The Secret to Marrying Marchesi

There was only one person she knew who did. But the man she was thinking of didn’t deal with idle tabloid gossip. Rigo Marchesi wouldn’t even think of trying to help her. She was surprised the media had even dared to cross him with the sheer power of his family name. Luckily for him he had a whole team of PR people to deal with this. Nicole would be left, alone once again, to pick up the pieces and deal with the aftermath.

She parted the curtains to peer out at the crowd, frowning at the sight of the men and their cameras being herded further down the street. Two police cars full of officers had arrived and they were quickly moving all the people and vehicles down the lane and out of view.

A second black Jeep had joined the first, this one with blacked-out windows. A handful of men in dark suits stepped out and began fanning across the premises and down each side of the laneway.

Nicole felt her breathing slow to a dangerous pace, and the air rushed in her ears as she watched the last man step out of the vehicle. He was tall, wearing a sleek suit and dark sunglasses. She bit her bottom lip hard as he finally turned to face her, removing the glasses from his face. A moment of utter stillness passed before she released her breath in one slow whoosh.

It wasn’t him.

For a moment there she had honestly thought... Well, it didn’t matter what she’d thought. Right now the tall, suited man was walking up to her front door.

Pushing her hair behind her ears and clearing her throat, she opened the door with the latch in place, so that she might survey the imposing stranger through a comfortable three-inch gap. Something about him was vaguely familiar.

‘Miss Duvalle?’ He had a hawklike gaze and spoke in her native English, albeit with a strong Italian accent. ‘My name is Alberto Santi. I work for Signor Marchesi.’

She felt cold humiliation prick at her memory. This was the man who did all the jobs that Rigo wouldn’t lower himself to do. He wore the same disapproving glare now as he had the night he’d guided her across a crowded room, away from his employer’s mocking laughter.

‘I am here to help you.’ He spoke calmly.

‘You have some nerve, showing up at my door.’ She shook her head, moving to close the gap, but found the door blocked by a polished leather shoe.

‘I have orders to bring you under the protection of the Marchesi Group.’

‘I don’t take orders from Rigo Marchesi.’ She crossed her arms in front of herself. She knew whom these orders were from. Knew the kind of ruthless power she was faced with here.

‘Perhaps I phrased that poorly.’ The man forced a smile to his thin lips. ‘I have been sent to offer you assistance. May I come in so that we can speak privately?’

Nicole thought on it for a moment. It wasn’t as if she had a whole lot of other options. Perhaps at least he could organise some sort of protection for them. She stood back, unclipping the latch and motioning for him to come inside.

He moved through the doorway and took in the surroundings of her simple home with quick, disapproving efficiency. He looked back down at her. ‘Miss Duvalle, my team has already contained the area, as you can see.’ He gestured to the men standing guard at the gateway to her property. ‘We would prefer it if you had no more contact with the media until we have a chance to resolve the matter privately.’

‘That’s kind of difficult, considering they are camped out on my doorstep.’

‘Which is why I am here. A meeting has been arranged in Paris to address this...situation. If you choose to cooperate you will be offered every assistance.’

The way he called it that—a ‘situation’—made it sound like such a nuisance. A minor fender-bender in the Marchesi fashion empire’s shipshape working schedule. These people had no appreciation of the fact that her entire life had been upended for the second time in less than two years.

‘I have no control over this situation, Mr Santi, as you can see. So I doubt that I can help anyone to resolve it. All I need is to keep my daughter out of this mess.’

‘The media will not relent—you know this,’ he said gravely. ‘Surely you expected the attention?’

‘Why on earth would I expect this?’

The man shrugged and looked away, making it clear what he meant. Nicole felt cold shame wash over her. Just as she had on the last occasion this man had passed on a message from his employer. She shook her head in disgust. Of course Rigo would think that she had willingly pawned her child off to the tabloids. She was Goldie Duvalle’s daughter after all, wasn’t she?

Shaking off the hurt and anger, she forced herself to speak. ‘Just to be clear—if I decline to come with you will the police stay to protect my privacy?’