“Were you close?” Clive anchored his cigarette on an ashtray stand next to his chair and dropped a dollop of cream from a small silver pitcher into his tea.
She peeled the lid from her latte, letting the hot liquid cool. “Of course. Very. We were twins.”
“So the rumors are true. The incredibly wealthy, aristocratic Del Reys are a true, close-knit family.”
Were. Not true any longer. “How is it,” she said, tapping a bit of sweetener into her latte, “that you keep taking over this interview, asking all the questions?”
“Because you are interesting. I’m a bore.”
“Not to your fans. Clive, you’ve been ‘radio-silent’ for a decade. Come on, let’s talk about you, this film, and why you are finally sitting for an interview.”
“You know what I find interesting? You say you were friends with Prince Stephen at uni, yet I’ve never seen you with him. How did you two manage to avoid the press? You’re too tempting, love. Too gorgeous to leave alone.” Clive drummed his fingers on the table, the thin tendrils of cigarette smoke twisting upward. “Then some years pass and,wham-o, you’re on his arm for a very public, veryroyal, movie premier.”
Corina tossed down her pen. “So? It happens. Friends reconnect.”
“It’s just curious. Stephen is rather close to the chest when it comes to women.”
“Can I quote you?” The air under the awning was warm but pleasant and the sounds of city life—engines, horns, and voices—gave the place and Clive a casual feel. “Clive Boston keeps track of Prince Stephen’s love life.”
The actor scoffed, watching her over the edge of his teacup. “Quote whatever you like. My questions have a single purpose. I don’t want him angry with me if I askhis girlfriendto dinner.” He set down his cup, reached for his cigarette, and blew a stream of smoke upward, scenting the dew with menthol.
“Tell you what . . .”, she said. “Let me conduct this interview and we’ll see about dinner.”
Clive grinned. “You have yourself a deal.”
Technically, she couldn’t call dinner with Clive a date. She wasmarried. And last night her husband had kissed her. But dinner with Clive might be enjoyable—ifshe stressed they were only going as friends. When Clive let loose and forgot himself, he was funny and genuine good company.
“The film . . .” Corina sipped her latte as she scanned her notes. “You told theTimesof London that you’d never do another period film. ‘Too exhausting,’ you said.”
“Excuse me,” a young woman said as she moved in and hovered over their table. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but . . . Clive Boston.” She exhaled all over them. “I’ve seen every one of your movies.”
“Thank you, love.” He smiled as if she might be his one and only. “Where are you from?”
“Ohio. Can I please take your picture?” She batted her lashes and cooed. Yeah,cooed. Corina paused the recording and crossed her arms, waiting, puttying her impatience with grace. She’d never interrupt a conversation for a picture with a celebrity. But then she had grown up with the Clive Bostons of the world dining at her father’s table.
“Picture? But of course. What’s your name?” He set down his tea. “How about a selfie? Corina, love, come round. Get in the shot.”
“I think she’d prefer just you, Clive.”
The girl, who said her name was Brooke, hovered next to Clive and held up her phone to snap the selfie. Then he signed a wadded-up receipt she dug out of her bag and offered her several flattering compliments. She blushed, thanked him, then hurried off with a dance and a squeal.
He narrowed his gaze at Corina, taking up his tea. “Got to keep them happy.”
“You’re a softy.” She started the recording again.
“Shh . . .don’t tell.”
“So why did you do this period movie?”
“I liked King Stephen I. Brave chap.”
“That’s it? You liked the guy so you changed your policy?”
“I read Aaron’s script. It spoke to me. And of course, I never miss a chance to work with Jeremiah Gonda. Guess you could say all of the pieces were there.”
“How’d you prepare for the role? King Stephen I lived five hundred years ago. How does one go from jetting around the world watching movies on devices that fit in the palm of your hand to being a warrior with only a sword and a gaggle of determined men?”
Clive sipped his tea, then took a long, crackling drag from his cigarette. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you? I had that sense from the photo where the two of you were walking off together. Toward restaurant alley.”
