“Ivo’s thirty-seven.”
“I know, I did my research. But, Boo, listen, you two are meant for each other, anyone can see that. Stop stressing about it. This woman, his pregnant ex-girlfriend…she nice?”
Sofia nodded. “Yes, she is. In fact, I have to go see her preferably today. Do you mind tagging along?”
“Not at all.”
“Shall we go first, get it over and done with? Then we can play all we like.”
“Let’s do it.”
Grant had been back in Paris for two days now and after enjoying a low-level stalking of Sofia yesterday – and seeing her obviously spooked – he had seen Ivo Zacca in a cab. He assumed Zacca was flying back to the States – he’d read the funeral notice for his movie star mother. Did this mean Sofia was alone?
Alone and unprotected. Grant’s whole body itched to see her, touch her. He waited now, outside the hotel, hidden in a doorway for her to come out. He’d wait all day. if he had to, but an hour after his vigil began, he saw her leave the hotel. A man, a shaggy, scruffy looking guy, was with her and they were chatting, obviously close. It had to be Jonas Rutland. He could see the resemblance between the man and Tamara. Fuck it.
Calm yourself. If you kill her now, that’s it. Over. Your killing ground is ready and waiting for her. Would he risk taking her now? When the world’s attention was on the Zacca family? No. Don’t ruin this.
He followed them as they walked through the city and stopped when they entered an apartment building in the 3rd Arrondissement. High-class, expensive. Grant frowned. This was new – who the hell was she visiting here? He decided to check out who it was…and how useful they would prove in his mission to destroy Sofia Amory Zacca.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Clemence hugged Sofia. “Bonjour, darling, it’s been too long. I’m so sorry about Adria. If it wasn’t for the baby, I would have flown to Los Angeles for the funeral.”
“Ivo didn’t want to put family through the big show funeral. Walter and he decided we would celebrate Adria’s privately, once the papers have lost interest. Clemence, this is my brother, Jonas.”
Jonas shook hands with the other woman and Sofia was amused to see his face grow red as Clemence kissed his cheek.
“It’s good to meet you…please, both of you, come in.”
She led them into the living room. Another young woman was sitting at a desk typing. “Sofia, Jonas, this is Mireille, my research assistant. “
The young woman, dark hair piled up on top of her head, a pencil securing it, huge black-rimmed glasses perched on her face got up and shook their hands. “Can I get you some tea?”
Clemence smiled at her. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
Mireille grinned. “Not at all. Clemence is my mentor at school, so I’m pretending to pamper her in the last weeks of her pregnancy so I can pick her brain. Tea all around?”
She disappeared into Clemence’s kitchen and Clemence offered them a seat. “Sofia, before we talk about anything else…I’m sorry for the thing with Walter. I’m not making excuses, I was a bitch and you didn’t deserve it. I’m sorry.”
Sofia reached out and squeezed her hand. “It doesn’t matter, Clemence, really. I get it. I am the little upstart who bowled into Ivo’s life like a wrecking ball.”
“You love him and he loves you. That’s all I can ask. Anyway, onto cheerier things.” Clemence smiled at Jonas. “I’m so happy Sofia has her brother back in her life. She did tell me you were the only go…sorry, not tactful.”
Sofia laughed. “Nope, you’re right. He is the only good one in the family and we all know it.”
Jonas, his face flaming red at the compliment, nodded at Clemence. “Talking of family…when are you due?”
“A couple of weeks at the most. She’s shifting around, mostly playing a disco beat on my bladder, but everything’s going the way it should.” Clemence looked at little pale and Sofia frowned.
“Are you okay?”
Clemence nodded. “Oh yes, it’s just…the enormity of being a single mother is hitting me now.”
“You won’t be alone in this, Clemence, I swear. Ivo and I will be here for you every moment.” Sofia went to sit next to the other women. “Without being presumptuous…if you need someone with you in the delivery room, either Ivo or I can be there. Both if you wish.”
Clemence squeezed Sofia’s hand. “You are too kind. My mother is here, but yes…if I need you, I won’t hesitate to call, thank you.” She smiled at Jonas. “Your sister is the sweetest person.”
Jonas grinned. “I could tell you some stories from our childhood that would contradict that.”
They chatted with Clemence as Mireille brought them tea. Sofia grinned at the young woman – she guessed Mireille was about her age. “So, you’re a science geek, then?”
Mireille laughed. “Definitely, and proudly too.”
“My mom was a Professor of Molecular Physics at M.I.T.”
“Wow.”
Clemence smiled. “I never knew that.”
“Mom was a genius,” Jonas said with a smile at Sofia. “She could run rings around my father and he loved it.” His smile faded. “Personally, I never knew what she saw in him but, boy, am I glad she saw something.”
“Word,” Sofia nudged her step-brother. “Look, Clemence, we don’t want to take up too much of your time. Just know, we are always here for you.”
“Thank you, ma chere. Now, look, at least stay and finish your drinks. I could do with a reason to not work. Mirry, you come join us too.” Clemence grinned at her young assistant. “It’s time we all got to know each other better.”
Ivo sat with his father as they travelled from LAX to his father’s home in the Hollywood Hills. The flight to the States had been long and uneventful, but the sadness weighed heavy on them both. His father had been reluctant not to go to the funeral home with Adria’s body and but Ivo had convinced him finally. “They have things they need to do to take care of her before the funeral, Pa. It’s the best place, really. Let’s go home and start to arrange things.”
Walter was a broken man. Ivo had never seen him so utterly destroyed, and knew that despite their divorce, Walter had never stopped loving Adria. She truly had been his soulmate. Why am I so surprised? He asked himself now, it was obvious to everyone. At least he had been there when Adria died…was it better or worse that Walter had seen her die? Would he rather have remembered her in life, rather than death? Or was he glad she hadn’t been alone at the end?
God. Ivo felt sick. His darling mother, his champion, his guide. She had so much life to live yet…she hadn’t, after all, got to see her first grandchild and it made Ivo mad at whoever, whatever controlled life and death. A few weeks more and she would have known my child.
He desperately wanted Sofia here, with him, but it been the right thing to do to leave her with Jonas in Paris. He could only imagine the press frenzy if they caught a glimpse of the beautiful young wife of Adria La Loggia’s only son. They would trawl Sofia’s past up, paint her as a gold-digger, lord knows what else. No, Ivo told himself, it was best this way.
The funeral two days later was a parade of Hollywood best and brightest. Ivo felt the disconnect as he took the prayers and consolations from people he felt nothing in common with, even having been brought up here. So much plastic surgery, bloated faces – from surgery and coke habits, stick-thin women, over-tanned men…it really was La-La Land. Ivo longed for the simple elegance of Parisians, for Sofia’s tomboy naturalness…
The wake was another hurdle. His father worked the room, using his natural extrovert tendencies to distract himself from the grief. Ivo retreated into the corner, polite to those who approached him but otherwise counting down the minutes until he could escape.
A few of his mother’s friends hugged him, passing along their condolences but it wasn’t until a blonde woman Ivo didn’t know sat down next to him that he was engaged in a conversation.
“Your mother was a force of nature,” th
e blonde said. Ivo nodded, studying the blonde. She was very slim, her flat-ironed blonde hair falling past her shoulders, her blue eyes enhanced by contacts. She was beautiful, but Ivo wasn’t attracted to her – she was too icy looking for his taste. Again, he thought of his soft, warm wife back in Paris and wondered how long his dad would need him here.
The blonde touched his arm. “I’ve been watching you from across the room. You looked so sad I had to come and say hello. Madison Flynn.”
Ivo shook her hand politely. “Ivo Zacca. How did you know my mother?”
A slight hesitation, then. “She was a friend of a friend. Lovely woman, so much spirit. Do you take after her?”
Ivo gave a humorless laugh. “I hope so, at least, I hope I have her heart.”
The blonde traced a fingertip over his wedding ring and Ivo felt uncomfortable. It was a too intimate gesture for someone he didn’t know. “Where’s your wife?”
Ivo felt his walls come up. He knew this type of woman: predatory, way too confident. “Waiting for me to call her. I’d better go.”
He stood, but the blonde stood with him. “Wait. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am. Look,” she pulled a business card from her bag, “If you would like to have lunch with me, talk about anything, call me.”
Ivo took the card politely, but knew he would never call her. “Thank you. Good to meet you, Madison, but if you will excuse me.”
She put her hand on his arm, meeting his gaze. “Of course.” She held his gaze for a beat too long then moved away.
Ivo escaped upstairs to his mother’s bedroom - his father had always kept it exactly the way his mother had always had - and pulled out his cellphone. Checking the clock, he realized it would be nearly midnight in Paris. Nevertheless, Sofia answered on the first ring. “Baby.”
Ivo felt his whole body relax. “Hey gorgeous girl, I love you. I miss you.”
“I miss you too, how was the funeral?”
Ivo sighed, sitting down on the bed. “Just sad, Sof. There’s no other word for it – except maybe a three-ring circus. Half of these people, I have no idea who they are and yet here they are drinking my father’s champagne and making business deals.”
“Oh, sweetheart. When you and Walter come back, I promise you we will celebrate Adria’s life in the proper way.”
Ivo’s heart pounded with love for his wife. “How have things been with Jonas?”
“Good, good, although he is having to cut his visit short, unfortunately. The school he is working for recalled all of the teachers for an ad-hoc training week. He’s not happy.”
Ivo frowned. “I don’t like the thought of you being alone there.”
“I’m not, I have Desiree, and Clem. I’m fine. Listen, do you want me to come to you?”
“No, darling, really, the press is still haunting us. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
“I love you, baby.”
“Me too. I’ll call you tomorrow, darling.”
“I can’t wait.”
Ivo felt the sadness overwhelm him as he said goodbye and spent a few minutes trying to console himself before heading back down to the party. He heard some car doors slamming, and checking out of the window, saw, with relief, people were starting to drift away. He waited another ten minutes before going back down to find his father.
Walter, the façade slipping, was standing alone at the French windows as Ivo put his arm around his father’s shoulders. Walter nodded and Ivo see the strain on his face. “How can she be gone, Ivo? How is that possible?”
“I don’t know, Dad. It doesn’t seem real.”
Walter turned to him and studied him. “She was so proud of you, kiddo. We were – and are – so, so proud of who you are, what you’ve become. You did the right thing leaving all this bullshit behind. And Sofia too… At least your mom got to see you settled and happy with the person you were meant to be with.” Walter sighed. “I just wish…I wish I hadn’t wasted time with the divorce…you know, I only agreed to it because I never, ever thought your mom would go through with it.”
“I know, Dad. I think Mom regretted it too.”
“We wasted so much time,” Walter said again. He blew out his cheeks and patted Ivo on the back. “Listen, you must want to get back to Sofia…”
“I can stay as long as you need me, Dad.”
Walter looked like he was about to argue then, his shoulders slumping, he nodded. “Thanks, son. Just a few days, I promise. Just until I can think straight.”
Later, Walter went upstairs to sleep in Adria’s bed for the night, and Ivo dealt with the final guests. He was about to lock the doors when he heard a noise from one of the kitchens. Walking to it, he pushed open the door and saw Madison Flynn stacking dishes up on the draining board. She had washed glasses and plates and anything she could find.
“You know, we have caterers who should be doing that.”
Madison smiled at him. “Oh, I sent them home. I though you would prefer less intrusion by strangers. I like doing this – it relaxes me.”
Ivo felt a little irked by this woman’s presence, by her over-familiarity, her confidence. “Well…”
Madison put down the dishcloth and wiped her hands. “How is your dad?”
Ivo sighed. “Exhausted, drained.”
Madison walked slowly towards him. “And you?”
Ivo backed up a little. “The same. I think we’d like to be alone now.”
Madison smirked, then very deliberately dropped the strap of her dress down her shoulder. “I could relax you…” In an instant, the silk sheath dress she was wearing had slithered down her body to the floor and she stood naked before him.
Ivo felt his temper spike. “Get dressed and leave, please. I don’t know who the hell you think you are but…”
Madison lunged and pressed her lips to his mouth before he could stop her. Ivo jerked his head away just as a camera flash went off in the gloom of the kitchen. Ivo leaped away from Madison and went after the photographer, shouting, “Get your clothes on and get out.”
Outside the paparazzo was nowhere to be found. “Fuck!” What the hell had just happened?
Ivo stalked back into the kitchen to see Madison Flynn dressed, her blue eyes huge with fright.
“Was this you? Did you pay him to take that photograph of us?”
Madison shook her head. “No, I swear…look, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s just…you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen and…god…look. I’ll go. I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me.”
She slipped out of the kitchen and Ivo heard the front door close. He rubbed his eyes. Jesus, this was the last thing he needed. What the hell was that all about? And how the fuck did the paparazzo get past his security team? Ivo felt the anger drain out of him and he sat down on the cool tile of the kitchen floor. What a fucking mess. It was too late to call Sofia now but he would do first thing in the morning. If that photograph ended up in the press… It was okay, Sofia knew him in her bones. She knew he would never, ever cheat on her, least of all with a random woman at his own mother’s funeral. Sofia would know that…
…right?
In the cab driving back into the city from the Hollywood Hills, Madison Flynn a.k.a. Tamara Rutland grinned to herself. She had to give it to Sofia – Ivo Zacca was gorgeous. Pity she couldn’t persuade him to fuck her – clearly, he wasn’t much like his father, who, the word was, was a man whore of biblical proportions. Still, she got what she had wanted. The dude she had hired to take the picture had sent it to her phone the second after he’d taken it. He’d paid off the security guard at the property a day ahead of the wake. People were so easily bought these days.
Tamara grinned as she imagined Sofia’s reaction to the photograph. Anger, heartbreak, pain. Betrayal. The paparazzo would be sending it to TMZ or Radar online, maybe even the Enquirer. Even in Paris, they would see it. Tamara hoped more than anything that Sofia would feel humiliated. If she split from Zacca and his protection, it would make it so
much easier for Grant to snatch her, bring her back to the States, to their killing club. She might even fall for Grant which would make it so much more satisfying to watch Grant kill her, see the hurt, confusion in her eyes as she died.
Delicious. She looked at the photograph again. Damn, Ivo Zacca…maybe I’ll try again before I leave Los Angeles. I would love to know what Sofia is getting from you.
She smiled. Yes, that would be the final revenge – fucking Sofia’s husband and telling her about it as Grant Christo gutted Sofia slowly and mercilessly.
Tamara could hardly wait.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sofia hugged Jonas hard before he got into the taxi. It had been such a wonderful few days with him that she was reluctant to let him but finally she released him. Jonas grinned down at her. “Love you, Sis. Promise me you and Ivo will come visit me in New York. I know you hate it but…”
“No. With you there, of course we’ll come. I’m just so happy were back in each other’s lives, Jon. You are my family.”
“And you are mine, the only one I care about. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Sofia felt a little tearful as she waved him goodbye. Inside, she called Desiree. “I’m on my way, Desi.”
“Actually, no, don’t come to gallery. We’ve had a flood in the basement – nothing’s been damaged but the less people getting in the way of the workmen, the better. Sorry, kiddo.”
“No, that’s okay. Listen, my phone needs charging so I may be out of service in a bit.”
“I’ll use the hotel’s landline if I need you, bub. Enjoy the time off.”
Sofia was digging around for a phone charger when her cellphone rang again. It was Clemence. “Are you busy, ma chere? Mirry has deserted me to go on a field trip and I’m bored out of my mind. I’m sitting here like a beached whale.” She sounded so miserable that Sofia felt sorry for her.
“Of course, I’ll come. Shall I bring pastries?”
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