It took my brother, of all people, to make me see the light.
I loved Vivian. I’d been falling in love with her, bit by bit, since she crashed my exhibition and stared me down with defiance in her eyes.
“Say something, sweetheart,” I said softly when she went quiet again.
“You say you miss me now, but the feeling will pass. You’re Dante Russo. You can have anyone.” A waver rippled beneath her voice. “You don’t need me.”
The tiny crack on the word me hit me like a punch in the gut.
You never wanted to get married, and you never wanted me.
One of her six reasons, and one I took a fair share of the blame for. But I wasn’t the only one. Her parents had a hand in making her feel like she was dispensable other than what she could do for them, and I’d never forgive them for it.
It was hypocritical, but I didn’t care.
“I don’t want anyone,” I said fiercely. “I want you. Your wit and intelligence, your kindness and charm. The way your eyes crinkle when you laugh and how your smile makes the world tilt just a little bit. I even want the disgusting food combinations you put together and somehow make taste good.”
A half laugh, half sob bled over the line.
“But that’s the thing about you, Vivian.” My voice softened into something rawer. “You take the most ordinary or unexpected things and make them extraordinary. You see the silver lining in every situation and the good in everyone, even if they don’t deserve it. And I’m selfish enough to hope you’ll see how much I don’t just want but need you. Today, tomorrow, and all the days that come after that.”
Another sob, this one quieter but no less powerful.
Fuck, I wished I could see her. Hold her. Comfort her. And look into her eyes so she knew I meant every damn word I said.
“I know it took me a while to get here, sweetheart, and I’m not the best with expressing my emotions, but…” A ragged breath. “Give me a chance to prove it to you. Go on a date with me. Just one.”
The first silence had been long. This one was torturous.
My heart slammed, fast and hard enough to bruise, then stopped altogether when Vivian finally replied. Soft and hesitant, yet thick with emotion.
“Okay. Just one.”
CHAPTER 39
Dante
“Micetta, it’s so nice to see you!” Greta brushed past me and swept Vivian up in a hug. She only used the little kitten endearment for her grandchildren, but apparently, she’d extended it to Vivian. “The house isn’t the same without you.”
I scowled at her pointed tone. She’d given me the cold treatment all week. I was pretty sure she’d burned my pork chops on purpose the other night. I’d forced down two bites before I gave up and ordered takeout. It wasn’t just her, either; even Edward had cast disapproving glances my way when he thought I wasn’t looking.
My staff didn’t know what happened with Vivian. They only knew she was gone, and they blamed me for it.
Hell, I blamed myself too, which was why I was trying to make amends.
I’d spent the past two days since my call with Vivian planning the date, and my nerves were a humiliating wreck. I hadn’t been this nervous since I was a high school freshman asking out the most popular girl in school.
I pushed my hands into my pockets while Vivian returned Greta’s hug. An irrational plume of green smoke curled through me.
Hell must be frigid if I was jealous of my damn seventy-four-year-old housekeeper.
“It’s good to see you, too,” Vivian said, her voice warm. “Not working too hard, I hope.”
“No, just making sure my boss—” Greta raised her voice even though I stood less than five feet away—“doesn’t mess up any more than he has. It’s a full-time job, micetta. Not for the faint of heart.”
Fucking Greta. Every day, I questioned why I hadn’t fired her yet.
An awkward silence bloomed.
Vivian glanced in my direction and quickly looked away. My already raw nerves shredded into ribbons.
“Well,” Greta said, obviously realizing she’d made things more uncomfortable than intended. “I’ll let you two get to it. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
She patted Vivian’s hand and glared at me as she passed.
Don’t fuck up, her eyes said.
My scowl deepened. Like I needed her to tell me that.
“Should I be wary of the fact the date is at your house?” Vivian asked.
I’d told her to dress comfortably, but even in a simple cotton sundress and sandals, she was so fucking beautiful it took my breath away.
Our house. “Not unless you’re scared of food and a good time.”
“You have a high opinion of your date planning skills.”
“You’ve never complained.”
She rolled her eyes, but my mouth curved at her faint smile. It was progress, no matter how small.
“So.” I cleared my throat as we walked toward the den, where I’d set everything up. “The Legacy Ball was a hit. The whole city’s buzzing about it.”
“They’re buzzing about Veronica Foster’s appearance more than anything,” she said. “Who could’ve guessed she has such good vocals?”
Most socialites who dabbled in the arts “succeeded” due to nepotism, not talent. Veronica was a surprising exception.
“You did,” I said. “You gave her a slot after watching her tape. I’m sure Buffy’s happy.”
“Yes. My reputation lives to see another day.”
Another awkward silence thudded between us.
Lau Jewels’s stock had plummeted to record low levels after a deluge of bad press. Vivian wasn’t too affected yet—I’d made sure of that—but she wasn’t immune to the whispers and speculation.
Things I had a hand in fomenting.
Guilt pierced my gut.
I’d played a Hail Mary at the ball Friday night. Part of me had expected her to slap me and storm off, but another, uncharacteristically idealistic part had hoped she would hear me out.
And she had.
I didn’t know what I did to deserve it, but I was fucking taking it.
We arrived at the den. I hesitated for a beat before opening the doors.
Get your shit together, Russo. I was in my late thirties. I was too old to be acting like a damn teenager on his first date.
But that was exactly what this was, minus the teenager part. Our first real date.
No lies, no secrets, no deceptions.
Just us.
A rush of anxiety spiked through me when Vivian surveyed the room with wide eyes.
I’d agonized over the date for hours before settling on something simple yet personal. Today wasn’t about the glitz and glamour. It was about spending time together and fixing our relationship.
She liked romance and astronomy, so I’d cued up some romantic fantasy about a fallen star who was actually a woman (or some shit like that) on the flat-screen TV. I’d never heard of the movie, but according to Greta’s granddaughter—yes, I’d resorted to asking a high schooler for help—it was “super cute.”
Over two dozen takeout containers sat on top of the coffee table next to Pringles, pickles, and pudding. I’d bought a vintage popcorn machine and rush-installed it yesterday for the full movie experience. The snack was disgusting, but Vivian and most of the world liked it for some godforsaken reason.