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‘We’ll sell it,’ he said instantly. ‘Or rent it out. I chose this house because I wanted to be close to you, but now that we’re together it doesn’t matter where we live. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.’
‘Oh, Dante,’ she whispered. ‘I love you so much.’
‘I know you do. And the best thing of all is that I feel exactly the same way about you.’ His smile was tender as he pulled her closer. ‘So tell me—are you looking forward to our wedding?’
Was she? She couldn’t wait! They were flying out to Tuscany to be married at the palazzo, and Dante had taken off a whole month for their honeymoon.
She suspected that he wanted to move out to Italy permanently, and she was going to tell him that she was perfectly amenable to the idea. She’d even restarted her Italian lessons in preparation, and this time around she was taking them much more seriously. And the great thing about her job was that you could do it just about anywhere.
In fact she was in the middle of writing a song which she hadn’t yet shown him, but she thought it might be the best thing she’d ever done. It was called Forever—and it was a powerful tribute to the man she would always love.
Forever.
* * * * *
Marriage Scandal, Showbiz Baby!
For Mark. Thank you for believing.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
EXCERPT
CHAPTER ONE
A thousand flashguns lit the sky and the Mediterranean night was turned into garish day as the crowd surged forward.
‘Jennifer!’ they screamed. ‘Jennifer!’
Jennifer paused and smiled, the way the studio had taught her—“Don’t show your teeth, honey—they’re so English!”—but the irony of the situation didn’t escape her. You could be adored from afar by so many—yet inside be as lonely as hell.
She placed one sparkle-shoed foot on the step of the red carpet—the famous red carpet which slithered down the steps of the Festiva
l Theatre like a scarlet snake. Oh, yes. A snake. Lots of those around at the Cannes Film Festival.
At the back of the building lay the fabled promenade of La Croisette, where lines of palm trees waved gently in the soft breeze. Beyond foamed the sapphire-edged waters of the Mediterranean, into which the evening sun had just set in a firework display of pink and gold. But, despite the warmth of the May evening which caressed her bare shoulders, Jennifer couldn’t stop the tiptoeing of regret which shivered over her skin.
Memories stayed stubbornly alive in your head, and you couldn’t stop them flooding back—no matter how hard you tried. She’d been in Cannes with Matteo during that first, blissful summer of their ill-fated romance, and she associated the whole dazzling coastline with him. Matteo had introduced her to the South of France and the heady world of films—just as he had introduced her to white wine and orgasm. Everything in life she thought worth knowing he had taught her.
‘You okay, Jen?’ came the gruff voice of her publicist, Hal, who—along with an assistant, had been shadowing her like a bodyguard all day, as if afraid that she wouldn’t actually turn up for the screening of her film tonight. And, yes, she’d been tempted to hide away in the luxury of her hotel room—but you couldn’t hide from the world for ever. Sooner or later you had to come out—and it was better to come out fighting!
Weighted by her elaborate blonde hairstyle, Jennifer dipped her head so that her low words could be neither lip-read nor heard by the crowds who were pushing towards her from behind the barrier ropes.
