Page 86 of Pink

EIGHTEEN

“PLEASE EXPLAIN to Gigi that we have now hired a second team to handle this mess—”

“Please explain to Marla that I couldn’t give a fuck what they’re doing about those lying rags,” Gigi tossed over her shoulder to Kayla. Who currently had Marla on the conference phone’s speaker so Gigi could hear the conversation while she paced the hotel suite. “And I am allowed to have a life outside of the confines of my contracts. The statement was made by the team—let them do what they want with it.”

“Gigi, I don’t think you understand how serious—”

That had Gigi swinging around on the spot to glare at the black, triangular phone where it sat in the middle of the large cherry-stained dining table. “Are you for real? Did you really just say that I don’t understand how serious this situation is when it’s literally me they’re talking about? My private life. I have been in this hotel for days now waiting for this to blow over, but I’m the one who doesn’t realize how serious this is? Give me a break, Marla. I’m going out of my fucking mind about it.”

“Well, I …” Marla sighed, the sound crackling in the speakers as she took a second to regain her usually calm composure. Gigi had a way of making the agent’s facade crack faster than anyone else could—or that’s what she liked to tell her every time a new issue came up. “Gigi, I know you’re upset because your private life was brought into the public spotlight in a way you didn’t like … but you have to understand on that side of things, it’s bound to happen. It isn’t the first time. Remember the trip to Maui—the pictures?”

Low blow.

That was a dark time in Gigi’s modeling career that she would really rather not fucking revisit but of course, now would be the time when her agent brought it up.

“Oh, you mean when my supposed best friend was selling private pictures of me to whoever would snatch them up for a couple of grand a piece? Because apparently, I should have known better then, too. According to you. Can’t trust anyone, right?”

“That’s not what I—”

“That’s exactly what you meant. It’s the same thing you told me then, too. If you’re trying to suggest Lev had us followed, you’re delusional. The man wouldn’t even know where to begin or how to make that happen.”

Or at least, that’s what she was hoping. Then again, the rags had brought up a lot of things about Lev’s personal life that Gigi didn’t know about, either. Like the fact he was apparently connected to the mob. Which made a lot of sense as to why he seemed to have a confident knowledge that Jensen Todrey and his friend at the lunch date were bad news.

Because Lev was bad news, too.

Right?

Were there really good men when it came to the mob? Except she also felt like she knew a part of Lev, or he showed her a part of him, that wasn’t bad at all. She had a hard time connecting the dots in her mind to fit Lev to the man the magazines called Pink. How had he even earned a nickname like that? Oh, they had facts. Pictures, too. Even named names.

And somehow, his connection to the Marcello mafia family and the boss running the show was the absolute least of Gigi’s concerns.

Why? Oh, yeah.

He had a kid. A child. A little girl named Arely. It pissed her off more than anything that the journalists—if one wanted to give those jokes of writers that kind of respect—thought not only was it acceptable to publish pieces calling the child hers, but they actually went as far as to name Lev’s daughter. Her first name only, sure, but still.

How had they even gotten that information? Gigi didn’t really wonder. Everything was accessible with the internet.

Why hadn’t he told her those things? Why hadn’t he been the one to tell her? That’s what bothered her the most.

It made Gigi think that maybe the feelings she had held on to for years where Lev was concerned weren’t shared by him. Why should he tell her anything about his personal life when the only thing they had shared together was a bed, right?

Yeah.

That shit hurt bad. Gigi just didn’t want to admit it.

Marla’s droning voice pulled Gigi from her depressing thoughts, but it didn’t make her feel the slightest bit better to hear what the woman was saying. Story of my life.

“It has been suggested we take legal action regarding the false publications and the damage it could have done. We’re looking into different routes on that topic. We’re also working on damage control elsewhere. What we really need right now, Gigi, is for you to remain out of sight and keep your mouth shut unless told otherwise. We may have you do an interview if it gets to that—”

“I won’t speak on any of this publicly,” Gigi said, drawing her hard line. “Because there are two other people in this equation who were dragged into this by no fault of their own. I am not going to get on a public platform and speak about them like I have the right to. I will not do it, Marla.”

Another frustrated sigh echoed from the phone. “Well … can you stay away from the gentleman, otherwise? At least until this blows over.”

Gigi made a face, knowing good and well she couldn’t promise that without it being a total lie. In fact, Lev was set to arrive at the hotel later that day because they had finally managed to pull together sometime to sit down, and he seemed willing to talk.

She was going to give him the chance to clear some things up. Where they went from there, or how it left them at the end of it, she couldn’t say yet. They would deal with that when they got to that point.

“Gigi?” Marla pressed on the call.