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Three minutes, Luca thought idly, glancing to the place he’d last seen Taylor and missing the jealous glint in the woman’s eye. That was how long it would take him to forget her.
Forty-eight hours later Taylor sat in the back of a limo as she was driven to the docklands for filming to begin. She’d spent the entire previous day locked in her hotel room checking every online newspaper and gossip column for pictures, terrified that her momentary lapse with Luca might have been captured on camera. When she realised she’d got away with it she’d been weak with relief.
From now on she was going to keep well away from men like Luca Corretti.
Never again would she do something that gave a man power over her.
But even as she thought that, she knew that her response hadn’t been driven by stupidity but by a raw attraction so strong nothing could have prepared her for it.
And it wasn’t just his physical appeal that had caused her downfall, it had been something else. Something layered beneath the surface of masculine perfection. An honesty that presented a stark contrast to the atmosphere of falseness that had hovered over the wedding. Yes, that was it. Luca Corretti embraced everything he was. He took what he wanted without explanation or apology and that was—she struggled to describe it—refreshing.
She felt a twinge of envy and dismissed it instantly. She didn’t want to be like Luca, a slave to her emotions. Her life had been so much happier since she’d been in control.
‘We’ll be there in ten minutes, Miss Carmichael.’
The voice of her driver came through the intercom and excitement buzzed through her. She couldn’t wait to be back on a film set. She was going to throw herself into her work and forget about her narrow escape. And forget about Luca.
Blocking out disturbing memories of that kiss, Taylor leaned her head back against the seat, finally able to think back to the wedding and laugh. What a crazy day. She still couldn’t believe that Luca’s brother Matteo had run off with the bride before she’d made it as far as the altar. Bad behaviour was obviously in the DNA, but she was grateful for that because all the attention that had been focused on her had immediately switched to the Corretti family.
She shook her head at the irony of it.
And Santo Corretti had been worried about her causing a scandal.
As the car approached the docklands area, she noticed the pack of photographers pressed against the security fence and her heart sank.
There were so many of them, no doubt all waiting for her to screw up on her first day and give them a nice juicy headline.
Was it going to be like this all the time?
Her phone buzzed with a text and she checked it quickly, her heart rate doubling when she saw it was from Rafaele.
New phone. New number. And still he had no trouble contacting her.
She hesitated and then opened the text.
Good luck today. Enjoy Sicily.
Flinging the phone back in her bag, she rubbed her forehead with fingers that shook. She felt as if she’d been dipped in iced water. He wasn’t wishing her luck, he was telling her that he knew exactly what she was doing and where she was doing it.
She was never going to be rid of him. Never.
Knowing that she couldn’t afford to think of him now, she took a deep breath as the car slowed and shut off all those parts of herself she no longer showed to the world. Maybe everyone at the wedding had been fake, but she was the biggest fake of all. No one saw the real Taylor. She hadn’t even been sure she could access the real Taylor any more until that moment in the maze with Luca.
Pushing that thought aside, she stepped out of the car, telling herself that the media attention would die down after the first day of filming.
Her confidence lasted as long as it took her to notice the black expression on the director’s face. She’d assumed he was meeting her in person out of courtesy and respect for her position on the movie, but one look at his face told her that was a false assumption.
It was a struggle to keep her smile steady. ‘Sorry about the media circus. Hopefully they’ll lose interest soon enough.’
‘Why would they lose interest when you are a never-ending source of juicy stories?’ His voice was cold. ‘Your brief was to create interest in the movie, not in your personal life. The moment Santo told me he wanted you on the project I knew it would be a disaster.’
‘Oh.’ Shaken by that unwelcome news, Taylor spun a few more layers of protection between her feelings and the world and kept it professional. ‘I’d like to think you’d judge me on my performance now, not on something that happened years ago.’
‘The whole world is judging you on your performance at the Corretti wedding.’ His face was scarlet with anger and for the first time Taylor noticed the newspaper clutched in his hand.
‘The wedding never happened, but even I couldn’t be blamed for that, surely?’ Confused, she eyed the newspaper. Did people even still buy those things? If she ever wanted to glance at headlines she just used her phone. ‘If you’re worried about the fact the wedding didn’t go ahead, then don’t be. I’m sure Santo Corretti will deal with it. The publicity might even be good for the film.’
His mouth opened and closed. ‘“Good” that the movie-going public see you as a man-stealer?’
She looked at him blankly. ‘A what?’
‘Just in case you were too drunk to know what you were doing, you can read it for yourself.’
Taylor almost lost her balance as he thrust the paper at her. ‘I don’t drink. And I remember everything.’ An image of Luca’s handsome face floated into her head and she pushed it away as she fumbled with the newspaper.
‘Portia Bateman.’ He enunciated every syllable. ‘Are you going to tell me that name doesn’t mean anything to you?’
‘Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to tell you because it doesn’t. I’ve never heard of Portia Bateman.’ Taylor’s mind was working in slow motion. Her fingers were clumsy as she unfolded the offending paper. ‘In fact, I don’t know a single person called Portia—’ The words stuck in her mouth as a snippet of conversation rose in her mind.
So who is this woman you’re hiding from?
Apparently her name is Portia.
Driven by a horrible, awful suspicion, she shook her head. ‘Oh, no, no, she can’t have done that. I checked. I looked…’ She muttered the words to herself but the director was watching her keenly.
‘So you do know someone called Portia.’
‘No, I don’t! I’ve never even met her. She’s just someone he…’ She scanned the piece, saw the photograph of a tearful blonde woman under the caption Exclusive—Taylor Carmichael Stole My Man. And there beneath the caption was a photograph of her and Luca. His bronzed hand was plastered against her bare thigh and they were kissing. Not just kissing. Devouring each other. Passion was painted into every line of the photo and she stared at it in dismay.
Her fingers gripped the paper.
The sounds faded around her.
Dizziness washed over her.
She’d congratulated herself on the fact that no paparazzi had caught her moment of indiscretion. She’d forgotten that since the advent of camera phones, everyone was a photographer. And this one had hit the jackpot.
Bathed in horror, Taylor closed her eyes. This couldn’t be happening to her. It just couldn’t be. She couldn’t think through the panic. ‘Why did she wait a day to publish this?’
‘She says she offered Luca Corretti the chance to buy the photograph but he just laughed and told her to go ahead and sell whatever story she wanted to print. So she did. She sold her story to the highest bidder.’
He’d laughed?
Taylor felt cold.
What had she done?
The answer to that was nothing, but no one looking at this photograph was going to believe that. She’d dropped her guard for a few moments, that was all, and this was the result.
Keeping her expression neutral, she handed the newspaper back to the glowering director. She wanted to wake up and start the day again. She wanted to wind the clock back. She wanted to never have gone to that damn wedding. Most of all she wanted to kick Luca Corretti in a place that would ensure he’d never seduce a woman again.
‘I understand your concerns and I realise that the story looks bad, but I’m asking you to trust me. This piece isn’t—’ how on earth could she even begin to justify it in a way that would change his expression from sour to sympathetic? ‘—accurate. Please judge me on my acting ability, not the media circus that follows me.’
‘You think that pack of journalists are interested in your acting ability? Your movie comeback is over before it began. Santo Corretti is on his way here now and I can tell you he is not amused. After that wedding fiasco he isn’t in the best of moods as it is and this project means a lot to him. He doesn’t want it hijacked by your never-ending need to grab the headlines.’
He wasn’t interested in an explanation, Taylor thought numbly. The truth wasn’t going to help and a small part of her couldn’t even blame him for that because the picture did look incriminating. It had just been a kiss. Other people kissed all the time and did a whole lot worse and no one knew or cared. She slipped for one moment and the evidence was plastered everywhere and she had her mother to thank for that. She’d ensured the media had been fed a steady diet of Taylor Carmichael from the first moment she’d stuck her child in front of the camera.
Taylor wondered if Luca had even seen the pictures.
He’d probably laugh, she thought bitterly. It wasn’t his naked thigh that was up there for the world to see. It wasn’t his career that was ruined. Even if the board refused to give him more responsibility, he still had the fashion house. And anyway, he didn’t appear to care what the world thought of him. In fact, he seemed to behave in a way designed to invite and encourage salacious headlines.
‘I can tell you that Luca Corretti isn’t involved with that woman. It’s a kiss and tell. He rejected her and she’s getting her revenge.’
‘So you’re trying to tell me that picture is Photoshopped?’
‘No, but—’
‘It’s not you he’s kissing?’
‘Yes, it’s me, but—’
‘It’s not your dress that’s ripped?’
‘The dress isn’t ripped. The stitches came undone.’ Feeling like a fox with a pack of hungry hounds snapping at her heels, Taylor gritted her teeth. ‘They sewed me into it which I knew was a stupid idea right from the start.’
The director looked disgusted. ‘This story is everywhere. Tell me how I’m supposed to deal with this. How am I supposed to focus on making this movie when every single person on my set is looking at the bare thigh of my leading lady and sniggering? Just being this close to you is making me feel dirty.’
The whole world is going to know you’re dirty, Taylor.
Her breathing grew shallow.
Anger burst free inside her. This was all Luca’s fault. Because he didn’t care what people thought of him, he’d exposed her. He’d stripped her, almost literally, with no thought to the consequences. If he hadn’t been so careless with that Portia woman’s feelings, this would never have happened.
‘The press have embellished this to make it look bad, but it isn’t how it seems.’
‘The truth doesn’t even matter.’ The director made a hand gesture to signify two minutes to someone over her shoulder. ‘I can’t work in this circus. You’re off the movie.’
Those words turned Taylor’s limbs to water. ‘What? No!’ Composure deserted her. She wanted to act. More than anything else she wanted to act. It was all she wanted to do.
‘You can’t do that. You can’t get rid of me because of what the media say. You can’t give them that much power and control. I need to speak to Luca. Give me a chance to sort this out.’
But he’d already moved on. People were shouting things at him and his eyes were on the phone in his hand as he read a text. ‘You can’t sort this out. Wherever you go, trouble follows. It’s always about you and never about the film. You’re finished.’
Furious at the injustice of it, Taylor straightened her shoulders. ‘That’s Santo Corretti’s decision, not yours.’
‘Fine. He can tell you himself.’ Standing back, the director gestured towards the low, expensive sports car that had just parked behind her.
Taylor closed her eyes. This was a nightmare. She had to do something but nothing she said was going to rub out that picture of Luca with his hand on her thigh.
She forced herself to stand still as Santo strode towards her, his face black as the sky before a storm.
Judging from the little she’d read about the aborted wedding, he’d had a worse weekend than she had.
‘It isn’t how it seems,’ she said, trying and failing to keep the desperation out of her voice. Part of her hated herself for having to try and excuse herself but she was willing to do anything to keep the part. ‘She’s one of his exes and she obviously followed him and spied on him.’
‘And what were you and Luca doing together in the first place?’
‘I was—’ She broke off, suddenly furious with Luca. If he’d just paid the woman they wouldn’t be in this mess. Her mind raced ahead. She’d make him pay in another way. ‘We were meeting each other. You told me I couldn’t have a relationship, so we were trying to be discreet.’
‘Luca is never discreet. He does exactly what he wants to do with whomever he wishes to do it. He doesn’t care.’
‘But I do, and he respected that. He understands what the press are like and he wanted to protect me.’
Santo shot her a look of undiluted incredulity. ‘Your date at the wedding was some guy called Zach. I heard you on the phone.’
‘And you heard me tell you that Zach isn’t my boyfriend,’ she said truthfully. ‘He’s just a friend.’ And by that she meant that he was allowed one layer closer to the real her than most people.
The truth was she trusted no one.
‘So you were using him to cover the fact that you’re with Luca? You’re trying to convince me that you and my cousin are an item?’
‘That’s exactly what I’m telling you.’
‘My cousin isn’t capable of a relationship.’
‘I think he was as surprised by how quickly our relationship developed as I was. After what you said to me, I made him promise to keep it a secret. I couldn’t change the way we felt about each other, but I thought I could stop you finding out. There is nothing sleazy about that kiss.’ Making a last-ditch attempt to halt the free fall of her career, she shot a look at the director. ‘It was two people sharing a special moment and that woman exploited that. We love each other. Now can we move on?’
‘Love?’ The director started to laugh. ‘You expect us to believe that nonsense? Today it’s Luca Corretti—who will it be tomorrow?’ Perhaps if he hadn’t sounded so contemptuous, she wouldn’t have said it but she was so upset at his implication that she was unlovable, the words fell out of her mouth.
‘It won’t be anyone tomorrow,’ Taylor heard herself say, ‘because I’m in love with Luca and he’s in love with me. We’re getting married.’ People used her all the time. Why shouldn’t she use someone else for a change? And since this was all Luca’s fault, he was the lucky candidate. ‘We didn’t want to say anything on Saturday and draw attention away from the bride and bridegroom.’ She couldn’t for the life of her remember their names. ‘We were trying to be unselfish which is why we sneaked a quiet few minutes together.’ For a few seconds she had the satisfaction of seeing the pair of them silenced. She held her breath, knowing that they were never going to believe her. Never.
Santo was the first to break the silence. ‘If my cousin were engaged, I would have heard.’
‘It’s a secret.’ So much of a secret that even Luca didn’t know about it. Her insides clenched as she realised the enormity of what she’d done. ‘No one knew but us. And because we’re keeping it a secret, obviously we had to be discreet.’ She snapped her mouth shut before she could trip over her own tangle of lies. ‘And now I’d be grateful if neither of you would mention it again. As far as the media is concerned, I’m single. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?’
The director let out a stream of profanities and raised the palms of his hands. ‘I can’t work with this. If you want me on this project, I demand another actress.’
Santo stood in silence, a frown on his brow.
Taylor felt sick. So that was it. It was all over. She was just about to slide back into her car and hide her humiliation behind tinted glass when Santo spoke.
‘Taylor stays on this project.’
The director’s eyes narrowed. ‘If she stays, I go.’
‘Then go.’ With a total absence of sympathy, Santo nodded his head at Taylor. ‘We’ll talk to the press and then get on with the job we’re here to do.’
‘You just fired the director.’ Stunned by his unexpected support, Taylor could hardly speak. ‘And yesterday you told me to be discreet and not say anything to the press.’
