mean she hasn’t got a satellite phone glued to her side.’
‘I thought it best to wait until they had finished their trip.’
‘You’re afraid to tell her.’ Valerio smirked. ‘I would be, too. After you jumped into proposing to the last one.’
Rigo felt every muscle in his body tense at his younger brother’s reminder of a time when he had been younger and infinitely more naive. He resisted the urge to throw him down and fight it out, as they had as boys. Maybe he would postpone that for the future...in a less crowded place.
‘No more talk of that—not tonight.’ Rigo motioned to a waiter to bring him another drink. ‘We are here to toast my beautiful fiancée.’
He raised his voice so that the men and women surrounding them joined in, thus cutting off their intimate conversation.
* * *
Taking a deep breath, Nicole ignored the heat flushing her cheeks and stopped to take a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. It didn’t take long for her company to be monopolised by the other guests. Everyone wanted to know more about the woman who had finally snared the elusive Rigo Marchesi.
Rigo’s PR team had advised her to stick to the essentials and avoid awkward questions about their time apart. After a few minutes she felt her nerves melt away. Suddenly she found herself almost enjoying the pretence. She talked about her fiancé with the compulsory flowery endearments, referring to their relationship with all of the expected love-struck excitement of a newly engaged woman.
After the third time reciting the story she almost started to believe it herself.
How wonderful would it be if this were actually true? She sipped from a flute of champagne and listened as the group of women surrounding her gushed about her ring. What would it be like to be actually engaged to Rigo Marchesi? If this had truly been a celebration of their love with their closest family and friends? What would it be like to be the woman who held all of his attention?
As she began to describe their fictional proposal story for a fourth time she became aware of a commotion at the doors of the ballroom. A woman burst in, her shrill voice cutting across the soft music of the jazz band.
‘This is my daughter’s party, you buffoon!’ she exclaimed in a thick London accent, turning a hasty smile on the crowd of hushed guests. ‘Look at your bloody list again.’
A guard quickly appeared beside Goldie Duvalle, speaking in hushed tones into her ear. Whatever he said made her ageing features twist with distaste.
As though in slow motion, her mother’s trademark red talons lashed out and struck the guard on the jaw.
Nicole prayed for the ground to open up and swallow her at that moment. She looked across the ballroom to Rigo, watching as he nodded briefly to the security guard. The man backed away, clutching his red cheek, as Goldie scanned the crowd and easily spotted her.
‘There you are, my love.’ She rushed forward in her sky-high heels and her daringly low-cut neckline, crushing Nicole into a dramatic embrace.
‘Mother, what are you doing here?’ Nicole kept her voice low, pulling away from the obnoxious display of maternal affection.
‘I’m here to celebrate your engagement with the rest of these people.’ Goldie smiled brightly. ‘I’m going to presume my invitation got lost in the post and speak no more of it.’
Nicole cleared her throat, silently thanking the band for playing a louder tune to smooth over the awkward interruption. ‘I didn’t invite you, and you know why.’
Goldie’s eyes narrowed a fraction. ‘Let’s not give in to dramatics on such a wonderful occasion, my love.’ She took Nicole’s hand in her own, squeezing it in a ridiculously maternal gesture. ‘I decided it was past time to make up after our little spat. I wouldn’t want to miss my only daughter’s wedding over a silly misunderstanding.’
Nicole felt her jaw clench. A misunderstanding? She strengthened her resolve not to lower herself to her mother’s level. She was the hostess tonight after all, and she had to play her part.
‘If you want to stay—fine. I’m not going to draw any more attention to you by kicking you out, so enjoy the festivities. You have already disrupted the party more than enough.’
She had hoped to make a calm exit, but she should have known her mother would never make things that easy for her. Her mother’s eyes hardened pointedly in a way she knew all too well.
‘Disrupted?’ Goldie raised her voice. Both perfectly plucked brows rose in astonishment. ‘I’m hardly a wayward child. I just wanted to see my daughter—is that such a bad thing?’
Nicole felt her control snap. ‘It’s been more than a year since we last spoke. You’ve never even met your own granddaughter.’
Her mother grasped her hand painfully to stop her from walking away, her eyes filling with tears. ‘You’re right, darling, I’ve been awful. But you need to understand—you wouldn’t listen to me.’
Nicole grabbed her hand back, massaging her wrist where her mother’s nails had dug in. ‘You were angry that I wouldn’t sell my story to the press. Nothing more and nothing less.’
‘I was worried about you! I couldn’t have my only daughter throwing away her future. Planning to raise that child alone when you could have lived in luxury.’ She shook her head. ‘But thankfully that argument is null and void now...’
Her mother took a deep breath, a bright smile breaking across her ageing features.
‘Just look at you. My Nicole—engaged to a billionaire, living in his penthouse... I’m glad to see you didn’t let your silly principles get in the way of common sense.’
Nicole felt nauseated at the look of approval on her mother’s face. ‘Are you trying to say that I wanted this?’
‘Of course you didn’t.’ Goldie laughed. ‘Not openly. You’re proud, just like your father was—God rest his soul. You’re just lucky you have me looking out for you, making it easier for you to do the sensible thing.’
Nicole looked at her mother’s smile, feeling a ball of cold dread sink to the pit of her stomach as it all clicked into place. She had been so blind, not wanting to believe her mother could be capable of something so cold. But no one else knew who Anna’s father was.
Goldie continued, unaware of any problem. ‘You are a mother now—you know what it is to only want the best for your daughter.’ She nabbed a flute of champagne from a nearby tray, downing it in one go. ‘There’s no need to thank me for my efforts. Lord knows I never thought the fool would propose, of all things, so I can’t take credit for that. All I ask is that you hold on to him now that you’ve got your claws in.’
She winked, and that one gesture sent Nicole over the edge.
‘It was you.’ Her voice sounded hollow and shrill in her ears. ‘You gave that interview, didn’t you?’
‘Don’t worry, it was anonymous—not a soul will ever know.’
‘I will know!’ She forced the words out, the emotion building in her throat. ‘How could
