Why Dante agreed to marry me when he didn’t need my father’s business, money, or connections.
Why he’d been so cold toward me at the start of our engagement.
Why Luca had disliked me, and why my intuition had always questioned the reasoning Dante gave for the engagement. I’d overlooked the flimsiness of the market access excuse because it’d been the only plausible one at the time, but now…
The omelet I ate for breakfast rose in my throat. My skin flushed hot, then cold, while an army of invisible spiders crawled over my arms and chest.
I should leave before they caught me eavesdropping, but I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t do anything except stand there while my world crumbled around me.
I never willingly chose her.
You blackmailed me into it.
The burn liquefied and blurred my vision. The astronomy date, the Paris trip, and all the little moments in between.
Had he been pretending this whole time? Trying to make the most out of a bad situation instead of—
A burst of laughter down the hall yanked me out of my spiraling thoughts.
My head jerked up in time to see two suited men walking toward me, filled with the type of swagger one only possessed if they sat in the C-suite of a multibillion-dollar company.
Their arrival broke the immobility spell holding me hostage.
The one on the right noticed me first, but by the time his face lit with recognition, I was already rushing past him, my head ducked and my gaze fixed on the floor ahead.
Just get to the exit. Get to the exit and go downstairs. That’s all you need to do.
Five more steps.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
I burst into the lobby like a swimmer gasping for air.
I shoved the food at an alarmed-looking Stacey and mumbled something about a work emergency before I jabbed at the elevator button.
Thankfully, it came in seconds.
I stepped inside, the car plummeted toward the ground, and I finally, finally let my tears fall.
DANTE
“If you don’t care, then why haven’t you broken the engagement yet?” Francis’s eyes glinted with challenge. “Like you said, you were forced into it. The first thing you should’ve done after getting rid of the photos was get rid of her.”
Red crept into my vision. He said getting rid of her so easily, like he was discussing a piece of furniture instead of his daughter.
How a piece of shit like Francis shared genes with Vivian, I’d never understand.
He looked like shit now, too. Sallow complexion. Dark circles. Grooves of exhaustion in his face. Christian’s meddling with his company’s internal affairs had taken its toll on him.
I would’ve taken greater pleasure in his suffering had the mention of Vivian not been a stab to the chest.
Shutting her out for a week had been painful enough. Hearing her name come out of her dirtbag father’s mouth, knowing what it meant for our relationship…
I clenched my jaw and forced my expression to remain neutral.
“Our conversation is done.” I sidestepped Francis’s question and deliberately checked my watch. “You’ve already wasted my lunch hour. Leave, or I’ll have security escort you out.”
“Those reports are bullshit.” Francis’s knuckles popped from the force of his grip on the armrests. “I’ve worked decades to build my company. You were still a fetus when I started Lau Jewels, and I won’t let a silver spoon-fed, nepotistic child like you ruin it.”
“You were all too happy to have said silver spoon-fed, nepotistic child marry your daughter,” I said silkily. “To the point where you fucked up and blackmailed him. I don’t like being threatened, Francis. And I always pay it back threefold. Now…” I tapped my desk phone. “Do I need to call my guards, or are you capable of walking yourself out?”
Francis trembled with outrage, but he wasn’t stupid enough to test me any further. He’d stormed in half an hour ago, full of fire and bravado. Now, he looked as pathetic and powerless as he really was.
He pushed his chair back and left without another word.
The door slammed behind him, rattling the paintings on the wall.
That fucker. He was lucky none of them fell.
I barely had a chance to enjoy the silence before a knock sounded.
For Christ’s sake, what did a guy have to do for some actual quiet and work time?
“Come in.”
The door opened, revealing a nervous-looking Stacey. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Russo,” she said. “But your fiancée dropped off lunch for you. I wanted to get it to you while it’s still hot.”
The temperature instantly dropped ten degrees.
A buzz of trepidation crawled over me and snaked into my veins. “My fiancée? When was she here?”
“Maybe ten minutes ago? She said she was going to wait for you in the guest lounge, but she left in a hurry and dropped this at my desk.” Stacey raised two takeout bags in the air. They were stamped with the Moondust Diner’s distinctive black and silver logo.
The buzz turned into a thousand icy needles piercing my skin. Vivian wouldn’t have left without saying hi unless…
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
I stood so abruptly I banged my knee against the underside of my desk. I didn’t even register my pain through the rush of blood in my ears.
“Where are you…” Stacey faltered when I yanked my jacket off the back of my desk chair and brushed past her into the hall.
“Have Helena cancel the rest of my in-person meetings today when she gets back.” I forced the words past my tight throat. “I’m working from home for the rest of the day.”
I was already halfway to the exit when she replied.
“What about your food?” she called after me. Stacey sounded panicked, like my missing lunch would be cause for firing her.
“Keep it.” I didn’t give a shit if she ate it, fed it to the pigeons, or used it for performance art in the middle of goddamned Fifth Avenue.
Ten interminable minutes later—that damn elevator moved at the speed of a snail on morphine—I exited the building, my skin clammy and my heartbeat spiking with sudden, indescribable panic.
I didn’t know how, but I knew with bone-deep certainty Vivian was at home instead of her office.
My apartment was only five blocks away. Walking was faster than taking a car, though not necessarily safer. I was so distracted by the dread leaking into my stomach I almost got mowed down twice, once by a foul-mouthed bike messenger and once by a cab taking a corner too fast.
By the time I entered the cool, air-conditioned foyer of my penthouse, my mouth tasted like pennies and a thin sheen of sweat misted my skin.
I shouldn’t be this twisted over the fact Vivian might’ve overheard me talking with her father. Everything I’d said had been the truth, and she would find out sooner or later. Hell, I’d been bracing myself for this moment since Paris.
But there was a difference between theory and reality. And the reality was, when I stopped in the doorway of our room and saw her open suitcase on our bed, I felt like I’d been sucker punched in the gut and dragged over hot coals, all in the space of two minutes.
Vivian walked out of the closet with an armful of clothes. Her steps halted when she saw me, and a painful, breathless silence stretched between us before she moved again.