By Tilly Bagshawe
To the skin global, Siena McMahon has a fairytale existence. Born right into a nice Hollywood dynasty - granddaughter of forties motion picture legend Duke McMahon, daughter of billionaire manufacturer Pete McMahon - she is blessed with good looks, brains and wealth, a proverbial princess.
But in the back of the wrought iron gates of the McMahon's sprawling Hollywood mansion, lifestyles is way from chuffed. The McMahons are certain jointly no longer via love, yet through ambition, greed and intrigue. whilst a gold-digging English aristocrat worms her manner into their lives and their domestic, the fault strains within the feuding relations are blown correct open. so that it will safeguard Siena from the fall-out, her mom and dad pack her off to an English boarding institution. yet Siena has a burning ambition - she is decided to turn into a Hollywood superstar, simply as her grandfather acknowledged she may be.
One manner or one other, Siena McMahon goes to come back to l. a. and take town of goals by way of hurricane. And woe betide a person who will get in her way...
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One of the resorts, isn’t it? ’ She essayed a self-deprecating shrug of the shoulders. ’ But not on the breadline either, Harry reflected. A detached house in the best part of Formby would sell for five times the price of a flat in Empire Dock. ‘You ought to take care in a place like that. ’ ‘Just like downtown Liverpool, in fact,’ she said. They both laughed. ‘You could say that only the failures stick around here,’ he said. ‘I had a client only last week who was arrested after leaving his wallet and all his credit cards in the building society he’d tried to hold up.
A thin red thread appeared. ’ ‘No, no,’ she laughed. ‘We ask you not to take the newspapers into the studio. The rustles would have all our listeners reaching for the telephone - or, even worse, the tuning dial. So when you see a piece you want to talk about, use the blade to cut it out. Simpler than scissors. ’ She bustled out, leaving him alone in the Radio Liverpool hospitality lounge. Fish in a huge tank stared at him with a dulleyed solemnity, in striking contrast to the ingratiating smirks of the local celebrities whose photographs lined the walls.
Chapter Six ‘Take this,’ said Sophie Wilkins the next morning, handing Harry a razor blade. He drew the sharp metal edge across the palm of his hand and felt a tingling. A thin red thread appeared. ’ ‘No, no,’ she laughed. ‘We ask you not to take the newspapers into the studio. The rustles would have all our listeners reaching for the telephone - or, even worse, the tuning dial. So when you see a piece you want to talk about, use the blade to cut it out. Simpler than scissors. ’ She bustled out, leaving him alone in the Radio Liverpool hospitality lounge.
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