Page 117 of Let’s Make a Scene

“Of course,” he says. “Cynthie Taylor, I caught your latest film. A strong performance.”

Despite my best intentions I blush, hopelessly flustered. “Thank you,” I manage.

“So this is the new girlfriend.” Caroline Turner arches her brows.

The comment is jarring, and I glance toward Jack. We haven’t discussed this, I realize. What role we’re playing today.

“Cynthie and I are working together at the moment,” Jack says finally, and though I don’t know what I wanted him to say, it wasn’t that.

“It’s lovely to meet you both,” I say into the silence that follows this statement. “I’m a big fan of your work.”

“Oh, yes?” Caroline looks at me then, her dark eyes amused. “Which work in particular?”

“Don’t be bitchy, darling,” Max chides. “Forgive my wife, she never can tolerate having another beautiful woman in the room.”

The look Caroline treats him to then is frigid.

“And this is my sister,” Jack says, stepping into the space, taking my arm and guiding me to the sofa opposite his parents where an absolutely stunning blonde sits.

“Hello.” She offers her hand, and her voice is soft, husky. “I’m Lee.”

Lee is a fascinating mix of contradictions. Her perfect features are pure Grace Kelly, but she’s dressed severely in tapered black trousers and a white silk shirt buttoned up tight at her neck. On her feet are a pair of deadly-looking black Louboutins, and she sits, her back rigidly straight, as if she’s ready for a business meeting. Her blond hair is pulled back in a severe knot, her face serenely blank. It’s like she’s trying to tone herself down, to fade into the shadows, but if that’s her intention, someone should tell her that all this severity only highlights her killer bone structure, the full pouting mouth she inherited from her mother, her father’s ice-blue eyes, wide and long-lashed.

Caroline makes a noise of frustration. “Lee,” she says with distaste. “Horrid little name. What’s wrong with Ophelia?” Caroline turns to me. “We named her after the role I was playing when she was conceived.”

“Oh?” I manage, not sure what to do with this information.

Jack winces, and gestures for me to take a seat on the sofa with Lee, while he drops into an armchair beside me. “Must we start in on the conceptions already?”

“We were going to name Jack the same way,” Caroline sniffs, leaning forward to pick up her drink off the table in front of her. Ice clinks in a glass of amber liquid. “Only, Max’s father died right before the boy was born and Max had a fit of filial obligation.”

“Thank you, Grandpa Jack,” Jack mutters, fervently.

Amusement flickers inside me. I turn to Max. “What role were you playing at the crucial moment?” I ask.

A smile plays on Max’s lips. “Oberon.”

I choke on a laugh as Jack groans. Lee’s lips are firmly pressed together, and I think she’s trying not to smile.

“It’s a beautiful name,” Caroline says, annoyed. “Not common, like Jack.”

“I suppose it could have been worse.” Lee leans into me and says in a low voice. “I could have been conceived then, when Mum was playing Titania.” There’s a flash of humor in her eyes. “Imagine what the kids at school would have made of that.”

“ ‘Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania.’ ” Max’s voice projects, filling the room like thunder.

None of his family react.

“Know your Shakespeare, do you?” Max looks at me.

“She’s not here to sit an English exam,” Jack says, sounding bored.

“What, jealous, Oberon?” I arch a brow at him, and he laughs.

“You’ve no classical training?” Max leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, steepling his fingertips. The weight of his attention is heavy. I feel like I’m at a job interview I haven’t properly prepared for.

“No,” I say as calmly as I can manage. “Actually, my first film was with Jack.”

“I remember,” Caroline says sweetly. “He was up in arms about it. Didn’t you try to get the poor girl sacked?” She turns to Jack.