Page 101 of Broken Crown

He was one of the first friends I made when I'd arrived in Paris, and in a way, it was a relief to have him here. To finally have a friend I could trust with me.

My confession to him about the situation with Sebastian and my father…all of it…perched on the tip of my tongue.

"Mark, I⁠—"

"Well, doesn't this look cozy."

We both turned, and my heart dropped.

Filomena Diamanti stood in my office doorway, water droplets glistening on her designer raincoat, her presence instantly sucking all the oxygen from the room.

She was a monument to vanity's losing battle with time.

The world's most expensive surgeons had pulled her face taut. Not a wrinkle dared appear on her forehead, her cheeks filled to an unnatural smoothness. Her lips, plumped to the point of a perpetual pout, were coated in a glossy nude that made them look wet and somehow obscene.

She'd swept her hair, dyed an unnatural jet black, into an elaborate updo that added inches to her already imposing height. The color made the olive undertones of her overly tanned skin appear sallow, despite the expert application of bronze and gold cosmetics.

Her eyes, heavily lined in black, darted between Mark and me, calculating and cold.

She wore a vibrant crimson Versace dress that clung to her surgically enhanced figure, the neckline plunging to display both her cleavage and a constellation of diamond jewelry that winked malevolently in the dim light.

The red soles of her Louboutins left damp marks on the marble floor.

"Filomena, what are you doing here?” My voice sounded thin even to my own ears.

She held up her hand, flaunting her impossibly large diamond wedding band. "I own the House of Diamanti, you little bitch. I don't need permission to be here. And it's Signora Diamanti to you."

Mark stepped in front of me, his broad shoulders creating a barrier between me and Filomena's venom.

I placed a hand on his back before moving around him, refusing to cower.

I raised my chin. "Filomena—I mean Signora Diamanti—this is Mark Hanson. He is the talented and well-known fashion photographer I'm hiring for the new lab-created diamond launch."

She sauntered into the room and eyed Mark, not missing his protective stance near me or his hand still on my shoulder.

Her lips curled into something that might have been a smile if it contained any warmth.

"Oh, I can see what you both were doing."

She toyed with a crystal paperweight on my desk, turning it in her bejeweled fingers. "Does my son know you are in here alone with"—she waved her hand in Mark's direction, her crimson nails slicing through the air—"the talented and well-known fashion photographer Mark Hanson?”

Fuck.

CHAPTER 28

SABRINA

The only thing that would make this situation worse was if Sebastian walked in.

My pulse rose, afraid that by simply thinking it, I would summon the devil.

Mark tilted his head to the side and slid his hands into his jean pockets. "Should I demonstrate my talents?"

I turned my back on Filomena and glared at him, mouthing, "You're not helping."

To cover my strange movements, I circled around my desk and riffled through the files neatly stacked in the inbox.

Slipping the cobalt-blue one out, I handed it to Mark. "Here you go, Mark. This is the prospective on the shoot."