Bound By Contract

No, that wasn’t what he had said… What he had actually said was her uncle Edgar wanted him to do that, which wasn’t the same thing at all!

She gave a rueful smile. ‘You’ll have to forgive Uncle Edgar.’ She grimaced. ‘He’s just a very doting godfather, who means well, but doesn’t see that—’

‘He’s a very powerful doting godfather,’ Gideon put in harshly.

And it was obvious this man resented whatever power Edgar might have tried to exert over him on Madison’s behalf. Which she couldn’t exactly blame him for. Gideon Byrne was a powerful man in his own right, and her godfather, if he had tried to force Madison into this man’s notice, should have thought of that.

If he had. She wasn’t absolutely sure that Gideon hadn’t just misunderstood Edgar.

‘I see it’s time for us to go in to dinner,’ Gideon drawled as the other guests began to stroll towards the dining-room.

Madison was still so inwardly disturbed by what Gideon had said about her godfather that she offered no protest when he took a firm hold of her arm and took her into the dining-room with him.

‘You see?’ Gideon murmured derisively when it turned out that Madison was seated between himself and Drew at the long oak table.

She was starting to! But Edgar, when she looked down the long table to where he sat at its head, appeared to be so engrossed in what the lady to his right was saying to him that he didn’t seem aware of Madison’s compelling gaze levelled at him.

‘So when can you come in for a screen-test?’

She turned to give Gideon a startled look—a look he returned with cold, unblinking grey eyes. ‘You can’t be serious!’ she finally managed to gasp.

‘I’m never anything else where my work is concerned,’ he informed her grimly. ‘I saw you in Hidden Highland,’ he admitted dryly. ‘You have a certain—look that I find…interesting,’ he continued guardedly. ‘I’ll be able to tell you more once I’ve had you read for me, but…’ He shrugged. ‘Let’s just wait and see, shall we?’

Wait and see!

Wait and see what? This man might be one of the hottest film directors in Hollywood at the moment—the public waiting with bated breath to see what his next film was going to be—but in the few hours Madison had known him she had also discovered that he was rude and arrogant, cynical to the point of being unbearable. Even if he should—by some miracle!—offer her a part in his film, how on earth would she ever be able to work with such a man?

Don’t envisage situations that don’t yet exist, she told herself firmly. And which may never exist, she added ruefully. She didn’t believe Gideon liked her any more than she liked him.

‘Eat your dinner,’ he instructed abruptly; most of the other guests were already halfway through their starter of smoked salmon mousse.

She felt a resentful flush in her cheeks. ‘I’m twenty-two, Gideon,’ she snapped, ‘not two!’

‘Please eat your dinner?’ He arched mocking brows.

It was certainly an improvement, but from him it still sounded like an order!

But Madison wasn’t in the mood for any more conversation with him! ‘Better,’ she nodded, picking up her knife and fork and beginning to eat.

To her surprise she heard the chuckle she’d thought she’d heard earlier down in the pool-room, and so she looked up at Gideon with quizzical green eyes.

He looked younger when he laughed, less strained, even the grey of his eyes taking on a luminous quality. He also, in this more relaxed state, reminded her of someone—she just couldn’t quite place who…

‘What is it?’ He sobered as she looked thoughtful.

She shook her head. ‘Nothing.’ It would come to her, but in the meantime she didn’t intend discussing it with Gideon. ‘You should smile more often, though; it makes you look half human!’ She regretted her bluntness as soon as the words left her mouth; it was just that this man irritated her so much, all her own social niceties seemed to desert her in favour of his own rudeness whenever she was around him.

Her mother would have been horrified if she could hear her. She’d always impressed upon her that good manners cost nothing, but that they invariably made a good impression. The trouble with that theory around Gideon Byrne was that he didn’t seem to have a good impression of anyone, least of all her!

‘Only half human, hmm?’ He quirked mocking brows. ‘What do you think the other half of me is?’

He wouldn’t like it if she told him! ‘Eat your dinner, Gideon.’ She briskly repeated his own order.

He shook his head. ‘You remind me of a teacher I had at school. The Dragon, we used to call her!’

Much more of this and she would tell him what she mentally called him—and it was nowhere near as polite as The Dragon!

‘Did you go to school in England, Gideon?’ She lightly changed the subject, putting her knife and fork neatly on the plate as she gave up all hope of eating the smoked salmon. Her appetite hadn’t been that great once she realised Gideon was still here, anyway, but now that she was actually seated next to him…!

A shutter seemed to come down over his eyes, giving them that steely quality once again, while his mouth became a thin, straight line, his body no longer relaxed, but strained with tension.

She’d only asked if he’d gone to school in England, for goodness’ sake; she had thought that would be a safe subject for them to talk about. Obviously she’d thought wrong!

‘Why do you ask?’ he rasped suspiciously.

‘No reason,’ she shrugged, wondering what she could have said wrong this time; talking to this man was like walking across a minefield! ‘I was educated in the States, obviously, but, being an actor, your father probably worked mainly in America, so I just wondered—’

‘My parents separated when I was seven,’ Gideon put in harshly. ‘And I lived in England with my mother from that age, so yes, I was educated in England!’

His parents’ separation had been that particular minefield! Well, how was she supposed to know that? Gideon would already have been sixteen by the time she was born, and his father had been long dead before she’d become aware of his films.

John Byrne had been of the Steve McQueen, Dustin Hoffman era, but he had died young, in his thirties, having only made a dozen or so films before his death. Yet his brilliance on screen had been undoubted, his charisma electric.

But perhaps his parents’ separation, and the subsequent death of his father, explained why Gideon was so remote himself? It was a sad fact of life that if you didn’t love anyone, then you couldn’t be hurt by their loss.

Maybe if Madison had appreciated that earlier she wouldn’t have been so hurt by Gerry’s defection!

Although she could never see herself being as emotionally removed as Gideon Byrne.

‘What about your own family, Madison?’ Gideon cut in on her thoughts. ‘I’m interested in why it is you have an English godparent,’ he added dryly as she looked at him questioningly.

He might be ‘interested’, but that was a curiosity Madison didn’t intend satisfying. ‘An English godparent who spends a lot of his time in the States,’ she dismissed lightly. ‘And yes, I have family: my mother and father, and an older brother. They all live in Nevada.’

‘But not you,’ Gideon said thoughtfully.

‘Some of the time I do,’ she corrected him; she spent quite a lot of time at home ‘resting’! ‘But an invitation from Edgar is hard to refuse!’

‘So I’ve found,’ he acknowledged grimly.

On further acquaintance with this man she didn’t believe he could ever be forced into doing something he didn’t want to do; Edgar might have issued the invitation, but Gideon was here because he chose to be.

‘Mm, this looks delicious!’ She thankfully turned her attention to the main course that had now been placed in front of her. ‘I just love English roast beef with all the trimmings!’

‘Makes a change from burgers, hmm?’ Gideon taunted.

She hadn’t even tasted a burger until she was in her teens and out with her friends one evening. Her mother had always insisted on a healthy diet for her two children, with plenty of vegetables, chicken and fish, and after trying that one burger Madison had had to agree with her!

‘A struggling actress has to eat what she can afford,’ she returned noncommittally.