An Invitation to Sin - By Sarah Morgan Page 0,11

she done?

The answer to that was nothing, but no one looking at this photograph was going to believe that. She’d dropped her guard for a few moments, that was all, and this was the result.

Keeping her expression neutral, she handed the newspaper back to the glowering director. She wanted to wake up and start the day again. She wanted to wind the clock back. She wanted to never have gone to that damn wedding. Most of all she wanted to kick Luca Corretti in a place that would ensure he’d never seduce a woman again.

‘I understand your concerns and I realise that the story looks bad, but I’m asking you to trust me. This piece isn’t—’ how on earth could she even begin to justify it in a way that would change his expression from sour to sympathetic? ‘—accurate. Please judge me on my acting ability, not the media circus that follows me.’

‘You think that pack of journalists are interested in your acting ability? Your movie comeback is over before it began. Santo Corretti is on his way here now and I can tell you he is not amused. After that wedding fiasco he isn’t in the best of moods as it is and this project means a lot to him. He doesn’t want it hijacked by your never-ending need to grab the headlines.’

He wasn’t interested in an explanation, Taylor thought numbly. The truth wasn’t going to help and a small part of her couldn’t even blame him for that because the picture did look incriminating. It had just been a kiss. Other people kissed all the time and did a whole lot worse and no one knew or cared. She slipped for one moment and the evidence was plastered everywhere and she had her mother to thank for that. She’d ensured the media had been fed a steady diet of Taylor Carmichael from the first moment she’d stuck her child in front of the camera.

Taylor wondered if Luca had even seen the pictures.

He’d probably laugh, she thought bitterly. It wasn’t his naked thigh that was up there for the world to see. It wasn’t his career that was ruined. Even if the board refused to give him more responsibility, he still had the fashion house. And anyway, he didn’t appear to care what the world thought of him. In fact, he seemed to behave in a way designed to invite and encourage salacious headlines.

‘I can tell you that Luca Corretti isn’t involved with that woman. It’s a kiss and tell. He rejected her and she’s getting her revenge.’

‘So you’re trying to tell me that picture is Photoshopped?’

‘No, but—’

‘It’s not you he’s kissing?’

‘Yes, it’s me, but—’

‘It’s not your dress that’s ripped?’

‘The dress isn’t ripped. The stitches came undone.’ Feeling like a fox with a pack of hungry hounds snapping at her heels, Taylor gritted her teeth. ‘They sewed me into it which I knew was a stupid idea right from the start.’

The director looked disgusted. ‘This story is everywhere. Tell me how I’m supposed to deal with this. How am I supposed to focus on making this movie when every single person on my set is looking at the bare thigh of my leading lady and sniggering? Just being this close to you is making me feel dirty.’

The whole world is going to know you’re dirty, Taylor.

Her breathing grew shallow.

Anger burst free inside her. This was all Luca’s fault. Because he didn’t care what people thought of him, he’d exposed her. He’d stripped her, almost literally, with no thought to the consequences. If he hadn’t been so careless with that Portia woman’s feelings, this would never have happened.

‘The press have embellished this to make it look bad, but it isn’t how it seems.’

‘The truth doesn’t even matter.’ The director made a hand gesture to signify two minutes to someone over her shoulder. ‘I can’t work in this circus. You’re off the movie.’

Those words turned Taylor’s limbs to water. ‘What? No!’ Composure deserted her. She wanted to act. More than anything else she wanted to act. It was all she wanted to do.

‘You can’t do that. You can’t get rid of me because of what the media say. You can’t give them that much power and control. I need to speak to Luca. Give me a chance to sort this out.’

But he’d already moved on. People were shouting things at him and his eyes were on the phone in his hand as he read a text. ‘You can’t sort this out.