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Limelight
By Karisma

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Chapter Seven

The following evening found Serena rushing about her hotel room, slipping on a shoe while trying to find the hole for her earring. In between her frantic dance to get ready, she found herself sneaking peaks at the clock beside her no matter how many times she told herself Darien was not coming and even if he was, she was simply not going anywhere with him. Seven o’clock rolled around and still there was no sign of her not-quite- Prince Charming. Satisfied, she yanked open her door to find Darien’s surprised face looking down at her, hand held up in midair as if to knock on something. She barely allowed herself one second to look over his appearance in his tuxedo and snowy white shirt. His hair and smile were perfectly in place, the jacket of the tuxedo stretching across his broad shoulders down to his tapered waist.

A smile replaced his shocked expression as he held out his arm. “Milady?”

She shot him a withering look before bypassing him and entering the hallway alone. She locked her door quietly and made her way to the elevator, ignoring man beside her completely. He matched her pace effortlessly and stepped into the elevator with her, smiling that incessant grin of his.

“Have I told you how wonderful you look tonight?” He asked charmingly, turning to face her fuming face.

“Drop dead,” she said icily, jabbing a button with such force he briefly thanked someone above it was not his eye.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’. Well, you do.”

She would not let herself be pleased by that compliment, she would not! Instead, she glowered at him, “You’re still here.”

“And I will continue to be for the remainder of the night—maybe even the morning?” He teased, his handsome face smirking roguishly.

“You’re disgusting,” she shot back, hating the blush that was creeping up her cheeks.

“Been called worse.”

“Can’t you take a hint?” She cried in exasperation, clenching her beaded purse as if contemplating whether or not to sock him with it.

“No.”

As they stepped out of the elevators and exited the hotel, Serena watched the bright lights and swarms of people with avid interest. Darien took her elbow and steered her toward a waiting limousine. She wrenched her arm out of his grasp and castigated him through clenched teeth.

“If hints don’t work, I’ll straight out tell you. I’m not going anywhere with you, Darien. Not now, not ever. So if you’d kindly let go of me, we can both go our separate ways.”

“They way I see it, Mina, you have two choices. Either come with me calmly like a good little girl, or cause a large scene in front of a thousand curious eyes.” The humor was gone from his voice and only a firmness that was not used to being argued with replaced it. He was right, she knew with dismay, a large crowd was in front of the hotel and already a few were whispering comments about who knew what. If she wasn’t careful, some sordid story would appear splashed on tomorrow’s headlines. Begrudgingly, she slipped into the extravagant vehicle with Darien behind her. She scooted to the farthest end possible as he sat down and pushed her chin up at the eyebrow he cocked up at her in amusement.

“Watch your hands, Eddington,” she warned scathingly.

“Yes, ma’am.” He quipped, his wittiness obviously back now that they were alone.

“And as soon as we arrive, I don’t want anyone to get the slightest impression that we are anything but friends anymore, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He repeated, bowing his head in jest as if talking to his mother.

“And stop that!” Serena snapped, smoothing over the material of her black dress.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She let out an aggravated groan before giving up any hope of them having a serious discussion like two mature adults. They arrived at the premiere not a moment too soon and Serena all but shot out of the car, hardly waiting for the gloved man to open her door for her. As soon as she let one heeled leg out of the vehicle, cameras went off in a bright haze, and she had to blink rapidly to adjust her eyes. Darien followed her exit and took one look at her dazed face, all the while smiling.

“You look like you’ve never done this before,” he commented, a bright smile pasted on as he took her bare arm. “Now smile prettily and follow me.”

She did as she was told automatically, subconsciously tightening her hold on Darien’s arm as a source of comfort in this bizarre world she knew nothing of. She left his side only once and that was to hug and kiss Elaine and Nigel, both looking deliriously happy with all the popularity the public had shown of the long awaited film. She made her way back to his side and heard Darien’s answer to a question a reported had asked him. She could only guess it concerned their alleged relationship from Darien’s reply.

“…currently working out through some kinks like all relationships, but I gather it is safe to say we’re definitely a couple.” He winked charmingly at the female reporter. “A couple of what, I’m not sure. But definitely a couple.”

While the woman laughed prettily at his witty reply before moving on, Serena’s temper boiled over. She clenched her small hand around his larger arm, knowing all her strength wouldn’t move him, much less harm him in any way. He looked surprised to see her there, but pleased nonetheless.

“Mina, I was just—“

“Save it, you scumbag,” she seethed, smiling for the hundreds of onlookers. “Didn’t I explicitly say less than thirty minutes ago exactly what I wanted, and didn’t want, said? And did you not just disregard my wishes?”

“Mina—“

“Don’t ‘Mina’ me, you lying, sleazy—“ she had lost whatever modicum of a smile she had to begin with and tension was pulsing through her entire body.

“We’ll talk about this later,” he interrupted, taking her hand and leading her through a maze of people and into a large building where the movie would be shown.

“No,” Serena tightened her grip on his hand and pulled him through the building into a small, dusty room used for storage. “We’ll talk about this now.” While I still have my anger, she completed silently.

“As much as I like the idea of us alone in a secluded room, I really think we’d better get back before Nigel wonders where his leading actors disappeared to.”

“You cheap, low-down—“

He sighed heavily, as if his patience was running out. “Mina, we really don’t have time to have a session in anger management, all right?”

“Not only are you a selfish pig, you’re a lying weasel!” She walked over to him and punctuated her words by jabbing him in the chest with a newly manicured finger.

His voice became cross, “Look, if you would like to inform me the reason you are behaving like a six year old instead of hurling insults at me, it would save both of us and abundance of time.”

Serena gave out a short bark of laughter. “This is unbelievable. You are unbelievable. Not only do you blatantly go against my wishes, you lie to a reporter about me, and then you play dumb! Unbelievable!”

“I did not lie; there is something between us.”

“Yes, and it’s called ‘nothing’!” She threw her hands in the air and walked to the other side of the empty room. “Would you get over yourself for just a second to see that not every woman can’t help herself from swooning at your very presence?”

He gave a pretense of being miffed. “Well, maybe not every woman, but surely a vast majority—“

“And that’s the other thing!” She interrupted. “You can never be serious—everything is a joke. Well, I’m serious, Mr. Eddington.”

His face turned one hundred and eighty degrees in two seconds flat. Gone was the teasing smile and dancing eyes that had made her unwittingly laugh although she wanted to do anything but. Replacing the disarming joker was a man whose face was icy and somber, his eyes were solid, all signs of warmth and humor gone. His mouth was drawn into a tight line as he stared at her from across the room. In a few short, quick strides he had covered the safe distance between them and was now an inch away from her, bending his head so she was forced to look at his hard angled face.

“And I suppose you think it’s easy for me wanting so much of you all the time, all the while knowing you can’t stand me. And I guess you think it’s perfectly easy for me to deal with how I feel when I’m holding you, kissing you? Well, it isn’t, all right? In fact, it’s torture. There, you happy?” He was breathing harshly, his chest moving rapidly.

Serena took a step back, unprepared for the emotion he had shown. He couldn’t feel that way about her. The same why she felt about him. Because she was leaving soon and she would never see him again. She should let him think she hated him and be done with it. But somehow she couldn’t, because she saw him as a human—just as afraid of rejection and just as vulnerable as the next man—maybe even more so.

“I never said I couldn’t stand you,” she finally said, unconsciously distancing herself away from him even more, allowing herself precious time to think and sort through her muddled state.

“You don’t have to,” he said wryly, gesturing to the steps she had taken away from him and mistaking them for repulsion.

She automatically began to correct him, “That’s not you, it’s…me.” She finished lamely.

“That’s original.”

“Look, you’re not the only one this is all new too, okay?” She raised her voice indignantly, rubbing the growing goosebumps on her bare arms. “So save the snide comments.”

Without hesitation, Darien lost his big, black jacket and placed it on her slender shoulders, then moved away stiffly, as if touching her was something he was forbidden to do. For some reason, his reaction caused her stomach to turn and she found herself wanting to convince him she wasn’t repelled by him—quite the opposite.

Instead, she was silent. “We’re going to miss the entire premiere,” she said softly, moving past him toward the door.

In one deft move, he extended his hand to stop her, catching the cloth-clad elbow. She turned to face him curiously. “What—“ his voice cracked and Serena stared up at him in surprise. He cleared his throat and began again. “What is it about me?” His meaning was clear and the hurt was apparent in his normally impassive, blue eyes that Serena’s heart went out.

“Nothing. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you,” she implored, shaking her head slowly. “Any woman would be lucky to have you.” Serena smiled wistfully, feeling moisture prick the back of her eyes.

He shifted his position to grab both her shoulders and shake them slightly. “Then what is it?” He asked, frustration apparent in his voice.

“Me,” she laughed humorlessly. “There must be something wrong with me.”

He pulled her to him tightly. “Don’t say that,” he said fiercely. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, you hear me?” He grew soft. “You’re perfect.”

They stayed like that a while and Serena was content to let herself believe for one, brief moment that everything was all right. That they loved each other and this was their love story—complete with a happy ending. She was more than happy to believe that Darien knew he was holding her and not her sister. But then his deep voice cut into her illusion and reality sunk in with his next words.

“I think—I think I’m in love with you,”—Serena’s heart rose to her throat at those beautifully humble words coming from such a proud, strong man—“Mina.” Her sister’s name. The same heart that had floated upward, plummeted down as her betrayal of her pretense washed over her in large waves.

She pushed away from him, a tight feeling in her throat and a surge of heat in her eyes that let her know tears would soon follow. “I’m sorry,” she said achingly. “I’m so sorry.” And with that, she fled the dark room, leaving a bewildered Darien in her wake.


Serena hailed a cab and waited until she was safely in the backseat to let the gates open. One tear trickled down and then another and another, until she was crying harder than she had ever done before—harder than when she had seen her mother die on a hospital bed—harder then when she had seen her father lose to the fight against his cancer. Pretty soon she was sobbing. Loud, hysterical sobs that alarmed the cab driver in front of her.

“Hey, lady, ya alright?” The cabbie asked, curiosity obvious in his voice. Serena doubted he truly cared for her welfare; it was flagrant from his eager tone he was merely looking for an intriguing story to pass the time at this late hour.

“Fine,” she answered softly, and gathered her purse as she saw the bright lights of the hotel coming closer. She wiped her face quickly; no need for the entire world to see “Mina Kinsley” crying her heart out on the supposedly magical night of the premiere. “Thanks.” She muttered idly, tossing him a few crumpled bills and turning before he pulled away into the dark night with a loud screech, off to find another stranded, sobbing woman who needed a ride.

She trudged up the stairs dejectedly, wondering if escaping tonight was an option for her. The thought was more than tempting, but she knew she would never have the courage to do that to her sister. The entire plan may be her only choice of refuge, but it would leave Mina in a convoluted mess filled with people asking pesky questions and Nigel castigating her ferociously.

Once inside her hotel room, she ordered enough room service to feed three people and plopped down on the couch, suddenly too tired to even change out of her formal wear. Instead, she managed to kick off her shoes with leaden limbs and stare into space for an unaccounted amount of time. She couldn’t bring herself to cry, it required too much energy—energy that had been zapped out of her the moment she arrived to the safe asylum of her room. So she lay down in the sitting room, gazing up at the ceiling, wondering why this was happening to her. It wasn’t fair, it just wasn’t fair.

She loved him, she had known that for quite some time, but after seeing that new side of him, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind. She loved him—and he loved Mina. She repeated his husky words over and over in her mind, punishing herself further by remembering the way he had said her sister’s name. He had never once said ‘Serena’. And he never would. Because to him she did not exist and that final thought was her undoing. With a whimper, she let her hands fly to cover her face to stop the inevitable tears.

But a doorbell impeded them and Serena vaguely remembered ordering food. She got up listlessly, ordering her indolent limbs to move her to the door. After what seemed like twenty rings, she finally managed to open the door and nearly swung it back shut when she saw who was on the other end.

He quickly wedged one polished shoe in between the door and the frame, making all attempts at blocking his entrance futile. He slipped in the room and shut the door behind him, allowing Serena time to move quickly back into the sitting room…and as far away from him as she could. Her temporary torpor was extinguished in light of her sudden quandary.

But as he entered the room after her, he didn’t look the least bit furious at her hasty departure. His handsome face was soft and benign, his eyes emollient. “Why did you run?” He asked finally.

“I—I,” Serena stuttered, unsure of herself and what to say that could possibly mollify him. “I don’t know.”

“You know, Mina. You really do confuse me.” He laughed shortly, running a hand through his dark hair. His bow tie was hanging loose and his first shirt button was undone. “You’re an enigma, do you know that? You say one thing, then do the exact opposite. One minute you’re hot, the next cold.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to hear his valid words. “I know…I—I’m sorry.”

“And stop saying that!” He barked in such a harsh voice that was the complete antithesis of his earlier tone, she jumped involuntarily. He must have seen her fearful reaction and alleviated the callousness in his voice. “Just tell me whatever I’ve done to offend you. I’d like to know so I can free myself from any grievances you seem to hold against me.”

“You haven’t done anything.” She wanted to urge him to realize it was her, there was nothing to exculpate him from, but he wouldn’t understand that and Serena knew it didn’t sound very plausible.

“Don’t give me that,” he said sharply. “You’re polar opposites with me and I want to know why.”

“I don’t know why,” she answered with a burst of emotion she didn’t know she had. “Happy? I don’t know. You make me so incredibly confused, I just—I just don’t know anything anymore.” She sank down on the nearby sofa after her nearly lucid tirade, her energy spent.

She heard him sign heavily and felt the weight shift on the couch as he joined her there, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her to him. She stayed in the warm comfort, allowing herself to relax, if only for a short time. He propped his chin on her blonde head and deftly undid the intricate twist it had taken a good thirty minutes to craft. He stroked her thick hair for some time, soothing her with the languid caress.

“Mina,” he began tenderly, but she stiffened before he had even gotten the word out. Pushing herself out of his grasp, she tucked the waves of hair framing her slender face behind her ears and stood up. “What?” He asked, exasperated and all signs of patience gone.

She wanted to tell him right then and there. She wanted him to hold her afterward and tell her it didn’t matter because he loved her—not Mina. She could tell him now, quietly and concisely. Then explain her true feelings and let him hold her and let him tell her how much he loved her for her—not a name. But she couldn’t.

“You should go,” she finally whispered, turning her back to him and biting her lip to desist its trembling.

“No.” It was incontrovertible.

She remained away from him, not wanting to see his frustrated face. “I want you to go.” She persisted, trying unsuccessfully to make her voice unattached and stolid.

“No, you don’t.” It wasn’t the supercilious tone he had shared with her earlier while teasing her, it was matter-of-fact and much to her disconcertion, true.

But the level—headed part of her knew he shouldn’t be here—this close to her. Because if he stayed, she would break down and tell him everything. How much she loved him, how she hated herself for her betrayal against him, how life was like before him. Everything.

In her deep train of thought, she hadn’t heard nor felt him come closer to her and was properly surprised when she flicked up her eyes to see him standing before her, gazing down at her red eyes concernedly.

She pinched her eyes shut and dugs her fingernails into her palms convulsively. “Please, Darien.” She whispered hoarsely. “Just go.”

He ignored her pleas as if he hadn’t heard them—or chose not to. “What’s wrong?” He demanded.

“Nothing,” she insisted, turning away from him.

He clamped his hands on her shoulders to keep her in place. “That’s a crapload and we both know it.”

“Let go of me,” she said, struggling for calmness she knew she didn’t possess.

“I love you—“ he began and then stopped at the sight of her hung head and slim shoulders shaking. “What the—“

“Please, don’t. Please don’t say that,” she cried, collapsing against him and sobbing into his bleached shirt.

“Why?” He asked dumbly, mutely noting her tears were most definitely not of joy.

“Because you can’t—you just can’t!” She shoved herself away from him and took a step back, hand curled about her throat.

“Can’t what? Love you?” He asked incredulously, when she turned her head away he knew his answer. “Well, that’s just too bad, Mina. Because I do—and I don’t care how many times I have to say it until you here me!”

She grew frantic, hysterically crying, “What do I have to do to make you leave? Tell you I don’t care about you? Well, fine, Darien. I don’t! I don’t care one iota about you! You mean absolutely nothing to me!” She was a quivering mass of tears and emotion, shaking so hard he thought the room might start to quake as well.

Maybe two hours ago, those words would have cut deep, probably because he might have been inclined to believe them. But one didn’t show this much passion and emotion to someone he was indifferent to. He covered the distance between them and simply held her, paying no heed to her struggles.

“Just go,” she whispered achingly, before resting the hands that had thumped on his still chest. “Please.” She made no move to turn away from his embrace and Darien took that as a sign.

“I can’t.” His voice was so painstakingly coarse and tremulous that Serena had to lift her head and look into his mercurial eyes. “Do you love me?” The words were quiet, but Serena heard the shakiness that belied her previous opinion of him being a cold, untouchable man with an impenetrable shield. He was vulnerable, she realized as she stared up at him, and just like every other human, afraid of rejection. And her love for him grew to such an alarming rate, she found it hard to speak. They simply stared at each other for a full thirty seconds, Serena dimly aware that she should say something.

She opened her mouth, prepared to deny it, but at the last moment she made the mistake of looking into his eyes and watching the hesitant specks of silver that were open and sensitive. And she couldn’t lie, not even to preserve both their lives in the long run. She simply looked at him, conscious that her feelings were evident her eyes and expressive face. And he saw her unspoken words and tightened his grip on her jubilantly, kissing her temple, her nose, her cheeks, her forehead…

“God,” he muttered hoarsely. “How I love you.”

She pulled away from his hold just far enough to look at his chiseled face, shoving the nagging doubts about the future away. She gave him a watery smile and stood on her toes to kiss him with a passion that surprised them both. And when he began to kiss her back, she successfully blocked all the whispers of her lies and deceit out of her mind. She would deal with them all tomorrow. But for now, she loved him, and he was hers.


Serena woke up the next day feeling the most rested she had in years. Her cheek brushed against the material of a man’s shirt, and she looked up to see Darien’s sleeping face. She smiled as she quietly detangled herself from him, straightening her formal dress she had yet to take off. She gazed at his peaceful face with a soft smile, staring with awe at how in sleep he looked untroubled, placid, and even boyish. The hard lines that were apparent when he had talked about his unfortunate youth disappeared while he was resting.

Pushing away from his sleeping figure on the couch, she hummed lightly while remembering the previous evening. They had danced and talked and eaten and then simply held each other, finally falling asleep together.

Her face grew somber as she contemplated what was ahead. She was no fool, she knew that today she would have to tell him and that he would be angry. But she also knew that she loved him—and that made the risk of his formidable temper worth it. Mustering up her courage so she would be ready when he awoke, she set out to remedy the task of breakfast, calling room service yet again.

Showering and dressing quickly in a pair of pressed slacks and a fitted black sweater, she opened the door to the sitting room and found him stirring awake.

“Good morning,” she said cheerfully, smiling unconsciously at his rumpled hair and disheveled appearance. Biting down nervousness, she prevaricated the inevitable situation further at the sight of his large figure coming toward her. “Ah, ah, ah,” she warned as he made a move to hug her. “Shave first.” She admonished with a teasing glance, gesturing to his stubble.

Smiling a lopsided grin, he rolled his eyes and quickly rubbed his course cheek against her soft one. Squealing in surprise, Serena pushed him into the bedroom she had just occupied. “I don’t have any clothes that would fit you, but there are extra toiletries in the first drawer of the night table.”

He was almost through the door before turning around to look at her. “Food, woman.” He growled in a tone that was given away by the sparkling tenderness in his cobalt eyes.

She laughed while he closed the door and then suddenly ceased. The night dresser…

It was where she kept all of Mina’s letters and postcards, opened and displayed for anyone to see…and find the truth. Not losing a minute, she ran from the kitchenette to the bedroom and flung open the door to see Darien, poring over the private letters she knew he had a right to read. He looked up at her over the sheaf of brightly colored postcards and loose-leaf papers, shock and disbelief written over his bright eyes.

“Serena?” He said gruffly, a moment of pain was evident to her before that cold mask she had grown accustomed to and hated settled over his handsome face. She shivered at the sound of her name on his lips for the first time and desperately wished it was filled with tender longing instead of spiteful hate at her ruse.

They stared at each other in silence, each struck dumb by such acute pain, time seemed lost to them. Darien swallowed harshly, wanting desperately to throw something; strike someone. He wanted to turn his back on her and walk away, but he wanted—needed answers to questions about her fabricated lies and brilliant coup.

As he stared at her beautiful, wan face filled with unshed tears, wrath and agony poured through his veins like acid. He wanted to pull her into his arms and beseech her to tell him it wasn't true; he wanted to pour his soul into her until there wasn't any room for deceit or lies. He wanted to strangle her for her treachery; to murder her with is own hands.

He wanted to die.