The Secret To Marrying Marchesi. Amanda Cinelli

with you from the start. I told you that I was pregnant, and I didn’t cause a scene when you chose not to be involved.’

      Rigo bit his lip with frustration. She was determined to stay her course. That much was becoming brutally clear. He had known she was an actress as a child, but he had never expected her to be this stoic in her performance.

      ‘You make me out to be such a villain in this production of yours,’ he said, keeping his tone deliberately calm.

      ‘Rigo, right now all I’m asking of you is that you use your power and influence so that I can go back home with my daughter and never bother you again.’

      ‘And am I to presume you don’t want a single penny from my heartless hands?’

      She sighed audibly. ‘Ask yourself this. Why would I wait almost six months of my child’s life before leaking a story if I was so desperate? It doesn’t make sense.’

      She looked so maternal right now, so innocent. It was likely she meant to look that way—to play the victim. He shook off the feeling of unease after seeing the photograph of the child. He was here to finish this.

      ‘You’re right. It doesn’t make sense.’ He shrugged. ‘But I am not in the least bit inclined to make sense of what goes on in your brain. Whether or not you leaked the story is of no consequence to me right now.’

      ‘You just want me to clear your name.’ She bit her lip. ‘I can’t do that, Rigo. I won’t lie.’

      Rigo fought the urge to growl. ‘Nicole, I might be able to gag the media and prevent further stories, but I can’t undo the damage that has already been done. The public cannot be gagged. And the only way to stop them talking is for the scandal to be disproved.’ He paused for effect, watching as her eyes narrowed. ‘I am willing to increase the offer that was made to you today by twenty per cent. I’m asking you to do the right thing for everyone involved.’

      All trace of softness seemed to disappear as she took a deep breath, shoving both hands into the pockets of her jeans. ‘As much as I want my privacy back, I can’t compromise my integrity and tell a lie that will affect my daughter forever. I vowed that I would never come to you, Rigo, and I haven’t until now. But right now her privacy means a lot more to me than my pride.’ She looked at him, her caramel-coloured eyes wide and deathly serious. ‘Do a paternity test. If it proves negative I will make whatever statement you like.’

      ‘I fail to see the point in performing a test when I already know what the outcome will be.’ He fought the urge to raise his voice. Performing a test would mean more time, and every day this scandal was out there was another day of plummeting shares.

      ‘If you are completely sure that she is not your daughter, then you have nothing to lose.’ Her voice was quiet.

      ‘Fine—I will arrange for the damned test. But, Nicole, once the negative result is confirmed, you will make a statement to the press.’

      ‘If it’s negative, you have a deal.’ She nodded.

      ‘Good, then we’re done here.’ He made to move towards the door.

      ‘Wait!’ she called, stopping him midstride. ‘We haven’t discussed the details of what will be done if the test is positive.’

      Rigo shook his head. ‘If the test is positive...’ he said, looking down again at the picture of the child briefly. Her eyes were a deep cobalt blue. If he wasn’t so sure that he was sterile he might almost call them Marchesi blue.

      Nicole was looking at him intently. He tore his gaze away and walked over to open the door, very intent on leaving all of a sudden.

      ‘It would be nothing short of miraculous,’ he stated plainly. ‘I’m pretty sure a paternity test isn’t going to change what I already know.’

      With that, he closed the door behind him.

      * * *

      The executive boardroom of the Marchesi Group headquarters was on the forty-fifth floor. Nicole sat alone at the end of the black marble conference table while various men and women in designer suits sat around her in complete silence. No one addressed her or looked her way. She suddenly wished she could trade places with Anna, who lay happily chewing on her toes in the stroller by her side.

      An elderly white-haired gentleman sat at the top of the table, watching her. Nicole cleared her throat, sitting up a little straighter in her seat. A slim leather folder was laid out in front of her. She hesitated for a moment before opening it, aware that all eyes in the room were suddenly trained upon her. The cheque inside had so many zeroes she felt her breath catch.

      The white-haired man sat forward, clearing his throat. ‘As the most senior member of the board present, I am presenting you with our final offer, Miss Duvalle.’

      ‘This can’t be right...’ she breathed, the figures swimming in her vision.

      ‘The Marchesi Group is offering you a generous deal in return for your public statement that Rigo Marchesi is not the father of your child.’

      ‘This wasn’t the deal.’ She began to pick at her nails under the table, a familiar sense of entrapment setting in. This wasn’t a meeting at all. It was an ambush.

      ‘Understand this, Miss Duvalle. We will not be negotiating the figure on that cheque, so if you want the pay-out I would advise you to take it now.’ The man sat back in his seat, openly surveying the neckline of her blouse.

      Nicole crossed her arms over her chest, feeling very small and very alone in the room full of suits. It would be so easy just to do what they asked. To deny the truth and run away would be the easier option in some respects. The truth was inconvenient—just as she and her daughter were. A press release would take less than ten minutes and then she could escape. She could forget all about Rigo Marchesi and start over again somewhere new.

      And what would happen when her daughter became old enough to understand? What about when she asked why her father had never played a part in her life? Her daughter would eventually find out that her mother had lied to the world and denied her the right to her true parentage.

      She thought of her own mother, of her countless lies and manipulations. All for money. What kind of role model would she be if she lied to her own daughter about something so important?

      She took a deep breath. These people wouldn’t cow her. ‘I won’t be signing a thing without speaking to Mr Marchesi first.’

      A woman in a beige suit spoke, her hawklike eyes spitting fire across the room. ‘I’m aware that you probably grew up observing a certain level of...legal negotiations through your mother. But are you really prepared to go toe to toe with a multi-billion-euro corporation in a courtroom?’

      Nicole felt her skin prickle. These people made her feel cheap and utterly worthless.

      Suddenly every other person at the table avoided her eyes, seeming very focused on the door behind her.

      Nicole turned to see Rigo’s hulking frame silhouetted in the doorway.

      She stood, anger steeling her resolve. ‘This is unacceptable. I won’t be bullied.’

      ‘I did not agree to this meeting, Nicole.’ His voice was deeper than usual, and his gaze dropped momentarily to where Anna was growing rapidly more tired in her stroller. ‘Go and wait in my office, I’ll be there in a moment.’

      * * *

      Rigo stood dangerously still at the top of the table and waited for Nicole to leave before he spoke. ‘Somebody had better tell me right now why this meeting was arranged without my knowledge.’

      The man at the top of the table sat forward. His uncle Mario was a white-haired oaf in his late fifties, with a penchant for contesting his nephew’s authority at every turn. ‘We have already got agreement from the rest of the board. You have been outvoted in your plan. Swift, heavy-handed action is in the best interests of the company.’

      Rigo cleared