The Billionaire's Captive Bride(26)

It amazed her that so many people cared enough to wait hours to catch a  glimpse of their favourite celebrities. Even children had nagged their  parents into coming to see her, simply because she was the author of  stories they loved. Before she'd married Peter, she'd hated feeling like  a performing monkey in a zoo, but under his guidance, she'd learnt not  to mind being stared at.

Just be yourself. Whatever buzz other people get out of seeing you  doesn't have to touch what you are inside, Erin. Think of it as  brightening their day. Like a rainbow. That's not a bad thing to do.

She'd even done a few interviews to promote the movie, managing them  quite well because she'd followed his advice of saying only what she  wanted to say and side-stepping the questions aimed at getting out of  her personal stuff that she didn't want to give.

Take control away from them if it's not going the way you want.

Peter was so good at it. She'd learnt an enormous amount from him about  how to deal with situations that had made her shrink inside herself or  want to run away from in the past. Having him at her side made a huge  difference. She wasn't alone. And he was an extremely intimidating  protector-too big a man for anyone to get offside with him.

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.

"Go on" Peter urged.

"I haven't got anything prepared," she said in sheer panic at the  thought of taking this huge spotlight with not only a glittering crowd  of stars watching her, but probably millions of television viewers  around the world, as well.

"Speak from your heart. You can't go wrong," Peter assured her, giving her a gentle push forward.

Her feet somehow floated over to the podium. Her trembling hand managed  to clutch the microphone. Her mind was in a frenzy, reciting, Speak from  your heart, like a mantra.

"Thank you. Thank you very much," she said as she tried to find the  right words. The audience quietened down and finally other words came to  her. "It's a marvellous thing for an author to see her story come to  life in such wonderful colour and movement, and for that I will always  be grateful to Zack Freeman for his creative artistry. But most of all, I  want to thank my husband, Peter Ramsey, who was the driving force  behind making it happen. I haven't told him this, but while I was  writing The Mythical Horses of Mirrima, he was very much in my mind and I  based the character of the warrior king on what I thought of him. I  love this movie … "

She turned and smiled at Peter. " … and I love this man, more than I can  ever tell him. He is the king of my heart and always will be." Then she  beamed at the audience, sending out a rainbow of love to everyone.  "That's all I have to say."

The applause was deafening. She handed back the microphone and almost  fled the stage with Peter hugging her tightly to his side. "And you're  the queen of mine," he whispered in her ear as they made their way back  to their seats.

She sighed, a blissful sigh of happiness.

Ever after, she thought.

She would have it with Peter.

They would both make it so.