Zane’s throat felt thick. “No, it is.”
“It’s over now. Let’s get to work. We’ve got a show to put on."
OCTOBER 1993
MILAN, ITALY
SIENNA
Sienna stood at the door to the Imperial Suite at the Hotel Principe Di Savoia, heart pounding, palms sweaty. She pulled off the oversized navy suit jacket she’d worn for the flight, revealing the ivory slip dress she had under it. The cool air of the hotel hallway gave her goosebumps, but she wasn’t one to choose comfort over style. Her Louis Vuitton luggage sat neatly next to her as proof she belonged there. She had breezed past security with a flick of a smile at the young man in uniform and had been given the key—a real key, not a stupid card she’d have to swipe repeatedly—without a single question from the woman at the front desk. Her face was her passport. Zane McCreight’s wife. Although this time, the receptionist had given her a knowing look that Sienna didn’t appreciate.
That stupid article, followed by the fight in Brazil, had been dogging her for weeks, and she was sick of the humiliation. The other moms at the girls’ ballet school and Parker’s Judo classes avoided eye contact, while Parker’s senseipaid extra attention to her, as if she might be single in the near future.No thanks, Chad. Not happening.
Ivy, at thirteen, was now old enough to have classmates who read their moms’ gossip rags, which meant Sienna had to repeatedly reassure her that everything was fine and that there was no truth to any of this nonsense. Her own mother had called with a dozen questions and heaps of unwanted advice.Is something going on between them? How do you know for sure? It’s not always about looks, you know. Oprah had a man, his wife, and his mistress on the other day, and let me tell you, that mistress was nothing to sneeze at. He said it was about how she made him feel.
In a fit of frustration, Sienna decided to take charge of the situation and shut down the gossip. She’d also put that floozy in her place, but she’d do it subtly so she wouldn’t end up having to wear the label of jealous psycho bitch. Only insecure people got jealous, and the last thing she would ever allow herself to be was insecure. Besides, she wasn’t jealous. She was furious.
She wouldn’t end up alone and bitter like her mother after her father announced he wanted a divorce. She wouldn’t send her fifteen-year-old daughter off into the world so she wouldn’t ‘have another mouth to feed.’ Sienna would fight with everything in her to keep her family together.
So, without a word to Zane (or to Kitty, who would tell Rusty who would tell Zane), she asked Zane’s parents to come stay with the kids and booked herself a first-class flight to Milan. June had agreed that it was a wonderful idea.It’ll be romantic. Just what you two need.
Arranging the trip had been a nightmare. It wasn’t only the last-minute flights or sorting out the logistics of the kids’ activities, it was dealing with three very upset children, whowanted more than anything to see their dad. Poppy was beside herself to miss out on all that gelato—thereal stuff, not the cheap imitation they had in L.A. Parker was suddenly desperate to go to the Ferrari factory again (even though Sienna had explained to him at least a dozen times his dad didn’t have time to drive all the way to Modena from Milan and back in one day, not when he was on tour). Ivy, who had recently become a big fan of the band’s music (she even had posters of them on her bedroom wall), was furious that she wasn’t going to get to see the show. Ivy also saw the trip for what it was—a sign of trouble—and no amount of reassuring seemed to ease her young mind. So, Sienna did her best to placate, soothe, and convince the kids they’d have fun with Grandma and Grandpa, even though she knew they wouldn’t. She would buy them each something special and let them stay up extra late when she got home on Saturday night. But mostly, she would do what she had to do to save their family.
But now that she was here, Sienna was terrified that maybe she couldn’t save their marriage. If there was any truth to the rumors, they’d be through. Or what if it wasn’t Claudia, but some other woman in his bed right now? The thought of what might lie on the other side of that door caused her head to spin. Maybe some young Italian fan with a sexy accent who hadn’t given birth to three children with Zane’s enormous head. Or maybetwohot young Italians.
She took a deep breath and told herself to stop being dramatic. No one else was there. Her husband was the only one behind that door. And coming here was the best thing she could do, given the circumstances. She was in the right place at the right time doing the right thing. Milan was a city in which she felt at home, having lived there part-time back in her modeling days. She’d have two whole days andtwo nights to remind Zane what he had waiting back home and show the world that they were fine. Because they were fine.
At least, she hoped so.
That awful reporter had spent three weeks touring with them, so she doubted the thing about their ‘sizzling chemistry’ had come out of thin air. There must be something to it, and if so, it was time to nip it in the bud. If it wasn’t already too late. That insane fistfight Zane and Mike had was caused by something, and she doubted it was just a stupid article.
She called her ex-publicist (and former bridesmaid), Barb, and asked her to arrange for photos to be taken of her and Zane when they leave the hotel for the concert. She’d plant a big, juicy kiss on him when they were about to get in the limo. Barb would keep a tight lid on the plan, and she’d also make sure the pictures would be published far and wide.
Sienna stared at the key in her hand. Using it felt oddly like a violation of her husband’s privacy. But knocking was beneath her, as if she had no right to be there, when really, she did. Before they had children, she often traveled with the band or would meet up with them in exotic locations like Thailand or boring places like Cleveland. She didn’t care where so long as they were together. But the difference between back then and now was that he’d invited her.
A door opened down the hall and an older couple strolled out, dressed in matching light-colored linens. The sight of them had her quickly sliding the key into the lock and turning it. She pushed the door open just as the couple walked past her, only to have the chain abruptly thwart her efforts. A flash of embarrassment hit, and she let out a light chuckle. “I’m surprising my husband.”
“Oh, very nice,” the man said in a thick Italian accent.
“Good luck with that,” the woman added.
“Thanks,” Sienna said.Good luck? Gee, thanks. Now I feelsomuch better.She held her mouth up to the crack in the door. “Zane! Wake up. It’s me!”
When she heard nothing, she tried again, much louder, her tone bordering on irritated. The third time, she reminded herself she was being romantic, and she used a loud sing-songy voice. “Zane! Wake up, babe! It’s your wife!”
Finally, there was some movement from inside the suite. A groan, feet crossing the floor, and a low, “Hang on.”
He appeared through the sliver, looking thoroughly confused. “One sec.”
He closed the door, which felt like a slap to the face until she realized hehadto do it to unhook the chain. But it wasn’t the shock of that door swinging shut that hurt. It was his expression. His eyes hadn’t lit up. He didn’t say, ‘Oh my God, yes!’ He saidone secas if she was delivering his dry cleaning.
When the door opened again, she kept her feet planted where they were and gave him a hint of a smile. “Surprise,” she said, trying to sound cool.
Zane scratched his head and grinned at her, looking worse for wear in his boxer shorts. “Thisisa surprise.”
He poked his head out into the hall. “Where are the kids?”
“At home with your parents.”
