breathed, the figures swimming in her vision.
‘The Marchesi Group is offering you a generous deal in return for your public statement that Rigo Marchesi is not the father of your child.’
‘This wasn’t the deal.’ She began to pick at her nails under the table, a familiar sense of entrapment setting in. This wasn’t a meeting at all. It was an ambush.
‘Understand this, Miss Duvalle. We will not be negotiating the figure on that cheque, so if you want the pay-out I would advise you to take it now.’ The man sat back in his seat, openly surveying the neckline of her blouse.
Nicole crossed her arms over her chest, feeling very small and very alone in the room full of suits. It would be so easy just to do what they asked. To deny the truth and run away would be the easier option in some respects. The truth was inconvenient—just as she and her daughter were. A press release would take less than ten minutes and then she could escape. She could forget all about Rigo Marchesi and start over again somewhere new.
And what would happen when her daughter became old enough to understand? What about when she asked why her father had never played a part in her life? Her daughter would eventually find out that her mother had lied to the world and denied her the right to her true parentage.
She thought of her own mother, of her countless lies and manipulations. All for money. What kind of role model would she be if she lied to her own daughter about something so important?
She took a deep breath. These people wouldn’t cow her. ‘I won’t be signing a thing without speaking to Mr Marchesi first.’
A woman in a beige suit spoke, her hawklike eyes spitting fire across the room. ‘I’m aware that you probably grew up observing a certain level of...legal negotiations through your mother. But are you really prepared to go toe to toe with a multi-billion-euro corporation in a courtroom?’
Nicole felt her skin prickle. These people made her feel cheap and utterly worthless.
Suddenly every other person at the table avoided her eyes, seeming very focused on the door behind her.
Nicole turned to see Rigo’s hulking frame silhouetted in the doorway.
She stood, anger steeling her resolve. ‘This is unacceptable. I won’t be bullied.’
‘I did not agree to this meeting, Nicole.’ His voice was deeper than usual, and his gaze dropped momentarily to where Anna was growing rapidly more tired in her stroller. ‘Go and wait in my office, I’ll be there in a moment.’
* * *
Rigo stood dangerously still at the top of the table and waited for Nicole to leave before he spoke. ‘Somebody had better tell me right now why this meeting was arranged without my knowledge.’
The man at the top of the table sat forward. His uncle Mario was a white-haired oaf in his late fifties, with a penchant for contesting his nephew’s authority at every turn. ‘We have already got agreement from the rest of the board. You have been outvoted in your plan. Swift, heavy-handed action is in the best interests of the company.’
Rigo cleared his throat, eyeing the leather-bound folder on the table and closing it with a loud snap that resounded across the table. ‘This will not be buried with legal settlements.’
A brave PR executive spoke up. ‘You know that this company’s past makes it far more vulnerable to the media. Your father always made it clear that private indiscretions cannot be allowed to fester.’
Rigo felt his patience snap. ‘My father is no longer CEO of this corporation. I am. Everyone who is not a member of the board leave the room. Now.’
He turned to the window, taking three deep breaths as the men and women quickly scurried from the room. This afternoon had pumped his adrenaline into overdrive—and only half of it had to do with suddenly finding out about this clandestine meeting.
He turned to face his uncle, the only board member present. ‘You don’t have the power to make my decisions for me, Mario. If you wanted my job you could have fought for it.’
‘I value my free time far too much.’ Mario rolled his eyes. ‘This is a straightforward pay-off, Rigo.’ He stood up, stalking towards him. ‘This woman is slandering the Marchesi name out there and jeopardising the entire Fournier deal, for God’s sake.’
‘It’s not slander,’ Rigo stated gruffly, hearing the words echo in his mind as he said them. ‘I had the DNA analysis confirmed twenty minutes ago. The child is mine.’
Mario was silently stunned for a moment, his mouth agape. ‘You agreed to a paternity test without alerting the legal team?’ His eyes bulged. ‘Are you completely insane? Even your grandfather wasn’t that stupid.’
Mario didn’t seem in the least surprised at the news itself—which was more than could be said for Rigo. He was still absorbing the information. His brain was working overtime, examining the revelation that, against all the odds, Nicole had been telling the truth. He had never once wavered in his certainty that she was lying. He’d long ago taken very permanent measures to make sure he would never be put in this position again. And yet here he was.
His uncle cleared his throat, looking pointedly at the leather folder. ‘Marchesi men have all committed some indiscretions, Rigo. It seems it is a family weakness. My advice is to not let this get in the way of resolving the matter. Everyone has a price. Find hers.’
* * *
Nicole paced from one side of Rigo’s open-plan office to the other. Her fists clenched by her sides as she weighed up the options in her head.
Plan A was to walk out of there without another word to Rigo Marchesi or his goons. She could take her chances with the press and beg for privacy—or, more likely, just give up on her dreams of ever having a normal life again. But her daughter would grow up knowing that her mother had tried her best.
Plan B... Well, plan B was to take every moral she had and throw it out the window.
She sat down on the nearest armchair and tried to clear her thoughts.
Strangely, she wished her mother were here to guide her through this. No, she corrected herself, she wished that her mother cared enough to try to help. But Goldie Duvalle was a law unto herself, breezing in and out of her daughter’s life in between marriages and even then only when she wanted something.
The last time she had seen her mother had been the day she’d told her that she was pregnant. Cold anger made her fists clench tight by her sides, her insides tightening at the memory of having her last thread of hope pulled out from under her. Her mother was not an option—not unless she needed some contacts for a magazine spread.
With her own upbringing to go by, maybe she had been fooling herself to think she could offer her daughter a normal life. Her erratic childhood had been the furthest thing from normal you could get. It seemed that scandal was just destined to follow her around everywhere that she went.
She looked around, feeling small and alone in the iron-and-marble-dominated office space. Anna had fallen asleep in her stroller by the window.
Rigo entered the office with a dull thud of the heavy panelled door behind him. His usually perfectly groomed dark hair was ruffled, and that same formidable expression on his face made her
