Page 58 of Pink

“There a problem?” Gigi asked. Then, to Marco, she said with a smile, “And anywhere from ten to twenty minutes depending on how close a paparazzo is to my location. A fan tags me in a story, and they’re already on their way, trust that. Less outside of the states, but here it’s … life.”

It was also why, despite feeling like America was home, Gigi preferred living out of the country while her notoriety was high. It was just easier to manage the expectations of her fame that way. Not that she thought these men cared at all about those details.

Marco gave Jensen a very pointed look. “There you are.”

“Listen, it’s a delicate thing, I know. But she’s here.”

“I can see that.”

“What does that tell you?”

The blond man sighed, and he gave Gigi another glance. Despite their well-dressed appearance, both men in their suits with groomed hair swept back in tidy styles, and the fact she knew this had been all set up so it should be safe, something seemed off. The lunch hadn’t even begun yet, but already she could tell something wasn’t right.

“Excuse us,” Jensen said with a chuckle, dragging Gigi from her thoughts in an instant. He stuck out a hand, and out of habit, she did the same. The second his hand found hers, he stepped closer and brought her fingers up to his lips for a quick kiss that she hadn’t wanted at all. “Thank you for agreeing to this lunch.”

I didn’t, she thought.

A small part of her screamed to keep quiet.

“Sit,” Jensen added quickly, “and I’m sure your wine will be here any moment. Don’t mind us … we’re just discussing the benefit of our businesses and how they might work better together.”

“How do I factor into that, exactly?”

Because wasn’t that what this felt like?

Jensen laughed and released her hand. “Don’t worry about that, Gigi Rey. Just keep smiling. It’s worth a lot more than you realize.”

What did that mean?

She took the seat pulled out for her and with the two men facing her, it put their backs to the half partition wall that separated their semi-private section from the main floor. She might have paid attention to whatever Marco was currently saying to Jensen at the table, but it was the flash of blue eyes just beyond the partition that held her attention.

Every bit of it.

It was him.

Those eyes.

She’d know them anywhere.

He’d turned around so all she could see was the back of his head, and the way his buzz cut faded from skin to black hair from the nape of his neck upward. But then, he turned to his left, glancing over his shoulder once more and looked right at her.

The facial hair was new.

It was her first thought.

Not a bad look on him, though.

It had been five and a half years since she laid eyes on him, heard his voice, or spent a night in his bed. Yet, she never forgot it. Or him. Not for one single fucking second. How could she when he had been the last person who really knew her—without even knowing her at all—before she became this? That short time, those nights she spent with him … he didn’t know it, couldn’t possibly, but it meant the world to her.

For a moment in time before she became Gigi Rey, she was just a woman having fun with a man who told her she was beautiful. And she went back to those nights with him in her memories more often than was probably healthy.

There he was.

In that restaurant.

Looking right at her.

Lev Arsov.