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…’