a favour. I mean, what else could you do with your career history but marry for money? It’s like our little family business.’ She laughed weakly, stopping when Nicole’s expression darkened. ‘All I wanted was a normal life for my daughter...’
Nicole swallowed hard. It was futile to try to explain the concept of normality to her mother—a woman who had strived for superstardom from the moment she’d left home to be a model at sixteen. It was always going to be about what Goldie wanted. Nothing else mattered. She couldn’t deal with her mother’s narcissistic logic right now.
Her mother’s smile changed swiftly and Nicole became aware of a warm, muscular hand settling on her hip. A scent that she had rapidly come to identify as his enveloped her, wrapping her in its warmth. She avoided his eyes, finding herself suddenly unable to look at him for fear he might somehow see her shame. Rigo already believed the worst of her, and once he found out that her mother had been the catalyst behind this whole mess he would never believe that she’d had no involvement.
‘Mrs Duvalle, I’m delighted to make your acquaintance.’ Rigo smiled, taking Goldie’s hand briefly.
Nicole was almost sick at the look of blatant female appreciation on her mother’s face as she allowed her red-painted fingernails to rest briefly on Rigo’s forearm.
‘Soon to be Miss Duvalle, I’m afraid.’ She blinked once. Twice. A sheen of moisture appeared in her eyes. ‘Husband number seven was not so lucky after all. Unless you count his getting lucky with anyone but his wife.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Rigo’s voice was sincere, and his hand still splayed casually across Nicole’s hip.
Nicole ignored the sensations his hand threatened to evoke and swallowed past the choking lump now forming in her throat at her mother’s words.
So that was why her mother had waited until now to out her daughter’s story to the tabloids. Her private life had been nothing more than a damned insurance policy for when Goldie’s latest marriage went belly-up.
‘I’m much more interested in your good news.’ Goldie touched Rigo’s arm once more. ‘I had hoped that we might all celebrate together privately...as a family.’ She simpered.
That was it for Nicole. She couldn’t stand there one more moment and listen to her mother’s empty words. She removed Rigo’s hand from her side and quickly excused herself, walking towards the nearest doors with as much speed as she could muster. The anger she felt, the pain at her mother’s betrayal, it was all too much. She needed to escape.
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
