An Invitation to Sin(34)

Remembering the studio's insistence on publicity and determined not to  give them any reason to complain about her, she forced herself to walk  across to them. Her intention was to allow them a few shots that would  hopefully satisfy them enough to make them leave her alone, but as she  approached she sensed the buzz of excitement that comes with a major  story.

‘Taylor, do you have any comment on the photographs that are going to be published tomorrow?'

‘Photographs?' But she knew what photographs and it was like stepping off a cliff.

The cameras were clicking away, microphones ready to record her  response, and all she could do was stand there, staring at them in  silence as the reality sank into her brain.

He'd done it.

Rafaele had finally done what he'd been threatening to do for years.  He'd sold the photographs. Photographs he'd had taken when she'd still  thought there were people in the world who could be trusted. Photographs  she hadn't even known existed until she'd broken up with him.

She'd often wondered how this moment would feel if it ever came but it felt nothing like she'd imagined.

She felt numb. Disconnected. As if she were watching events from the outside.

She'd expected to feel betrayed but she realised now the betrayal had  come years before. And it had formed her. Influenced every choice she'd  made since then. Tainted every affair and ruined every friendship.

‘Taylor? The photographs are going to be published in an Italian magazine tomorrow.'

So not even somewhere far away. On Luca's home ground where it would  cause him maximum humiliation. Soil his perfect shiny moment when his  achievements were being lauded by the board.

Everyone was talking and the noise in her head grew and grew until she wanted to cover her ears and scream.

‘I don't have any comment to make but I'll be contacting my lawyers.'  But it wasn't her lawyers who she was thinking of as she forged her way  to the black chauffeur-driven car that was always at her disposal during  filming. It was Luca.

Luca, who was going to walk into that boardroom thinking that for once  he had the upper hand only to be knocked unconscious by the weight of  the secrets tumbling out of his fiancée's closet.                       
       
           



       

She knew he wouldn't care about the photographs-when had he ever cared  what people thought-but he at least deserved some warning so that he was  prepared to handle it.

Grateful for the blacked-out windows that gave her privacy, she leaned  forward and ordered the driver to take her to the Corretti building as  fast as possible.

The place was already swarming with press but with the help of the  security team employed by the studio, Taylor made her way through the  glass doors unmolested.

Once inside, she took the elevator to the top floor and was about to ask  where the board meeting was taking place when she saw Luca emerge from a  room as if he were sleepwalking. His shirt was undone at the collar and  he looked as if he'd been hit by a passing car. His handsome face was  pale and his usually smooth hair tousled.

Eyes glassy, he knocked into a passing PA, sent a pile of papers flying  and didn't even seem to notice. He didn't send her his trademark  slanting smile, didn't use the opportunity to appraise her bare legs or  make any comment at all.

It was clear that he was in shock and the fact that he was shocked shook her to the core.

Nothing shocked Luca.

Nothing.

Her insides lurched.

Slowly, he focused on her. His handsome face turned a shade paler and he  didn't seem quite steady on his feet and for a moment he didn't speak.  Just stared at her in disbelief as if he couldn't believe what he was  seeing.

That shaken glance sent a tide of humiliation flowing over her and she  realised just how much she'd been hoping he'd simply laugh at the whole  thing. How much she'd been hoping they'd laugh together.

This was Luca Corretti. Bad boy personified. He was the one person she'd  felt understood her. She'd wanted him to wink and say something in that  careless voice of his-something like ‘I hope they got your good side,  dolcezza.'

Never, in all the time they'd been together, had she seen Luca Corretti  at a loss for words. He always had a smart comeback for everything. He  was never bothered by anyone's opinion.

But he was bothered now.

In fact, he looked as if he needed to lie down.

As if to confirm that, he turned to his PA. ‘Get me a whisky.' His usual  smooth, sexy voice was rough and shaky and when his stunned PA handed  him a glass he drank it in one gulp, his hand trembling so badly he  could barely hold the glass.

Then he looked at Taylor. ‘I just found out-I had no idea-I learned  something-' He was uncharacteristically inarticulate and Taylor suddenly  found she had a lump lodged in her throat.

‘I know you did.' She snapped the words, horrified to hear her own voice  crack. ‘I came to tell you myself. I'm sorry I was too late.'

‘What did you come to tell me?' He looked distracted and she stared at him in exasperation.

‘Well, obviously that-Oh, never mind-you already know. You found it out yourself.'

‘Yes. Yes, I did and-Cristo, Taylor … '

The sight of him so shaken up unsettled her more than she wanted to  admit. He'd seemed to understand her so well. Better than anyone ever  had before. Why wasn't it obvious to him that Rafaele had taken  advantage of her? He knew about her controlling mother and the way her  father had used her. He knew she'd been vulnerable at the time. He knew  all that and instead of defending her or even encouraging her to tell,  he was shocked.

But of course he was.

Because he was thinking about himself, not her, the way people always did.

He'd agreed to the engagement as a means of gaining respectability and  these revelations had just blown that out of the water. The board had  probably just fired him, which would explain why he was reacting so  strongly.

Taylor lifted her chin. ‘I'm sorry you feel this way.'

‘You are?' His voice was raw. ‘You're sorry?'

‘Of course! It wasn't what either of us wanted. It wasn't part of our  arrangement.' I wanted your support. Suddenly she was desperate to leave  before she made a fool of herself.

‘It's over, Luca. Done. Finished. The terms of our agreement have  changed so that's the end of it. There's nothing more to be said.' She  walked towards the door and then, because she just couldn't help  herself, she made the mistake of looking back. And wished she hadn't  because Luca was staring blindly into the distance, looking like a man  who had lost everything.





CHAPTER NINE


TAYLOR LAY IN a sodden heap on her bed in her trailer where she'd spent  the night, too drained to get up and face the press. She hadn't slept at  all, just lain there, hoping desperately to hear from Luca. Hoping  desperately that once he'd had time to think about it, he'd revert to  his usual indifferent self and come and laugh with her.                       
       
           



       

But she heard nothing from him.

It seemed everyone in the world had called her except him. Everyone  wanted her comment on the impending publication of the photographs,  everyone wanted to know her side of the story and how she felt about the  world seeing her naked. And she didn't even care. Each time her phone  pinged with another message she grabbed it hopefully but it was never  him. He didn't communicate. Not even a single text saying how sorry he  was that she was in this mess.

She'd had no idea the pretence of respectability had mattered so much to  him and the image of his shocked expression was jammed in her brain.

It wasn't just the thought of the whole world seeing her naked that  upset her, it was the fact that Luca didn't care about how she felt. All  he'd thought about was himself and how it was going to affect him. When  she'd walked into his office yesterday she'd wanted him to defend her.  Instead he'd looked shocked.

Luca Corretti, shocked.

He'd done shocking things in his life but clearly he was like so many  men. He had double standards when it came to his own behaviour.

The weird thing was she didn't even care about the photographs any more.  Even though it was what she'd dreaded for so long, she didn't care  about the embarrassment and the humiliation. All she cared about was  that her ‘engagement' to Luca was over. No more dinners. No more  skinny-dipping in the sea. No more Tomas and Teresa. No more …

Fat, scalding tears slid down her cheeks.

Reaching for another tissue, she blew her nose hard, acknowledging the truth with a sick lurch of her stomach.

She loved him.

Really loved him. All of him, from the fun outrageous side of him to the hurt, lonely boy who didn't trust anyone.

Somehow, somewhere, her feelings had shifted from fake to real whereas he-he didn't have any feelings at all.