Chapter Nine
LANCASTER HOTEL, PARIS
SEVERAL WEEKS LATER
Jordana had just stepped out from a long, reviving bath. She had also washed her long, brown hair from what seemed like a ton of industrial-strength hair products and was now held in a topknot above her head.
God, what a long day! She was bone tired, her arms felt leaden as she put on the terrycloth robe supplied by the hotel.
It was the last night of the Paris Fashion Week and she was glad that it was over. She would have at least a two-week reprieve from demanding designers, fashion-obsessed stylists, volatile editors and most especially, she would be able to avoid several models who were prime examples of egos in couture.
She was looking forward to some downtime to enjoy the sights and play tourist. Maybe she could outwit the shutterbugs and walk to see Arc de Triomphe, the Eiffel Tower, and Champs Elysees before hopping on the next trans-Atlantic flight to NYC the day after next.
It had been raining for several days but even the dreadful weather cannot take the magic out of the Parisian air. She was simply in love with this city, its cafés, chic people and the its awesome culture. The only downside was that the place, like Milan and London, was swarming with paparazzi. Thankfully, she had perfected the art of ignoring their presence by schooling her features into a blank expression during run-ins. But the rudeness of several, really determined paparazzo could still prick her veneer of indifference every now and then.
Three weeks had passed since Mel’s wedding. Her bestfriend emailed her a few days ago while en route to her honeymoon destination—Machu Picchu high up in the mountains of Lima, Peru. She wrote that the ancient ruins were terrific and promised to send pictures in her next email. And oh, Rocco said hi.
Leandro, on the other hand, left Italy the day following Mel’s wedding reception, after he received an urgent call. He seemed very troubled over something.
Jordana wasn’t used to seeing him that upset. She had tried calling him several times these past weeks but she couldn’t reach him. She left him messages because she was worried. This was so unlike him. He called her only once, when she was on her way to Paris but he sounded off.
“You okay?” she asked.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. You still in Milan?” he asked her.
“Yes.”
“Look, I got to go. Got a meeting. When will you get back?”
“I’m now in the airport for New York.”
“Okay. Let’s have dinner when you get back.”
“Take care.”
“You too,” he said before finishing the call.
They weren’t able to go out for dinner when she arrived in the States because she got swamped with work again. Francesca got busy booking her in her absence.
Then she left a week later for Paris Fashion Week.
And here she was now— all alone in the greatest city of lovers.
She felt forlorn. Hearing from Mel, seeing her friend so happy only magnified her isolation.
She pushed the feeling aside. She was here to work not to mope, she told herself.
Like in Milan, major Parisian houses got her to walk their latest collections that would be on the market in the upcoming months. She even got a brand spanking new Chanel bag which she modeled a few days ago.
“You should lock that in your vault or something,” one of her fellow models commented. The bag wasn’t even due for production yet.
Jordana didn’t care. Expensive things like these didn’t impress her. It never did.
Work for her was just her means for escape. But these past few weeks, even work wasn’t enough. There had been instances in which she had to try really hard not to lose focus.
Lonzo kept on invading her thoughts in the most unexpected times. She wanted to forget the man but she just can’t. He began to invade her dreams. She had woken up in the wee hours of the morning with her heart fluttering and her skin burning from wildly erotic dreams that starred him. Drat her hyperactive imagination!
For all the things he had said and done to her, she should be hating his guts.
The unwelcome feelings intensified instead of waning. She even tried going out with other guys but no one elicited the intense and instantaneous reaction that Lonzo evoked in her. A slice of cake sounded way more attractive to her than guys, which boded ill for her dating future.
The thought that she would never experience something that intense with another man made her pause.
What if Lonzo was that one guy who can make her heart race and fill the void inside her?
She wanted to slap herself in disgust. What the heck was she thinking?
Enough of this nonsense! She was feeling a little attached to the guy because he was her first but in time she would get over and forget him.
Her brain sneered. Forget him? Sure. Maybe in twenty years.
His once perfect, orderly life was no more. He couldn’t shove Jordana Almueda aside. The constant barrage of her endorsements on TV or in print didn’t help. In the past, he hardly paid attention to television commercials. Nowadays he’d switch his telly just to see her beautiful face smiling back at him from the screen.
No other woman had caught his eye or his interest since the wedding. For the past month or so, he canceled all social events on his calendar and avoided seeing his regular hookups. They did pester his secretary, leaving a ton of messages to convey their availability but he never returned their calls.
When he got back, he tried to deny the gnawing longing he felt for her. He told himself that he wouldn’t get his pound of flesh. That he had better things to do than spend time pursuing pussy on the side.
So he threw himself into work. But it was no use. Denying himself only fired up his obsession. He finally admitted that the woman had her hooks on him so deep that he couldn’t shake it off no matter what he did. He couldn’t forget her. The woman was stuck inside his head like superglue.
Sleep was no longer a sweet escape. The woman invaded his dreams. He regularly woke up in the middle of the night aroused and frustrated. And he thought wet dreams were something he outgrew during his teens.
The violent feelings of possessiveness and jealousy also came as a huge surprise. The tabloids had reported she was seen dating throngs of men, mostly models during the Milan and Paris Fashion Weeks. Very recently, she was being linked to Chris Falcone. That was hardly surprising. The man stuck to her side during the wedding reception. Rocco’s cousin seemed to be seriously pursuing her. The press was agog on the ‘blooming’ romance between the two. They were photographed having a celebratory dinner after Chris’ football club, Real Madrid, trounced the local football club, A.C. Milan. It was also insinuated that she was very ‘involved’ with her business manager, Leandro. From the grainy snapshots, Lonzo tied the picture to the man who arrived late at the reception.
Was she already expanding her ‘worldly knowledge’?
The raw jealousy ate his insides like acid. Just imagining her locking those long legs around another man made him seethe in anger.
If this weren’t enough to drive him bonkers, there was also the matter about his uncle. The old man wasn’t a model patient. He continued to insist that he was well enough to be discharged. The bevy of doctors that Lonzo asked to care for him disagreed. Thio Fredo may be on the mend but he was still too frail to look after himself. They advised that the patient stay another week at the hospital. This news was met with much disapproval from his already petulant relative.
“You and those doctors cannot keep me here against my will!” Thio Fredo ranted. “They are not even feeding me properly here!”
“You’re in no condition to be discharged. Until your doctors say so, you’re staying put.”
“But—”
“No buts, Thio. And once you’re discharged, you won’t be alone at the vineyard.”
“I don’t need a nurse!”
“Yes you do,” he insisted. “No more tantrums. What would Thia say if she were here? That I’m not taking good care of you?”
The uncle backed off grudgingly after that.
For now, they had reached a truce of sorts. While convalescing, his uncle would stay with him at Villa Lazio, his resthouse located in the Appia Antica, just within the outskirts of Rome. They would wait for the clearance from the doctors, which may take a while. Lonzo insisted that all tests should be done—no stone was to be left unturned.
This news did not sit well with his uncle again. He blustered for a bit that his doctors were overreacting.
Lonzo kept his cool and turned a deaf ear at his uncle’s grumbles . He could sympathize with what Thio Fredo was going through at the moment. The old man practically worked all his life, rising early at dawn to tend the vineyard, working until sundown. No matter how luxurious the villa, his uncle felt frustrated at being confined. The old guy craved the mountains and the wide open spaces of his home.
He did try to make amends by temporarily cutting his load by half and delegating some of the work to his management team. He made sure to spend quality time with his uncle by being around by dinner time. However, his efforts remained unappreciated as Thio Fredo grew crabbier with each passing day.
Just recently, his ornery relative decided to put his nose into his affairs…the female kind. What started as a passing rant on his past but well-publicized liaisons had now graduated into a nightly tirade on his fondness for casual relationships. Lonzo pretended not to hear Thio Fredo’s sermons but the daily discourse was slowly grating on his nerves.
Thio Fredo belonged to a long-gone generation whose views and notions on relationships were old-fashioned by today’s modern standards.He knew that they would never see eye-to-eye on the matter, so he just continued to maintain his silence or say very little during his uncle’s lectures.
“How can you find love, mio nipote if you don’t treat them right?” Thio Fredo went on.
Lonzo mentally scoffed.
Love? Stronzata!
Love was for silly dreamers and mindless romantics.
He was neither and he would never be.
Lonzo was furious when he came out of his meeting. His negotiations with the labor union at Gruppo Milanese was deadlocked. The union officials were playing hardball. Most of the seniors were still suspicious of VI’s takeover and there were those who still felt loyal to the Agnellis despite poor treatment by the previous management.
He understood the dynamics of family-run companies. He knew that being the newcomer, he was being sized up by the work force. He also knew that he had to prove himself worthy and capable in their eyes. Once he had earned their respect, it would be easy for him and his team to inject changes.
Still, he was annoyed at being bogged down and frustrated with the snail’s pace of the ongoing negotiations. If this didn’t get resolved anytime soon, the company would miss a lot of opportunities that could improve its current financial state.
By the time he’d parked his car at the six-car garage of the villa, his mood hadn’t lightened.
His uncle stood waiting for him at the large, marble-floored foyer.
Thio Fredo noted his dark mood but didn’t comment about it.
He’d thought that Thio Fredo would spare him the ‘talk’ tonight. He was too pissed to deal with that nightly shit.
He was mistaken.
As they were having dinner, he ran figures inside his head as he half-listened to his uncle, nodding at times. Until Thio said something that made him do a double take.
His uncle smiled craftily.
Did he hear him right? Did he just say he should get hitched?
He dropped the cutlery on his plate and faced the older man.
“Marriage? Me?”
“Got your attention did I?”
“You’re joking, right? If so, Thio—” he said, his food completely forgotten.
His uncle looked at him, his old gray eyes astute. “You heard me, boy. Time for you to get a wife.”
His fists landed hard on the table.
“What brought on this idea? So your mortality got sideswiped! Big deal! You’re stronger now and you’ll live for many years if you will only follow your doctors’ advice. Why are you suddenly breathing down my neck?!” he thundered.
His uncle didn’t even blink.
“You’re right. I realized how feeble life is. I am old, I can go anytime. Whereas you—you have dilly-dallied too much. I think it’s time for you to settle down—” he continued to shove his bright idea down Lonzo’s throat.
“I will not be pushed into something I do not want!” he bit out. The idea of matrimony was too distasteful to even contemplate.
The old man sighed but wouldn’t let go. “Ah, Lonzo. You leave me with no other choice—”
“What do you want from me?!” he now shouted at his uncle.
“I want you to have a fulfilled life. Life is not just making tons and tons of money. You need someone. A wife. A family—”
His reply was immediate and harsh. “I don’t fucking need one!”
Thio Fredo’s demeanor changed, his eyes looked tired and sad.
“I want the best for you. Not all marriages are like your parents’. My time’s almost up and I won’t be here for long. Don’t believe those specialists on your payroll…they’ll tell you what you want to hear. I’m not deluded. I’m on borrowed time, Lonzo. You have no other family but me. You have to think of starting yours now—”
“Is this what it’s all about? Progeny?” he retorted sarcastically.
The old man answered with a crooked smile.
“Say whatever you want, son. Get married or I’ll divest my shares in your company. After all, I don’t need them.”
Lonzo froze at the curved ball his uncle had thrown.
He never imagined that Thio would use the company shares as a leverage to get his compliance. The man was insane!
“What kind of sick joke is this, Thio? You can’t be serious!”
“I am not messing around, boy,” his uncle replied firmly.
“I gave you those shares! You know what this company means to me!”
“Well, you mean more to me than having shares in a billion-dollar company. In the end, my boy…I can’t take your billions to my grave. This is why I have to do this. Don’t worry… I’ll give you a few months before I give those shares up. And don’t try changing my mind. We’re too alike in that area. We’re both stubborn.”
Lonzo was so angry that he couldn’t speak at the man who was practically the only parent he ever had since he was barely five years old.
He stood up and left the dining room.
Five minutes later, he drove his red Ferrari from the villa like a raving lunatic.
PARIS, FRANCE
Jordana woke up from the constant ringing of the house phone inside the suite she was staying in. A quick look at her watch confirmed it was only three o’clock in the morning. She had set the alarm at five because she’d be leaving on an early flight for New York.
She was annoyed. It was probably Francesca. She specifically asked the concierge not to connect any calls to her room except if it came from either Francesca or Leandro.
My goodness! Can’t she give me a moment to sleep in peace?!
She was having second thoughts whether to answer it or not. With the way she had been working this past month, she was entitled to every hour of sleep, she thought rebelliously.
But her sense of professionalism won. With a groan, she stretched her arm to pick up the phone from the side table.
“Hello?” she asked sleepily.
“Have you seen the papers?” It was Leandro and his voice sounded tight.
“Seen what? What papers?” she asked, confused.
“There are alleged pictures of you and that billionaire, Lonzo Vitale, splashed in the tabloids. Naked ones!” Leandro’s voice was harsh.
Jordana’s blood ran cold.
How in the world..?
“Tell me that those pictures are photoshopped fakes and I’ll immediately ask the lawyers to file legal action against the publications who ran them. Just say the word, Dana.”
But she couldn’t speak nor think clearly. Her brain functioned like a train wreck in slow motion. She tried hard to think back and piece together the circumstances that led to this fiasco. She was also considering how this mess would impact her career and add to her already chaotic personal life.
Everything pointed to one man.
Lonzo Vitale.
He must’ve hidden a camera, she was sure of it. He wanted to get even because she rejected him. The evil rat bastard!
“Dana?! I need you to answer me. Is that you in the picture? Tell me you didn’t sleep with that man!” Leandro’s voice seethed with anger.
Her cold fingers tightened around the phone.
“Yes,” she admitted. “It happened only once and—”
She cringed when she heard the colorful expletives in Portuguese coming from her childhood friend.
“That fucking tarado!”
This was way worse than than what happened to her as a kid many, many years ago. At least that was kept under wraps by the courts.
Whereas this…everyone can easily Google this.
She felt humiliated and violated all over again.
It was all too much. Her skin felt clammy and she began to shake. She couldn’t breathe. Blackness was about to engulf her.
She was having another panic attack. She could barely hear Leandro’s shouts on the other line.
“Dana! Listen! Listen to my voice. Don’t hang up! Dana! Breathe deeply. Where are you? Stay with me!” her friend’s instructions got through her woozy mind.
Leandro had seen her panic attacks in the past so he already knew the drill.
“Dana, I’m not there to help you. You have to calm down and stay with me. Just listen to my voice, okay? Say something, baby girl.”
She nodded as she fought for control. “O-Okay.”
She concentrated hard on the breathing exercises taught to her by the psychiatrist who treated her as a child. Focusing on Leandro’s voice, she slowly fought off the anxiety that threatened to shut off her system. After a few minutes, her sight and air passage began to normalize.
That was close.
“Leandro, I’m really sorry—”
“Hush. That’s it. I’m flying over. Don’t leave your room. Wait for me.”
Leandro’s voice was reassuring. Even in their youth, she could always rely on him.
Why, oh why didn’t I fall for him instead? Things would have been simpler!
She knew the answer to that, of course. Her treacherous body craved no one but Lonzo Vitale.
She was done for.
Lonzo went straight to his office after spending a restless night at his penthouse unit in one of Via Venetto’s exclusive private apartments. He scheduled an early GM board meeting today and too bad for the members of the current board, he wasn’t in the mood to be charitable for even the smallest of mistakes.
The meeting started promptly at seven and thirty minutes onto the meeting, he felt a huge urge to gnaw his teeth at the figures that were shown to him. Majority of the current board were relics he had inherited from the Agnellis. The geezers were trying to hide their ineptitude through glowing forecasts that were simply too optimistic to be taken seriously. They hoped to dupe him by kissing his ass. Well, they could kiss their positions goodbye. He despised ass-kissing of any kind.
He maintained his silence throughout their presentation. Let these asshats think they got his approval in the bag. These Agnelli cocksuckers were nothing but a bunch of useless pricks who got huge paychecks without sweating for it.
Time to cut their dead weights off his ship.
Lonzo raised his hand when one of Agnelli’s guys was in the middle of delivering his glib report on the first half of the year earnings of the company.
“Stop,” he interrupted.
“Signore Vitale, if I may finish my report—”
“You may take your seat. I heard enough. Your assumptions are misleading. Where’d you pick these numbers? Out of thin air?” he asked gravely.
The man paled before turning red. “Scusi?”
“Don’t act so amazed. You know damn well what I’m talking about. I’ve run the same figures but I came up with a less optimistic outcome from yours.”
The man was visibly rattled but was able to recover.
“Then you are obviously mistaken, signore. There’s nothing wrong with my figures. We should be expecting recovery within—”
He refused to let this guy off easily.
“I’ve crunched the numbers…so if you value your seat at GM’s board, do not insult my intelligence,” he said dryly.
The man swallowed before taking his seat dejectedly.
“Any more of you punks who’d like to try and dumb out GM’s real financial situation? You may take the floor. I’m all ears.”
Another one of the cronies stood up. Lonzo glanced and recognized the man as one of Agnelli’s closest business associates.
His money guy.
Giulio Rocio.
“You dare thumb our noses down? You haven’t done anything yet! The share prices continued to tumble at a much faster rate since you took over. Face it, Vitale. GM’s shareholders and workforce didn’t trust you and your plans. I can’t blame them, though—”
The man paused and dramatically slapped a copy of Rome’s biggest-selling tabloid before him.
“—after all, who would trust a man who prefers to cavort around naked for the cameras? The tabloids are calling you the ‘Italian Stallion’!” the man’s voice dripped with malice.
Tension filled the entire room.
Lonzo eyed his antagonist, his smile feral. He didn’t even look at the tabloid.
“I only read the financial section, Rocio. Unlike you, I don’t give a hoot about the public’s fascination about my sexual exploits. Don’t delude yourself. GM’s stocks were getting a beating because of the decisions that this board made in the past. And of course, Agnelli’s connections in the media. But this stops now, gentlemen. And I’m going to start with you.”
“Don’t threaten me, Vitale! I am not afraid of you—” the man shouted, but it was all bluster. The man was a fucking pipsqueak.
“You played your last trump card. I expect your resignation tomorrow.”
“You can’t force me out of GM!”
“Very well, do you want me to elaborate to this board about your Cayman accounts? Your choice,” he said casually.
The man spluttered and turned purple with rage before he stood up.
Lonzo knew he had him by the balls. Rocio wouldn’t dare dispute him.
He was right. The man decided not to push his luck further and stormed out of the conference room.
By the time the meeting finished two hours later, the composition of the board of directors was dramatically altered. Agnelli’s cohorts resigned to save their sorry asses from possible legal action, giving way to the members of Lonzo’s managing team to take over their vacated seats.
It took her quite a while to gather enough courage to Google the pictures. Lo and behold…the pictures were already shared and uploaded at social and porn sites. Even the web pages of respectable media companies posted the pictures.
Billionaire Finance Whiz All Tangled Up with Supermodel, one headline said.
Their position on the bed were very compromising. Half of her face was shown in one photo. One shot revealed a very well-endowed Lonzo pressing his muscular body on her naked backside.
A fresh wave of humiliation and anger washed over her.
She couldn’t even leave her hotel room. The members of the tabloid press and the paparazzi were camped outside, waiting to ambush her. She had no other option but to sit this one out and wait until Leandro arrived to take her home.
She mulled over this and she had made up her mind. She would face the music. She’d come out clean.
To hell with Lonzo Vitale.
By lunch time, Jordana had to pull the phone plug off the wall. Even her mobile was ringing nonstop and her booking agent and people from her agency had been leaving messages which initially chastised her for the scandal. The tone of the succeeding messages changed drastically. Francesca excitedly informed her that her already overflowing schedule had tripled in bookings. In fact, her bookings were full until next year!
She almost laughed at the irony of it all.
Lonzo hung up on his uncle. He’d lost track of the number of times the old man called up to give him a piece of his mind today. Those personal nurses were utterly useless! They can’t even intercept a bloody paper from reaching his recalcitrant relative.
Now his old-fashioned and traditionalist uncle fell hook, line and sinker for Jordana’s media machinations.
His uncle thought that he had destroyed an innocent woman.
“I didn’t raise you to be like this. You have humiliated the poor child further.”
“I did what?!”
“You should have stood by her side. But no…my nephew left her alone to be eaten by the media!”
“Non essere un pettegolo, Thio. Jordana—”
“No! Don’t you accuse me of being a gossip, Lonzo! These papers…these journalists…they were all calling here! They’re saying you’re a defiler of virgins! The poor lass was really an innocent, isn’t she?”
He didn’t reply, confirming the only truth that Jordana Almueda ever possessed. True, she was a real virgin but that hymen came with a price tag that he had yet to find out. He just hated it when the old man kept on railing about him being the consummate playboy. He was a victim in all of this!
He can’t even defend himself. He feared that all this stress might spike his uncle’s already high blood pressure.
“Basta! I was right! And what do you plan to do about it? Hmm?!”
“Nothing!”
“Ti comporti come un capone! Vitale men stand by our women—” the old man ranted.
“She isn’t my woman.”
“Then you shouldn’t have touched her!”
He sighed.
“She isn’t my woman…yet,” he lied.
“So you’re seeing her?”
“I will. Or was about to. I got busy with work. Remember GM and VI?”
Finally, the old man did calm down.
“Good. I knew I raised you to be honorable. Do me proud. I want to meet her.”
Fuck!
“She’s busy. I’m busy—”
“You’d better do as I say, my boy. Or else, you can kiss those shares goodbye. I’ll make the disposal ironclad, you’ll never get your hands on it!” his uncle said before he hung up.
Merda! What a mess!
His once relatively quiet private life was now being invaded by the paparrazi. They now took up residence at the gates of his company headquarters, hoping they’d get a glimpse of the vixen who started this media circus.
When he went out for lunch today they all jumped on him. Only his size and threatening stance prevented them from asking too many delving questions.
He cranked his neck before he straightened to pick up his phone to place a call.
When his call was answered, his instructions were clear-cut: get all the dirt on Jordana Almueda. ASAP.