Jenna

 

After lunch, Katie pleads a headache and she goes back to the hotel room for a couple of hours until it’s time for her flight. Her date went well, too well, and she had far too much champagne last night. I venture out to the park with Sophie on my own, smiling at the thought of Katie and the cameraman. I want everyone to be as happy as I am.

I’m just pushing the stroller down a side street when we are accosted by three heavily-built guys who come out of nowhere, closing in on us from both sides of the narrow street, tall buildings blocking the light.

Before I know it, they have Sophie out of her stroller, and they are bundling her into the back of a big black car with dark windows. I shriek and open my mouth to scream harder. One of the guys clamps his big, fat hand over my mouth, and another gets hold of me and pushes me into the car, snatching my bag from me. He looks inside. “Her phone’s in here. I’ll hang onto this.”

“Scream again, and I’ll have to gag you,” the first guy says, taking his hand off my mouth. I’d been wondering if I could bite him, but I wasn’t brave enough. Sophie is crying, and I hold her, trying to comfort her, but I’m shaking, too.

It’s somewhat of a relief when the second guy says, “We have instructions to take you to Angelica’s place. She just wants to speak to you, so there’s no need for any more trouble.”

I feel like I have no choice but to go with Angelica’s band of not-so-merry men. They are taking me to see Angelica whether I want to go there or not.

We end up in the Champs Elysée, waiting in the drawing room of her apartment. It’s much more elegant than the guys standing around guarding the exits.

“Good of you to cooperate,” she says when she sweeps in. “Sorry to be so heavy handed. I hope you weren’t too distressed by my intervention, but this is important.”

I don’t say anything, holding onto Sophie. Whatever I say is likely to make things worse.

But Angelica has plenty to say. She tells a different story about Elliott, one I don’t believe at all. About his sex addiction, his mistreatment of Angelica, his history with nannies.

“I don’t believe it,” I say. “This is not the Elliott I know.”

“It doesn’t matter if you believe it,” she says. “The media will lap it up. There’s enough here to fill their gossip columns for a week.”

“He’ll deny any kind of addiction. I’ll deny your nanny story. It’s a pack of lies. You know that.”

“It won’t matter once it’s out there. The public never believes denials, just like they never read the tiny paragraphs in the papers that they print when they are forced to retract something.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“One story is as good as another. The industry runs on publicity. Of course, I’d planned a different story until you got in the way. A story I can still tell instead of that one.”

“What story?”

“A parents reunited story. The media loves a happy ever after story almost as much as a scandal.”

“You and Elliott? That will never work.”

“That may be so, but it doesn’t matter to the Clarion. If they get their pictures of the cute baby with the mystery father reunited with the mother at last after some silly argument kept them apart, they’ll be happy. Believe me, that version will do a lot less harm to Elliott’s career. Suits me better, too. It’s about time I took a bigger role in Sophie’s life.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, I do. She’ll soon be at that age when I can take her shopping and to the shows. She’ll look so cute alongside me. Adorable! The media will take a real shine to mother and daughter.”

“You don’t care about her at all. You’ve never been there to feed her or read her stories.”

“I’ll have a nanny for that. One who Elliott won’t want to bang. A nice, middle-aged frumpy nanny. The old school type.”

“He’ll never let you have Sophie.”

“He won’t have any choice, whatever happens. But it’s up to you whether you destroy his career in the process or not. Good press or bad press? If you really care about him, you’ll get out of his life and go back to London. I’ll pay you handsomely, of course. Let’s call it severance pay. Twenty thousand should just about cover it, don’t you think? For your trouble.”

“I don’t want your money.”

“You’ve really got it bad if you turn up your nose at that kind of money. If you want to save him, you’ll end it and go back home tonight. I’ve got you booked on a plane with your little friend.”

“How do you know my friend is going back?”

“I made it my business to know.”

“You’ve had me followed!”

“I didn’t get where I am today without being ruthless. Don’t underestimate me. I mean what I say.”

“I need to talk to Elliott.”

“Talk away. I have your phone in safekeeping for now. But we’ll dial him right up. Tell him it’s over or the story of his sex addiction goes live this afternoon. I have a journalist coming at three.”

I look at the clock above the fireplace. It’s two thirty. I put my head in my hands. I’m caught between a rock and a hard place. I don’t want to do any of this to Elliott. But either way, he is done with me. Even if he cares about me, as I think he does, he’s not going to stick around if I let Angelica destroy his career.

“Okay, I’ve sent him a text. He’s bound to call soon,” she says. “And I’ll tell you just how to play it.”