‘It’s the blue one on the top floor.’
Thank God, her room was all pale whites and creams. ‘In that case, no it isn’t ready for you.’ She still wouldn’t look at him, keeping her back resolutely turned.
‘Do you, ah, know where Gabi keeps the bedding?’
Cesca whipped around, her eyes wide, her lips thin. ‘What are you, twelve? How can you live in this place for all these years and not know where the linens are?’
Irrational or not, her fury was real, and impossible to ignore.
Sam’s mouth dropped open at her outburst.
It was as though the past six years had never happened, and Cesca was back to being that eighteen-year-old girl, her first play script in her hand, mesmerised by the beautiful actor who was auditioning in front of the stage. After seeing Sam’s take on Daniel Cramer, there was never any question of giving the role to anybody else. Everybody in the room had agreed, Sam was Daniel.
Maybe that was the worst thing of all, knowing that Sam Carlton had the talent to back up his fame. Somehow he’d managed to rise through the ranks and take Hollywood by storm, while Cesca could barely hold down a job. The way he was looking at her now, as if he was innocent as a child, made her mad as hell.
And he could stop batting his bloody eyelashes at her, too. She wanted to pull them out with a tweezer, one by one.
‘I really don’t know what your problem is,’ Sam said, shaking his head. ‘I’ve tried to be nice, I’ve even tried to compromise, but all you seem to do is spit venom at me. So I left your play, it was six years ago, for goodness sake. Get over it.’
Were there any worse words to say to a girl than that? Get. Over. It. Every syllable seemed to punch against Cesca’s skin, making her whole body tense at his insensitivity.
‘Get over it? Are you being serious? You left and the play closed. I was eighteen years old, I’d worked on that play for years, and everybody told me it was my big chance. Then you disappeared and I was suddenly persona non grata wherever I turned. Do you know how it feels to be shunned before you’re even nineteen?’
‘Shit happens. If that’s the worst thing you’ve ever been through then you’ve been wrapped in cotton wool all your life. Hell, I get rejected all the time and you don’t see me wailing and crying about it, do you? Have you ever thought that maybe you’re making a mountain out of a molehill? That you’re blaming me for your own inadequacies?’
‘So now you’re calling me inadequate?’ She wondered if he insured that way too pretty face in case of accidents. Her hand was squeezed into a fist, aching for some release. How delicious it would be to feel the impact of his jaw.
No, she couldn’t do that. Not even if her mind was begging for retribution.
Sam rolled his eyes to the ceiling. ‘Stop putting words into my mouth. All I’m saying is that everybody in this industry has to suffer from rejec
tion. So if your later plays haven’t done well, that’s hardly my fault, is it?’
‘There haven’t been any more plays.’
Sam frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
Cesca hesitated, torn between wanting to throw the facts in his face, and not wanting to admit the truth. She wasn’t sure she wanted to give him any more ammunition to use against her.
‘Nothing,’ she finally replied. Two syllables rarely held so much venom.
He shook his head. ‘You can’t start accusing me of something I didn’t do, then close down when I call you out on it.’
‘I can do what I like.’ Now she felt like a petulant child. This conversation was nothing like she imagined it would be. During the past few years she’d fantasised about confronting him, with a righteous anger and a vengeful fury. But not once in those dark reveries had she ever imagined him dismissing her accusations with a few glib words. Where were her apologies? Where was her retribution? Surely she deserved more than this?
‘Yes you can,’ Sam replied. ‘And luckily I don’t have to listen to you do it. So I’m going to bed, and when I get up in the morning we can arrange for you to leave. You’ve made your dislike for me more than clear, and I’m pretty sure neither of us wants to stay in the same house together. So now I’m here, you can go.’
‘Are you freaking kidding me? I’m employed by your parents. You have no right to dismiss me.’ Why should she be the one to leave? After all, he was the one who had wronged her before, and she wasn’t about to let him win again. Oh no, as much as she hated Sam bloody Carter, she wasn’t going to walk away from this villa. It was a matter of her newly found pride.
‘I’ll call them in the morning. Maybe they can even organise for Gabi and Sandro to return. It’s clear this isn’t going to work with us both here. I’m sure you can find somewhere else to stay.’
‘Don’t you dare ask Gabi and Sandro to come back.’ She could feel her hackles rise even higher. ‘They’ve taken a well-earned break, and they shouldn’t have to give it up for the likes of you.’
‘The likes of me?’ He raised his eyebrows, clearly trying to stifle a grin.
‘Yes. The sort of man who thinks everybody owes him something. So self-absorbed he doesn’t realise that maybe other people have needs, too. Like being with their sister, or finding a haven away from London.’
‘You can hardly talk. Apparently everything’s about you. I ruined your life, remember?’