She remembered the conversation they’d had when he’d queried her decision to be reclusive—his wry comment, “Billionaires get to be performing monkeys, too. The difference between us, Erin, is that I’ve learnt to live with the zoo and not let it control me.”
The criticism had stung. “I just don’t like it, Peter. Being paraded around like a trophy, people sniping at you because you’re lucky to be successful at what you do, and wanting you to give them the formula as though you can reduce your creativity to easily copied bits and pieces.”
“But you like control,” he’d replied seriously. “Withdrawing is the most negative form of it. Negative for you, too.”
She hadn’t liked his perception of her decision not to court attention. It made her sound like a coward when what she’d been doing was avoiding the feeling of being a victim of other people’s interests.
But he hadn’t thought her cowardly. There’d been understanding in his eyes as he’d told her, “I was born to it, Erin. I had parents who taught me how to deal with it, how to let it flow past me and not let it tear at my sense of the person I am inside. I wasn’t suddenly hit with celebrity status and all that goes with it the way you were. But if you let me help you, I can and will widen your world and make it easier for you to ride through all that you hide from so it doesn’t affect anything that’s really important to you.”
Her prince…rescuing her from her ivory tower…and he had.
She turned to him now, smiling her appreciation of the person he was, loving him.
He smiled back, gesturing to the window of the limousine on his side of the passenger seat. “You’re okay with this wild bunch of spectators? Not nervous?”
“It’s a grand occasion. I don’t mind them sharing it with us.” She squeezed the hand that was holding hers. “Besides, I always feel okay when you’re with me.”
He laughed. “We definitely click on that point, my darling.” His eyes simmered with desire as he added, “You’re going to knock their eyes out when we walk the red carpet.”
She laughed, perfectly happy to have been his doll this time. He’d insisted on having her dress especially designed and made for her—a gorgeous emerald-green satin gown, to which he’d added a fabulous emerald necklace with earrings to match.
“Thank you,” she said. “You’ve made me look like a star.”
“You are a star, Erin. Always will be to me.”
She believed him. Everything he did for her made her feel special, loved and cherished as she had always craved to be.
The limousine came to a halt. The door on Peter’s side was opened.
“Showtime!” he tossed at her with a grin, and stepped out, ready to take her arm as she emerged from the back seat.
There was a sea of cameras, photographers yelling for their attention, television people wanting a quick on-the-spot interview. Erin smiled through it all.
They were ushered into the theatre to take their seats beside Zack Freeman and his lovely wife, Catherine, who were already there. Erin had become friends with both of them during the making of the film, and it was great to share the excitement of being here with them.
The people, the dresses, the amusing comments of the Master of Ceremonies, the thank-you speeches after each award was given out…Erin enjoyed all of it, though she couldn’t stop her nerves from getting quivery when the nominations for Best Animated Movie were being read out.
Clips from each movie were shown and her heart swelled with pride as she watched hers—the warrior king of Mirrima, summoning his winged horses to rescue the men who’d been trapped by the evil enemy on a mountaintop. The horses looked fantastic, their gorgeous wings fully spread as they soared towards the mountain. It was a beautiful movie, and it would still be beautiful, even if the award went to one of the others.
“And the winner is…”
She held her breath.
“…The Mythical Horses of Mirrima. Creative director, Zack Freeman, producer, Peter Ramsey, author and screenplay writer, Erin Lavelle.”
All three of them erupted from their seats in wild jubilation—hugs, kisses, excitement running rife. Erin was grateful she had the two men holding her arms in support as they walked to the stage. Her legs were shaking. Zack, who’d done it all before, accepted the award and made a lovely thank you speech, saying, with a nod of appreciation to her, that he’d been privileged to be given a great story, because without one, a great movie could not be made.
Someone in the audience started shouting, “Author, author…”
The cry was taken up around the whole theatre and the Master of Ceremonies beckoned her forward, offering her the microphone. Erin was paralysed.