6. Alyx
Chapter 6
Alyx
V ictor Russell was not what she expected.
He stood just over six feet in height, and his ice-blue eyes coupled with his stern expression showed little emotion. Steel-gray hair crowned his head and he wore an impeccable suit. He’d taken a seat in the wing-back chair occupied by Martin during their last meeting after she shook his hand. Daniel sat to his left while she, once again, sat alone on the sofa. She leaned forward, hands clasped and elbows on her knees.
For some reason, the flutters in her stomach increased every moment the man remained silent. She knew him by reputation only—star maker, mover and a shaker. He didn’t work on movies, scripts or television. He worked on the actors. He was the premiere acting coach on the West Coast, in high demand on the East, liked to pick and choose his clients, and that exclusive list was not for public consumption, either.
Closing a cover on his digital tablet, the man caught her staring. He lifted his chin and studied her. Sitting up straighter, she pushed her shoulders back. “Mr. Voldakov, what you’re asking for is going to take an inordinate amount of time and attention to detail.” Each clearly enunciated word pronounced judgment. Skepticism ran rampant in his tone. “Miss Dagmar, here, has potential, but this is not just a role she can put on and shed. Nor, for that matter, can you. You will have to inhabit it, live and breathe it, day in and day out.”
“We are aware of that.” Daniel met his steel-laced doubt with a calmness she envied. “We’re also one hundred percent on board. Aren’t we, Alyx?”
“Absolutely.” But her smile faltered as Mr. Russell turned those laser-beam eyes on her.
“Alyx? Not darling or sweetheart? Or some other drippy pet name?” He transferred the hard look back to Daniel. “ You’re sitting over there. She’s on the sofa. She has her hands clasped so hard together her knuckles are white. Yours are gripping the chair and you’ve got a pinched look to your smile. A physical gulf between you is interpreted as emotional distance. If you want to sell this, you have to be comfortable touching and being close.”
Her stomach cramped and she sat straighter as Daniel rose and moved toward the sofa. He sat next to her, the soft fabric of his pants leg brushing against her bare thigh. Her skin crackled like the release of static electricity, but without the sting.
“Better, but Miss Dagmar shifted to the left a little. She didn’t turn to watch you nor did she smile.”
She wanted to embrace this activity—it was a learning experience—but impatience crawled through her at the judgment in his tone. “We’re just getting started on this?—”
“No, you’ve been dating for months, secretly indulging in an affair that presumably has left you crazy for each other. You should crave his nearness, enjoy his touch and reciprocate. When he leans in, so should you. When he touches you, you should touch him. Romance is more that soft kisses and headlines. It’s body language. Neither of you have the right body language.” He tapped a finger against the folder.
“Are you interested in this challenge, Mr. Russell?” Daniel traced a finger down her thigh and she didn’t dare move, although just the brush of his knuckles left tingles in its wake. It took every ounce of willpower to not bolt. The “no sex” rule, however, couldn’t apply in public. They had to look like they’d had sex.
Lots of it.
How else would they appear comfortable together?
“I think I would enjoy it. I have the standard nondisclosure agreements for all of us, and your attorney has mine on file. It looks like we’ll be spending a lot of time together, you should clear your schedule, Mr. Voldakov. Miss Dagmar, why don’t you take his hand while we talk? You need to get used to being able to touch each other casually without reacting negatively to the contact.”
The weight of two stares bore down on her. One of her acting classes relied heavily on breathing technique. Controlled respiration allowed an actor to handle uncomfortable moments without looking uncomfortable. Her instructor’d reminded them frequently that roles demanded intimacy, the ability to kiss, touch and sell a relationship that didn’t necessarily exist anywhere but the screen.
I can do this. She forced her fingers to unlock from each other and dropped her right hand to cover his. His knuckles rubbed her leg as he turned his hand over, catching her palm to palm. Electricity sizzled through her.
Breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth.
Reciting that mantra over and over, she gave Russell a triumphant look. A smile barely curled his lips.
“Starting today, whenever the two of you are together, you need to be touching. Hand on a shoulder, arms around each other, hand in hand—whatever it takes. Constant contact will increase the natural flow of it.” He flipped the cover of the tablet open. “Let’s say we’ll meet each morning at ten? Review how the two of you are doing. Afternoons, I’ll spend with Miss Dagmar. I’ll bring in a personal shopper and we can expand her wardrobe. We’ll also need a consultation on cosmetics, a jeweler… Do you have a ring for her?”
Daniel released her hand and stood. He produced a slender platinum band with a teardrop-shaped diamond. He reached for her hand and her fingers trembled. He slid it slowly onto the third finger of her left hand. She watched the band glide over her knuckle. A shiver of apprehension zinged through her and she couldn’t help holding her hand up to examine at the ring.
Despite everything she’d said about not being interested in the jewelry, possessiveness swarmed up at the solitaire twinkling in the morning light. “It’s beautiful.” The word rode out on a sigh.
“Perfect.” Russell applauded and jolted her back to the sitting room—the acting coach, and the billionaire paying her to be his fiancée.
Her hand dropped back to her leg and Daniel reclaimed the other one, but the warmth flooding through her veins cooled. The diamond was a beautiful prop. An exquisitely beautiful prop and she’d fallen for it. “What’s next?”
Less than an hour after Russell arrived, Daniel abandoned her to take some phone calls. She watched him leave with more than a little apprehension. Russell’d interrogated them, going over how they met, where their first date had been, correcting them whenever they fumbled or didn’t deliver the line with the right amount of emotion.
“Is he a good lover?” Russell asked, the bald bluntness of the question smashing her distraction.
“I’m sorry?” She glared at him—lesson or not, that was hardly an appropriate question.
“I like it.” He tipped his head critically. “A little too much outrage, because those questions will come up. But the imperious note fits the situation.”
“You really think that someone is going to ask me if Daniel is a good lover?”
Is he?
“Absolutely, someone from the press is bound to ask you inappropriate questions. It’s the nature of the game. Let’s take a break from this, however, and work on your walk.” He rose and she followed him, grateful for the reprieve. He tucked the folder into his briefcase. “I’ll wait while you change.”
“What’s wrong with this?” Granted, her clothing wasn’t elegant, but she needed some modicum of comfort.
“You look like a teenager heading to the Santa Monica pier to cruise for boys, not a princess receiving morning visitors.”
“Okay, I get the touching thing, the sitting up thing, the ring thing. But no one can see us, so why do I need to dress up?”
“Not an unfair question.” He rebuttoned his suit jacket and faced her. “A princess, however, has no off time. She is always to be presented at her absolute best. You must act as though you are always on display, because when word leaks that a very real princess lives here, you will be. The staff will watch you, the press will watch you and Daniel will watch you. That type of scrutiny is a burden and your manners, your appearance and your attitude must all become second nature or you risk slipping at the wrong moment.”
Russell made a fair point. This was the type of method acting she’d craved, but all the time?
“Okay.” It would take some mental as well as physical adjustment. The agreement was that she live the part, but she’d naturally presumed behind closed doors she would have a break. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Russell continued to watch her, his expression far from unkind. “It’s a difficult role you’ve decided to tackle. One that you are going to have to let consume you…if you want to become the Princess Alyxandretta.”
“I can’t be Alyx anymore?” At all? Weren’t they dressing her up to be herself?
“Likely not. It would be too easy to forget, to get tired, and then you drop the charade.”
She didn’t imagine the sympathy in his voice. Her life didn’t belong to her anymore and wouldn’t for the next few months. She’d voluntarily signed it over to Daniel Voldakov’s crazy plan. Eye on the prize. Great acting experience, name recognition, career gold.
“Okay, I’ll change. Will you meet me in the garden?” She turned, searching the doorways beyond the main hall that connected the living room to the rest of the house. “I think it’s over there.”
“I have some phone calls to make, take your time. A morning suit would be appropriate. A blouse, a jacket, a skirt and low heels. It’s summer, choose something with color—green or peach, perhaps. Both would flatter you.”
She didn’t receive clothing advice from a man twice her age that often, or ever actually. “Okay. Thirty minutes?”
“It would be my honor, Your Imperial Highness.”
Oh, yeah. That would take some getting used to. Russell’s smile told her he knew it, which meant he’d likely call her that more often. “Okay, thank you.” Did she curtsy or was that something royalty received and didn’t deliver? Uncertain, she left it alone and escaped up the stairs.
I wanted to take an immersion class…
But this isn’t immersion, is it?
Two hours later, her eagerness faded like a worn-out puppy in a play park. She wanted to strangle Russell. Her feet protested the uncomfortable pair of creamy heels that she rarely wore because they were the only shoes that matched her cream-colored suit. She didn’t have a green one. The pale pink blouse beneath it added a touch of color, but Russell clucked at it when she arrived at the garden. This outfit was more suited to a wedding than a morning walk, which was why she’d purchased it in the first place.
They walked in a slow circuit. The too-casual slow pace made her crazy.
“Your Imperial Highness, fidgeting is a sign of boredom. At no point when you are meeting with others or presenting in public can you allow yourself to look bored. Calm, serene, engaged. These are the three words you want to remember.” He caught everything. If she rolled her eyes, twisted her fingers or, heaven help her, tapped her foot.
“We’ve been at this for hours, Mr. Russell. I need a break.” Her shoulders slumped. Just a few hours into the charade and she wanted out. What the heck did that say about her future career choices?
“Quitting, Your Imperial Highness?” The challenge tweaked her pride.
Her chin came up. “No. But I wish to sit, to eat and to have a respite from the lesson.”
“Very well.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s just now one. Let’s reconvene at two-thirty.”
“You’re not joining us for lunch?” Daniel chose that moment to appear. He caught her left hand and lifted it, brushing one kiss to the finger bearing his ring. The action kick-started her sluggish system.
“Very nicely done, Mr. Voldakov. Her Imperial Highness still needs some work. But I have a rule—I do not sit at a table with clients unless it is part of the lesson, and the princess has requested a break.”
Guilt stabbed at her. The man shouldn’t miss a meal because she’d whined.
“I ordered in the food. It arrived about twenty minutes ago. If you want to eat in the solarium, we’ll take the dining room.” Daniel didn’t appear to share her hesitation. He tucked her arm into his.
“Thank you.” Russell nodded to both of them, adding a bit of a bow to her. “I’ll see you at two-thirty, promptly, Princess. We’ll take the discussion inside. I think we can spend some time on language, history and etiquette this afternoon.”
“Yay,” she murmured, but he was already out of earshot.
Daniel ducked his head down to catch her gaze. “Tired?”
“Exhausted. The man can walk.” She wanted to peel off her shoes and walk barefoot across the cool tiles inside the house. So tired, she didn’t object to Daniel leading her to the dining room. The smell of fresh grilled fish and vegetables elicited a fierce growl from her stomach. Two cups of coffee and a croissant didn’t cut it against the stress.
He held her chair and caressed her nape as she sat. She pulled away, but his hand didn’t retreat. “We have to get used to this,” he reminded her.
“I need a break, okay? Just for this hour—we’re not on display. No one here to impress.” The disconcerting sensations his every touch elicited didn’t help either.
“A small one. It might be easier to pretend touch when you don’t have to worry about what people are seeing.” He uncovered her plate before sitting down to his own silver-topped dish. Her mouth watered at the food.
For a man used to servants and hired help, he did do an awful lot for himself.
It didn’t matter that some tasks only required picking up a phone to call in an order, he took care of them.
She flipped out the napkin and tossed it over her lap. He touched his calf to hers and another jolt sparked through her. He cut into his fish without looking up and she sighed, covering her discomfort with a swallow of cold water.
“I know you’re not having fun, but I think the learning curve will be the worst part.” His empathy sounded genuine. “Just remember, we’re a team in this.”
“Where are your heels, then?”
He laughed and brushed her leg with his in a soothing fashion. “Suits and ties are my heels, Al—sweetheart.” He caught himself. “But how about a foot rub when the torture is over tonight? It’s the least I can do.”
“I may hold you to that.” She speared a bite of salmon and sighed at the sweet melted butter and hint of peppers on the flaky fish.
“I hope you will.”
Something in his voice tugged her head up and she met his easy smile. For a moment, she forgot about his leg brushing hers or the weight on her finger. It was just lunch with a handsome guy.
“Okay, then. I will.” Decided, she concentrated on the food. They had a lot of work to do.