Her heart began to beat rapidly, she left the forbidden alley and stopped at the stop sign to catch her breath.
"Lord! she whispered in a strangled voice.
To her dismay, she had no time to recover from this horrifying encounter, as a ferocious engine began to roar behind her car. A black Lamborghini was right behind her. Emma changed her turn signal and took the left lane. A flush of heat rose to his cheeks as the Lamborghini headed in the same direction.
"Keep calm, Emma..." she ordered herself, taking care to return to the main road.
He followed her for the sole purpose of making sure she was not a journalist, and Emma had to go at all costs to a neutral place and not to her home.
There was no way this caveman knew where she lived.
For her safety and that of her baby.
As her black car snuck up on her, Emma kept a reasonable pace so as not to give her another reason to have more suspicions.
If she ever accelerated, if ever the situation took on the appearance of a chase, she was definitely finished.
Thank heaven a place was freed up at the last minute. Emma put on her turn signal at the last moment to park on the right, forcing the man to brake.
She inhaled painfully, grabbing her bag and her book, it was absolutely necessary to pretend not to know that it was him. She got out of the car with a gait that was meant to be relaxed. The black Lamborghini was still in the middle of the road, blocking all traffic, yet no one seemed to dare to honk their horn. Emma crossed the road to go to the nearby restaurant. She took a seat on the terrace and tried to smile at the waiter.
An orange juice please ... please.
At the same time, the noise of the lush Lamborghini was heard, the acceleration was so brutal that the engine had reasoned in the narrow street full of beautiful purple flowers.
Emma closed her eyes and let out a shaky sigh.
She felt her heart resonate in her temples, beads of sweat beading on her forehead as if she had just run a marathon. She felt like a deer cornered by a hunter.
Emma held back a tear. Now she knew which of the two solutions she would choose.
She would take the second...
Five weeks later:
Again !
Emma applied the foundation by patting it on the model's face.
More !
She patted her face faster, trying to hide her tired features from the night before. She was hungover. The madness of her boozy evening was displayed on her tanned complexion.
"Would you like a glass of water?" she offered politely.
What I want is that you hide my dark circles, kind of sluggish! Give me that!
She had snatched the powder from his hands to apply it herself.
Emma swallowed a trail of swear words and picked up the hair straightener.
It shows that you are an intern! Look at this!
The model was on the verge of a panic attack, but Emma preferred to ignore her haughty tone and silently took care of her hair. She let the heat of the straightener absorb her body. On first touch, Emma found the texture of her hair to be rough and very damaged.
Do I make loops? She asked looking at her reflection in the mirror.
She groaned hoarsely to express her annoyance.
Good blood, but who stuck me such a gourd! Of course you buckle them!
Emma busied herself making her curls, she wanted to burn her hair...but ordered herself to resume a professional attitude. When she had accepted to do this internship Emma had not expected that the insemination would work so quickly. Now her belly had grown, fifteen weeks had passed and she realized that she was really pregnant. A smile appeared on her closed lips, the smile of a fulfilled young woman. Her dream took on a little more shape in her every day, and nothing that happened around her could take that happiness away from her.
Go ! Go ! All in your places!
The sharp voice of the photographer tore him from his delicious torpor. Emma completed the last loop before the lead actress of this shoot got up from her feet.
Damn Sharon, you're as surrounded as my grandfather! asked the photographer, following her with his gaze as she passed in front of him.
Emma stifled a laugh as she cleared her throat and turned around so her smile wasn't noticeable.
Azzario exhaled a sigh as the elevator doors swung open for him, and before they even opened fully, he strode through them with a brisk, determined step. He hated this kind of place, the smell of perfume and beauty products was almost unbearable to him. To hide his annoyance, Azzario remained impassive and walked more slowly towards the deafening music.
Azzario was coming out of a long and trying depression that had lasted an entire year, which had very nearly led to suicide. He had managed to tear himself away from it only by concentrating on his work, on his family's dynasty. During the long months which had followed this depression, Azzario had erected a rampart which isolated him from his own emotions. He was aware of being sometimes inhuman...
He opened the door and slipped aside, his hands in his pockets. The photo shoot seemed to go on forever much to her dismay. He restrained himself from interrupting her and observed Sharon with a wise eye. At that moment, he wondered why he had taken her as his mistress. Probably to make up for the boredom in bed he'd felt for months, only now he realized he'd been too quick. Even if it was a short idyll, he wasn't ready... any more ready to bring a woman into his life, into his intimacy. Even while playing the indifference, Azzario saw in this woman the uprising of too painful memories. She was like all the others, sly, haughty, sure of herself, born into worldliness and he unfortunately had to deal with it every day.
To hide his annoyance, Azzario turned his head away and briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Azzario stopped on a frail figure in the distance. He squinted and his blood began to flow faster in his veins...no doubt, Azzario had in front of him the little English girl who a few weeks ago had entered his property. He would have recognized him among a thousand! Her diaphanous complexion did not go unnoticed, her slender figure and her blue eyes were impossible to avoid. His black hair was loose this time, his face was freed by a butterfly comb, the ripple of his hair cascading down his chest revealing some red highlights.
He would never have thought to see this young woman again...
But seeing her here takes away any suspicion he had had about her. Indeed, she had nothing to do with the profile of a journalist. His blue eyes reflected panic like a doe caught in the clutches of a hunter, yet they seemed full of life.
When she turned completely towards him without seeing him, Azzario straightened instantly when he saw a small detail on her that was impossible to avoid. Her belly was slightly rounded, molded by a simple tank top.
Immediately, he felt guilty as his bad memories washed over him like a raging sea. Was she already pregnant when he brutalized her? Azzario clenched his jaw and took a step forward to get a better look at his stomach. He was almost feeling tender for this stranger. He had to pull himself together immediately!
"Who disconnected the cable!"
The photographer's voice cut short his thoughts. He took his eyes off the young woman to cast a quick glance at the young man.
"Find me that cable!"
Azzario turned his attention to the young Englishwoman. She had disappeared. He took his hands out of his pockets and began to scan the studio. Such was the amazement when he saw her crawling on all fours in his direction, following the electric cables with her eyes.
"Dios mio!" he whispered in a deep voice.
No one seemed to care about her, and what she was doing.
Pregnant.
Azzario decided to put an end to this inconceivable moment in his eyes and put his foot on the cable. When she found herself in front of him, blocked by her foot, she tried to pull the cable without raising her head.
Could you remove your foot sir?
His voice didn't rise above a whisper.
Azzario didn't move until she finally looked up.
His big blue eyes widened and he found a certain satisfaction.
Her white skin turned red erasing her little freckles.
How we meet again...
Emma felt her whole body stop. His face, already burning from his hot flushes, instantly turned crimson. Nothing could take away his happiness she had said in her head less than ten minutes ago. Well, she had just been seriously mistaken. The situation as embarrassing as it is, Emma thought she was the victim of a hallucination when she raised her head. Alas, she was indeed on all fours in front of the father of her baby. This cold man, who had in him had a form of ruthless harshness, which had threatened to send him to prison. This man she thought she would never see again in her life.
Emma found the strength to get up clumsily.
"You... but what are you doing here?" she asked, clutching the power cable in her hand.
"I could put the question back to you, Miss Brok.
Well... well I work, she said with a frown, do you remember my first name?
Impassive, he took his foot off the wire and looked down at his round belly. Immediately, Emma felt her heart beat in her fingertips, and put her forearm on it.
"I never forget a name and a face," he said, locking his eyes with hers.
Do not give in to panic, she thought, taking a perfectly relaxed attitude. But how to remain flabby and insensitive in front of this implacable man, who started again to study it without shame?
"So you were really lost?"
Emma fluttered her eyelashes to understand his sentence.
Yes ... I was sir.
My god if he really knew the origin of his visit!
"And why didn't you let me know?" he asked with a sneer that was worth odd.
Emma felt like the ground was giving way under her feet. Had she unmasked him? Did he know?
"Whawhat?" She stammered, pretending not to understand.
Your pregnancy, he said in a tone almost disdainful, why not play that card? I could have let you go much sooner.
Appalled that he would believe she would use his child...his child! Emma clenched her jaws, but felt relaxed that he didn't suspect anything.
"Would you have been less brutal for all that?"
Maybe. He replied in an enigmatic voice.
When he got closer, hands in his pockets, with his impeccably ironed black suit, Emma smelled a scent of perfume rise to his nose, this scent was manly and spicy. Along her spine, she felt a small shiver make its way to the back of her neck. Emma started to stare at him, he was magnificent, purely and simply the most handsome man she had ever met. Everything about him expressed virility and the strength of success visible in his features. For a moment, she let her thoughts dominate, she wondered if her future child would look like her and if he would be as brilliant as he looked.
Well, I'm not that kind of person, I would never use my child to get me out of a situation. She finally said at the end of her thoughts.
Yet I know women who would not hesitate for a moment to beg me with this kind of argument. He retorted in a tone as cold as a glacier.
Emma took a step back, unable to suppress her fear.
I'm not that kind of woman as you say. She replied, turning around.
She walked to the cabinet where her things were, she inhaled with great difficulty. She had to get away from him at all costs.
"What are you doing in Italy, Miss Brok?" Is this the kind of career you aspire to? he asked right behind her.
Emma held back a start and turned around.
You do not think all the same that I aspire to a modeling career?
He shrugged.
But that's what young women are looking for, isn't it?
Emma couldn't get over having a conversation with this man and even less this one!
Well again I must not be part of the same mold! I aspire to earn money, at least enough to pay my rent! She retorted, failing to falter as her imposing presence made her dizzy.
The hormones, the heat and the panic that was creeping into her, Emma stepped back, staring at him shyly and turned on her heels to leave the studio before fainting. Leaving the model and the photographer to finish alone.
She closed the door carefully and slid against the wall toward the water dispenser. Her throat hurt like she had swallowed sandpaper.
She picked up a cup with a shaking hand and stalked the vending machine, trying in vain to get the water to run before a hand came to her aid by taking her cup. When his fingers brushed hers, Emma kept her head down. At least for now.
Hold...
Thanks.
She swallowed it in one gulp and only then did she raise her head to meet his gaze.
'No need to put you in such a state, Miss Brok, my remark was not contemptuous, it was only an implication.
To her surprise, she heard a note of regret in his icy voice. He stood straight, only his eyes were downcast on hers.
Do I look like a woman who is about to parade?
To her surprise, he cracked a smirk.
No, of course not, but without this belly, you would have the merit of trying...
Instinctively she put her hand on her stomach. This compliment, she did not know in which direction to take it. Was that his way of saying that he thought she was pretty?
Emma rambled and urged herself to come down to earth and stop sinking into an awkward situation.
Thank you for the glass of water I... I have...
"Azzario?" You are the ! I was looking for you everywhere. The model exclaimed, darting a vaguely contemptuous look in her direction.
Emma brushed back a lock of her hair, embarrassed.
Who authorized you to cut my conversation Sharon? inquired the billionaire in a dry tone like a whiplash.
The famous Sharon laughed nervously and put her hand on his forearm.
Emma had no trouble understanding that they were lovers. Which further increased his reasons for keeping quiet about the real reasons for his presence at the Palazzo.
So how did you find Sergio is not a good photographer? Asked the latter.
The man turned to her and stared into hers.
An excellent photographer, you can tell him that it's all right for tomorrow, that his whole team be at the Palazzo at ten o'clock sharp.
During his speech, their eyes locked before he broke it by returning his attention to Sharon.
"Go tell him..." he ordered, nodding his head towards the door.
Quietly, she did.
Leaving them alone.
'Why don't I see a shadow of joy in your eyes?' he began, turning his head towards her. 'You should be overjoyed, Miss Brok, you are going to enter my Palazzo.'
Emma put her head forward thinking she had heard wrong.
What I ? she stammered.
A photo shoot at my house tomorrow, it is obvious that you are in the game? So you will have the opportunity to visit it...and avoid the embarrassing situation of being caught in the act of spying.
We would have heard a pin drop...
Emma went pale as a sheet.
See you tomorrow Miss Brok...
He shook his head slightly, without warmth, and stormed off towards the door and opened it sharply, slamming it behind him.
Emma remained planted next to the distributor, still frozen on the announcement he had just made to her. Impossible ! Fate could not be so severe with her! Not now!
She held on to the wall, trying to find some serenity for her baby. She just had to pass this test, she told herself mentally.
And then she would never see Azzario Dantes again.