‘You ready to be ravaged by the ducal dick, little wife?’
‘Oh my God.’ She slaps my thigh with her hand. ‘You are horrific.’
‘You know you want it. Just try to act virginal, okay?’
‘Fuck off,’ she hisses as the sound guy approaches with the boom. I do not want this banter on tape, but I am fucking loving it. This sure beats her open hostility from earlier.
We nail the scene. Like, absolutely rock it. Whatever slight edge of sexual tension—or desperation, more like—we lose from having both gotten off during our break, we make up for with an intimacy and a tenderness and aknowingwe just didn’t access to before. It’s like there’s an anticipation on both our parts that we’re gonna be really fucking hot together, and that comes across in our performances.
I’m in awe as I look down at Elle. After all, it’s her coverage we’re still shooting, so she has a tougher job than me today. She portrays Georgiana beautifully: the gradual shiftfrom her clear apprehension that Dom is gonna put his big ducal dick in her to an awakening of desire and understanding that this is how good it will be between them.
She’s vulnerable, and fragile, and innocent, and watching her act Georgiana’s first ever orgasm is so mesmerising I almost forget to keep up my fake-fucking rhythm. I know the camera will love it as much as I do. But no matter how excellent and empathetic an actress she is, her performance has nothing on when she came for me on the table in her trailer earlier.
Thatwas the real deal.
CHAPTER 32
Elle
Our first filming location beyond the incredible sound stages theGrosvenorcrew has created at Elstree is Painshill Park in Surrey. I take the opportunity to slip home for an evening the night before and see my girls before driving down to Surrey tomorrow morning. I consider offering Josh a lift for about ten seconds before deciding it would be a terrible idea: extreme forced proximity, and my need to focus on the road and not on the god beside me, is not a winning combination. He can stay at The Grove tonight and hitch a lift from one of the crew. I can’t imagine he’ll be short on offers.
I do, however, admit my indiscretion to the girls. I’m bloody exhausted—the long days of shooting are really taking their toll on my body, despite the fact that I’m in bed by nine most nights when I’m at The Grove—but I invite Mara, Honor and Astrid over to hang with us. Sometimes putting the world to rights with your girlfriends is more restorative than sleeping. And if not more restorative, then definitelymore fun.
There is a predictably wide spectrum of reactions when I confess my totally wrong but utterly delicious secret. Nora looks like she’s bitten into a lemon. Mara’s conflicted—I can tell she’s dying for the sordid details, but with her publicist hat on she’s horrified.
Honor gets excited. She’s so loved up with her gorgeous new man, Dr Noah, that she’s forgotten all about how downright awful these movie stars can be (her ex-husband, Jackson, cheated on her for years before she got her own back with Noah) and wants to see everyone happy.
And Astrid purses up her lips. ‘Interesting. Did you know Gray’s been working with Josh on fronting a sustainability campaign while he’s over here? He’s been really impressed by him.’
Astrid’s husband, Gray, runs sustainability for Kering, the luxury goods conglomerate that owns everyone from Gucci to Alexander McQueen.
‘Sounds like he’s impressive all around.’ Mara swigs at her wine and picks up her phone, frowning at her screen. ’But is this a thing? Do I need to call Josh’s publicist? Fuck’s sake, Elle.’
‘I don’t know if it’s a thing yet. But it’s certainly not a public thing. I promise you, I have zero intention of going public with Josh Lander. Or private, even.’
‘Good. Because you’re on Gordon Kay next week and I know he’ll probe you about working with Josh.’
‘There’s nothing to tell.’ There’s definitely nothing to tell Gordon Kay, even if he considers Josh and me fair game, because it was in reply to his tweet that Josh so infamously announced we were done.
‘Are you going to do it again?’ Nora asks, still looking sour. ‘Or was it a one-off? How the hell did it happen, anyway? I thought you were very clear about staying away from Josh Lander and that sinful, sinful body.’ She shakes her head as ifit’s a tragic waste that such a body should be attached to someone so morally repugnant.
I adjust Olive on my lap, and she burrows her sweet little snout happily into my crotch in her sleep. She’s a good distraction for my hands so I don’t pick up my wine glass too much. It’s better for my health, and my filming stamina, if I stay off the booze.
‘I’m sure the staying away part all made sense in theory.’ Honor winks at me. ‘Until you saw him in costume and had to fake-shag him. Am I right?’
I groan. ‘Ugh. Yes, basically. We had a big chat last week and, without wanting to betray his confidence, it sounds like he’s done a lot of work on himself since I knew him before. But still, I was adamant I was going to steer clear, because Twitter, obviously.
‘But you’re correct, Hon. Having to act opposite him all day long when he’s dressed up as my favourite book boyfriend of all time, and he’s being all arrogant and ducal and sexy—it’s bloody exhausting. Honestly. And he’s lookinggoodat the moment, and I was very in character, I mean,deepin character, and, well, it felt mutual. You know?’
I pause and then decide the story’s far too good not to share. I lean forward conspiratorially. ‘So mutual, in fact, that he got a boner when we were filming a sex scene the other day and he had to request a break and run off set.’
There’s a chorus of shocked and delighted squeals.
‘Noooo!’ Nora puts her hand over her mouth. ‘Jesus Christ, what did you do?’
The performer in me is loving my rapt audience. ‘I bolted for my trailer and when he knocked on my door to apologise, I propositioned him. And he totally jumped on me. It was… it was absolutely unbelievable. Hot as fuck. We even stayed in character. For some of it, anyway—we got a bit carried away.’
‘Oh my God!’ Honor slaps the coffee tablewith her hand. ‘That is priceless. Who isn’t partial to a bit of role-play? Honestly, what a story. Good on you, darling. It would have been a damn shame to have missed that opportunity.’
