For The Cameras (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

Chapter 3

A/N - Hello there friends! Thank you for reading as I dip my toe tentatively into the world of Hiddlefic. I've read so many wonderful stories on here that I just had to give one a go myself. I hope you enjoy, and appreciate any and all votes and feedback! This one is going to be a slow burner but I promise delicious twists and turns throughout! xE

Tom

"I still think this whole thing is ludicrous, Luke." Tom said, buttoning up one of the cuffs on his pale blue shirt.

    "It is ludicrous. The whole thing is ludicrous." Luke looked at him pointedly from his seat at the kitchen island. "You're in hot water and you need to deal with it. One way or another."

    Tom clenched his jaw as he reached for his jacket. He didn't respond. He knew the solution Luke would suggest as the easier alternative, but he also knew he wasn't interested in that.

These tense car rides were becoming more and more common, and the silence settled into its now familiar place between the two men as they drove towards their destination.

Tom had told the woman at the root of all this about Luke's mad idea, thinking it would be a good laugh. He loved making her laugh. She had surprised him instead, squinting her eyes and biting her lip and suggesting that it might, in fact, be brilliant. Now he sat stiffly in the back of a town car en route to a charity dinner and a planned introduction to an American actress that was apparently considering this bizarre real-life role. He pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped at the screen.

Missing you, Darling.

He looked out the window. St. Paul's Cathedral loomed on his left, it's silhouette dark against the fading light of dusk as they crossed Blackfriar's Bridge into South London.

Miss you too. Are you at that Benefit tonight?

Yes. In the car.

You meet the girl tonight, right?

Yes. Apparently. I feel strangely about this. Do you really think it's a good idea?

...

He watched the three dots that signified she was formulating a response appear and disappear from the screen. For just a moment he dared to hope that she might tell him that the whole stupid thing should be called off.

          Tom. In a perfect world, nothing like this would be necessary. We'd just be together in that little place in Scotland we loved so much, without worrying about anything. But you know as well as I do that our world is impossibly far from perfect. If you can find a legitimate distraction for the press, we can get away with more time together. Less questions.
Try to have a good night. Tell me how it goes.xx

The car turned down a narrow road lined on either side with low industrial buildings. They pulled up in front of a large dark shuttered door with swirling lights projecting upon it, and barriers on the pavement leading the way to a bright blue carpet buzzing with people holding clipboards, and well-dressed dinner guests making their way inside. Luke got out  first, rounding the car to open Tom's door for him. Tom scanned for familiar faces as he stepped into the street, noticing a few Premiere League players, but no one else he immediately recognized and no one he knew personally. The dinner was to benefit Unicef, an organization very dear to Tom's heart, and Luke had arranged a seat for Hanna Lloyd at their table.

Tom had seen the video of Hanna's so-called audition. He understood why Luke had suggested her. She was a pretty girl, very pretty. Her features were more that of classic Hollywood than current. She had the wide-eyed innocence of an Audrey Hepburn or a Judy Garland and an immediate likeability and ease when she spoke. If he was being honest (which he mostly wasn't these days), she was the type of girl that would have sparked his interest had he not been so deeply invested in his illicit pseudo-relationship with K.

K. Even he didn't refer to her by name. It was too risky. K and her husband were one of Hollywood's darling couples. Beloved and squeaky clean. Tom had met her at a charity event not unlike this one over a year ago. He hadn't wanted to be attracted to her. He'd fought against it with all of his common sense. The Tom the public loved was not an imaginary character. He was a gentleman. At least he tried to be. He was always endeavoring to be grateful and gracious. Even he found it hard to reconcile the person he tried to be with this bad behavior. He had always been a bit of a flirt, and he had certainly been guilty of that in the beginning, but they were equally responsible for the turn in their correspondence, with her leading the way, challenging him to step closer to the line, tempting him to cross it. It had happened in California. He'd been in town doing press, she'd been filming. They had been keeping in touch quite regularly by email and text message since they'd met and while he sometimes wondered if it was appropriate to be chatting so much with a married woman, it had all seemed innocent enough. They'd met for coffee at a small coffee shop in Studio City (The Valley wasn't exactly known for celebrity sightings) and they tucked themselves away at a table in the back. She'd been wearing barely any makeup, her dark hair pulled back and tucked under a Lakers cap. He had been struck by how lovely she was without all the Hollywood extra. Before long, and much to his surprise, what began as light and cheerful conversation over americanos had turned into a confessional from her. As it turned out, her high profile marriage wasn't quite what it seemed. Her relationship with her husband was strained and had been for some time. The tears he had seen in her eyes that day had broken his heart. This notoriously strong and capable woman was sitting before him, soul bared, and vulnerable. He felt a sudden need to protect her. To care for her. It was in his nature. After that coffee their interactions had become far more frequent, and far more personal. Tom had found himself developing feelings and desires for this woman despite every effort to remain the perfect gentleman. It all came to a head at an awards show after party in West Hollywood. He had watched her and her husband from a distance all night, while sipping more scotch than he would normally consume. He wasn't much of a drinker but his nerves had been on edge that night. It was clear the couple had the fairytale routine down to a fine art. She seemed to glow on her husband's arm as the flashbulbs burst, but Tom observed more carefully than most, and a few stolen glances in his direction had told him more than enough.

"Tom? We're at table 3." Luke's voice brought him back to the bustling event space and he quickly turned on a bright smile, nodding.

"Lovely. Shall we grab a cocktail and see if Miss Lloyd has arrived?"

Hanna

It's just a job, Hanna thought to herself as she climbed the stairs leading to the dining hall. She repeated the line over and over in her head, wondering if escorts and prostitutes did the same as they approached potential clients. She paused at the top of the staircase, taking in the scene. The room was beautiful, wide and open, with marbled floors and high vaulted ceilings. Several large round tables took up most of the space, each draped in pale blue linens, and a small stage stood against the far wall, backed by a large screen currently playing a slideshow of photos and facts. The air rang with chatter and soft jazz music, punctuated with the occasional clinking of glasses or rattle of ice against a cocktail shaker. She eagerly accepted a glass of champagne from a nearby waitress as she surveyed the room, trying to locate Table 3, and Luke, and him. Her stomach fluttered just slightly. It had been doing that all day. On top of the fact that the whole proposition was a bit crazy, she was also a fan of Tom's work. To be meeting someone like that under these particular circumstances left her at what she felt was a strange disadvantage. Normally she could spin her resume into something that looked rather impressive, but Tom would already know her as someone desperate or bored enough to consider such an arrangement. She adjusted the wide black leather belt that cinched the waist of her figure-hugging, yet modest McQueen cocktail dress. It's deep navy tone made her fair skin look almost porcelain, and her pale gray eyes slightly more blue. At last she spotted Table 3, and Luke, and his back. Her stomach fluttered once again. She could continue to stand where she was, awkward and alone, or she could dive headfirst into what was sure to be the most uncomfortable dinner of her life thus far. She took a breath, closed her eyes, and counted to ten.