She dumped her clothes on the bed while I watched, my heart pounding hard enough to bruise.
“Were you going to leave without telling me?” Roughness edged my question.
“I’m doing you a favor.” Vivian didn’t look at me, but her hands shook as she folded and packed her clothes. “I’m saving you from a hard conversation. I heard you, Dante. You don’t want me here. You never wanted me here. So I’m leaving.”
There it was. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. She’d learned the truth, and this was her way of dealing with it.
My hands fisted.
She was right. She was doing me a favor. If she left, no questions asked, she’d sever the last tie I had to the Laus with little to no effort on my part. I could wipe my hands clean of her family and move on.
And yet…
“That’s it? After eight months, after finding out what your father did…” And what I did… “That’s all you have to say?”
Vivian finally looked up. Red rimmed her eyes, but fire flashed in the brown depths.
“What do you want me to say?” she demanded. “Do you want me to ask what my father had on you? To ask whether the past two months meant anything, or if you were just trying to make the most out of a shitty situation until you could get rid of me? Do you want me to tell you how devastating it is to find out your father is…is…” Her voice broke. She turned away, but not before I glimpsed the tear streaking down her cheek.
My chest crushed like ice beneath a speeding truck.
“Do you know how it feels to learn your fiancé was only with you because he was forced into it? To think we were actually getting closer when you secretly hated me? Not that I blame you.” She let out a bitter laugh. “If I were in your position, I would hate me too.”
It took every ounce of effort to swallow past the lump in my throat.
“I don’t hate you,” I said, my voice low.
I’ve never hated you.
No matter what Vivian did, or who she was related to, I could never hate her. It was the one thing I hated about myself.
“Your father had…incriminating photos of my brother.” I didn’t know why I was explaining. She’d made it clear she didn’t care, but I kept talking anyway, the words falling out faster the more she packed. “He would’ve died if they landed in the wrong hands.”
I told her about the backups, her father’s ultimatum, and his insistence I keep her in the dark about the blackmail. I told her about the Paris call and even how I figured out there were eight copies of the evidence.
When I finished, her skin was two shades paler than when I’d started. “And my father’s company?”
A lengthy silence pervaded the space.
That was the one part I’d left out. An important part, but one that made my heart pinch when I finally said,
“I did what I had to do. No one threatens a Russo.”
My gaze fixed on Vivian while she processed my reply. The air crackled with a thousand tiny stinging wasps on my skin.
How would she react to my veiled confession? With anger? Shock? Disappointment?
Regardless of her feelings toward her father right now, I couldn’t imagine she’d be okay with me tampering with her family’s company.
But to my surprise, Vivian didn’t betray any visible emotion beyond a tightening of her features.
“I’m sorry for what my father did,” she said. “But why are you telling me this now? You were fine with keeping me in the dark until now.”
My hands fisted again. “I wanted to clear the air,” I said stiffly. “Before…” You left. “We parted ways.”
If you don’t care, then why haven’t you broken the engagement yet?
Francis’s question haunted me. I could’ve told her any time over the past week, but I’d stalled. Made excuses. Told myself I was preparing her for our break by pulling away when, in reality, I simply hadn’t been ready to let her go.
But time was up. I chose vengeance over Vivian, and these were the consequences.
No more stalling.
“I’m sorry you got caught in the middle of this. You were never at fault. But I had to protect my family, and this is…” The words lodged like a knife in my throat before I forced them out. “This is just business.”
The taste of pennies returned, but I kept my expression detached even when every instinct screamed at me to cross the room, hold her, kiss her, and never let her go.
I’d let emotion rule for too long. It was time for logic to rule again.
Even if she forgave me for what I did to her family, we couldn’t move forward when her father and I hated each other’s guts. And if I stayed with her, her father would still win. He’d know Vivian was a weakness I couldn’t afford to have, and he’d use it to exploit the situation any way he could.
For both our sakes, it was better for us to split up.
No matter how much it hurt.
Vivian stared at me. A gallery of emotions flickered through her eyes before a shutter slammed down.
“Right,” she said softly. She closed her suitcase and hauled it off the bed. She stopped in front of me, twisted her engagement ring off her finger, and placed it in my hand. “Just business.”
She brushed past me, leaving the faint scent of apples and a horrible ache in my chest behind.
I closed my fist around the ring. It was cold and lifeless against my palm.
My throat worked with a hard swallow.
Vivian hadn’t packed all her things. Most of her clothes still hung in the closet. Her perfume bottles were on the dresser, a vase of her favorite flowers next to them.
Yet the room had never felt emptier.
CHAPTER 35
Vivian & Dante
VIVIAN
Instead of seeking out my father or checking into a hotel after leaving Dante’s house, I wandered around Central Park with my suitcase like a tourist fresh off the train at Penn Station.
I’d hoped the spring air would clear my head, but all it did was remind me of my engagement photoshoot with Dante.
Bow Bridge. Bethesda Terrace. Even the bench where we ate breakfast after the shoot.
I did what I had to do. No one threatens a Russo.
I had to protect my family…this is just business.
I waited for emotion—any emotion—to set in, but other than a brief pinch when I passed one of our photoshoot spots, I only felt numb. I couldn’t even summon anger or concern over the possible implosion of my father’s company.
Too much had happened, and my brain refused to work properly.
I was an actress living someone else’s life, untouched by the chaos rolling in overhead.
For now, at least.
I wandered the park until the sun set. Even in my zombified state, I knew better than to stay in the park alone after dark.
I climbed into the nearest cab, opened my mouth to tell the driver to take me to The Carlyle, and ended up giving him Sloane’s address instead.
The thought of spending the night in an impersonal hotel room finally sparked a flicker of panic.
I arrived at Sloane’s apartment twenty minutes later. She answered after the second doorbell ring, took one look at my luggage and ringless finger, and ushered me inside without a word.