He hadn’t been able to find her all morning, but it was likely she had been collected by his parents’ chauffeur and had forgotten to tell him. She had been regularly going to his parents’ estate so that they could spend time with Anna.
They had probably spent more time with his daughter than he had at this point. He didn’t know why he couldn’t just be natural, like his father. Not that it mattered now. Once Nicole had left him completely he would probably only get limited visitation anyway.
The thought of them living apart from him filled him with emptiness, but he knew it was for the best. He couldn’t give Nicole what she wanted. He would never be able to.
* * *
Nicole was fast regretting her decision to take Anna for a picnic without the stroller. The little girl’s weight in her arms was like lead after a mere ten minutes of carrying her up the hill outside the villa. But the oppressive atmosphere in the villa was more than she could take. Rigo would be leaving today, and she didn’t want to be there when he did.
She’d done enough crying over the past twenty-four hours to last her a lifetime. And it was time she got used to living here alone now that she had chosen to stay.
She loved this place. The views and the smells. It was the perfect place to raise Anna. The people here were used to the Marchesis, and they didn’t bother them. It would be a quiet life.
She stopped at the top of the hill, finding a nice leafy tree for them to seek shade under. It was still early morning but it was already a balmy twenty-five degrees. She set about propping Anna on a blanket and kicking off her shoes. She had brought some fruit and bread as a midmorning snack, and laughed as Anna grabbed a piece of melon from her hand and sucked on it greedily.
She would be all right here, she told herself as she munched on her own fruit. She had her daughter and her privacy and that was all that mattered right now.
Once they had finished eating it was nearing eleven, and much hotter. She stood up, stretching her leg muscles from being cramped underneath her for so long. She looked further ahead of her, to the hill that led to the church. For some reason she felt suddenly unnerved by the quiet that usually calmed her.
A man was standing there, beside a black car, his face partially obscured by a wide straw hat. He looked like a local, she thought, her mind working overtime to process her sudden feeling of unease.
Without warning the man pulled a dark bag out of the car, unclipped a large telescopic camera and began walking down the hill towards her.
Paparazzi. Nicole didn’t waste a moment. Abandoning her picnic and the blanket, she covered Anna’s face and walked as fast as she could manage in the opposite direction. She looked over her shoulder, and sure enough the man was pulling out the high-scope lens and breaking into a run. Her heart beat hard in her chest as she fought to hold Anna close, still shielding her face.
She broke into a run down the hill but, having abandoned her sandals with their picnic, found her bare feet soon ravaged by the rough terrain. Every step proved to be pure agony as she tried frantically to stay ahead of her pursuer.
Her steps faltered as she heard a scuffling behind her. Turning to check he wasn’t gaining on her, she lost her footing and caught her heel on a sharp rock. Anna began to cry—a sharp, piercing sound that sent waves of pain straight to Nicole’s heart. The man was gaining on them—fast.
He didn’t care if her daughter was terrified, she thought angrily. All he wanted was a million-euro picture of her child. There was no way in hell he was getting it.
Hissing with the pain, she stood straight and forced herself to put pressure on her foot, feeling tears prick her eyes. They were almost at the gates, she told herself. They were almost safe. She shouted for the security guards who stood sentry there, her voice shaking with adrenaline. Anna was crying in earnest now, her little body shaking as she clung to her blouse.
Mercifully the men responded quickly, running out of their hut to meet her. But they were quickly overtaken by the appearance of her husband, his face a mask of pure rage.
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
