“Then you could’ve told me he was coming over yesterday!” My voice rose again before I forced more oxygen through my nose. “It’s not about the dinner, Dante. It’s about your refusal to communicate like a normal person. I thought we were past this.” Emotion clogged my throat. “We promised we wouldn’t do this. Act like strangers. Shut down whenever things got hard. We’re supposed to be partners.”
Dante rubbed a hand over his face. When it fell away, I glimpsed the conflict in his eyes—remorse and guilt at war with frustration and something else that chilled the breath in my lungs.
“There are some things you’re better off not knowing, mia cara.” The endearment I’d initially despised and grown to love barely touched my skin before it dissolved. Soft yet rough, like the churn of waves in a raging storm.
The wistful notes lingered for an extra beat before his face shut down again.
“I’ll see you at dinner.”
He walked out, leaving me with a pit in my stomach and the unshakeable sense that our relationship had somehow been fundamentally altered.
CHAPTER 33
Vivian
Dante and I barely exchanged a word during dinner. I did, however, push his fish into his vegetables when he wasn’t looking and delighted in his look of absolute horror when he saw his food had touched.
Besides that one petty act of retribution for his behavior, I focused my attention on Christian and his girlfriend Stella. Christian was perfectly charming, as always, but something about him made me uneasy. He reminded me of a wolf dressed in perfectly tailored sheep’s clothing.
Stella, on the other hand, was warm and friendly, if a bit shy. We spent the majority of dinner discussing travel, astrology, and her new ambassadorship with the fashion label Delamonte, which was, coincidentally, a Russo Group brand.
As far as last-minute dinner guests went, it could’ve been much worse.
After dessert, I took Stella on a tour of the penthouse while Dante and Christian discussed business. It was mostly an excuse to catch my breath after hours of underlying tension between me and Dante, but I genuinely enjoyed Stella’s company.
“Don’t ask,” I said when she tilted her head at one of the paintings in the gallery. The hideous piece stood out like a sore thumb amongst all the Picassos and Rembrandts. “I don’t know why Dante bought that. He usually has more discerning taste.”
“It must be worth a lot of money,” Stella said as we made our way back to the dining room.
“Apparently. Proof price isn’t always indicative of quality,” I said dryly.
Our footsteps echoed against the marble floors, but my steps slowed when I heard the familiar rumble of Dante’s voice trickling through his office door. I hadn’t realized they’d moved from the dining room.
“…can’t keep Magda forever,” he said. “You should be glad I didn’t throw it in the trash after the stunt you pulled with Vivian and Heath.”
My throat dried at the unexpected mention of my and Heath’s names.
What stunt? Save for an awkward phone call during which I’d checked on his nose (less bruised than his ego) and told him we shouldn’t be in contact anymore, I hadn’t talked to Heath since he showed up at the apartment.
I also couldn’t imagine why Christian would take an interest in either of us. How did he even know Heath? He was big in the cyber world, and Heath owned a tech startup, but that connection seemed tenuous at best.
“It’s a fucking painting, not a wild animal,” Christian said. “As for Vivian, it’s been months, and it worked out fine. Let it go. If you’re still pissed, you shouldn’t have invited me to dinner.”
“Be glad things worked out fine with Vivian.” Dante’s tone could’ve iced the inside of a volcano. I swallowed, trying to moisten the sudden desert in my throat. It didn’t work. “If—”
I couldn’t contain my cough any longer. The sound spilled out of me and cut his sentence short.
Two seconds later, the door swung open, revealing two surprised and none-too-pleased faces.
A faint hint of red colored Dante’s cheekbones when he saw me. “I see you’ve finished the tour early.”
“Sorry.” Stella spoke up, looking embarrassed. “We were on our way to the dining room and heard…” She trailed off, obviously not wanting to admit we’d been eavesdropping even though that was clearly what we were doing.
I should jump in and save her, but all I could do was give a forced smile as Christian and Stella thanked us for dinner and quickly excused themselves.
“What Heath stunt was he talking about?” I found my voice in the silence following their departure.
“Nothing you need to worry about.” Dante’s clipped voice didn’t match the darkening red of his cheeks. “He was being an asshole, as always.”
“Considering he mentioned me and my ex-boyfriend by name, I think I do need to worry about it.” I crossed my arms. “I won’t stop asking, so you might as well tell me now.”
More silence.
“Christian was the one who sent the text to Heath,” he finally said. “The one that was supposedly from you.”
My stomach hollowed, and icy shock rushed to fill the void. “Why would he do that?”
“I told you. Because he’s an asshole.” A small pause, then a reluctant, “I may have provoked him, but he’s easily provoked.”
“That’s why you came home early,” I realized.
In all my years as CEO, I’ve only cut a work trip short twice, Vivian, and both those instances were because of you.
I’d glossed over the specifics of what he said at the time because I’d been too distracted by everything else happening, but his words suddenly made sense.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I regretted eating so much at dinner. I was starting to feel nauseous. “Even when I said I didn’t know how he got the text, you didn’t say anything.”
“It was irrelevant.”
“That wasn’t for you to decide!” I eased a deep breath into my lungs. “I don’t know what you did to Christian, but I don’t appreciate being used as a pawn in whatever game you two are playing.”
I felt like enough of a pawn with my parents. I didn’t want or need to feel that way with Dante, too.
“It’s not a game,” Dante gritted out. “Christian got pissed and did something stupid. What would me telling you have accomplished? You would’ve just gotten upset over something that already happened.”
“The fact you don’t know what the problem is, is the problem.” I turned, too tired to argue anymore. “Find me when you’re ready to talk like an adult.”
Relationships were a give-and-take, and right now, I was tired of giving.
The next morning, I woke up early to clear my head in Central Park. After forty-five minutes of aimless wandering, last night’s embers of indignation still flickered in my stomach, so I did what I always did when I needed to vent: I called my sister.
She grew up with our parents, too, and she’d gone through the whole arranged marriage process. If anyone understood me, she did.