his baby, and then boom! Jake was out of the picture.”
“And are they married now?” I asked, my voice dangerous.
“Yes, they have a baby named Janie, she’s beautiful. She was born prematurely and wasn’t well for the first six months of her life. I guess the stress pulled Jake and Tina together, being new parents to a sick child and all.”
Okay, so at least the girl was somewhat honest about her goldigging past. Of course, there were two sides to every story, and that fucking Manning scumbag impregnating his fiancee’s sister was no walk in the woods, I’m sure. But I still hadn’t heard what I was looking for.
“Is there anything else?” I asked, deceptively casual. This was her time to fess up, to let her deepest, darkest secrets out. Surely she realized that as CEO of Levast, I’d already done a good bit of fact-checking into her past. Surely, Jenna didn’t think she could hide something like nude pix from the CEO of a media conglomerate.
But Jenna shook her head slowly, her long blonde hair swaying gently.
“No Rafe, that’s it,” she said. “I’ve been around some in my twenty-four years, but there’s nothing that crazy. Why, is there something you want to ask?” she said curiously, tipping her chin to look into my eyes, blue eyes clear.
“Nothing,” I said smoothly. “It’s all good, I understand about the broken engagement,” I said in a deep voice. But the truth was that our relationship was essentially done. I’d given her the opportunity to open up, to confess the error of her ways, and she’d pretended like nothing was amiss. How could I trust her anymore?
11
Jenna
I haven’t heard from Rafe in six weeks. I haven’t eaten, drank, or slept, and my body’s looking haggard, although of course industry rumors are that I’ve lost weight because people won’t hire me.
At one fitting, they didn’t even try to disguise their comments. The atelier employees spoke Italian, thinking I couldn’t understand, but actually I’d studied the language during college and understood every word.
“She looks fabulous, doesn’t she?” said one gay guy, giving me a charming smile. “Emaciated, just the way we like it.”
“She does, but look at the poor thing,” clucked an older woman while draping a length of fabric across my chest. “Bags under her eyes, her skin is dull, and this hair! That blonde hair she was always known for, it’s now like straw, we’ve got to tell her agency she’s got some serious psychological problems.”
“She’s not our responsibility,” scoffed the gay guy, turning me around this way and that, as if studying a piece of meat. “The agency should be keeping tabs on her, and what do we care? As long as our clothes look good and fly off the rack, why should we give a shit if she dies?”
I almost cried then, this was how people talked about me when they thought I couldn’t understand. Again, as my old self, I would have raged back at them in fluent Italian, telling them to fuck off, I was going to tell my boss, his name was Rafe Connor and wasn’t he their boss too?
But the new me was different. Knowing my place, I bit my tongue even as a flush rose up my chest, my cheeks flaming.
“Would you mind if I went to the bathroom for a moment?” I murmured. “I’ve been standing here for an hour and really need to use the loo.”
“Of course not, honey,” said the older woman through a couple of pins in her mouth. “Let me just get this off you.”
Of course the gay guy was shooting daggers at me with his eyes, but I was beyond that. I needed a moment of privacy to re-group, to steel my shoulders against this new assault.
Because I felt like I’d been at war for the last six weeks. Not that Rafe ever fought back, it was the wall of silence that was killing me. I’d left countless messages on his cell, on his work phone, with his secretary, and all for nothing. All I got was a polite murmur of acknowledgment from his personal assistant, and one day a package came in the mail.
It was astounding. I’d been feeling down in the dumps when my doorman called upstairs to inform me that something had arrived. “Yes, just send it up please,” I’d said weakly.
“No,” said Herberto. “This requires your signature, they won’t take mine.”
“Alright,” I said with a sigh. I rolled off the couch, looking my worst. I’d had