with her previous film, which was why they had hired her for his latest one. So they were fodder for gossip around the world.
“Did you tell your mother?” he asked her.
“I didn’t have to. She heard it in an editorial meeting, when they wanted to put Pascale on the cover of the September issue, along with an interview with you.”
“I told you, Nadia, I won’t give any interviews. I know I started this horrible mess, but I don’t want to make it any worse than it is.” It was too late to stop the tidal wave of press, but he didn’t want to contribute to it. He was still hoping she would forgive him one day. But he also knew that although Nadia had lived in France for half her life, and in many ways had become very French, at the root of it, she was American and so were her sisters, and the four women were extremely close. He felt sure they must be trying to convince her to divorce him. He couldn’t really blame them, given how it looked, but he was still hoping to stem the tides of disaster, although that didn’t look promising at the moment.
Nadia had retreated into her shell since the announcement of Pascale’s pregnancy, and was saying very little to him about her plans. They were living in a tenuous status quo at the moment, and he doubted it would hold for long. Just long enough, he hoped, for Pascale to have the baby, and for him to make some kind of arrangement or agreement with her, then return to the fold with his wife and daughters before their life burned to the ground. He knew it was a race against time as to how long Nadia would put up with the misery he was causing her. He was fully prepared to try to make it up to her for the rest of his life, but he didn’t know if she would let him, or if the damage was reparable for her. She wasn’t letting him near her, and avoided him when he came to the house, except when their daughters were in the room. Then she pretended to be friendly with him, although not affectionate, which they had always been before. Nadia was a warm, kind, gentle woman, and their relationship had been very close. He wondered now if it ever would be again, no matter what he did to make amends. She was a forgiving person, but he knew he was asking for the extreme. She was living with personal pain and public embarrassment of the worst sort for any woman, her husband openly involved with another woman and having a child with her. He himself cringed when he thought about it, as sanity returned.
Everything about their life had seemed so perfect until now. She always talked about how lucky they were to have such a good life. They lived in a beautiful apartment overlooking the Seine on the Quai Voltaire on the Left Bank, in the seventh arrondissement, with the spectacular monuments of Paris spread out before them like a movie set, and the Eiffel Tower visible from their terrace and sparkling on the hour. Nadia had decorated the apartment with her usual exquisite taste, with a combination of unusual modern pieces and family antiques Nicolas had inherited. It was a warm, comfortable home, and at the same time a showplace when they entertained. They and the children had been happy there.
Nadia had cut herself off from everyone they knew the minute his affair with Pascale hit the papers. She didn’t want to have to defend him, or share her pain. And he was lying low too. Suddenly, after living a full life before, they were living in a vacuum, with only the paparazzi for company. They had lost so much because of him. Knowing how close they were, he was sure she was talking to her sisters for support. Her mother’s visit was the first sign of it, and he dreaded seeing her. Rose could be glacial or brutally eloquent when she felt betrayed, and she was a lioness with her cubs. She was a remarkable businesswoman and opponent, but in her private life, she was a fierce advocate for her children, and loyal to all those she loved. She was old-fashioned and conservative in her values. He had crossed every possible line and he wasn’t looking forward to seeing her. He could guess what her reaction