‘But why? You’ve just nailed the biggest deal of your career. It’s bigger than anything your brothers have done.’
He looked at her again. It was a hard look: cynical; jaded. ‘It’s just another deal.’ He dropped his arm from her waist and took her hand instead. ‘Come on. We’d better get you to the church on time.’
* * *
Remy stood at the back of the photo shoot in one of Paris’s gothic cathedrals as Angelique was photographed in a variety of bridal outfits. She looked stunning in every one of them. It made him think of their wedding back in Dharbiri. She had looked fabulous then too, but nothing about that day had been real.
He couldn’t help imagining her as a real bride, walking down the aisle not to a crowd of photographers but to him.
He blinked and shook his head. It was definitely too hot and stuffy in here or something.
He looked back at the action playing out in front of him. The photographers, all six of them, issued commands and directions, which Angelique followed tirelessly like the consummate professional she was. Her manager had come over and introduced herself earlier, telling him how Angelique’s star was set to shine brighter than any model she had represented before.
Remy felt proud of Angelique in a way he had never quite expected to feel. He had always thought her spoilt and wilful, yet seeing how she treated the more junior staff on the shoot with respect and kindness made him realise he had seriously misjudged her.
You’re falling for her.
No, I’m not.
Yes, you are. Big time.
Remy’s phone vibrated in his pocket but instead of ignoring it he welcomed the distraction. He didn’t even check the screen to see who was calling as he stepped outside the cathedral to answer it. ‘Remy Caffarelli.’
‘I want you and your brothers here tomorrow for a family meeting,’ Vittorio said.
Typical. His grandfather always expected everyone to dance around him at a moment’s notice. Remy would go when he was good and ready and not before. ‘I can’t drop everything just because you fancy a family get-together.’
‘Where are you?’
‘In Paris with Angelique. She’s working.’
‘She wouldn’t know how to work unless it was flat on her back.’
Anger tightened every muscle in Remy’s spine. ‘That’s my wife you’re insulting. I won’t have you or anyone speak about her like that.’
‘If you don’t come here tomorrow I’ll tell the press your marriage to that little black-haired slut is nothing but a sham.’
Remy felt a cold hand of dread grab at his guts. It wasn’t the deal with Robert Mappleton he was most worried about. What would happen to Angelique’s new-found career if that sort of leak got out before her first shoot was even over?
How on earth had Vittorio found out? His brothers would never have betrayed him. He had sworn them to secrecy.
There could only be one person who would want to do the dirty on him even if it hurt his only daughter in the process.
Henri Marchand.
* * *
Angelique came over to where Remy was standing at the back of the church once her shoot was over fo
r the day. ‘I didn’t expect you to stay the whole time. You must be bored out of your brain. There’s nothing more tediously boring than watching mascara dry— Hey, is something wrong? Why are you frowning like that? Are you cross with me?’
Remy forcibly relaxed his frown. ‘Sorry, ma petite. It’s not you. It’s my grandfather. He’s insisting on a family meeting tomorrow. He won’t take no for an answer. Can you ask for a day off? I know it’s short notice.’
She frowned at him. ‘He wants me there? But why?’
‘I’ll explain it later. I don’t want anyone listening in. Do you think you can get tomorrow off?’
‘I’m sure it’ll be fine. There’s been a delay on the next collection. Mackenzie just told me about it. We’re shooting at a private château in Vichy the day after tomorrow so I’m all yours till then.’