To Charm A Billionaire (Men of Monaco Book 1) (12 page)

"Okay, here's my effort on the medicinal front." She offered the glass.

He took a healthy swallow and grimaced.

Anna sat next to him but waited for him to decide when he may want to talk. Instead, she offered her hand which he took and interlocked with his fingers. Maybe her touch could offer a small measure of comfort.

"Running Laurent Holdings used to be all I could think about when I was in college. I wanted to be like the other kids who were going into their parents' businesses or would be fast-tracked through the management ladder because of their family name."

His pain radiated outward pouring from the wound as he continued to share.

"I worked hard for every crumb of recognition. Constantly I had to prove my worth." His fist hit his palm with a loud pop. "I even played the stock market in college to show that I knew how to make money. By the time I made my first million, I felt like a god."

She'd remembered the joy, but more so the pride that he'd done this feat. And after the winter break, she'd remembered his return to university subdued and withdrawn.

"My father wasn't pleased that I'd pursued an endeavor without his blessing, even if it had a successful outcome. Try as hard as I could, I just couldn't march to the exact beat that he dictated."

Anna kissed the top of his hand and held it to her cheek. This man who mastered many achievements suffered more than most. Her heart hurt for what he’d endured and still suffered from his particular life lessons.

"Yet, I didn't expect him to fire me."

She really wanted that drink.

"And I didn't expect him to strip me bare in the tabloids."

"Maybe he didn't say those things." She'd read the article and knowing its impact, she'd rushed over when she was free from her appointments.

"'Building character.' 'Couldn't make it on a simple hike.' 'Was supposed to be the CEO to run Laurent Holdings.' " He shook his head vehemently. "Those are his words."

"Still I suggest that you talk to him." She resisted using the word confront in talking about Philippe. But the father shouldn't get away with battering away at his son. "Besides it's time that you work on healing you." She turned his face toward her. She wanted him to see the sincerity of her wish and not accept any resistance.

With a slight upward twist, he pulled his chin away from her hands. Despite her desperate need to look into his eyes and make sure that they connected through this dark period, she noted that he never once looked at her face. She couldn't connect with him through eye contact.

"I'll be fine."

"You can't keep running from the demons. They’ll hungrily gnaw on your soul. And eventually, you won't have anything left to give."

"I am happy. I'm with you," he thundered his response that only served to punctuate his pretense.

And I love that we are together. I'm always here for you." She kissed his hand, leaving her lips pressed there for a few more seconds. "I'm only looking out for what's in here." She gently pressed her palm against his chest. "I care about cleaning out the cobwebs that may hold you down."

"I get it." The tone of his voice said otherwise. "I'll take care of everything. So you don't have to worry." He removed his hand from hers.

The mood between them shifted. A cool facade slid over his face like a shutter either keeping out the unwanted to defending against outside forces. She knew instantly that a stress fracture erupted the fragile peace between them.

With his gaze never meeting hers, not seeking hers, she had reason to worry.

"I love you," she offered as an additional balm beyond the alcohol and her companionship.

He groaned and sigh before kissing her forehead above the right eyebrow. "Thank you," he whispered into her hair.

Anna closed her eyes to blink away the tears and disappointment of not hearing the sentiment she so desperately wanted from Damien. Her doubts zapped through like a freakish lightning strike singeing destructive paths through her happiness. 

"
D
amien
, welcome to our offices. Are you comfortable? We'll get underway with the interview, as soon as you're ready." Gabriel Stephano, the famous Italian talk show host, shook his hand with a hearty pump.

"Thank you. I'm fine." Damien was far from fine and more to the right of nauseous. He'd agreed to the interview because of Anna's mindset that he needed to open up the personal side of his life to show that he was a man of many talents and vision.

Branding was her favorite word for him. And ever since their moonlit sail on the Mediterranean, she had become his biggest cheerleader to continue charting his own path. And the Italian social scene because of her romantic involvement with him could be friendlier territory.

His sentiment didn't match hers. The tabloid recounting of his father's feelings hadn't been called into question by the senior Laurent. Even his mother hadn't denied that Philippe may have said those things. The accusation of being good enough infected him like a virus with no impunity.

To allay Anna's concerns over his image, he'd signed on to be Stephano's guest. Now sitting in a staged room with an artificial outdoor garden, oversized windows, and antique-styled furniture, he was no longer sure that he'd done the right thing.

The fake who sat among the fake.
Nothing more humiliating that being revealed on national TV. What really had changed from the first time that he and Anna were an item? He hadn't been good enough then—personal or work life. The doubt, planted and nourished, bloomed like a strangling vine.

Damien looked around debating an escape plan. The EXIT door taunted his resolve to allow another member of media stomp through his life. But this was for Anna. He shook his head to rid the thoughts and turned his attention to the approaching production assistant.

"Please look directly into the camera when you speak. I'll be off to your side." The production assistant counted down and signaled the interview to start.

Damien didn't know whether to take a deep breath or exhale. Would his microphone pick up his erratic breathing? Could the mic clipped to his shirt pocket transmit his pounding heartbeat?

Once upon a time he didn't mind the attention, soaked it up and languished under people's attempt to get closer to the Laurent family. Those days were long gone. Withered and blew away with Anna walking out and the anxieties blowing in on an unwelcome wave.

"Damien, you are dating our beautiful Italian icon—Anna di Torino."

He nodded and offered up a shaky grin. Okay, so far, so good.

"How did you meet?"

"Our mothers are friends. We'd met under those circumstances. We were friends before dating."

"So if it wasn't for your mothers' friendship, there wouldn't have been the pressure to be more than friends? Is it me or do you agree that the friends to lovers thing comes from a certain place of desperation." Stephano's tone had loaded intent that left Damien uneasy. "Not that I'm implying that for you adorable couple."

"There was no pressure." Damien's clipped tone couldn't hide his irritation.

"Oh, come now, an Italian mother and Polish mother—no pressure? Let's dig a little deeper. We're all friends here." Gabriel made a silly face at the camera. "We all know better. So you dated but then broke up. Who ripped you apart? With those sexy blue eyes and chiseled good looks, I'm sure there are always women chasing you down the streets of Monaco. Maybe here in Italy too. What do you think, ladies? Do you think he was a bad boy?"

"It was a mutual parting." Damien took another drink of water to quell the angry fire burning out his patience.

More questions peppered with comic snippets about his romantic intentions with Anna flew at him, like well-thrown darts aimed dead center. He answered sometimes taking an extra few seconds to outthink what may be Stephano's intent.

When an awkward pause occurred between questions, Damien shifted his attention to his host who was reshuffling several note cards from the top to the back of the stack. Finally, he settled on a card.

"That took a quick minute. Should I run?" Damien was only half-joking.

Stephano had the gift of a chameleon-like talent where one second he charmed and relaxed his TV guests, but also in seconds, a shift occurred where, behind the framed eyeglasses, a cool disregard echoed in his green eyes. "Please remember to look at the camera."

Damien nodded. His stomach roiled like a premonition signaling that the interview would get worse before it was all over.

"What prompted the second chance? What's so different this time around between you and Miss di Torino, if it's not too personal?"

"We've matured."

"I'd say that Miss di Torino has always been mature." Gabriel rattled off a long list of deeds and accolades earned by Anna. The man clearly admired his compatriot.

"I wasn't implying that Anna lacked in any way."

"Then you're telling us that you're the one lacking. And therefore we should believe that you have changed so much that you are now ready to be a part of the di Torino family." Gabriel cleared this throat. "Here in Italy, we recognize our families' legacies. And we respect what they've done for society."

Stephano's loathing surfaced and stayed in the open.

Now it was clear that Damien had stepped onto dangerous terrain that would take him down in humiliating fashion.

"Your family is mainly in real estate."

Damien nodded. Tension sent charges to his nerves with electric speed.

"Wasn't it true that your father and grandfather used less than honest means to start the business? I know it was things were done back in the day to get a foot in society. In today's business world, however, those practices could be considered scandalous, even criminal. Don't you think? Reputations would be on the line?" Stephano hadn't looked at his cards during the last volley of questions.

"Not sure what you're suggesting." Damien's last remnant of patience evaporated and hot anger slid into place.

"My apologies, if I'm coming on strong. I do have that reputation to dig through a person's soul for the truth. The di Torinos are respectable and humble. I was merely making a comparison ... in my head. Anyway, let's leave all the family drama. Let's talk about your humanitarian interests and what programs you are personally involved with. Care to share?"

"Um..." Damien felt the blindside like running into a closed door. He knew that he'd lose points in any popularity poll. "I am looking into several organizations and will choose one that fits my passion."

"So nothing, at all." Stephano didn't wait for him to respond. With a disgusted tsk, he continued, "Hmm. As you're aware, but let me share with our viewers, Anna di Torino manages to support over ten organizations, along with her modeling career, and her new role to take over the family's business." Stephano should be wearing the di Torino's royal colors and crest. His chest puffed up proudly every time he spoke about Anna.

"She's the light in my life."

"Hmm." The host's lip curled with disdain. He leaned over to the side table near his chair and gathered up the pile of newspapers that Damien thought had been added for a touch of realism to the setting.

As his host/tormentor flipped through each newspaper, he'd smile at whatever he saw or read. "I'm reading some of the latest headlines and I wonder what are your thoughts?"

Damien didn't offer any reaction. Meanwhile, his thoughts grew darker by the minute. His heartbeat had stopped its racing and settled in a steady hard beat that matched the tick of his jaw.

"Damien Laurent Is No Match For Anna di Torino." Stephan cleared his throat. "Damien Laurent Looks For Class With Anna di Torino." Oh and there is this one. "Will Anna di Torino Wake Up And Say No Again." He set down the newspapers. "Now, we can all agree that hearing these sordid headlines hurts. But in the spotlight, as much as you are, you must be used to people venting their feelings. By the way, your father offered no comment on your relationship."

Damien shrugged. He was no longer going to pretend that this interview mattered to his relevance.

"Thank you for your time, Damien. Good luck. Fingers crossed for you, both." Stephano held up his stubby fingers as evidence.

As the assistant signaled that the cameras were off, Damien pushed out of the chair, tore off the mic, ignored the mortified cries of the assistant and stormed out of the fake room set.

"Damien, wait."

He paused and turned to face Gabriel.

"Please give my regards to Anna and her family."

"That's it?" Damien blurted. "Nothing else?"

"Pardon me? I don't understand."

"After that shitty interview, your kick-to-my-balls questions, and manipulation to make me look bad, you want me to give your greetings and salutations to the di Torino family?" Damien looked at the pompous ass with his cosmetically enhanced features, tailored suit, and ridiculous gelled hair.

"I did my job. My fans expect me to be real..."

Damien stepped into Gabriel's space. "You can go fuck yourself." He walked away with the winds of fury propelling his exit.

"No class," Gabriel shouted at him.

The insult didn't matter, at first. When he exited the building into the hot afternoon temperature, reality doused him with an icy cold reality check.

No class
.

The insult should have bounced off his back, rolled off and away from him. Instead, the words sank in, latched on sucking on a vein, draining his confidence. There were many things that he was sure of in life, in
his
life. But when the subject revolved around Anna, he felt like a thundering elephant trying to tiptoe through tight space and around fragile surroundings.

No way he would be able to watch the interview. And he certainly didn't want her to watch the disaster. He texted Anna.