Page 162 of Pink

Missing Lev.

Ready for it to be over.

Nessa and Kimie were quick to stand and join her. Behind the women, Todd the enforcer decided to make himself known when he cracked his knuckles and said, “Time to play break your face with any fucking paps waiting at the house. My favorite game.”

So, maybe she couldn’t be normal. Even when everything was almost perfect again. She could, however, have a new normal. If the rest of the world would let her.

• • •

“You’re a very busy woman, Miss … would you prefer I use Rey, your stage name, or Parker?” the man across the table asked.

Fixing the wool shawl on her shoulders, Gigi didn’t even allow the man the respect of her gaze when she replied, “You can call me whatever you want as long as I don’t have to be brought down here to do this nonsense again.”

“Is that what you want to call the disappearance of a man, not to mention … your obvious kidnapping and attack?”

Finally, Gigi lifted her stare to meet the man at the other end of the table. She was supposed to be having an interview with yet another detective. Instead, she had shown up to find the district attorney waiting with a smile.

A kind smile, sure.

Didn’t make a difference to her.

They had two different goals, and she wouldn’t allow herself to forget it even if it meant telling the truth might finally help her in some way. His goal was to keep Lev behind bars—whether on charges relating to her or otherwise—and hers was to get the love of her life back where he belonged.

With her.

And his child.

“Other than the bodies found outside of the Mexican estate,” the man said, opening a folder to spread out a row of pictures across the table, “the home itself and whatever—or whoever—was inside was lost to a fire.”

She didn’t even glance at the glossy photographs. As it was, she had already seen them one too many times. The shots of her leaving the show with Jensen. The burnt-out estate that left the officials with little to no evidence but for a handful of bodies outside.

“I don’t know that place,” she said, shrugging. “I’ve never seen that house before in my life. And if I have, I can’t remember it. Did you find something that proves I was inside?”

Her innocent question had the man’s jaw clenching, but he quickly replaced it with another one of those kind smiles.

“Gigi, I understand you’re attempting to protect—”

“I’m attempting to get on with my life after a very difficult few weeks, actually. Weeks that, as I have told many people and so have my doctors, I can’t remember. A bit of brain damage from my apparent drowning, you know? Or that’s what I was told. But I can’t move on because between the police hounding me for answers I don’t have and the media that won’t leave me alone, I’m forced to do this repeatedly.”

“Andino Marcello—”

“I have no idea who that is,” she lied.

She was sure the DA had introduced himself as Smith Gerdson, but she honestly didn’t care to use his name or see him as anything other than another roadblock to Lev’s freedom.

Because the thing was, Gigi knew how this would end … if she admitted to anything that happened inside the Mexican estate during her captivity, even if it was to name her rapist and what he had done, then she had to explain how she was freed, too. And that was where things became tricky.

Because Lev wasn’t supposed to leave the states when he was still facing charges from an incident at the Fashion Week show. Sure, it would clear any suspicion they had regarding his involvement in the state she had been found, but it would only cause more problems for every other legal issue he faced.

And she wouldn’t do that.

The District Attorney leaned into the table, clasping his hands together as he eyed her speculatively. It took him an entire thirty seconds before he spoke again. “You understand that I find it very hard to believe the story you’re trying to sell us when … outside of these walls, you’ve been saying very different things. In fact, I have a half of a dozen social media posts from you that suggest you know a great deal more than you’re sharing.”

“And what would it matter?”

“Pardon?”

Gigi smiled thinly, saying, “The story I have to tell—what does it matter? It won’t match the one you have laid out for the courts. It won’t fit the narrative your team of people has been feeding the media since this all began. It certainly won’t help me.”