The Secret to Marrying Marchesi

Rigo sighed, shrugging off his jacket in one smooth movement and offering it to her without a word. She accepted it gratefully, draping it around her shoulders and instantly regretting the decision. The material was still warm from his body heat, and it smelled so divine it made her head spin. It was a sin to smell this good... It did funny things to her insides.

‘Are you upset about your mother’s arrival?’ he asked. ‘Or is this still about the paparazzi’s questions?’

‘Just leave it,’ she pleaded, feeling cold dread pool in her stomach at the memory of what her mother had revealed. ‘It’s none of your concern.’

‘It is, actually. I can’t risk you snapping at photographers when we’re trying to build an image together. No matter what they say to provoke you.’

‘I wish I had snapped, Rigo.’ She shook her head. ‘All I did was try to stand up for myself for once. And in the end I walked away.’

‘In my experience, silence is sometimes the safest option.’

‘Maybe I’m tired of being quiet. Maybe I’m over having my options taken away from me.’

She thought of her mother’s manipulation, cold shame pooling in her veins. They were so different. He had been raised to value his privacy and had always chosen when to disclose his affairs. From the moment she’d been born her mother had used her to promote her own publicity. She had done her first photo shoot when she was four days old, her first solo interview at the age of three. She had been raised at the end of a camera lens.

‘Is that actually what you think this marriage is?’ His voice hardened. ‘Nobody backed you into a corner, Nicole.’

‘I cared too much about the implications. I thought I was making the right choice.’

‘You cared too much?’ He laughed—a cruel sound. ‘If I had known I was agreeing to marry a martyr perhaps I would have chosen another option.’

Nicole fought against the stinging emotion in her throat. His words were a cruel reminder that this entire relationship was nothing more than a sham. There was no way he could know how much she truly cared. Not just about her daughter, or about what the media said about them, but about what he thought of her, too.

It was ridiculous. After all the times he had hurt her in the short time they’d known one another he still had a strange hold over her emotions. From the moment they’d met she had felt it—that need for him to see her for who she really was. And for a few short hours she had honestly thought he had. But then, as always, reality had come crashing in and he had looked at her with the same scorn that everyone else heaped upon her.

She should just reveal her mother’s deception right now. It wouldn’t change his opinion of her anyway. No matter how hard she tried to step away from her past it was never going to be enough.

She stepped away from him, bracing her hands on the cold stone balustrade that overlooked the entire city. A tear fell to her cheek and she hastily brushed it away. She wouldn’t let him see how deeply his words cut.

* * *

Rigo watched Nicole visibly shrink from his words. Even with her back to him he could tell she was hurt. That had not been his intention. He simply didn’t understand how a woman who had spent most of her life basking in the limelight of the media could suddenly be so affected by their intrusion.

He laid a hand on her wrist, turning her to face him and noticing the telltale redness in her eyes.

‘I have upset you.’ He frowned. ‘I’m just trying to say that you always have a choice, Nicole. You choose to care. You choose to value everyone else’s opinion of you more than your own.’ He spoke softly, lifting her chin so that she would look at him.

‘Their opinions have always had to matter more,’ she whispered. ‘It’s hard to form a high opinion of yourself when you barely even know who you are.’ She stepped away from him, hiding her tears from him once more. ‘I’ve played a part for so long, it just became natural to let others dictate who I should be.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I’m talking about me, Rigo.’ She sighed. ‘How could you want to marry me when you have no idea who I am?’

‘I know enough,’ he said coldly.

‘That’s just it. You think you know enough but really you know nothing at all.’ She shook her head. ‘Rigo, I’ve been a walking sham for most of my life. A persona created by my mother and her publicist,’ she continued, refusing to look at him while she spoke. ‘I’ve never broken out of rehab, or slept with married politicians, or done half of what the crazy rumours out there say I have. I was publicly provocative, but once the cameras were gone...I could never follow through. I could never trust anyone enough.’