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He dropped her hands hastily, stepping away as though she’d burned him. ‘So what? You’re going to hole yourself up here and raise my daughter alone in this house like bloody Rapunzel? You think that’s better than risking a photo of her being leaked?’
Nicole remained silent. Refusing to look at him.
He shook his head with finality. ‘The only person being unreasonable here is you. I hope you’re happy here in your own personal prison.’
He stormed out, leaving Nicole to stare at the door blankly.
* * *
Rigo remained completely silent in the conference room as all hell broke loose around him. The PR team had worked furiously for three days now to uphold the injunction, but with the story gaining steam on social media it had become akin to holding sand in their bare hands. The paparazzi were banding together, demanding blood, and the story was making waves across the globe.
Nobody cared that the man had ambushed his wife and child. He had been on public land and therefore within his rights. The fact that a billionaire had assaulted him and damaged the property of one of the ‘little guys’ was far more interesting than a case of child protection. The case would go to court, and the directors at Fournier had already called for an emergency meeting with the board.
They were going to jump ship, and there was nothing Rigo could do to stop his entire world from unravelling.
If only Nicole had trusted him enough—maybe together they could have swayed the public in their favour. But instead she had chosen to stay hidden away.
‘Rigo, are you even listening to this?’ The senior director of his legal department was looking at him expectantly, along with the rest of the room.
He sat up, suddenly very tired of the whole situation. All these people had been working tirelessly for him, likely neglecting their loved ones in the process, and all for what? These past five years had been devoted to growing his family company into the biggest fashion corporation in Europe. He had absorbed countless smaller companies, and with each one he had felt that same rush as when he’d first pursued Fournier. Now, with the deal set to crash and burn spectacularly, he felt nothing but emptiness.
The realisation than he no longer cared was so unsettling that he stood up and left the meeting without a single explanation, ignoring the shouts of concern as he shut the door behind him and ordered the car to take him home.
The drive through the busy streets of Paris passed in a blur. His mind was foggy and he felt subdued—likely to do with the fact that he hadn’t slept or eaten properly in the days since he’d returned to Paris.
As the car pulled up to the kerb he noted the gangs of photographers still camped outside his apartment building. The abuse he had endured from their angry mouths for the past three days had opened his eyes to the kind of life Nicole must have lived. As Rigo Marchesi, golden boy CEO, he had never known anything but professionalism from the press. But now, branded a paparazzi attacker, he was subject to threats, taunts and worse from these men and women who hounded him day and night.
It was an eye-opening experience.
He entered his apartment, immediately noticing the vibrant blue fedora that lay on the kitchen counter. His father sat on the sofa, nursing a brandy, and looked up as Rigo walked into the living area.
‘I came straight here as soon as I saw the news.’ He stood up, pouring a second glass and handing it to his son with a half-smile.
‘Aren’t you meant to be in the rainforest somewhere right now?’ Rigo raised a brow. ‘Or did Uncle Mario send for you the minute he realised how badly I’d messed up?’
‘Mario did call.’ Amerigo nodded, looking down at his glass. ‘But I’m here for my son—not for the CEO of the Marchesi Group.’ He sat back, eyeing Rigo intently. ‘Before this wedding, when was the last time you took a break, huh?’ he rasped.
‘I’ve got bigger things to worry about than that right now.’
‘Another vital acquisition, I heard?’ The older man shook his head. ‘I admire everything that you have accomplished, Rigo. You have brought our family business to levels I never dreamed of achieving myself. But when is it going to be enough?’
Rigo looked at his father blankly. ‘If everyone stopped after a certain level of success the world would grind to a halt. I believe in constant progress.’
‘Progressing? Is that what you think you’re doing? Because from here it just looks as if you’re running on the spot.’
‘Papà, I’m under a lot of pressure right now and I don’t appreciate your taunts,’ he gritted.
‘You need to be taunted every now and then. You’re so bloody stubborn—just like your mother...’ he mused. ‘Ever since that damn girl took you for a ride you’ve been like this. Running and running from the pain.’
