Illusions of Love - By Michelle Betham Page 0,3

was happy now. Happier than she’d been in a long time. And what she wanted, more than anything, was for her best friend to feel the same.

CHAPTER 2

Michael Walsh needed to work, and at fifty-eight-years-old he was showing no signs of slowing down any time soon. He needed to keep busy. He’d never been one to sit around and wait for things to come to him; he’d always been the one to seek out the opportunities. And the opportunity to work with India, his beautiful, super-talented ex-wife, wasn’t something he was going to ignore.

He was certain that this soon-to-begin-shooting Las Vegas-based romantic comedy would be a sure-fire box office winner. When he’d first seen the script he’d known there was only one actress who could play the main female lead, and studio bosses couldn’t have agreed more. So they’d banked on him to make sure he got India on board, because this movie had come at a time when everyone was only too aware of the amount of work being put her way, now that she’d finished filming ‘Covert One’ and was making a return to the big screen. She had options, a lot of options, but Michael had been determined to have her in his movie. To have the chance to work with her again, to direct her in the kind of movie she did better than anyone else out there right now. There was no way that opportunity was going to pass him by. He had a major studio backing his movie, and they’d wanted India too. Because, with her leading the cast, and Michael directing, that was movie gold, right there. That was movie gold. And she hadn’t hesitated in saying yes.

But this movie wouldn’t just be the first movie India had made in a while, it would also be the first time India and Michael had worked together since the near-fatal accident that had nearly killed her just over a year ago. Her first movie since all that had happened. So Michael had gone one better than just making sure India was on board. He’d also managed to secure Reece Brogan – India’s very famous movie star dad – to star alongside her as her on-screen father. The studio had been ecstatic, and Michael had become the hero, guaranteeing his position as one of Hollywood’s most sought-after and powerful directors.

He was finally in a place in which he felt comfortable, after years of not knowing where he really belonged. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He’d always known where he’d belonged. She just hadn’t wanted him.

‘Michael, honey, you know I’m going to India’s tonight, don’t you?’

He swung round as Layla, his thirty-three-year-old actress and TV presenter girlfriend entered the room, all blond hair and prettiness, exuding Chanel No.5 as she walked over to him. But it wasn’t really her that had caught his attention. It was the mention of his ex-wife’s name.

‘Erm, yeah… yeah, of course. You… you told me this morning.’

She narrowed her eyes as she looked at him. ‘Are you okay? You look tired.’

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, looking forward to a night on his own with a bottle of bourbon and the TV. He’d be glad of the peace. He needed to think, because there was a lot to think about before he headed off to Vegas.

‘I’m fine, Layla. You just… you just enjoy yourself. Have a good night.’

Layla didn’t take her eyes off him for a few minutes, even when he’d turned away and started gathering together the pile of papers he had strewn all over the kitchen table. She wasn’t stupid. Just the mention of India’s name and his whole demeanour changed. An award winning actor he might be, but he wasn’t good enough to hide his feelings where his ex-wife was concerned.

Layla had long since gotten used to being second best in his life, because to compete with India wasn’t something she had the energy to do anymore. But she wasn’t sure how much longer she could carry on like this. She’d lived in India’s shadow for far too long now and it was quite obvious that Michael wasn’t going to take their relationship any further. But she was only thirty-three. She wanted to get married, she wanted to have a family, and that was never going to happen with Michael. Even though she loved him. Far more than he’d ever loved her.

‘You’re invited you know,’ she said, fastening her watch onto her wrist, still watching him