Entice Me (Stark Trilogy #3.11)(13)

“Carmela?” I reach out and touch her arm. “Hey, what is it?”

She blinks, and a tear clings to her long lashes before falling onto her cheek. “Forgive me. I am—I do not like having to pull you back into this. I do not like that it is my fault, too.”

“What’s your fault?”

“Those photos,” she says, her voice so thick I can barely understand her. “Those wretched blackmail photos of Damie and me.”

“Okay,” I say, pacing in front of the reflecting pool that is the centerpiece of the Stark Tower plaza. “Let me get this straight.”

Since I’d foregone my coffee to take her outside and get to the bottom of this, I’m not thinking as clearly as I’d like. She’d run me through the whole convoluted story, but I want to make sure I really understand what’s going on.

“You’re telling me that your manager is the one behind that blackmail attempt?”

She nods from her perch on the edge of the pool, looking miserable.

I exhale and run my fingers through my hair. Not long after Damien and I were married, someone had tried to blackmail Damien by threatening to release some extremely racy photos of him and Carmela. What had made it worse was that the blackmailer had also gotten a hold of explicit pictures of Jamie with her next-door-neighbor.

Thankfully, Damien had put the fear of god into the anonymous blackmailer, and the pictures weren’t released.

But then about a year ago, not long before Jeffery was born, the photos had turned up again—in the hotel room of my prodigal father, who’d just reintroduced himself to me.

At first, Damien had believed that Frank was behind the original blackmail attempt, but after Frank’s adamant denials and some investigative work, we’d all come to realize that the photos were planted in his room.

But we never learned by who or why.

The damn photos are like a bad penny, and I really don’t understand why or how Carmela’s manager fits in.

“Are you sure?” I ask, sitting down beside her. “Why? Why on earth would your manager want to blackmail you? Or Jamie, for that matter?”

“Because he is a horrible, vindictive, ambitious man.”

I wait for her to elaborate, but she just sits by the pool pouting prettily as businessmen walk by, openly staring.

“Can you be more specific?”

She sighs and her forehead crinkles. “He has always been my manager, from when I was very young. It is much easier to model when you are young, no? And I am in my thirties now, and that is not so good for a model. Bertrand knows this, and so as I neared thirty, he tried to get me roles in the cinema.”

“You did a few movies, didn’t you? Italian films, and a few small Hollywood roles, too.” Jamie had mentioned seeing Carmela on screen once or twice. At the time, I hadn’t paid attention, because that was before our truce. Now, I’d probably watch one of her films.

“A few,” she confirms. “But I was not a star in either country, and Bertrand thought this was a terrible travesty. I will tell you a secret—it is not a travesty. I am not an actress. I do not like it, and I am not pleasant to watch. It is not my dream, and yet it was his. So he pushed and pushed, and I have always trusted him, and so I let him guide me.”

“Let him bully you,” I say, and she lifts a shoulder in acknowledgement.

“But what does that have to do with the photos?”

“He was going to release them, thinking the scandal would help my career. He did not care that it would hurt you or Damien. He thinks only of himself.”

I sit, shocked, as that bit of information washes over me.

“You knew about it?” I finally say. “All this time, you’ve known?”

She stands up, looking as shocked as if I’d slapped her across the face. “No! That is why I am here. I have only just learned all of this. Please, Nikki, you must believe me. I knew nothing.”

“I do,” I say. “I mean, I did. I thought you were confessing now, and—”

“No,” she says, her voice hard. “I would never do such a thing.”

“Okay. Sorry. I believe you.”

She nods firmly, but doesn’t continue.

“I can kind of understand the whole scandal thing and why he might think that would drive your career. But why Jamie?”

“Two reasons. He thought that photos of just me and Damie would be suspicious. And he was also expanding his business to America. He was looking for clients. And wouldn’t a young actress caught in a scandal need his guidance?”

I frown—and realize my hands are clenched into fists so hard my fingernails are cutting into my palms.

“Is he the one who planted the photos on my father?”

She sits again, nodding miserably. “I am not sure what Bertrand was thinking about that. But your father is an excellent photographer. I understand he shoots mostly landscapes now, but he has done runway coverage, too, and he is very talented.”

I believe that. I’ve seen my father’s portfolio, and though travel photography is his passion, he has an excellent eye overall.

“He shot some portraits of a model who is on Bertrand’s list. She wanted to leave him, and so was building her own portfolio.”

“Bertrand never pushed that,” I point out, because there was never a threat about the photos found in my father’s room.