Page 125 of Shout Out To My Ex

Leo raises his hand as if we’re in school. ‘Well, my aunt is – sorry, my publicist. She’s the one who arranged the engagement, but we all know that, right?’

Marie’s expression sours. ‘Ah,oui, of course – she arranged the engagement. But it is bigger,non?’

Just get to the point!My hands twitch with the urge to leap up and shake the little French woman by the shoulders. This isn’t a theatrical production, this is my life! Mine and Leo’s. Can’t she just hurry the fuck up?

Thankfully, Paloma steps in, echoing my exact thoughts. ‘Marie, if you could please just get to the point.’

She tosses an annoyed look towards Paloma, then presses the button on the remote to reveal a collage of photographs and graphics that can only mean one thing.

Oh. My. God.

37

ELLE

There is complete silence in the room as we all stare at the screen, the elements clicking into place. But even when it seems irrefutable, how we’ve got to this point, I still can’t believe it. Conspiracy theorists couldn’t have dreamt this up.

And poor Leo!

‘Does this mean…?’ he says. ‘So, Aunt Serena…?’

His questions dangle unfinished, and his brows knit together, his mouth hanging open in disbelief.

‘Are you all right?’ I ask.

His eyes remain fixed on the screen, but he manages to shake his head. ‘No, no I’m not all right. Can someone please explain this to me because I’m having trouble getting my head around it?’

‘But of course, you see—’ Marie begins, but Paloma talks over her.

‘Thank you, Marie, I’ll take it from here.’

Paloma stands and crosses to the screen while Marie strolls over to the doorframe. She leans against it and inhales from her unlit cigarette. I’d thought it was merely a prop she was using to punctuate her points, but apparently not.

‘Right,’ says Paloma, and I shift my focus to her. ‘We have three key players in this plot.’

It’s unclear if she means ‘storyline’ or ‘ploy’ but both apply.

‘Karen Whitehead, or Franzia; the French financier, Trudeau; and Serena “Ser” Robbins. As we all know, Ser is Leo’s publicist. What we didn’t know until today – and thank you to Marie for this additional intel – is that she’s alsoFranzia’spublicist.’

Ah, so I have deduced correctly. When I glance at Leo again, he’s turned ashen, almost greenish. I cast my eyes about for a bin in casehe’sabout to vomit, spying one in the corner.

‘Hold on,’ he says, ‘that can’t be right. Aunt Serena would have told me.’ He looks to me. ‘She would have told me.’

Feeling helpless, all I can do is offer a commiserating smile.

‘It was hard to determine,’ says Marie from the door. She pushes off the doorframe and swaggers back to the head of the table. ‘But it is true.MadameRobbins masked the connection with a… How do you say…?’ Her hand flutters in the air as she tries to find the right word. ‘…an intermediate.’

‘Intermediary,’ chorus several people around the table.

‘Oui, as I said.’ Marie steps in front of Paloma and stands directly under the screen. ‘Butthisconnection is at the heart of this arrangement,’ she says, drawing the line between Ser and Trudeau. ‘Robbins and Trudeau, they know each other for thirty years, possibly longer. She was acting inhisinterest all along.’

‘But she wouldn’t…’

Again, Leo’s words trail off, and no wonder – this woman is a close family friend and he’s known her his whole life.

‘She would and she did,’ says Paloma. ‘In fact, it was Serena Robbins who took an obscure girl from a working-class family, who had striking looks coupled with dogged ambition, and jettisoned her into the supermodel stratosphere.’

‘Wait, so how long has Serena been Franzia’s publicist?’ asks Leo, seeming even more baffled.

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