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Baseball cap jammed on her head, sunglasses shading her eyes from the glare of the flashbulbs, she’d ignored them all and slid into the back seat of the waiting car. But she wasn’t foolish enough to think it would end there. There would be months of tabloid headlines. Endless speculation. Ridiculous drama manufactured by a royal-obsessed press that couldn’t seem to get enough of the story.
All because she’d given in to her mother’s desperate plea for one last favor before her show,Hollywood Divas, went on hiatus. Her mother, a fading silver screen legend, divided her time between her infamous on-and off-screen exploits, perfect fodder for the wildly popular reality show she starred in each week along with a supporting cast of former A-list stars. Only now, since Jensen and her sisters had left the show, refusing to participate in the stunts her mother pulled as they each pursued their own careers and a life outside of television, the ratings for the decade-long-running show had plummeted, with the producers threatening to cancel the series unless a season finale stunt could provide a major boost to the numbers.
Jensen, determined to maintain her distance from the life she’d left behind, had flatly refused to even consider the whole fountain stunt, until her mother had broken down in tears, sobbing that she’d have nothing left if the show was gone, too. That she’d be flat broke. Which Jensen knew was true, since she’d been bankrolling her mother for the past eighteen months, her mother promising todo bettereach time,which never seemed to happen. Nor could she ask for help from her sisters, Ava and Scarlett, who had founded a fledgling design business and boutique in Manhattan, with no extra money to spare. Which meant all of this fell on her.
Which she might have been able to handle if she wasn’t also dealing with the aftereffects of her mother’s big end-of-season stunt. Thefountain episode, which continued to haunt Jensen, even in her sleep.
What had started out as an innocent stunt involving a historic fountain in Rome and a midnight skinny-dipping episode with her good friend, Alex, had seemed harmless enough. Until he’d used it as a tactic to get his ex-fiancée back. Little had she known that Alex planned to leave her hanging in the wind amid rumors of an affair, refusing to correct the salacious headlines that had raged, in the hopes that Juliana would come running back to him. Which, judging from the princess’s behavior the night before, she was about to do.
“I did you a favor,” Alex had protested when she’d called to ask him to step in. To quell the rumors. “I saved the show.” Which technically was true, with the ratings for the season finale the highest of any network television show this season, guaranteeing her mother yet another year on the air. But what abouther? Her reputation? That professionalism she’d worked so hard to cultivate? She had not signed on for this. A tabloid firestorm that was burning out of control.
Jacob, her hairstylist, finished the last big curl of her Hollywood-inspired style and doused her with a cloud of hair spray. She closed her eyes in the briefest of respites. Really, she should have known better. The media always twisted the facts to fit whatever they were looking for; she a favorite target for their keyboards. Not to mention the fact that giving in to her mother was always an exercise in futility. It always created more problems than it solved.
At the end of the day, this washerfault.
“But really,” Lucy Parker, a British model with a wicked wit, tossed at her as they were given the ten-minute warning by the showrunner. “Whatisgoing on between you and Alexandre? You can tell me. I won’t say a thing. You can’t possibly just be friends.”
“We are,” Jensen responded wearily, for what seemed like the hundredth time. “Why is that so hard to believe?”
“Because he’s gorgeous... The heir to a fortune. And you were naked in that fountain together.”
“We weren’t naked. I had lingerie on.” Something the presshadn’tseen fit to print. “And it was just a lark.” One she wished badly she could take back now.
“Who cares about Prince Alexandre?” Millie, one of the French models interrupted, arriving at their side in a swish of gossamer fabric. “Cristiano Vitale is here.Mon Dieu,” she breathed, “he is the hottest man I have ever laid eyes on. Beautiful, but not so beautiful he’s perfect. Beautiful in themanlysense. I met him once and I couldn’t even look at him straight. He is so amazing. He’s completely intimidating.”
Jensen’s stomach dropped to the floor.Cristiano Vitale was here?Why?FV didn’t have a presence here tonight. Nor was it customary for the CEO of the company to attend these types of things. Her mind flew back to the salacious headlines of the past few weeks. The rather panicked text she’d received from her agent on the way over here tonight, a text she hadn’t answered because she’d been running late.
CALL ME, was all it had said.
“You would have the scoop.” Millie fixed an avaricious gaze on Jensen. “Is he here with anyone? What’s his status?”
“I’m not sure.” She hadn’t seen Cristiano Vitale since her very first shoot for the company, at which he’d lorded over the proceedings like the king of England. She’d gotten the distinct impression he’d been there to make sure he hadn’t blown his millions on a piece of reality show trash. She’d never gotten such an infuriatingly arrogant impression in her life.
“He’s supposed to marry the beautiful socialite Alessandra Grasso,” a Spanish model pointed out. “I wouldn’t pin your hopes on that one.”
“They are on-again, off-again,” Millie tossed back. “And right now, they areoff. He is fair game.”
“I would give it a go,” Lucy said, fanning herself with a handheld mirror. “I bet it would be worth every minute of the crash and burn.”
Jensen was fairly sure it wouldn’t be. Not with that overabundant arrogance reigning supreme. She ran damp palms down the skirt of her sleek silver dress, a movement that got her a frown from the showrunner. There were a million reasons Cristiano Vitale could be here, she reasoned. He could be in town on business. He might know someone in attendance. Except, she conceded, this appearancewasout of the ordinary for him, because rumor had it, he was too busy making the sweeping behind-the-scenes changes at FV she’d quietly applauded if the brand she’d loved ever since she was a teenager were to survive.
The show manager gave them the two-minute warning. Jensen pulled in a steadying breath, attempting to mentally psyche herself up when her legs felt like lead.Twenty minutesand this would all be over. All she had to do was put one foot in front of the other until she’d finished her three wardrobe changes and the show was done. She’d give the after-party a ghostly quick visit, get out of here early and get some much-needed sleep before her flight to Paris.
She took her place at the entrance to the stage, the first in line to kick off the night. Absorbed the magnificent, soaring architecture of the gorgeous Gothic hall with its sweeping arches, atmospheric stained-glass windows and five-inch-thick stone walls, lit in purple and silver tonight. The blinding light and the intimate narrow runway, which made putting a foot out of place an inherently disastrous mistake. The packed, buzzing crowd.
“Do some reconnaissance,” Lucy whispered in her ear. “Find out where he is.”
She would prefer not to. In fact, practically swaying on her feet with exhaustion, she was just hoping to keep her feet on the runway, rather than end up in the crowd.
The music slowly increased in volume, and the lights went down. Adrenaline moved through her veins, transporting her to that magical place where it was just her and the runway ahead. Nothing else. And then, her cue came.
She stepped into the spotlight at the top of the runway. Waited for the crowd to register her appearance with a dramatic pause. Then, as the music reached its peak, she started down the stone walkway with her patented confident prowl, hips sashaying as her long stride ate up the distance, a feminine flourish to her walk her agent liked to call her secret power.
When she reached the end of the runway, she stopped to pose, focusing on showing off the gorgeous dress from every angle, every shimmer of the fabric revealing yet another carefully executed detail. Planted in the space for an extended moment as flashbulbs went off in a blinding cascade, she finally sawhim.
Seated in the front row alongside the executive director of the show, she felt the full force of Cristiano Vitale’s electric-blue gaze as it hit her like a sledgehammer. He moved it over her from tip to toe, taking in the exquisitely designed dress with an utterly unreadable look. But it was his eyes that revealed the barely banked emotion fueling him. He wasfurious.Incensed. She could feel it radiating from him like an invisible force. And suddenly, she knew it was no coincidence he was here. Not even a chance.
Her stomach plunged, a flurry of goose bumps unearthing themselves over the surface of her skin. She was in deep trouble. And all she could do was face the music. Literally.
