by Diane Louise
'So extravagant though. I mean for something I'm only going to wear once.'
'Don't expect more shopping trips like this.' Franco said.
'I wasn't hankering after any.' She retorted. 'I meant that I'm not likely to attend any more events that warrant such an exquisite dress.'
Franco arched an eyebrow. 'Even if your career takes off because of your new connections?'
Daniella felt no need to furnish him with an answer. Instead, she huffed and returned to watching the world go by. They were entering suburbia so home wasn't too far away now. Daniella felt torn in two. Half of her wanted to remain in the car with Franco. To continue breathing in his potency. The other half of her wanted space from him and his constant jibes about her failed life.
'Don't be offended, Daniella. I just don't see how a woman as ambitious as you once were is able to switch it off and become content with mediocrity.'
She rolled her eyes. Not this argument again. First her father now her husband. 'My life is not mediocre.'
'Really?'
'Yes, really.'
'So you're happy grinding away for not very much?'
Daniella clenched at the garment bag on her knee in frustration before loosening her grip for fear of wrinkling the delicate fabric underneath. 'I'm going to say the same to you as I say to my father. I get a lot out of life. Just because my career isn't following the path I envisaged as a child does not make me a failure.'
Franco scoffed. 'And your father is happy with that, is he?'
That was it. She no longer wished to remain in the confined space with Franco. The need for distance won out. 'My father is not the boss of me. He cannot dictate what I do or how I do it. And I plan on making that clear to him as soon as we get home from this sham honeymoon.'
The amusement at her outburst radiated from Franco. 'Enos filled you in on his little dalliance with your friend then?'
Daniella tightened and bore her eyes into him. 'You knew?'
'Of course I knew, it was obvious. Only a fool wouldn't see what was happening.'
Daniella hadn't known. Did that make her a fool in Franco's eyes? 'Why did you not say anything?'
Filling his lungs with air, he considered his answer carefully. 'Because I had too much respect for your mother.'
'And me?' Daniella asked. 'Did you not think I deserved to know? We shared everything.'
'Where did that get me?' Franco snapped.
Daniella swallowed. He was correct. Images of the scandalous headlines filled her mind. His hopes, dreams and fears, all confided to Daniella, emblazoned across the internet for anybody and everybody to use against him. 'You still should have said.'
'I was going to. That night.' Franco confessed.
'Oh.'
'Yes, and I should have done.'
'Why did you not?'
'Because.'
'For fuck’s sake, Franco!' Daniella's patience wore thin and she snapped. Unable to contain the anger at his flippant answer. 'Why did you not tell me my father was a complete asshole?'
Franco slammed on the brakes sending the dress flying off Daniella's knee. 'Because I would have looked the lesser man. That's why.'
Shocked at his unnecessary actions, Daniella asked, 'What is that supposed to mean?'
Franco shifted his body in his seat so he faced her directly. 'I learnt that night what the Porter family were all about and decided you didn't deserve the truth.' The confusion etched on Daniella's face only served to rile him further. 'Don't look at me like a fool. You and your father thought of me as a meal ticket. As a tool in your arsenal to halt your descent into the gutter.' He lifted his chin and glared down his nose at Daniella. 'I thought higher of you than that, Nella, I really did.'
'Don't call me Nella.'
Franco laughed. 'You didn't mind when I was part of your plan for celebrity domination. Then again, you would have done anything, even fuck about with a lifelong friend, to get your own way back then.' He fired up the engine, signalling that the conversation was over but Daniella had other plans.
'I don't get it, Franco. What are you saying? I never did anything that would have hurt you.'
'There is substantial evidence to the contrary, Daniella.'
'I know I shouldn't have spoken about our private conversations.' Daniella admitted. 'That was wrong of me.'
'It wasn't just selling out to the media that hurt me.'
'I didn't do that, not that you ever gave me the chance to explain myself, you just stormed off, cut me out.'
'Your gossiping was only salt in the wounds, Daniella.'
'Then please,' she cried. 'Tell me what I did to hurt you so badly?'
'The plan, the one you hatched with your family. It was so transparent Daniella. I sent him away with a flea in his ear then you approached with the world’s worst seduction attempt.'
Daniella slit her eyes. 'What were you talking about with my father, Franco?' Daniella remembered the heated discussion the pair were having poolside. The one she was straining to hear when Misty encouraged her to make a move. 'What did he say to upset you?'
Franco laughed. 'You expect me to believe that you didn't know your father was asking me, no, begging me to have sex with you? To build on the family connections, to make him and his family irresistible to casting directors and producers. To make his career better again.'
Chapter Seven
She had heard enough. After seething in silence for the remainder of their journey home, Daniella didn't pause to acknowledge Franco before stomping into the villa, knocking a cheery Enos off his feet in the process. She was faintly aware of Franco calling her name but she didn't stop until reaching the sanctuary of her bedroom. The voices of the two brothers arguing in the entrance hall carried through the building, but all Daniella wanted to do was snuff out the Spanish insults the pair were hurling at each other. Launching herself onto her bed, she buried her face in the pillows, but not before locking the interconnecting door. In her opinion, it needed steel reinforcement. To be filled with concrete bricks and never be ventured through again. Not by her at least. Franco could entertain all the women in the world once she left. All of them at the same time as far as she was concerned. Who did he think he was? Who did both of them think they were? How dare they insult her family? Her intelligence. How dare they sully the Porter name? There had to be a conspiracy going on between them. That was it. They must be working as a team to destroy every string of faith she held about her life. Granted, Richard Porter was no angel. But she couldn't believe he would skulk around under the nose of her mother, and with a girl half his age. And to prostitute out his daughter for the sake of his own career? He wouldn't do that. Daniella was sure of it. No. Franco and Enos were working together to enact some twisted revenge. That had to be it.
A gentle rap on the door halted her sobs. 'Fuck off!' she hollered.
'Is that the way to greet the man delivering your new ensemble?' Enos tried to sound chirpy but his voice carried a quiver. Anger? Fear? Whatever caused his voice to crack was no concern of hers.
'I said, fuck off.'
The door opened anyway.
'What is it with you two?' Daniella shouted, cocooning herself inside the cool cotton bed sheets. 'Do I need to say it in Spanish? Get the fuck out of my fucking room.'
Enos sauntered into her space regardless. 'So, honey. Franco told you about daddy dearest’s proposition?'
Daniella groaned. 'You mean he filled you in on the latest vitriolic instalment of your family's fabrications.'
'Big words, Daniella,' Enos quipped while he made himself comfortable on the bed beside her.
'Big lies,' she spat back.
Enos sighed and hooked his finger into the blanket, lowering it enough to sneak a peak at her red-rimmed eye. 'Did nobody ever tell you not to shoot the messenger?'
Pushing his hand away, she burrowed deeper into her safe haven again. 'I have nothing to say to you. To either of you.'
'Fine, I'll leave,' Enos stood. 'You're only mad at h
im because he loved you enough not to destroy your faith in daddy while you were still young and impressionable.'
'Good old Franco,' Daniella sniffed back her tears. 'Always looking out for other people. He's a selfish brat. Only out for himself.'
Enos laughed. 'Now you're sounding like a proper wife. Jeez Louise, and people wonder why I'm not married.'
Daniella popped her head out from her fort and brushed her hair away from her face. 'What makes you say I'm not a proper wife?' She asked, curious about the statement. Was he in on the whole fake marriage thing too? If he was then what had been the point of Franco swearing her to secrecy? There was no need if their fraudulent union was common knowledge amongst the Zorita clan.
'Why do you ask?' she quizzed.
'I asked first.'
'Enos, this is important.'
Huffing he plonked himself back down on the bed. 'My brother is an arse. You know that. I know that. Everybody knows that.'
'Just get to the point, Enos.'
'Impatient, aren't we?' he said, ruffling her already messy hair. 'Like I said, up until the last time I saw him your name was mud. The next thing I know you're married. Happily married. Like, having-rampant-sex-and-shopping-for-designer-gowns-married.' He opened his palms in confusion. 'Do you see why I'm confused? So, either you suck cock so well my brother has dropped all his defences or there is something fishy going on.'
Daniella lowered her eyes from Enos' face. She had been a fool to think of him in any negative regard. Looking at him now, it was obvious; he had no knowledge of the revenge marriage his older brother was dragging Daniella through. 'Can I ask you something?' She asked, her voice almost a whisper.
Enos placed his hand upon hers. 'Anything.'
'Were you telling the truth? About my father? And Misty? Was he really?'
A slight nod of the head from her friend confirmed it.
'And the proposition?'
Another nod and Daniella's stomach hollowed.
'I'm a right royal dickhead,' she said, hanging her head in shame.
Enos tilted his head closer to hers, searching for a way to make eye contact. 'Can I ask you something, Nella?'
It was her turn to nod.
'Is Richard anything to do with this?'
She raised her eyes to meet his. 'Yes.'
'Are you being forced into marriage with my prick of a brother?'
Daniella stifled a laugh. 'This isn't the middle ages you know.'
'OK, so no illegal unions then, that's good. Let me ask you this. Why have you not told Franco it was Misty who sold the stories?'
That was more of a loaded question than he could ever know. 'Guilt.'
'Guilt?'
'Yes, in a round about way it was me who told his deepest secrets to the media. If I hadn't confided in her, if I had kept my mouth shut and respected his confidence, it would never have happened.'
Enos pulled her in close for a hug. 'You silly, silly girl, is that the only reason you've kept schtum?'
There was more. Stiffening she pulled herself from his embrace. 'No, Misty's not well.'
'I should hope so too after everything she's put you through.'
'I mean, not well at all. She's had several mental breakdowns, brought on by stillbirths and miscarriages.' Daniella's eyes welled at the thought of the misfortune her old friend had encountered since they were teenagers. 'I can't lay the blame at her door. Franco would make life so hard for her and she wouldn't be able to cope. Physically or emotionally. Besides, if I told him now it would look like I was passing the buck,' inhaling sharply, she filled her lungs with air before shakily exhaling through pursed lips. 'No, I'm a grown woman. I will take full responsibility until my dying day.'
Pity danced in Enos' eyes. 'If you say so, sweetheart,’ he said. Then, clapping his hands together, he shattered the sombre mood in a flash. 'Before we get all morbid and talk about your dying day, you have a party to attend. With me as your date. You lucky, lucky lady.' He pranced over to where he had hung the dress over the mirror. 'This is exquisite. How dare you consider not wearing it? You must. For the good of all men present at this fucking party.'
Daniella laughed. 'For the good of all men present?'
'You'll be hanging your coat off their erections, darling. And you'll be flanked by the Zorita brothers. What more can a girl ask for?' Grabbing her hand, he tugged her from the bed. This is going to be the night of your life.'
The car arrived to take the threesome to the Verela party at 7.30 sharp. Daniella descended the stairs with the grace of a swan to meet the two men who stared up at her in awe. Franco offered his elbow, letting all angst from the day slip away, she slipped her arm into his and said a silent prayer of gratitude that she hadn't fallen in the ridiculous diamante heels.
'You do not know how much I wish you were my type.' Enos whispered into her ear as they slid into the back of the waiting limo.
Daniella was glad of the compliment but so wished it had come from Franco instead. The journey was short and the conversation flowed between the brothers. Daniella sat in silence, contemplating the prior chat with Enos. Watching Franco, her heart wrestled with her head. Her heart wanted him to know she hadn't set out to wreak havoc with his life. If she told him the absolute truth then there was a chance any remaining distrust he had of her would melt away. However, her head, her common sense, grounded her. Warned her that she ran the risk of stirring up a hornet’s nest for somebody who had already paid the price of her betrayal ten times over. Would Franco be glad of the truth? Or, would he accuse her of being immature and not taking responsibility for her actions? For now, Daniella's head won the battle.
If Daniella thought Franco's home was magnificent then the Verela house was something else altogether. Limousines lined the driveway, snaking their way around an impressive water fountain that fired jets of water twenty foot high into the air. Guests in costly tuxedos and glittery gowns uncurled from immaculate vehicles. Daniella was thankful to Franco for calling in favours with Agueda Gudino so she could dress the part and not feel like the poverty-stricken relation. Guilt panged at her heart for behaving in such a churlish manner when all he had done was give her the truth when pushed for it. When it was their turn to alight their vehicle she followed her husband out into the warm night air, and vowed to apologise the second they had a moment alone. Maybe that night. At home. In his bed.
A concierge directed the trio toward the party and together they entered. Franco and Daniella accepted the proffered champagne but Enos opted instead to visit the cocktail bar.
'That's the last we'll see of him tonight.' Daniella joked. Franco didn't reciprocate her humour though. He grunted his disapproval before guiding her towards a group of ageing men who had their heads together discussing something in Spanish. Although the words sounded beautiful to her ears, their body language told her that their topic was a heated one. Franco was immediately absorbed into their discussions and Daniella soon grew bored. Her eyes roamed the room. Admiring the women who carried themselves with a level of refinement that screamed money. Pampered and preened they radiated finesse. Even wrapped in a designer dress and with sun kissed skin Daniella could not help but feel inferior. Before long, she found herself meandering around the property, drinking in the lavish interior. The modern pieces of art hanging on walls intrigued her. It was while she was lost in a particularly abstract piece, pondering its meaning, that a shrill laugh drew her attention back toward the throng.
Three stunning women surrounded a single man. Jutting their hips and thrusting their chests outwards they each vied for the attention of the suited gent. Swishing their hair and attempting to out-laugh one another at whatever he was saying they looked like a pack of hungry wolves. Daniella curled her lips in amusement at the performance they were putting on. He must be the most eligible bachelor in the room she thought to herself. The smile soon left her face when the man in question turned his head in her direction and smiled. Franco. He had removed himself from the cluster of old me
n and planted himself into an assembly of attention seeking predators. Her blood ran cold. Had he done it to prove a point? To show her that he was very much in demand and she should consider herself lucky? Well, he wasn't going to get away with it. Pulling her shoulders back and lifting her chin, she approached the gathering. Her confidence wavered when one of the women, a jewellery-laden peroxide blonde, surveyed her with scorn. Daniella let the disdain wash over her and snaked her arm around Franco's waist.
'There you are, husband.' She said in the sultriest voice she could summon. 'I was about to send a search party.' Fluttering her eyelashes, she pouted her lips before planting a lingering kiss on his mouth. If he could put on a display so could she.
'No need, darling. I was on my way over when these lovely ladies captured me,' he said gesturing to his admirers.
'I don't know how you cope with being in such demand.' Daniella said, feigning a laugh. 'It's a good job I'm here to rescue you, isn't it? Are you going to introduce me to your friends?'
Franco's lips curled in amusement at his wife's reaction. 'Of course, this is Isabella, Zoe and Ana.'
'Antonia.' The peroxide blonde corrected.
Franco dipped his head towards the woman who appeared most put out by his slip up. 'My apologies. Antonia. These are the Verela daughters. And this,' he drew Daniella closer. 'This is my long suffering wife, Daniella.'
'Hardly long suffering, darling. We are still on our honeymoon. Remember?'
'How could I possibly forget?' He turned to the triad of vultures. 'It was lovely to see you all again but I sense that my wife is feeling a little greedy and would like some time alone with me.'
They backed away and Daniella returned their false grins with an equally fixed smile before hissing in Franco's ear. 'Don't think I'll stand back and let you make a fool of me, Franco Zorita.'