The Woman in the Castello, page 17
The drive back was just as bone-rattling as the way there, and my thoughts careened along with the car. No matter what the police said, the more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that my aunt was dead and her murderer was in the castle. To me, it was the most logical conclusion when you considered the new evidence. There had been a struggle in the garden before my aunt’s body was taken to the beach and dragged under the tarp. Then most likely the killer had come back later to dispose of her, maybe putting her in the rowboat and ferrying her to deeper water. I considered going back and kicking up another fuss over the shoe and making everyone else listen.
But the indifference of the police gave me pause. It was possible the cast and crew would react just as they had. The only person who would know for sure I was right would be the killer.
I could go back to Rome and take my mother and Lulu far away from here. But I was still broke, and if I quit a picture I’d already started, I’d never get another acting job in this town. Besides, I’d never learn what happened to Gabriella. She’d never find justice, or peace, and despite my mother’s protestations I knew part of her had come to Italy seeking closure. Otherwise, why had she saved my aunt’s letter?
The only solution that presented itself was one that terrified me: continue on the picture as if nothing were wrong, and investigate her disappearance myself.
I parked Paul’s car, astonished that it, and I, had survived the journey. My nerves were fried, and I probably looked like a mess. I’d spent the morning chasing a toddler up and down the vicoli and the afternoon on my own personal Italian roller-coaster ride. When I emerged into the great hall, Paul crossed over toward me in long purposeful strides, looking confused and concerned.
“Silvia, I’ve been calling you for the last five minutes. You’re due on set.” His eyes raked over me, and my heart stopped.
“Shit.”
I had completely lost track of time. After my discovery, my scene had been the last thing on my mind. I’d thought by now the police would be on their way.
But they weren’t.
“Is everything okay?” His gaze was protective, proprietary even. But beneath his worry, there was irritation, too. I hadn’t even been to hair and makeup yet, which would take a while.
“No. Everything is not all right.”
I closed my eyes, attempting to calm myself. Acting right now seemed wrong, impossible. There was a murderer among us.
I hesitated. Paul’s eyes darted back and forth. I pictured taking my family back to Rome, finding a waitressing job, and scraping by. My mother growing sicker and more bitter.
No—difficult as it was, the best option was still the one I’d decided on in the car.
There was another reason I wanted to stay, of course, one I could barely admit: I wanted to be a star. Paul had made me believe it was possible, and deep down I knew at least part of my motivation was selfish. I brushed the thought away. I’d gone to the police, hadn’t I? I’d been willing to risk all that. I’d done my part.
“I’ll go to Aurelia right now. I’m so sorry.”
“Silvia . . .” He crossed those strong bronze arms over his chest, the arms that not long ago had been pinning me down beneath him.
“I’ll tell you everything after the scene.”
I hurried over to Mrs. Leskowitz’s station, then Aurelia’s. I was embarrassed that I’d held everyone up; it made me look unprofessional. An amateur, Richard had called me, and it still rankled. But it wasn’t wounded pride making my heart pound. It was the fact that I didn’t know who in the castle might be dangerous. Still, I stayed seated. Desperation was a powerful motivator. So was ambition.
“Stop frowning,” Aurelia said, while she sponged foundation over my face. I obliged, but it wasn’t easy.
My scene today was another one with Bernard, where Bianca tries to seduce him after the witch infiltrates her mind. He turns her down, shaking her and snapping her out of her reverie, saving her from the witch’s possession. It would be another kissing scene.
By the time I finally arrived on set, Terrence was furious.
Mrs. Leskowitz had dressed me in a sheer red negligee, even more scandalous than the one I’d worn yesterday in the nightmare scene. I was keenly aware that despite the pasties she’d put over my nipples and the nude underwear I wore, my body was on near full display. Terrence made no effort to conceal his appraisal of my figure, and nothing he saw removed the nasty sneer from his face.
Mr. Meyerson was also clearly displeased, his mouth tight. But he didn’t yell at me.
“We’re going to have to skip rehearsal,” he said, the closest he’d ever come to censuring me.
We got right to work.
The only way to make up for my lateness was to be terrific.
I was usually pretty good under strain, fortunately. And once again, it wasn’t hard to get in character. After my night with Paul, I could still practically feel his touch on my skin, my hair, between my legs.
“Bernard.” I stretched out a hand and caressed Terrence’s face, just as Lucrezia had done to me in our last scene, when the witch came to Bianca in a nightmare. “I want you to take me, Bernard. I’ve wanted this since the moment I saw you.”
I pretended it was Paul I was seducing instead of Terrence, that I was running my hands down his chest. I pressed myself against Terrence and kissed him, ignoring his rigid lips and the whiskey on his breath. I put aside the questions crowding my mind about who might have murdered my aunt. I couldn’t allow myself to dwell on the possibility that I was acting alongside a killer. In my mind, it was Paul I was kissing. My blood raced again, and I must have been doing my work a little too well, because after the second take, the sneer finally disappeared from Terrence’s face.
“You know, we really should have rehearsed this scene more beforehand. Privately,” he said, his words slurring the tiniest degree. He winked at me. “You’re really not doing bad at all, but I could have warmed you up a bit.”
“You’re a pig, Terrence.”
“Have it your way.”
My hair had gotten mussed, and Aurelia came over to douse me with hair spray, which made my eyes water. I blinked the chemicals away and looked toward Paul. I hoped he didn’t think I’d been taking advantage of him by my lateness. His gaze locked on mine, but he didn’t even smile. Suddenly it felt like I’d swallowed ice. Perhaps he merely wanted to maintain a professional distance while we were in public.
Or maybe he was angry with me. Given all that had happened, it shouldn’t have been anywhere close to my chief concern at the moment, but the heart isn’t rational that way. I cared a lot about what Paul might be thinking.
“You know, Herman, I’m struggling a little with Bernard’s decision here. What kind of man turns down a half-naked woman who throws herself at you?” Terrence took in another eyeful of me. His words pricked my mind. Was that the only reason Paul had gone to bed with me? I had done just what Bianca was doing, only Paul hadn’t resisted, as Bernard did.
“There’s no love scene in this movie. I really feel like it needs one,” Terrence continued.
I turned again toward Paul, but he was still impassive. Wait—there. Something had flashed in his eyes when he looked at Terrence. I couldn’t make sense of it. His blond hair was still adorably rumpled after our exertions the night before, since he hadn’t had time to shower. I wished I could go to him and wrap my arms around his waist, but I didn’t want to make him even angrier.
“That’s the point. Bernard doesn’t want the witch, he wants virginal Bianca. Her purity must be preserved for the story to make sense,” Herman replied, his clipped vowels revealing his impatience.
“Poor blighter. No sense at all, really.”
We did one more take, and in this one, Terrence turned up the heat—really sinking into our kiss, letting his hands wander a little bit. I had become completely inured to his perfect, sculptural handsomeness, and in the moments where I had to look at him—which was all of them except for the kissing—it took the full depth of my talent to pretend I wanted him.
We finished up the scene pretty quickly—by being on, I’d helped us make up for some of the lost time. I flicked my eyes over at Paul so often, I’m sure everyone noticed, but I couldn’t help it. He kept avoiding my gaze.
After we wrapped, I could hardly stand it anymore, and I approached him tentatively. Once I explained Richard’s deceit about the car, my discovery on the beach, and the police, I was sure he’d understand.
“Paul—” I was only ten feet away, but he didn’t acknowledge me. He was chatting with the camera operator about something, but I knew he’d heard me, because his eyes blazed. And then to my dismay, he turned and walked away. I was dumbfounded and hurt.
Instead of going to wardrobe, I went straight to his room, still wearing the red negligee. He wouldn’t be able to avoid me there. Maybe he didn’t want to fight with me in front of everyone. I paced the tiny quarters, my blood whooshing in my ears, panicking.
His door creaked open only a few minutes later, the raw emotion on his face no longer hidden. He was furious.
When he saw me, he stopped short. His jaw ticked.
“I came to apologize for being late. Please don’t be mad at me. I can’t stand it.”
Paul laughed, dry and humorless. “You think I’m mad at you for being late?”
I frowned, bemused. “Aren’t you?”
“I’m mad at myself.” He stripped off his khaki jacket and threw it on the bed. “I knew better than to get involved with someone I work with.”
The ice was back, whole buckets of it filling my stomach. My heart beat in my throat. The idea of a murderer in the castle had scared me, but the idea of losing Paul’s affection terrified me to my core. When I fell for someone, I fell hard.
“I’m not normally late. It had nothing to do with—last night.” I hated how pathetic I sounded. But now that I’d experienced what it felt like to have Paul, I couldn’t lose him. I took a step back to make room as he approached me, bumping up against his dresser.
“If I’m with you, I can’t do my job, Silvia. I just had to watch you in the arms of another man for two hours, and I couldn’t fucking bear it.” He slammed his hand against the wall, shaking a little dark oil painting of a man holding a sword. The agony on his face made my spirits soar.
He wasn’t angry at me. He was just jealous. Relief flooded me. Jealous I could work with.
It all made sense now, and in his shoes, I would have behaved the same way. If I’d had to watch for hours while he seduced, say, Lucrezia for the cameras, I’d be ready to boil over, too.
The air between us was charged. I pushed myself up onto the dresser behind me and slowly pulled my red negligee up to my hips. Paul went perfectly still, but beneath his white T-shirt, he was breathing hard.
“Terrence is a swine, Paul. I endured that scene by thinking about you.”
Paul reached me in a single stride, and his fingers were firm and sure as he yanked my panties down to my knees. I nudged open the drawer beneath me to locate a condom and then deftly unbelted his pants. There was no gentle exploring this time, no tender kissing before he entered me. He shuddered as he shoved himself deep inside me, his face pure rapture.
I barely noticed the cold wall against my back, the hard dresser beneath me, knocking against the plaster. I was too full of Paul, too high on the thrill of being the center of his attention for that moment.
CHAPTER 21
Paul smoked languidly, exhaling toward the ceiling, and I lay on my stomach, tracing my fingers along his belly.
We’d ended up in bed somewhere along the way, and the intensity of my attraction for him and my growing feelings overwhelmed me. It was different from the utter devotion inspired by Lulu, but still astoundingly powerful. It wouldn’t be hard to love a man like Paul. A summer thunderstorm had rolled in while we made love, quick and clamorous, and water pooled beneath his window. The castle wasn’t particularly weatherproof, it seemed, which explained the mildewy smell.
I’d just filled him in on the events of the day, and he’d listened with careful attention. He hadn’t judged me or made me feel foolish. I couldn’t name the last man who’d made me feel like my perspective was valued.
“So you think someone killed her because she would have stopped us filming at the castle?” Paul looked thoughtful.
“I can’t think of any other reason. And the timing seems suspicious.”
He stroked my hair. His hand spanned my whole skull, and his touch was featherlight. “It’s weird, I agree. Something’s definitely not right about the whole thing.”
I was grateful he didn’t disparage my theory. If he had doubted me too, after Richard and then the police officer, I might have questioned whether I was overreacting. I couldn’t tell if he was entirely convinced she’d been killed, but he seemed genuinely open to considering my view of events.
“It just seems so extreme. Couldn’t they just have picked another castle?”
Paul let out another billow of smoke. “No. Getting her to pay us back wouldn’t have been easy. And Richard did look into a few other castles we were interested in, but they were too expensive or not available. We might have been able to figure something out, but the setback would have been costly. It definitely could have ended the picture, if she’d pulled the plug.”
Outside, the sky was still gray from the late afternoon storm, which had lightened to a steady drizzle. Paul looked beautiful in the half-light. When I switched on the lamp beside the bed, it gave me a little shock; I’d been zapped by fixtures semi-regularly, thanks to the castle’s faulty wiring. Paul sat up, stretching, and his body cast a long shadow on the wall.
“Did anyone even know about her decision, besides Richard and Roberto?” I asked the question almost offhandedly, but I was keenly aware of the accusation behind my words. I didn’t know much about Paul’s relationship with Richard. I’d been puzzling over this question, because if Richard was the only senior member of the crew who knew about Gabriella’s threat, it made him the most obvious suspect.
Paul shook his head. “No. Roberto told a bunch of us. Terrence had just arrived, and Roberto came bounding out looking like a kicked puppy, and said that Richard had to come quick because Gabriella wasn’t going to let us shoot at the castle. I was there, and so were Herman, Lucrezia, and Terrence.”
My fingers had been circling his belly button, and I stopped. “Oh.” I still thought Richard was the most likely suspect, although I didn’t say so. Terrence was a possible candidate, too, although I had a harder time believing someone as famous as he was would go to such lengths to see this movie succeed.
“Should I go grab us some food? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Worked up an appetite, I guess.” He draped an arm across me and pulled me close to him, nuzzling my neck.
“I have to go anyway. My mother is probably expecting me.”
We lay there for a moment, warm skin to warm skin, smelling of salt and sex.
“I wouldn’t want her to be disappointed. But God, I can’t seem to get enough of you.” He kissed me, and his words caused a surge of joy.
Still, duty made me climb out of bed and don my red negligee. I groaned. “I never returned this. You don’t have a robe or anything, do you?” I was already pretty sure he didn’t, from my snooping, but maybe I’d missed it.
Paul shrugged. “Sorry. But I can go ask Mrs. Leskowitz for your clothes.”
“That would be worse. Then everyone would know for sure that we’re sleeping together.”
He reclined, one hand behind his head, his arm making a neat triangle. The sheet covered only his lower half, and I admired the rest of him, his chest muscled but not excessively so, just enough that you could see the outlines of everything. You couldn’t pinch an inch, my mother would say of a figure like that. I sensed she would approve of him. He displayed la bella figura quite admirably. “Would that be so bad?”
“Oh, I don’t care. I thought you did. Professional distance and all that.” It was true. I certainly wasn’t a good girl, whatever Lucrezia initially thought, and I wasn’t worried about pretending I was. Besides, I was proud of being with Paul.
He laughed, flashing those white square teeth. “I think we’re well past that, don’t you?”
I smiled. “So you don’t mind, then? If everyone knows we’re—together?” I hesitated before saying the last word. After all, we hadn’t declared anything. We were screwing, that was all. But I hoped he wanted more than that.
“I want to shout it from the rooftops. And I’m sorry about before. The whole Terrence business.”
It took every ounce of willpower I had not to return to bed. I was utterly infatuated. “It’s okay. And don’t worry about the clothes. I’ll grab them myself on my way out.”
Before I could change my mind, I slipped out into the hallway. The route back to the great hall took me through the gallery, and the windows here, too, bore signs of leaking. My exposed skin—which, in the red negligee, was nearly all of it—prickled in the dank air. I had to strain to see, since there were no lights here, and rain clouds obscured the sun.
I was glad to reach the costume station in the great hall. Mrs. Leskowitz wasn’t around, but Sarah was there, ironing, and she hid a giggle behind her hand when she saw me.
“Sorry I’m late. Bad habit today.”
“Don’t worry about it. Shame to waste an outfit like that.” She giggled again, and I replied with a sly grin.
If I’d had my own dressing room, I could have kept my personal affairs a little more private, and most stars would complain about not having one. Terrence certainly had, until they’d found a space for him. But I’d never had one before anyway, so it wasn’t a luxury I’d grown used to. I didn’t mind changing in the curtained area they’d set up.
I emerged in my own clothes, glad to be covered up again.
For her part, Sarah was wearing a floral blouse with long, wide sleeves, a thick headband, and long earrings. The effect was trendy and bohemian. Given her profession, it made sense she had terrific personal style. I hadn’t really spoken to her since her almost-firing, and I was deeply ashamed of my behavior.
