Читать книгу Postcards From… Collection - Maisey Yates - Страница 44

CHAPTER FIVE

NICOLE WALKED AS far as the elevator bay and exhaled slowly. Seven floors below the ballroom’s mezzanine floor she could see hotel staff and guests ambling around the fountain in the lobby. The calm babble of water and the hum of distant voices seemed ridiculously peaceful in comparison to the storm of emotions waging within her.

She would have to tell Rigo. Dishonesty was not a trait that she possessed. It wasn’t as if it would come as such a surprise, with what he already knew about her mother anyway. But if she were truly honest with herself she simply didn’t want him to know the truth.

She didn’t want to tell him that the most pressing reason for her disappearance a year ago had had less to do with him and more to do with her mother, who had even then hoped to use her unborn grandchild for publicity. And, perhaps most embarrassingly of all, that Nicole had chosen to run away rather than stand her ground. Just as she had run away right now.

She watched the progress of an elevator upwards towards her. She didn’t even know where she was going, for goodness’ sake.

Was she really so weak that she couldn’t even be assertive for her own child now? A year ago she had been pregnant and scared. She had turned to Goldie at a time when she’d needed her mother the most, but had been met with nothing but selfishness and greed. ‘A baby for a billionaire!’ Goldie had practically screamed with delight. And Nicole had instantly known her mistake. She had been a fool ever to think her mother could be relied on for anything other than her own agenda.

She wasn’t upset—she had long ago stopped shedding tears over things she couldn’t change. She just hated herself for the way she always seemed to let her mother take control of her life. She had played right into Goldie’s plan. She hadn’t had to go to Rigo for help, and she certainly hadn’t had to accept his proposal.

Maybe she was just like her mother.

The thought actually stopped her breathing for a moment. Could that be it? Was she that person who thought the entire world was against her when really she was exactly what they made her out to be?

The elevator arrived with a ping and she hastily stepped inside. The doors began to slide closed, only to be stopped suddenly.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Rigo’s voice was low, his eyes narrowed in question as he moved his shoulder against the elevator door and effectively blocked her escape.

‘I don’t know...’ Nicole breathed. ‘I just needed to get out of there.’

‘There was no need to hightail it across the ballroom, drawing everyone’s attention.’

Nicole groaned inwardly. Of course everyone would have noticed. They were probably all speculating on what the latest drama was. She leaned her head back against the solid marble wall of the elevator. Steeling herself for what she knew had to come next.

‘Nicole...?’ he said, his voice demanding an answer.

‘I can’t marry you.’ She forced herself to look him in the eyes as his gaze darkened. ‘I can’t go ahead with this wedding.’

He was completely silent, allowing his gaze to sweep over her features momentarily before he stepped forward into the lift and let the doors swing shut behind him.

She straightened up to her full height, feeling cornered. ‘I’m serious, Rigo.’

‘I heard you.’ He reached behind her to the panel of lights on the wall, tapping a button at the very top. A voice came from the speaker and Rigo replied in fluent French, looking briefly up at the security camera in the corner. The lift shuddered to life and began moving steadily upwards.

‘Where are we going?’ Nicole asked, holding on to the railing as they continued to rise higher and higher towards the top of the hotel.

‘Somewhere we can talk alone.’

The elevator doors slid open, revealing a corridor with three separate double doors with gold plaques bearing the names of past French presidents.

Nicole followed closely behind Rigo, her feet aching in her high heels, as he led her through the first door. The suite inside was enormous, with stylish dove-grey walls and vaulted ceilings. The antique mahogany furniture looked decades old, with clawed feet and polished silver fittings.

‘Do they normally allow you to use the most expensive suite in the hotel for private discussions?’

‘They let me do whatever I want.’ Rigo shrugged.

‘I’d say that kind of freedom is nice.’ She bit her lip, feeling the emotions of the past few days threaten to catch up with her.

‘We’re alone now. So talk.’

Rigo leaned against the side of a dining table, watching her with an intensity that made her insides quake. Where did she even begin to tell him what was going on in her mind right now? All she knew was that her entire being was telling her to run as fast as she could—away from this hotel, their ridiculous plan. Him.

She pressed a hand to her chest, turning away from his scrutiny in the pretence of exploring the suite further. She ran her hand along the ornate back of one of the chairs—another antique, by the looks of it.

The dining table had to be at least ten feet long, she mused. And the room ended in a wall of floor-to-ceiling French windows that led out onto the most spectacular terraced garden. She turned the handle, feeling the cold night air fill her lungs. She could finally take a breath and not feel as if she was drowning.

As she moved out onto the terrace she heard him follow behind her. He wasn’t talking, and for that she supposed she should be thankful. She needed to relax if she had any hope of going back to the party. Of course she would go back. She wasn’t so cruel as to embarrass him by jilting him in public the way he had rejected her.

The distant memory of him laughing at her in that nightclub threatened the edges of her consciousness. But she didn’t believe in giving an eye for an eye, no matter the extent of someone’s misdeeds.

‘This view is breathtaking.’

She cleared her mind, leaning against the stone wall to peer down at the rooftops of Paris far below. It was like another world up here—so quiet and peaceful. She could stay here forever, just counting the lights on the horizon. If she moved forward just an inch she would be able to see the street where Rigo’s apartment was. She tilted her hips, leaning forward just a little more.

Warm, muscular hands settled on her shoulders, pulling her back from the ledge. She could feel Rigo’s breath behind her, warm against her bare skin.

‘I can admire the view from a distance, but I draw the line at leaning over the edge.’

His voice was like dark chocolate on her frayed senses. His hands still pressed against her bare skin.

‘I was just looking.’ Her voice came out huskier than she’d intended.

‘It’s funny, I keep telling myself the same thing.’ He moved one fingertip up her arm, tracing her collarbone lightly. ‘But then I keep doing this whenever I get the chance.’

Nicole swallowed hard at the sensation his hands on her bare skin evoked. Her shoulders felt tingly and loose, and the feeling was moving steadily downwards. If one touch could make her feel like this, she wondered what his lips might feel like. The thought surprised her, making her angry at herself, angry at him for starting this.

She turned around.

He took a step closer, his hand dropping back to his side. ‘I’d imagine you’re used to men acting like fools around you.’ His mouth turned down at the corners.

Nicole laughed nervously at the ridiculousness of that statement, pushing a tendril of hair behind her ear. ‘Last year in Paris was a first for me. With you.’

He had no idea just how telling that statement was. It had been a first. He had been the first. Not that she would ever fully admit that to him.

Rigo smiled. ‘You’re good at telling me what I want to hear.’

She tried not to let her wounds show as he took one single step, bringing the heat of his chest almost flush against hers. What was he doing? Her hands reached up to his shoulders, intending to push him away. He was like a wall of hot steel, moulded against her. She could feel the sheer power of him through his suit jacket, barely contained. She arched her head back, knowing she was inviting more but not managing to care. His head lowered, his lips touching the delicate skin beneath her ear. Nicole shivered, arching her neck to give him better access. He kissed a trail of fire down her neck and along her bare shoulder.

‘I’ve been fantasising about this since I saw you tonight,’ he whispered against her ear, nipping the skin lightly. ‘Probably long before.’

She wished he would stop talking so that she could give in to this completely. She suddenly wanted nothing more than for him to lay her down on a bed so that she could jump into this delicious fire completely and forget about everything else.

But she wouldn’t do that. Still, she knew she wouldn’t have an excuse to touch him again after tonight. If this was to be goodbye, then she was going to make it count.

She leaned forward, closing the gap between them, and pressed her lips to his. Her kiss was soft...curious, even. His hands captured her hips, pulling her close against him. She could feel every hard plane of his body through the thin lace of her dress as he held her trapped in the circle of his arms.

She wasn’t sure when he began to take control of the kiss, but by the time she realised it he had already gained full steam. She followed his lead, their tongues moving against each other in a steady rhythm. They feasted on each other for so long she almost forgot to breathe, vaguely aware of him guiding her towards the wall behind them, pushing her back flat against it.

His hands cupped her bottom through the lace of her dress as he continued to take possession. She gave as good as she got, holding the front of his shirt in her grip and nipping his lower lip with her teeth. This was fast heading out of her control, but she didn’t have the will or the inclination to stop. It felt much too good to walk away just yet. She wanted to see if the reality of him matched up to the memories she had of their night together. It was like stepping back into a dream. She had kissed him first that night, too.

That thought stopped her.

Nicole broke away, pressing her hands against his chest. This was just as bad an idea now as it had been the first time. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. She moved away from him, stepping back to the balcony ledge as if the distance might somehow dampen the smouldering heat she could still see blazing in his eyes.

Rigo smiled at her, but it wasn’t a smile at all. There was no hint of playfulness in his gaze.

‘This isn’t a game, Nicole.’ He leaned back against the wall, watching her. ‘I won’t be used as a distraction for whatever is going on in that head of yours.’

‘I’ll take the blame for that one...’ she breathed, straightening the material of her dress and holding her arms around herself in the sudden cold breeze.

She remembered the reason they had come up here in the first place—the conversation with her mother. She felt adrift once again.

‘So you were saying you’re not going to marry me?’ he said coldly.

Nicole bit her lip at his abruptness. ‘I can’t. Not now that I know...’ She shook her head, a shiver running down her bare arms. The temperature was certainly a few degrees lower at this height, but that was only half the reason she felt so cold.

Rigo sighed, shrugging off his jacket in one smooth movement and offering it to her without a word. She accepted it gratefully, draping it around her shoulders and instantly regretting the decision. The material was still warm from his body heat, and it smelled so divine it made her head spin. It was a sin to smell this good... It did funny things to her insides.

‘Are you upset about your mother’s arrival?’ he asked. ‘Or is this still about the paparazzi’s questions?’

‘Just leave it,’ she pleaded, feeling cold dread pool in her stomach at the memory of what her mother had revealed. ‘It’s none of your concern.’

‘It is, actually. I can’t risk you snapping at photographers when we’re trying to build an image together. No matter what they say to provoke you.’

‘I wish I had snapped, Rigo.’ She shook her head. ‘All I did was try to stand up for myself for once. And in the end I walked away.’

‘In my experience, silence is sometimes the safest option.’

‘Maybe I’m tired of being quiet. Maybe I’m over having my options taken away from me.’

She thought of her mother’s manipulation, cold shame pooling in her veins. They were so different. He had been raised to value his privacy and had always chosen when to disclose his affairs. From the moment she’d been born her mother had used her to promote her own publicity. She had done her first photo shoot when she was four days old, her first solo interview at the age of three. She had been raised at the end of a camera lens.

‘Is that actually what you think this marriage is?’ His voice hardened. ‘Nobody backed you into a corner, Nicole.’

‘I cared too much about the implications. I thought I was making the right choice.’

‘You cared too much?’ He laughed—a cruel sound. ‘If I had known I was agreeing to marry a martyr perhaps I would have chosen another option.’

Nicole fought against the stinging emotion in her throat. His words were a cruel reminder that this entire relationship was nothing more than a sham. There was no way he could know how much she truly cared. Not just about her daughter, or about what the media said about them, but about what he thought of her, too.

It was ridiculous. After all the times he had hurt her in the short time they’d known one another he still had a strange hold over her emotions. From the moment they’d met she had felt it—that need for him to see her for who she really was. And for a few short hours she had honestly thought he had. But then, as always, reality had come crashing in and he had looked at her with the same scorn that everyone else heaped upon her.

She should just reveal her mother’s deception right now. It wouldn’t change his opinion of her anyway. No matter how hard she tried to step away from her past it was never going to be enough.

She stepped away from him, bracing her hands on the cold stone balustrade that overlooked the entire city. A tear fell to her cheek and she hastily brushed it away. She wouldn’t let him see how deeply his words cut.

* * *

Rigo watched Nicole visibly shrink from his words. Even with her back to him he could tell she was hurt. That had not been his intention. He simply didn’t understand how a woman who had spent most of her life basking in the limelight of the media could suddenly be so affected by their intrusion.

He laid a hand on her wrist, turning her to face him and noticing the telltale redness in her eyes.

‘I have upset you.’ He frowned. ‘I’m just trying to say that you always have a choice, Nicole. You choose to care. You choose to value everyone else’s opinion of you more than your own.’ He spoke softly, lifting her chin so that she would look at him.

‘Their opinions have always had to matter more,’ she whispered. ‘It’s hard to form a high opinion of yourself when you barely even know who you are.’ She stepped away from him, hiding her tears from him once more. ‘I’ve played a part for so long, it just became natural to let others dictate who I should be.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I’m talking about me, Rigo.’ She sighed. ‘How could you want to marry me when you have no idea who I am?’

‘I know enough,’ he said coldly.

‘That’s just it. You think you know enough but really you know nothing at all.’ She shook her head. ‘Rigo, I’ve been a walking sham for most of my life. A persona created by my mother and her publicist,’ she continued, refusing to look at him while she spoke. ‘I’ve never broken out of rehab, or slept with married politicians, or done half of what the crazy rumours out there say I have. I was publicly provocative, but once the cameras were gone...I could never follow through. I could never trust anyone enough.’

She looked up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time since their kiss.

‘Until that night with you I had never even... I don’t know why I’m telling you this.’

Rigo let a harsh breath escape his lungs. ‘You had never even what, Nicole?’ He watched as she visibly tensed at his words. He didn’t care if he was being cold. What she was saying was so absurdly far from what he knew about her he found it impossible to believe.

‘You were the first man I actually slept with.’ She shrugged self-consciously. ‘The others were all lies and scandals, drummed up for publicity.’

‘Excuse me if I find that hard to believe. You were hardly innocent that night.’

She bit her lip. ‘I almost told you—just before we got to your apartment. But then you were saying such wonderful things I just lost my nerve. I was selfish. I worried that it might make you stop, and I didn’t want you to see me differently just because of one small detail.’

‘That “detail” being your supposed virginity,’ Rigo said coldly.

His memory of their night together surfaced painfully. She had been nervous. The revelation of what she was telling him now made his stomach clench. Her unashamed response to their lovemaking that night had driven him wild...the way she had been so amazed by her own pleasure. He had been surprised at her shyness about her body, her seemingly unpractised explorations of his body. But once he had found out who she was he had assumed it had all been just a part of her act.

‘You’re telling me that you were a virgin?’ he said incredulously, his voice harsher than he’d intended.

‘Don’t say it like that.’ Nicole tugged her wrist out of his grasp, walking away from him into the dim light of the suite’s dining room.

‘Dannazione, Nicole,’ he gritted, stepping inside and shutting the door hard behind him.

She turned around, eyes wide at his sudden display of anger.

‘Don’t just walk away from me after all that.’

‘“All that” is my life, Rigo. My truth. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, or gain sympathy. I just needed to talk about something real for once!’ she exclaimed. ‘Do you know what? Let’s just forget this conversation ever happened and you can go back to whatever you thought of me before. Whatever makes you feel better.’

‘You honestly think I could forget knowing that I took your virginity and then threw you out on the street?’ Agitated, he ran a hand through his hair. ‘You walked away that morning after I practically called you a whore. Then, even when you knew that the child you carried was mine, you walked away again.’

‘Oh, no. You don’t get to turn this around on me just because you’ve realised how callous you actually are. I walked up to you in the middle of a crowded nightclub, Rigo, because you refused to answer any of my calls. I was honest about my pregnancy. The only reason I chose not to push any harder was because you made it brutally clear what you thought of me—and of the child I carried.’

Her words were like cold water over his temper. He had been abrupt and forbidding, refusing to entertain her from the moment she had shown up unannounced at his favourite club. The thought suddenly filled him with cold shame.

‘You laughed at me, Rigo. You humiliated me in front of all your rich, sophisticated friends. It’s probably best that this sham doesn’t go ahead, because I don’t think I could survive being married to a man I know doesn’t respect me.’

‘Nicole...’ He shook his head, needing her to stop talking so that he could process the reshuffling of the facts in his mind.

‘I need to leave, Rigo. Please don’t follow me.’

He caught a glimpse of the tears in her eyes for a split second before she turned and walked away, disappearing through the suite in a blur of long legs and pale blue silk.

With every passing second he felt his temper ebb and the cold realisation of his own actions set in. He had made presumptions about her character from the moment they’d met, just as she had accused him of doing. But was it entirely his fault when she had worked tirelessly to make the media believe she was someone else?

He thought of the woman he had bedded that night, of her hushed moans and the momentary cry of pain that he had presumed was some sort of theatrical move. He had been so blind, and he had coldly brushed the intense feelings from their lovemaking aside once he’d learned her name the next morning.

He had rushed things. He hadn’t known her from the English tabloids so he had powered ahead, giving in to the ridiculous heat that had burned between them. He knew that his reaction on finding out who she was had been exaggerated. But after being fooled by a woman once before on such an enormous, soul-wrenching scale, his pride wasn’t something he took lightly. He had called her a gold-digging whore. And then he had humiliated her.

The memory sat heavily in his gut.

This arrangement was proving more complicated than he had ever imagined. The waters had grown murky and he didn’t like it one bit. He would have to find a way to make peace with his wife-to-be or this marriage was never going to work.

* * *

Nicole sat cross-legged in the middle of the nursery. Anna’s chubby legs kicked hard in the air as she tried to roll over on the carpet. It was already midmorning and there had been no sign of Rigo coming home since last night. She tried to focus on folding Anna’s belongings into her small case, hoping it might calm the storm of emotions going through her brain. She hadn’t planned on letting things get so personal last night. And she hadn’t meant that kiss.

What on earth had been going through her head to let Rigo know that she had been a virgin? It didn’t really make a difference to their situation. It had been her own private secret, along with the memories she held close of the one night when she had trusted a man enough to completely let go and take her own pleasure. She didn’t know why she had waited so long, but there it was. And now the look of horror on his face would ruin that memory for her forever.

Anna squealed, looking at a spot directly behind her. Nicole knew she would find Rigo standing at the door even before she smelled his cologne on the air. His hair was wet, as though he had just stepped out of the shower. His blue eyes were darker than usual—or was it the faint shadows under his eyes that made them seem so? Either way, he looked both terrible and devastatingly handsome at the same time. It was quite an accomplishment.

He was silent for a moment, his gaze trained on Anna as she continued to try to roll onto her stomach, laughing as she fell back each time. ‘The housekeeper told me that you were packing,’ he said finally.

‘I asked her to help but she said she had to clear it with you first.’ Nicole sighed. ‘Thankfully I am under no such obligation.’

‘Can we at least talk before you go barrelling out of here?’ he said darkly. ‘Do you even know where you will go?’

Nicole steeled her resolve. He knew that she had very few options here. But her pride wouldn’t let her stay a moment longer.

She stood up, facing him with her chin held high. ‘I won’t talk to the press. You can pretend the engagement still stands if you want. We can keep this quiet for as long as you need for your deal to go through. Pretend the wedding has been postponed or something.’

‘What can I do to make you stay?’ He stood absolutely still, his hands deep in his pockets as he held her gaze.

Nicole shook her head, looking away from him and trying to find the right combination of words to let him know she couldn’t do this any more.

Rigo’s phone sounded, startling Anna with its shrillness. The baby began to sob. Nicole bent down to scoop her up in her arms, holding her close as Rigo began having what sounded like quite an urgent conversation in Italian.

He ended the call, looking up at her with the closest thing to panic as she had ever seen on his face. ‘Alberto has just called to say that the magazine team is on its way up in the lift.’

‘The interview... It’s today?’ Nicole felt her heart beating hard in her chest.

She had been gearing up for this all week. They were to present the world with an intimate portrait of them in their home to go along with the photographs of their engagement party. The prep work had been done with the PR team, and her pre-approved outfit hung pressed and waiting in the dressing room. It was a vital piece of this facade to set the scandal straight and get the media on their side.

‘I’ve had my phone turned off since last night.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose hard. ‘Nicole, I know that I have no right to ask you for help but...I need you by my side.’

Nicole bit her lip. I need you. She must be mad, but she didn’t want to let him down. She nodded, watching his shoulders sag with relief.

* * *

The magazine that would cover their entire sensational love story had competed against countless others to win the contract. In the end it had all come down to privacy for Rigo. He wanted a respectable British publication to take charge of the coverage, with the money raised from the deal going straight into his parents’ charity.

The team was busy setting up lighting around the seating area. Nicole sat by his side, dressed in jeans and a soft pink top that cut across her collarbone to sit at the tops of her shoulders. She looked deceptively relaxed in the soft morning light.

While they waited Anna sat propped on her lap in pink baby pyjamas, all ready for her afternoon nap.

The make-up artist came over, with her belt filled with brushes. ‘I just want to touch up a few bits, Miss Duvalle, if that’s okay?’ She gestured to a stool set up across the room.

Nicole looked at him for a moment, her expression strange. ‘Would you...hold her?’ she asked quietly, looking up briefly to where the journalist sat near them, taking notes and preparing for their interview. Anna might not be featuring in the photo shoot—both Nicole and Rigo had been clear about that—but even behind the scenes they were on show.

Rigo cleared his throat, nodding as casually as he could before accepting the pink bundle into his arms. He probably wasn’t holding her correctly, he thought suddenly. He looked to Nicole, but she was already sitting on the stool with her eyes closed as the make-up woman deftly swept a brush over her cheeks.

He looked back down at the child. She sat facing away from him, looking towards the window. He hadn’t been around babies much in his lifetime—not at all, really. She shifted her weight, almost jumping off his lap as a bird flew down to land on the balcony outside. Her excitement was instantaneous, and her features lit up with glee as she pointed one chubby finger towards the creature.

Rigo smiled. He couldn’t help it. Her laughter was infectious, just like her mother’s.

He stood up, walking closer to the window and holding her tight against his chest. She sat relaxed in his arms, her attention entirely focused on the creature pecking at the moss on the balcony ledge.

A bright flash drowned them both in sudden blinding light. Anna’s tiny features scrunched up with surprise before she let out a piercing wail. The cameraman stood guiltily a few feet away. Rigo felt the sudden urge to punch the man full force in the face. He controlled himself, not shouting at the oaf for fear of upsetting the baby further.

He looked across the room to Nicole, silently begging her to help. Anna was inconsolable now.

Nicole stood swiftly, crossing the room to take Anna into her arms. The child was instantly soothed, looking briefly up at him with a mixture of fear and recrimination. He took the chance to retreat, speaking sternly to the cameraman so that they didn’t have a repeat incident and making sure he deleted the photo from his camera.

As the director announced that they were all set Nicole handed the child over to the nanny for her nap. The twenty-minute photo session drained them, with all the forced poses and orders to smile on cue. They took a few romantic ‘couple’ shots before beginning the interview.

Rigo kept his arm slung around Nicole’s shoulders on the back of the sofa. They needed to seem at ease with each other, but she was as tense as an ironing board. When he’d leaned over to lay a kiss on her lips at the photographer’s suggestion he might as well have kissed a block of ice.

‘So let’s start with what exactly are the boundaries for the big day?’

The female journalist’s husky Scottish accent interrupted the tense silence in the aftermath of the disastrous photo shoot. She placed a digital recorder on the futon between them, its red light blinking.

Rigo spoke, his answers all pre-rehearsed. ‘We expect discretion at all times, with only a prearranged time slot for photographs.’

The woman nodded, ticking a box on her list. ‘Will we be allowed access to the bride as she prepares? We would love to get some candid shots of all aspects of the day.’

‘No,’ Nicole said suddenly. ‘I mean...I don’t think I would be comfortable with that.’

Rigo looked at her pointedly, laying his hand gently on her thigh. ‘What my beautiful fiancée means to say is that she’ll likely be too nervous for that on the day.’

The journalist narrowed her eyes, clearly unimpressed at the answer. She flipped through some of the photographs from the engagement party the night before, pausing on one.

She looked up, a gleam appearing in her eyes. ‘Your mother wasn’t invited to the party last night, Nicole?’ she asked in her simpering voice. ‘Why was that?’

‘She was invited. There was simply a mix-up with the list,’ Rigo said quickly.

‘And yet these photos clearly show Nicole and Goldie having what looks like a heated argument.’ She raised her brow.

Rigo looked to Nicole, noticing the sudden look of horror on her face. She masked it quickly, taking a sip from her glass of lemon water.

‘There was no argument, Diane. Move on, please,’ she said harshly.

Rigo frowned at Nicole’s use of the woman’s first name. He had noticed the immediate tensing in Nicole when they had been introduced to the woman who would write their article, but he had put it down to nerves. Now, looking at the two women staring each other down, he wasn’t so sure.

‘From what I hear, you should be thanking your mother. Not arguing with her.’ The woman continued to pout in that same ridiculous way, staring at Nicole like an eagle watching her prey.

‘You’re here to ask questions about the wedding. Do your damned job,’ Nicole said quickly, before moving a hand to her mouth with instant regret.

Rigo sat forward, pressing a button on the digital recorder swiftly. ‘I think we need to take a break.’ He stood, gesturing for Nicole to follow him.

The woman—Diane—spoke quickly. ‘Oh, no, I am here to do my job after all. So as a matter of interest for the article, does your fiancé know the kind of family he’s marrying into?’

‘Diane...’ Nicole shook her head sadly, a bleak look in her eyes.

‘This is not proper conduct when in the home of your subjects.’ Rigo walked towards Diane, using his height to appear imposing towards the woman.

‘I just thought that you might want to know a few things about your wonderful bride-to-be. Like the fact that she and her mother are the most slippery creatures to walk this planet.’

‘You have personal experience with my fiancée that gives you this opinion?’ Rigo asked.

Diane spluttered at his challenge. ‘Her mother is a witch, a horrible—’

‘Goldie Duvalle is not in this room, and I would like to know why you are attacking her daughter—unless you have some personal reason.’

The woman froze, her mouth opening and closing twice in quick succession.

‘That’s what I thought.’ Rigo shook his head, looking down at his designer watch. ‘I don’t have any more time for this. Leave now. All of you. You’ve got what you came for.’

Nicole sat completely still, with her shoulders down so far he thought she might be trying to disappear into the settee. As the magazine crew packed up their things and filed out into the hall, the interviewer looked pointedly at Nicole one last time.

‘Oh, and, Diane, was it?’ Rigo said darkly. ‘I’d expect a call from your superiors this afternoon if I were you. You’ll want to start job-hunting.’

‘You people think you run the world!’ she said angrily as Rigo herded her out through the door. He closed it with a resounding snap as she continued to curse him from the other side.

Rigo looked down at his fiancée, his gut tightening as he noticed her pale face. He refilled her glass of lemon water, offering it to her.

She took a sip, looking away from him towards the windows. ‘I didn’t know it would be her doing the interview.’

‘I take it from that display of hostility that you are previously acquainted?’

‘Yes. You could say that.’ Nicole shook her head sadly. ‘The man my mother is currently getting a divorce from is Diane’s seventy-year-old father.’