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"I have to leave here. I can't take him with me."
Franco's mouth was a firm line, but he gave her a single nod. "You're making a mistake, Nattie."
"Maybe."
But if she was, she could live with that.
Maybe.
Chapter Twelve
"It seems like these Del Rossi's just can't keep themselves out of the spotlight, Kim." A nasally brunette tipped her morning glass of wine to her co-anchor as if she was passing the Del Rossi-bashing torch.
If she was, the other woman picked it up with zeal. "My god, I don't think there's been a family this obsessed with bad publicity since the days of MTV's Osbournes."
"Right?" The woman beside her laughed and guzzled her wine.
"I mean, first you had the whole fiasco with Franco and his apparent hatred for children."
"Though, with a body like that--" The woman sat down her now-empty glass. "We won't go there." She chuckled.
"At least not yet. Anyway, he's not even the center of the action anymore. His brother, long time recluse gazillionaire Dominic Del Rossi was arrested at the American Red Cross Charity Gala on Saturday. Can you believe it?"
"I certainly can not. And for violating a restraining order of all things." The brunette shook her head. "Their mother must be so proud."
Natalie winced, imagining Mrs. Del Rossi watching Dominic's face on the screen. The press hadn't caught on to everything that had happened that night, and as far as she could tell, no detail about her former marriage had leaked out. But that hadn't stopped her cell phone from ringing off the hook. Nor had it stop them from—
"Let's talk about this woman, shall we?"
"Yes, the very mysterious Natalie Gains." The brunette grabbed a new bottle of wine from beside her and tipped half its contents into her glass.
Since when was it okay to drink at ten in the morning on live television?
And, come to think of it, why hadn't Natalie started drinking yet?
If she was going to watch the train wreck of her life on talk TV, she might as well have a bottle or two to share it with...
"Now, we haven't been able to catch a word about this woman from anyone."
"No, we haven't, and you know, you'd think she'd want to clear the air. Maybe even explain that whole business with a restraining order against a billionaire."
The blonde woman guffawed. "As far as I'm concerned, she's the envy of us all. We all know who was arrested with Dominic Del Rossi."
Did the brunette lick her lips? She had. She’d licked her lips, and then said, "Our long-time favorite millionaire bad boy, Brooks Adams."
"Now, you've got Dominic Del Rossi and Brooks Adams openly brawling over you. That's a life. Whoever Natalie Gains is, I applaud her."
"Or I at least want to know if her current boyfriend has any brothers." Both women cackled, but then a picture of Brooks snuggled up to that blonde flashed on the screen and Natalie clicked off the TV.
That was quite enough entertainment television for one lifetime, and yet every time she saw Brooks' picture on the television she sit and watch, like rubbernecking the car accident of that night over and over again.
That wine might really not be such a bad idea.
She lay back on the couch, listening to the vibration of her cell phone as it skittered across the coffee table. Just like every time it had rung since the gala, she didn't answer.
Friend, foe, or reporter--it didn't matter. She wasn't in the mood to talk.
She only wanted to lay here on her couch and thank heaven that she and Brooks hadn't gotten drunkenly married one night.
