The Best Movie Actor In Hollywood!

Chapter 431

Bright sunlight bathed the plaza beyond the fountain as Matthew's newly hired professional chauffeur steered a large, black Mercedes G-Wagon to a stop at the foot of the front steps, waiting for his passengers to emerge.

After about ten minutes, Eva emerged first, dressed in a chic black pantsuit. Matthew, playing the gracious host, walked her out. As they neared the G-Wagon, he stepped ahead and opened the passenger door for her.

Eva set her handbag inside before turning back to Matthew, a thoughtful look clouding her dark eyes.

“I’m flying back to France the day after tomorrow,” Eva announced, her gaze steady on Matthew. “I imagine I’ll be there for quite a while. Call me, if you ever make it over.”

Matthew leaned in and gently kissed her forehead. “I’ll be sure to look you up when I do.”

Eva nodded and turned to get into the car. Matthew moved to close the door behind her, but paused and added, “You’re always welcome at Horner Manor.”

Eva offered a small smile. “I hope you’re still a welcoming host by then.”

With that, she reached for the door handle, but Matthew remembered something. “Oh, and don’t forget the charity dinner I’m hosting on the twenty-fifth of next month.”

Eva nodded deliberately. “I’ll be there.”

Matthew shut the door. The big, black G-Wagon pulled away slowly, crossing the small plaza between the fountain and the house. It turned onto the long driveway leading to the main gates and proceeded toward the edge of the estate.Matthew stood on the steps overlooking the plaza, watching the G-Wagon recede into the distance. He had no intention of going back inside just yet. He couldn't be sure if this was his last night with Eva, and the thought lingered.

The G-Wagon soon vanished at the estate's entrance. Matthew turned and walked across the plaza to his left, entering the gardens that Lister so meticulously maintained. He followed a stone path through their center, where freshly planted flowers bloomed in a riot of color. They grew to a uniform height, their vibrant heads nestled against the lush foliage like lovers whispering secrets.

They weren't expensive flowers; a man like Matthew didn't need a garden full of rare blossoms to feel rich. These were Birds of Paradise, a common sight all over Los Angeles—the city's official flower.

Beyond the gardens, Matthew climbed a set of granite steps to a large terrace flanking the villa. It was the highest point on the entire estate, a converted scenic overlook at the crest of the hill, offering a commanding view that swept over half of Los Angeles.

Matthew stood at the edge of the terrace, his hands gripping the stone balustrade as he gazed into the distance. He could just make out the faint silhouettes of the Century City skyscrapers.

More than seven years had passed since he'd “arrived” in Los Angeles in early 1999. Now, in 2006, he had finally clawed his way up from the very bottom. He had reached a place where he could literally stand on high ground and look down on his domain.

Money? He'd made tens of millions of dollars. Actresses? He’d already bedded quite a few.

“What kind of life was this?” Matthew asked himself, and the answer came quickly and honestly. “A damn good one.”

And if he had his way, he'd make even more money and sleep with even more actresses.

After all, he wasn't yet earning what Tom Cruise pulled in annually, and the number of actresses and models he'd been with couldn't hold a candle to the number Leonardo DiCaprio ran through in a single year.

“There’s a gap,” Matthew sighed. “A huge one.”

With money, fame, status, and power came the right to enjoy the spoils. What else had he been working his ass off for all these years? It certainly wasn't for the sake of some artistic or moral fulfillment.

Hollywood superstars had plenty of vices to choose from—alcohol and drugs being the most common—but Matthew's head was still clear on that front. Those things offered a fleeting high, but they were guaranteed to destroy his future.

Beautiful, sexy women, however, were another matter entirely. A beautiful woman was a feast for the eyes. He could fantasize about her, pursue her, conquer her, and finally, make love to her, satisfying a whole spectrum of desires—from the purely physical to the deeply psychological.

Especially women like Rachel McAdams, Jessica Alba, Scarlett Johansson, Eva Green, and Alexandra Daddario. Once, they were just names in gossip columns and faces in photographs, impossibly out of reach. But that was then.

Besides, what normal man, given the opportunity, wouldn't want to pursue beautiful women?

Matthew wished every other man in Hollywood would just drop dead, leaving him free to explore the philosophies of life with a great many more of its actresses.

Decades from now, wouldn't it be a hell of an achievement to look back and know he'd slept with all of Hollywood's most beautiful actresses when they were in their prime?

For the sake of this grand ambition, he had even resolved to extinguish the budding feelings he had for Charlize.

Matthew had never lumped Charlize in with the likes of Rachel McAdams, Jessica Alba, or Scarlett Johansson. She wasn't an ideal partner in bed—a bit sexually frigid, frankly, and one of those women who looked far better dressed than undressed—but in his mind, Charlize was the only one who felt like girlfriend material.

As for the others, even if he tried to make one of them a girlfriend, the realities of Hollywood and the nature of the acting profession itself made one thing certain: sooner or later, he'd be cheated on.

Anyone who thought wealth and power could keep a woman faithful need only look at the royal families of Europe for a reality check.

And Hollywood actresses were far more liberated than the noblewomen of antiquity.

It was common enough to swap partners, the way he and Leonardo DiCaprio did. But expecting a woman to fall genuinely in love with him while he maintained a polyamorous lifestyle? That was pure fantasy.

This was Hollywood, not Mormonism.

He stood on the terrace a while longer, watching the wind pick up, then turned and headed back. He opened a side door and entered the villa through a private passage, emerging a moment later in the ground-floor living room.

“Sir,” his housekeeper announced, stepping into the living room. “A Miss Ilana just called your cell. I couldn’t find you, so I had to ask her to call back.”

It was just after business hours; a call from Ilana probably meant something was up. As Matthew took the cordless phone the housekeeper offered him, she added, “Also, a Mr. James McAvoy called. He said that he and a Mr. Michael would be visiting this morning and staying for lunch.”

Matthew nodded. “Got it.”

He thought for a moment, then instructed her, “Tell the kitchen to prepare a substantial lunch.”

The housekeeper nodded, turned, and left the living room.

He scrolled through his contacts, found Ilana's number, and dialed. She picked up almost immediately.

“Hey, Matthew,” Ilana's voice came over the line. “Taking the day off?”

Matthew sank onto the sofa. “No, just went for a walk around the grounds.”

He then asked, “What’s up?”

“Right,” Ilana said, getting straight to the point. “Remember the ‘worst director of all time’?”

Matthew recalled the German director and the invitation he'd received. “You mean that boxing match he's staging against the critics who gave him that title?”

Ilana confirmed from the other end of the line, “Four professional critics have already agreed to fight him in early June. And because of all the media attention, Uwe Boll moved the event from Toronto to Los Angeles.”

She paused, then added, “You’ve been so wrapped up with the I Am Legend auditions and the 300 shoot that you probably haven’t been following the entertainment news.”

“Is it getting a lot of buzz?” Matthew asked, intrigued.

“A ton,” Ilana said, her speech quickening with excitement. “A lot of Hollywood stars, media types, and professional critics are planning to be there.”

Matthew made an instant decision. “Alright, let’s go check it out.”

He and Ilana then arranged to meet at the estate and head to the match together on the day of the event.

This meant Matthew had to scrap his plans for a Hawaiian vacation. When James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender arrived at the estate, he brought it up. To his surprise, both of them were just as interested in the boxing match and wanted to go.

“An event like that,” James exclaimed, “and you didn’t think to call me and Michael?”

Matthew only had one invitation, so he simply asked Helen to get in touch with Uwe Boll's people. He was confident that getting two more wouldn't be a problem.