Page 148 of Pink

“Don’t make me tell you again,” Jensen called over his shoulder. “Hurry up, Gigi.”

She didn’t need to ask what he meant when there was only one thing he had told her to do. Since she wasn’t in the mood for the rest of her face to suffer from the same pain in her jaw, she went ahead and readied two plates from the cart of food.

Eggs.

Fresh bread.

Sliced fruit.

A choice in breakfast meats.

Despite putting only a few things on her plate—soft items that would be easy to chew—Gigi had little to no appetite. The last thing she wanted to do was join Jensen at the table on the veranda, but it was that or a worse fate for disobeying. He had the nerve to thank her when she placed his plate in front of him, but didn’t wait for a reply before pointing to the chair directly beside his at the head of the table for her to sit.

Gigi had only made it through a couple of bites of scrambled eggs and a half of a banana when she stared out at the bay ahead of them and the bright blue, cloudless sky overhead. The high cliffs of the bay surrounded them and then jutted out along the bay to the water beyond where she could see.

A part of her wondered … could she swim that far?

Would she survive if she got away?

As if Jensen could read her mind, he said at her side, “It would take an army to get you away from here, silly girl … and I assure you there isn’t an army on this earth that thinks you’re worth the effort currently.”

She turned to glance at him as he reached for a folded magazine sitting off to his right on the table. Slapping the glossy paper in front of her plate, the magazine opened to show a picture of both of them on the cover. Walking out of the show, actually. She did look wasted—her eyes barely open, hair a mess, and Jensen holding tight to her as if he was keeping her standing.

The headline was a gut punch.

GIGI REY RUINS DELAVANGE SHOW.

The smaller print below was the knife after the hit.

Agent says supermodel Gigi Rey will be stepping away from all upcoming projects to focus on her health—sources confirm drug abuse, read more on page 12.

“It really helps to spin the story the way we want when you made so little effort to tell the story your way, doesn’t it?” Jensen chuckled, the edge of his mouth tilting upward in his twisted happiness. “I always enjoyed working with Marla. She provides the best of the best every single time.”

Of course, her agent had a hand in this. Why wouldn’t she? The only time that woman had ever been satisfied with Gigi was when she did exactly as she was told to do with no deviation. Hell, it had been Marla who set up that first lunch date between Jensen and Gigi.

She pushed the ball.

Circumstances kept it rolling.

Fucking Marla.

“Nothing to say?” Jensen asked, holding his fork speared with a sausage up to his lips.

She dragged in a quick breath, replying simply, “No.”

What could she say?

Nothing he would want to hear.

Besides, just because her physical presence was forced to be there with Jensen didn’t mean her mind and heart had to be. So, when he went back to his plate, leaving the magazine in front of her to stare at, Gigi’s thoughts drifted to a better place.

Back to Lev.

And little Arely.

To a townhouse, she had only visited once but would give anything to step inside one more time and never leave, if she so chose. A warm bed. The strong arms of a man that didn’t hurt her. All the sparkly, pretty things that made five-year-old girls smile.

It was a happy place.