Lucia hooked her arm through her son’s, leading him towards the stairs. ‘That’s right, Cesca. It’s a lovely name. How has she been getting on? Has she looked after you?’
Lucia kept up a steady stream of questions as she led him downstairs, asking him about his time in Italy and the movies he had planned when he returned to LA. Finally, when they made it into the kitchen, with Foster trailing behind, she paused long enough for him to answer.
‘So who is this girl, anyway?’
Sam’s stomach dropped. ‘What girl?’
‘The one in the papers. Serena Sloane. Is it serious between you?’
‘No, not at all. It’s all been exaggerated. I didn’t even know she was still married.’ He searched for a way to change the subject.
‘It wouldn’t have been difficult to find out,’ Foster interjected.
‘Yeah, well. I didn’t.’ Sam looked down. ‘I’m not that kind of guy, you know, I wouldn’t steal somebody’s wife.’
‘Of course you aren’t,’ Lucia said, squeezing his arm. ‘Foster, stop making him feel bad.’
Her husband raised an eyebrow but said nothing – he saved the worst of his insults for when it was just him and Sam. He’d done i
t for years.
‘Anyway, she’s obviously fame hungry,’ Lucia added. ‘Horrible woman, using you to get some notoriety. You need to be more careful about the people you hang around with, Sam. You know not everybody has your best interests at heart.’
She didn’t know the half of it. ‘I know that. And yeah, some people haven’t proved to be the friends I thought they were. I’ve fired my agent.’
‘You have?’
‘Turns out he represented Serena, too. I’ve left it in my lawyer’s hands.’
‘Oh, darling, that’s awful.’
‘You need to get some better business judgement,’ Foster remarked. ‘You always trust the wrong people, Sam. I could put you in touch with a good agent.’
‘Of course your father could help,’ Lucia said, always trying to be the bridge between them. ‘Why don’t you let him make a few calls?’
‘He can’t do anything while he’s here, not without a phone signal,’ Sam pointed out. There was no way he was going to let Foster have anything to do with his career, but, as always, he wanted to protect his mom.
‘When we get back to Paris, then,’ Lucia said, smiling at him. ‘It would be lovely to see you working more closely. I keep telling Foster how wonderful it would be if you were in a play he produced. I’d love to have my two men in the same city for once.’
Sam caught Foster’s gaze for a brief moment. His stepfather looked as excited by that prospect as Sam felt.
‘When are you going back to Paris, anyway?’ Sam asked. ‘I thought you were going to be there all summer.’
‘In a few days, maybe a week,’ his mother said. ‘We all needed a break. As wonderful as Paris is, in the middle of the summer it can be stifling. All those people . . . ’ She grimaced.
‘A week?’ Sam couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows. A whole goddamned week? It was bad enough when they thought Gabi and Sandro were coming back, knowing he and Cesca were going to have to cool things down, at least in front of them. But now his mom and Foster were here, that put everything up in the air. He couldn’t even begin to think about the fallout.
‘And the girls?’
‘They ran straight down to the lake, of course.’ Foster smiled indulgently. ‘They didn’t know you were here.’
‘All my family together at last, it’s like a dream come true,’ Lucia said, hugging him yet again. ‘We’re going to have a wonderful time.’
Holding his mother in his arms, Sam closed his eyes, wishing he could agree with her. From where he was standing, the dream was turning into a nightmare.
‘We’d like dinner at seven, on the terrace. Foster is wheat intolerant, so Gabi usually does risotto,’ Lucia said. ‘And Izzy has decided to become a pescatarian, so something with fish would be lovely.’
Cesca nodded, trying to keep busy so she didn’t have to look at Lucia for too long. Every time she did, a sense of shame washed over her. The woman had been paying her to do practically nothing, apart from writing her play and sleeping with her son. That knowledge made Cesca blush.