Читать книгу Postcards From… Collection - Maisey Yates - Страница 48

CHAPTER NINE

RIGO’S FIST CONNECTED squarely with the photographer’s fleshy jaw, sending him to the ground instantly, where he lay cowering. He grabbed the camera, hurtling it at the boundary wall of the estate with a satisfying smash.

‘You’re going to regret this, Marchesi.’ The man spat blood onto the ground, groaning as he held his rapidly swelling jaw.

Rigo leaned down, grabbing him by the collar and watching him wince in preparation for another punch.

Nicole’s hand on his arm was the only thing that stopped him from pummelling the man to within an inch of his life. The red rage lifted and the sound of his daughter’s terrified cries was suddenly all he could hear.

His security guards stepped in, pulling the man to his feet and holding him in their grasp while one began contacting the local law enforcement.

Rigo reached out, taking Anna from Nicole’s shaking arms. The little girl nestled into him, her cries still fearful but not as piercing now that he held her close. Holding Nicole by the arm, he guided her away from the ugly scene, back towards the villa as his heart hammered painfully in his chest.

Once inside, Rigo calmed Anna with quiet shushing until she was laughing once more. He set her down in her playpen and surrounded her with toys. He had to tend to Nicole’s injured feet. The sight of her panic-stricken face flashed through his mind, making his fists clench. He blocked it out. Needing to do something practical to calm himself, and to stop himself from running out and physically attacking the rat once more, he grabbed a first-aid box from the kitchen, getting to work cleaning her raw wounds and bandaging the more open cuts.

Nicole hissed with pain. ‘I lost my shoes when I ran from him.’

Rigo clenched his jaw. ‘He’s going to be taken care of—don’t worry.’

‘He’s going to sue you for attacking him,’ Nicole whispered, looking past him to the windows.

‘I’d like to see him try,’ Rigo gritted, putting one last rub of salve on her skin before closing up the kit with a dull click.

He stood up, needing to move, needing to rid himself of the awful sensation of his control slipping further and further away. He had acted rashly in punching the bastard, but he would do it again—countless times.

‘Rigo, this is bad.’ She looked up at him. ‘You have basically just started a war with the very people we’ve worked so hard to sway.’

‘Would you have preferred that I let him walk away with pictures of our child?’

‘No, of course not.’ She winced as she put pressure on her foot. ‘I’m just worried about how this will affect your deal...your company.’

Rigo’s chest tightened. He hadn’t been thinking about the company at all. If he was honest with himself he hadn’t thought about it in days. He had acted on instinct, protecting what mattered most to him. For the first time in his life that hadn’t been his own interests or the bottom line. When had Nicole and Anna become more important?

He stood up, pacing away from her to the window. In the distance he could see the repugnant photographer being bundled into a polizia car. Alberto stood at the gate, turning to look up at him with an expression he knew mirrored his own.

He had messed up—royally.

* * *

Nicole sat in the breakfast nook the next morning, watching as Rigo paced on the terrace and continued his phone call with the legal team. It unsettled her that she didn’t know whether to reach out to her own husband or leave him be. Seeing him lose his temper so completely yesterday had been terrifying—like watching a stranger.

He returned inside, laying the phone down on the counter with a click and taking a long sip of his espresso.

‘The photographer has started a lawsuit,’ he said, clenching his fist tightly on the counter. ‘He is claiming that because he was on a public road he should have had the freedom of the press. The media are pressing to have our injunction turned around.’

Nicole’s hand froze, her croissant dropping back to her plate. ‘He can’t do that. He’s just one man.’

‘It’s never “just one man” when it comes to the paparazzi and what they see as their God-given right to give the public what they want.’

Nicole felt suddenly cold, even though the morning sun shone in brightly through the windows. If their injunction was overturned it would mean that every detail about their relationship, their child, would be fair game.

‘We will need to leave for Paris immediately,’ he said, turning back to her, his hands thrust deep into his pockets.

‘I am not going to Paris.’ Nicole looked at him in amazement that he could even suggest such a thing.

‘We need to tackle this, Nicole. If the Fournier deal falls through now thousands of jobs will be at stake. Not to mention the effect it will have on the Marchesi Group.’

‘Your company is not my priority right now.’ She bit her lip hard.

‘Nicole, I need you by my side if we’re to stand any chance of braving this,’ he said earnestly. ‘You’re my wife.’

‘Exactly. I’m your wife. So stop thinking of me as a media device and consider my feelings for a change.’ She stood up, ignoring the pain it brought. ‘That man chased me down a hill to get pictures of my child, Rigo. Do you have any idea how terrifying it is to know that I still can’t protect her?’

Rigo raised his voice. ‘You agreed to this when you married me. You knew what a high-profile relationship involved.’

‘I didn’t agree to walking right into the heart of a fresh scandal. I can’t go back to Paris. I can’t put myself back out there for you. I’m sorry.’ She shook her head, walking into the living room.

Rigo followed her, backing her up against the door. ‘I did what I did to protect my family. I stood up for you. And now you are running away like a coward.’

‘You know...that’s exactly what my mother always said whenever she had done something that made my life more difficult,’ she spat, and saw him react as though she’d slapped him.

Rigo frowned. ‘That’s unfair. You know that I care about you—and about Anna.’ He stepped away from her, giving her some breathing room. ‘I need you both with me in Paris, and that is final.’

‘If you cared about us you wouldn’t make us leave this estate ever again.’

‘Nicole, listen to me. I will protect you both from the media.’ He took her hands in his. ‘I made that vow and I have already proved that I meant it. Let me protect you.’

Nicole shook her head sadly. ‘You can’t use me again and again to protect your company from scandal and still make out as though you’re putting family first.’

He dropped her hands hastily, stepping away as though she’d burned him. ‘So what? You’re going to hole yourself up here and raise my daughter alone in this house like bloody Rapunzel? You think that’s better than risking a photo of her being leaked?’

Nicole remained silent. Refusing to look at him.

He shook his head with finality. ‘The only person being unreasonable here is you. I hope you’re happy here in your own personal prison.’

He stormed out, leaving Nicole to stare at the door blankly.

* * *

Rigo remained completely silent in the conference room as all hell broke loose around him. The PR team had worked furiously for three days now to uphold the injunction, but with the story gaining steam on social media it had become akin to holding sand in their bare hands. The paparazzi were banding together, demanding blood, and the story was making waves across the globe.

Nobody cared that the man had ambushed his wife and child. He had been on public land and therefore within his rights. The fact that a billionaire had assaulted him and damaged the property of one of the ‘little guys’ was far more interesting than a case of child protection. The case would go to court, and the directors at Fournier had already called for an emergency meeting with the board.

They were going to jump ship, and there was nothing Rigo could do to stop his entire world from unravelling.

If only Nicole had trusted him enough—maybe together they could have swayed the public in their favour. But instead she had chosen to stay hidden away.

‘Rigo, are you even listening to this?’ The senior director of his legal department was looking at him expectantly, along with the rest of the room.

He sat up, suddenly very tired of the whole situation. All these people had been working tirelessly for him, likely neglecting their loved ones in the process, and all for what? These past five years had been devoted to growing his family company into the biggest fashion corporation in Europe. He had absorbed countless smaller companies, and with each one he had felt that same rush as when he’d first pursued Fournier. Now, with the deal set to crash and burn spectacularly, he felt nothing but emptiness.

The realisation than he no longer cared was so unsettling that he stood up and left the meeting without a single explanation, ignoring the shouts of concern as he shut the door behind him and ordered the car to take him home.

The drive through the busy streets of Paris passed in a blur. His mind was foggy and he felt subdued—likely to do with the fact that he hadn’t slept or eaten properly in the days since he’d returned to Paris.

As the car pulled up to the kerb he noted the gangs of photographers still camped outside his apartment building. The abuse he had endured from their angry mouths for the past three days had opened his eyes to the kind of life Nicole must have lived. As Rigo Marchesi, golden boy CEO, he had never known anything but professionalism from the press. But now, branded a paparazzi attacker, he was subject to threats, taunts and worse from these men and women who hounded him day and night.

It was an eye-opening experience.

He entered his apartment, immediately noticing the vibrant blue fedora that lay on the kitchen counter. His father sat on the sofa, nursing a brandy, and looked up as Rigo walked into the living area.

‘I came straight here as soon as I saw the news.’ He stood up, pouring a second glass and handing it to his son with a half-smile.

‘Aren’t you meant to be in the rainforest somewhere right now?’ Rigo raised a brow. ‘Or did Uncle Mario send for you the minute he realised how badly I’d messed up?’

‘Mario did call.’ Amerigo nodded, looking down at his glass. ‘But I’m here for my son—not for the CEO of the Marchesi Group.’ He sat back, eyeing Rigo intently. ‘Before this wedding, when was the last time you took a break, huh?’ he rasped.

‘I’ve got bigger things to worry about than that right now.’

‘Another vital acquisition, I heard?’ The older man shook his head. ‘I admire everything that you have accomplished, Rigo. You have brought our family business to levels I never dreamed of achieving myself. But when is it going to be enough?’

Rigo looked at his father blankly. ‘If everyone stopped after a certain level of success the world would grind to a halt. I believe in constant progress.’

‘Progressing? Is that what you think you’re doing? Because from here it just looks as if you’re running on the spot.’

‘Papà, I’m under a lot of pressure right now and I don’t appreciate your taunts,’ he gritted.

‘You need to be taunted every now and then. You’re so bloody stubborn—just like your mother...’ he mused. ‘Ever since that damn girl took you for a ride you’ve been like this. Running and running from the pain.’

‘I have been getting on with my life. Why is that so hard to believe?’

‘Because it’s absolute crap.’ His father sighed. ‘And once you realise that maybe you will finally get over yourself and see that it is more important to leave this mess to fizzle out and go and enjoy the rest of your honeymoon. The company will survive the loss of Fournier.’

‘It’s not that simple.’ He took a long swallow of the amber liquid and felt it scorch his throat. ‘If I lose this deal the board will react. They have already expressed their anger.’

‘Son, if I could impart to you one life lesson, it’s this. Don’t waste valuable time on what the board or anyone else thinks you should do. Live your life.’

His father’s words echoed in his mind long after he had left him alone with his thoughts. He had told Nicole not to let the media dictate her life, but here he was, doing the very same thing. He had told her to trust him, that he would protect her from her fears. And yet the moment things got tough he had asked her to throw herself under a bus for his company.

He had treated her no better than her mother had for all those years and the realisation made him suddenly nauseous.

* * *

As the town car rolled slowly along the streets of Paris, Nicole wondered for the millionth time if she was doing the right thing. Once she had heard that the court case was today she’d known she couldn’t stay away any longer. She had to try to do something.

She stepped out of the car and looked up at the steps of the courthouse, seeing Rigo standing near the top, finishing up his statement to the press. He stood alone as the cameras turned away to move towards the prosecution group, who had just emerged from the building.

She felt her stomach tighten as Rigo turned and saw her. She suddenly felt a lot less brave. His face tightened with surprise and he powered down the steps towards her, his eyes darting towards the cameramen, who hadn’t yet seen her.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he asked harshly. ‘Get back into the car now—before they see you.’

‘I’m here to give my statement,’ Nicole said. ‘I’m here to stand by your side.’

‘It’s all over.’ Rigo exhaled harshly. ‘I paid them off and the case has been thrown out. If you had told me you were going to come I would have told you to stay exactly where you were.’

‘In my prison?’ she asked quietly.

‘I was angry at myself when I said those words.’

He took her hand, looking down at her with such fierce sincerity she thought her heart might break.

‘No, you were right, Rigo. I can’t live my life running away and hiding from these people or my voice will never be heard. I can’t teach my daughter to be fearful.’

‘When I said those words all I was thinking of was myself. I’ve been living under a microscope for days now and it’s already driven me halfway to madness. But it was my actions that got us into this mess and I will face it alone.’

‘I’m not just here for you, Rigo. I’m here for me, too. To prove to myself that I’m strong enough to protect my daughter.’

‘You are strong enough, Nicole. You are the strongest woman I have ever known.’

A cameraman turned, catching sight of the candid discussion he was missing out on, and soon the whole press camp was descending upon them.

‘Last chance,’ Rigo warned, his fingers holding in a tight grip on her arm, as though he wanted to haul her away from the crowd.

She looked up at him, her eyes gravely serious. ‘No more running.’

The crowd of cameras and microphones surrounded them with an excited hum.

One ‘respectable’ news journalist took an immediate jab. ‘Nicole, what have you to say on the allegations that your marriage is a complete sham?’

Nicole took a deep breath, remembering the speech she had prepared and memorised on the plane journey. The words seemed to swim in her head, moving just out of her reach for a millisecond, before she squared her shoulders and grabbed them with both hands.

‘Marriage is a deeply private affair for my husband and I,’ she began, ‘and just because we both may have previously courted the media it does not somehow make our private lives fair game.’

‘What do you have to say about your husband’s ferocious attack?’

‘My husband acted instinctively, to protect my daughter and me from a stranger’s harassment. I ask you this. In what world is it okay for a man to pursue a lone woman and an innocent child for the purpose of entertainment? Does his occupation give him the right to disregard the safety of those unable to protect themselves? Until my child is old enough to make the choice herself, I will be upholding her right to privacy.’