Page 97 of The Billionaire's Pact

“Thank you,” I said softly.

“Rocco is so charming. He can make you feel like the most desirable woman in the world. I was sure he was madly in love with me.”

I didn’t answer. I was surprised she was so insecure that she came over to try to upset me. It made me happier knowing that Rocco and I hadn’t fallen in love; we were committed to supporting our families. That was what I tried to hold on to, but it wasn’t easy after getting to know him more. I wanted him to be happy. I wanted him to have everything, including love.

“Was mentioning our relationship rude of me?” she said a little louder next to me as if I hadn’t heard her the first time. “I didn’t mean it that way. I just thought, as a woman, you should know that men have many sides. Rocco can leave you mighty cold in his shade, but the press and public still loves us together.”

Marjorie strolled forward and joined the group, taking a place at the end as cameras flashed more in her presence.

“Rocco, a picture with Marjorie. Rocco. Rocco.”

The press didn’t care that he had his fiancée with him. Their cameras lit up like fireworks to capture the two of them together. My skin warmed, even as I was chilled inside over their cold brush-off.

Rocco squeezed Morgan’s shoulder. “How about Marjorie with Morgan? Ask him about his triumph here.”

Marjorie squeezed Rocco’s arm and let out a loud laugh as he walked off to where I stood with Isla. He took my hands. “I’m going to have to sit with the team and do the panel interview after. All right?”

I plastered on a smile. “Sure, no problem.”

Isla and I took seats in the second row while Rocco went to sit with the actors on a group of chairs on the side of the stage. Marjorie took the seat by him and said something that made him laugh. Which means I’m staring. What if the press pick up on that? I turned my head.

We all clapped as Morgan was handed a microphone and walked to the center of the stage to a standing ovation. He waved for us to sit, then said, “Thank you all for coming. Thanks, especially, to Mr. Marini and his production company for giving me a chance to show the world my dream. Thank you to MGT, media mode, cast and crew. The wages of sin is death, but life is eternal, and so is this age. Thank you.”

I clapped and gave Isla a confused look. She shrugged.

The lights went down, and the movie started. I tried to focus on the screen but couldn’t stop staring at Rocco sitting with Marjorie. It didn’t appear they were talking to each other. Then again, I came to support Rocco’s work. It would be a shame to miss the film.

The movie was a journey into the past, a Gothic time travel to the Gilded Age. As Mildred Harper, Lucy as the lead, had fallen through a mirror she had bought at a consignment shop. I felt her struggle as she tried to navigate the 19th century in the body of a distant relative, tied to a dashing hero who was an eccentric inventor. The sets and costumes were beautiful, and the acting was riveting. But my attention was still divided. Marjorie’s appearance on the screen as a woman in a brothel, the hero’s frequent customer until the heroine came, brought my focus back to Rocco. My stomach sank as I watched their heads close together. Even briefly, on the red carpet before the screening, there was tension between them. Rocco seemed annoyed every time I asked about her. Anger often bonded with feelings. Was he upset because he couldn’t be with her any longer?

I dropped my head and swallowed hard. The thought of enduring his liaisons in public was a bitter pill to swallow. I took deep breaths and retreated into the space I often went to when I had to deal with my many disappointments. My father’s attacks. My mother’s absence. My grandparent’s dismissiveness. I pushed the pain away until I was once again. Calm. Blank. Emotionless. It helped me remind myself of what mattered. What I truly longed for was not just his heart, but his commitment to our marriage.

When the film ended, applause erupted in the theater. We all stood, performing a ten-minute standing ovation. But my mind was elsewhere, still reeling from the scenes I had just witnessed.

The chairs returned on stage for the speakers to conduct a panel interview about the movie. They were answering questions, but I couldn’t stop watching Marjorie with Rocco. She leaned over and whispered in his ear before placing her head on his shoulder. She even kissed his cheek to claps from some in the audience. Rocco didn’t return her affections, but he didn’t exactly stop her, either. I lowered my head.

I feel like a fool. Life was all about optics for Rocco. If he truly wanted the world to believe he was with me and not with Marjorie, he would have pulled me into the frame of pictures that were already going viral. This is what sells. And Rocco is absolutely aware of that.

He might have wanted me to believe I was important to him back at the hotel, wanting to show me he cared. But this? This display with Marjorie, when he knew full well how it would be splashed around the world? This stung. This proved I could never let my heart get invested with Rocco Marini. And I was glad to have learned that lesson well tonight. He will never be mine in heart.

Isla touched my arm. “This will go on for a while. How about we go to the cast party?”

“Can I go back to the hotel instead?” I whispered.

She leaned over to my ear. “No. I’m sorry, it’s part of the night. If you go home, they’ll gossip. Just go for a while. It’ll help Rocco out.”

The evening wasn’t about me; it was about Rocco’s work and life. I couldn’t let my emotions get the better of me. “All right. Thanks.”

We left the hall, and I kept my head high, smiled, and waved at the cameras. Isla squeezed my hand when we reached the limo. “You did very well. Rocco’s very proud of you.”

What did I do but maintain a fake smile while he was on stage with his ex? Was this what I’d have to expect when attending his events in the future? My stomach knotted at the possibility. Especially since Isla didn’t suggest I ignore what I saw between Marjorie and Rocco.

After a short drive, we reached the film party. The street required passes to access, which Zane stopped and showed before we drove past the barriers. Outside the building was a plaque with the movie photo. It was a nearby club, and I could hear the music outside, but at a level that you could still talk, and many groups of people sat at tables chatting or dancing on the dance floor. Isla took me for a turn around the room. A few people shook my hand and congratulated me on the film as if I were an extension of Rocco. I wasn’t sure what to say but muttered, “It was a wonderful showing. I’m so proud of him.”

Isla seemed not to have a problem with it because she didn’t correct me for a social gaff. We had just stopped near the bar when Isla said, “I need to make a call; I’ll be back soon.”

I gave her a nod and gazed vaguely over the crowd.

“You’re Adelina Belfiore, right?” a male’s voice said behind me. I turned to find a tall, handsome man in all white and blond bobbed hair. He smiled and held out his hand.

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