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.’
NICOLE FELT THE tension in her temples rise to breaking point. ‘That’s the third time she has confronted me like that and I still never know what to say to her.’
