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Finally, as the party ended, well into the early hours of the morning, the sun starting to rise in the sky, she could stand the nerves no longer. “Cristiano—”
“Not one word,” he bit out, his fingers sinking into her forearm. “We will discuss this when we get home.”
Back in the quiet, deadly silent confines of the villa, Jensen deposited her bronze clutch on the front entryway table and followed Cristiano into the salon. Pouring himself a glass of water, he turned and leaned against the bar, fury lighting his eyes. “I only asked one thing of you,” he rasped. “That you deliver on your promises to me, Jensen. That youcome throughon this for me. But you couldn’t even do that. Instead, it was more important for you to party on the Riviera and drink yourself into a stupor.”
Her heart sank, ending up somewhere above her churning insides. “I didn’t drink myself into a stupor. I wasn’t drinking at all. I was at that party because the shoot had run late and Giselle, who’d offered to get me home in the morning, was attending. I never would have stayed if I’d known this would happen.”
Cristiano stared at Jensen, sure she was lying. A shoot only ran so late before the light faded. She should have been on that jet, not at that party. As for not drinking, he’d seen the champagne glass in her hand in those paparazzi photos. Her sitting on another man’s lap, which might be enraging him the most, because he cared about her on a level that was unprecedented for him, one he refused to admit even to himself. And then, if that hadn’t been enough, there had been the photos from this morning, in which she’d looked gray and hungover.
She looked uncertain and guilty. He knew her intimately enough now to read those emotions. Although to be honest, he wasn’t sure he knew her at all. Not if she’d do this to him. “That’s why youplanfor things to happen,” he bit out. “That’s why I made those rules you thought were so silly. Because this was the one thing thatcould nothappen.” He raked his fingers through his hair, struggling to focus through bleary eyes. “You humiliated me in front of the media, in front of my investors, in front of theZhangs. You’ve stirred up a hornets’ nest of gossip the company does not need, when Pascal’s success needs to rule the day. And for what? So you can party on the Riviera?Dio mio, Jensen. Has what we’ve shared not meant anything to you?”
She stared at him with those wide, beautiful ebony eyes. “Cristiano—you have to let me explain.”
“Explain what?” He spread his hands wide. “Give me one reason,one reasonwhy you would have done this to me. And maybe I can understand.”
She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. Looked to be searching for an answer, perhaps one that would satisfy him. Which sent the fury blanketing him surging through his veins. “Funnily enough,” he growled, “the network has been tweeting pictures of you all day. I assume this is going to make it into a storyline for the show?”
“It might, yes, but—”
That made something inside him snap, his low growl cutting her off. He could not handle one more lie. Not one more thing in this moment that disillusioned him even more about her, because he was inlovewith her. Had been for a while. Had taken a chance for once in his life, at having something more, only to have it blow up in his face. Because really, he should have known better.
He couldn’t believe he’d allowed it to happen. That he’d allowed himself to be seduced by her beautiful smile and body, by that delicate vulnerability about her that had made him lose his head when he’d needed it the most. Because clearly, he had not been thinking rationally. He hadn’t been thinking at all.
Maybe she couldn’t help herself. Maybe he’d always known it was her Achilles’ heel. But he’d hoped it could be the alternative. That he’d known where her heart was. Which clearly, he hadn’t.
He held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it. I am exhausted and I amdone.”
Her eyes widened. “Done? What do you mean?”
He inserted a hard edge to his voice, because it was the only way he could get the words out of his mouth with conviction. “Done with us, Jensen. I thought that maybe you could be what I needed, but clearly, I was mistaken. You aren’t even remotely capable of filling that role. Clearly, I was delusional to think so.”
Her delicate face crumpled. She stepped toward him, her fingers resting on his arm. “Cristiano—”
He took a step back, away from all that gilded temptation. “Get some sleep. Do your job, Jensen. That’s the only thing I want from you.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
JENSENARRIVEDBACKin New York on a steamy, late-summer evening, in a brief few days’ respite from her schedule, after which she was due to close Fashion Week in Paris for FV at the end of the week. It had been too difficult to remain in Milan, on the estate, after everything that had happened, with even Filomena giving her the cold shoulder, as if she’d let her down, too, in the worst way possible.
She was heartsick.Heartsore, about the spectacular collapse of her relationship with Cristiano. She knew she should have prioritized him and the show over her mother, but she wasn’t sure what else she could have done. Allowed her mother to self-destruct in front of half of the French Riviera, decimating what remained of her career, or step in and try and salvage the situation. Either decision had been impossible.
The car drew to a halt in front of her Upper East Side apartment. The sight of the elegant cream-stuccoed town house might have given her some degree of comfort after months on the road had there not been half a dozen paparazzi clustered outside of it, lying in wait.
Salvador, her driver and bodyguard, turned to look at her from his position in the driver’s seat. “Do you want me to circle back around? See if we can shake them?”
Jensen shook her head. It was fruitless to even try. And even though the thought of negotiating that gauntlet in her present state of mind was daunting, she had no choice. The photographers had already spotted her, and her sisters were waiting for her inside.
She jammed a baseball hat on her head and pulled it down over her eyes. Braced herself for the impending fracas. Salvador slid out of the car, opened her door and positioned himself between her and the photographers as they walked quickly up the walkway, his hulky, menacing bulk shielding her from the flashbulbs that exploded in her face.
Forced to keep their distance, the paparazzi fired their questions at her, exploding like stray bullets on the night air.
“Why didn’t you walk in the show, Jensen?”
“Are you checking yourself into rehab?”
“What’s the status of you and Cristiano Vitale? Are you still together?”
The last one physically hurt. Murmuring her thanks to Salvador, she pushed through the front door of her apartment, closing it on a hail of flashbulbs. Ava, her eldest sister, dark-haired and elegant, and Scarlett, her youngest, blonde and rebellious, were waiting in the foyer.
