporters at Hendon Magistrates’ Court, so we’re good there. And when I’m working I’ll make sure I stay as low-key as possible while the place is open. I’ve got a lot of experience at being invisible so that shouldn’t be a problem.’ His brows lowered again and she realised this was another aspect of his life she’d never considered.

Why had it never occurred to her how tough it must have been to keep under the radar with Falcone’s face? But as she looked at him now, she thought again that he didn’t look like Falcone anymore. Not to her. Not at all. He looked like Luke.

‘So the only other possible leak will be you and your staff,’ he continued. ‘I’ll need you to promise me they won’t release the information to anyone. Not to any of their friends and acquaintances. And definitely nothing on social media. No photos, no Instagram, no Facebook, Twitter, TikTok. Nada. Get it?’

‘Yes, of course.’ Even if she had to cut out everyone’s tongue and chop off their fingers, she would make sure no one broke Luke’s cover. The Royale would become a safe haven for him, no matter what, the way it had always been for her.

‘I swear, no one who doesn’t have to will know you’re here.’ She stroked her fingertip over a spot on her left breast.

At The Royale, we look after our own, Luke. And we’re making you one of our own … whether you like it or not.

Chapter 7

‘Once I’ve hacked away the blown plaster I can re-install the damp proofing then replaster and repaint here, too.’ Luke knelt down at the edge of the old theatre’s stage to knock against the wall, getting a series of hollow thuds. He glanced over his shoulder at Ruby. ‘Write this whole area down.’

‘Right.’ She bent over her clipboard, puffing upwards at the curls that had escaped the top knot she’d tied her hair into.

The aggravating and now far too familiar pulse of awareness had Luke concentrating harder on checking the plaster in the auditorium.

The woman was cute and fresh and homely, there was nothing hot about that. Maybe this was the result of his jet-lag. He’d had a quick doze at his rental in Chepstow Villas and ended up oversleeping. Not like him. He was still groggy after the seven-hour flight from JFK, and the texts he’d been fielding all afternoon from his mom, who had already figured out the fishing trip in Alaska story Gwen had given her was a crock.

Not good.

He’d been questioning himself ever since about why exactly he’d spent the last three days handling a whole heap of bullshit so he could make this happen without screwing up his business.

All the answers he’d given himself on Monday at the Magistrate’s Court still held.

The theatre could do with the work.

He owed his uncle … something.

He’d missed working with his hands.

He needed a break from his mom in Greta Garbo mode.

---