A Villain for Christmas (The Holyoake Christmas Series, Book 2)

A Star Rises

The Reverend laughed softly. Most of the film crew were still gawking at him.

"I'll consider it a compliment, Ms. Bondarenko." Holyoake gave the woman a small ceremonious bow. "Oh, Federico," he said, turning to the actor. "Nana asked me to remind you that you're expected at her cottage at six tomorrow. She's worried you won't have enough time to get everything done."

Now the audience was divided in two groups: those still ogling the vicar, and those gaping at the actor in shock.

Billie whipped her head towards Dair. Is he not going to answer to this either? The actor hesitated for a second - and then nodded to his relative.

"Hey, Rev, what's taking you so long?" another male voice called.

Billie saw James Whitlaw saunter towards them - and then Rhys Holyoake showed up from the narrow corridor leading towards the lavatories. Mid-way, he turned his head and shouted to his brother by the bar. 

"Sam, grab more napkins for me, would you?"

Sam Holyoake was the shortest and the least hench of the men in his family; but he was still over 185 tall - and fit enough to model some rugged, outdoorsy clothing in a men's magazine.

Billie realised that the four men must have been having supper together.

"Hiya." Rhys flashed them with a wide grin, stopping next to Whitlaw. "Fredo." He waved at Dair. "Oh, Nana wanted you to–"

"I've already mentioned it," his Reverend cousin said with a soft smile.

"Your napkins." Sam Holyoake approached them and shoved a stack of paper squares towards his brother. "Did you let Federico know–"

"I did," the other two Holyoakes said in unison, and James Whitlaw guffawed.

Billie shrank in her chair, overwhelmed by second-hand embarrassment, although this 'totty traffic jam' had nothing to do with her. Her table companions erupted into introductions and a storm of questions, all females and two men suddenly acutely interested in the local life. Billie peeked and saw that Dair was calmly drinking his wine. Clearly, being related to these macho men didn't bother him anymore, unlike all those years ago.

"Oh hey, Syb, didn't see you there!" Apparently, Whitlaw had finally noticed her. She nodded to him, avoiding meeting his eyes. "So, you two have reconnected, innit?" He waved his glass of lager in the air, pointing between Billie and Dair. "Ace!"

Oh god.

The last thing that Billie ever wanted to experience - that is, even a minuscule of public interest - was immediately directed at her from those at the table.

"Oh right, it was her all those years ago!" Rhys added fuel to the flames. "I couldn't remember which sister it was."

Billie threw a terrified glance towards the entrance door to the pub, seriously considering bolting - manners be damned! - when said door opened, and a tall man walked in. It took Billie less than a second to recognise him.

Archie Billingsley.

188 cm. Dark brown hair; grey-blue eyes. Famous for his diverse roles and his immaculate acting skill. Often praised in the media for his refined and dignified, yet approachable disposition; uncommon intelligence; and charitable nature. Equally loved by casual viewers of his action films, and bookworms, fond of his high-brow roles. Birth name: Gary Beaver.

Alright, no one is perfect.

A ticket to Billingsley's play - at the time he had been in Chekhov's Ivanov - had been the only luxury Billie had allowed herself since the day she'd left Fleckney to receive her Library Studies degree. She'd sat in her cheap seat, hardly breathing, mesmerised by the man's, quoting The Independent, 'incandescent performance.'

And there he is! In his stylish peacoat, over a black hoodie; dark grey jeans; a stripy scarf; and brainy specs!

He stepped inside and stopped, looking around, probably trying to locate the crew. Billie twitched and unconsciously lifted her hand to get his attention. You're an idiot, Sybil Harewicke. Why would he look your way? No one ever does.

"What is it?" Rhys Holyoake asked her. Did he think she raised her hand like a pupil in class?

"His Majesty is here," Ms. Moretti announced and suddenly threw her arms around Dair's neck. "Let's see what he does if we pretend we don't see him."

Billie stared at her, and the blonde burst into laughter.

"Watch him make the entrance," she said to Billie. "And now he's dying inside that no one appreciates it. Also, doesn't he kinda pale in comparison with your compatriots, Ms. Harewicke?" the blonde asked cheekily.

Billie glanced at the actor, past the Holyoakes and a Whitlaw.

Damn the local genetic pool.

"No, he doesn't," Billie answered stubbornly. "Mr. Billingsley is impossible not to notice."

"Watch out, Eric," Ms. Moretti murmured and tickled Dair's ear with her manicured index finger. "You've got a competition."

"I'm a big fan of Mr. Billingsley's acting talent," Billie affirmed. "I have no interest in him as a person."

"It would be the wisest," the publicist said. "If only it were true..."

By now, a small crowd of punters had surrounded the actor. He was smiling, nodding, and answering politely. A few notebooks had popped up, and he was giving out autographs left and right.

"You should shave off your beard, honey," Ms. Moretti said and scratched Dair under his chin. "You'd be recognised more often. Don't you want... this?" She pointed at Billingsley with her eyes.

Dair took a gander at the other actor - and then turned to the blonde and shook his head. Their noses almost bumped, and she giggled.

"Silly man."

Billie reminded herself that the Archie Billingsley was in the same room as her, and surely he was more worthy of her heed than these two lovebirds. She tore her eyes off them - and stared straight at Billingsley.

"Evening," the film star greeted them - and Billie gave out a croak.

His gaze wasn't on her, of course. His jaw set, his lips pressed in a tense line, he was glaring at the two people to Billie's left.

Oh.

Everyone else said their hello's back to him, while no response came from Dair and Moretti - probably because the blonde had pulled herself up, arched her back, and caught Dair's mouth in a passionate kiss.