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.
