The room spun behind Enrico and Andrew gripped the seat beneath him. Gwen’s eyes were focused on her lap when she came into view. Her hair, pulled back into a tight bun, looked glossy as usual, but her cheeks had lost some volume. It pained him how thin she looked. That was not the same woman he left two weeks ago.
Her lids lifted to the camera, and it felt like an entire colony of butterflies hatched at the same time in his stomach.
“Hello, Andrew,” she said with caution. She began her status updates, staring at a yellow legal pad. “I’ve collected progress reports from Gus, Stephan, and Antonia for the menswear lines. They’ll have at least a dozen prototypes ready to ship to Milan for review by the end of the month. The new jewelry line, however, has had some issues. Their schedule has been set back, I’m afraid.” Her head lifted briefly. “Enrico and I have been trying to mitigate the effect it would have on their deadline, but a shortage in the non-corrosive, environmentally-friendly metals we’ve specified have been more of a problem to source than the team’s initial estimates.”
Enrico jumped in, but the monitor stayed on Gwen. “Without assigning blame, we think one of the production assistants did not provide the manufacturer with our exact volumes and specifications. But Gwendolyn here is on it. I have her working with the strategic sourcing group in Paris to find another vendor.”
“Okay, but...” Andrew paused. “I was part of the initial negotiation. So, I’d like to be on any calls you or she might be on.”
Mumbling broke the stark silence. Gwen looked up as Enrico sat next to her. Now Andrew could see and speak to them both at the same time. Great.
“I would like this matter addressed immediately.” Enrico shifted in his seat. “Perhaps it would be best to do the call together in person.”
“In person?” Gwen asked.
Andrew crumpled the paper at his fingertips. Put that woman on a plane.
“Gwendolyn, I know this is short notice, but could you fly out to Milan tonight?”
“Tonight?” Both he and Gwen asked Enrico at the same time.
“Sì. And Andrew, when she is there, perhaps she could meet with Marcello. Have her sit with him...give him a hand.”
Gwen turned to Enrico, leaving only her profile visible. Andrew’s fingers touched the monitor outlining her face, and grunted when the camera shifted back to his boss as he resumed his seat behind his desk.
“Andrew, are you okay with this?” Enrico asked.
He swallowed. Very, except, he still had concerns about seeing Gwen and being alone with her.
Did he trust himself? “Sure. So, tomorrow?”
Enrico took a call on his cell before answering. “Prego,” he said into the phone and turned back to Andrew. “I’ll let you two work out the details. I am needed on the designer floor.”
The monitor swung back around. The look on Gwen’s face could only be described as panic-stricken.
GWEN STARED INTO ANDREW’S dark gray eyes. Her gaping mouth hung open. In the last two minutes, she’d been told to go to Italy. Tonight. To fix a jewelry mess she could have easily taken care of with a phone call from New York. Alone. And what was meeting with Marcello really about?
“So...” Andrew said, brushing a hand through his hair. The ring was still gone. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she replied back, preferring to keep her voice even to gauge his reaction.
“Um. How are you?”
God, she hated that question. Great. Never better. “Okay. You? How is Milan?”
“Cold. Make sure you bring your winter coat.”
And we’re gonna talk about the weather now. Her nerves had her stomach in knots. She drew in a ragged breath, unable to deal with the tension rising up in her. “Listen, Andrew—”
“Gwen, I went back to your room Saturday morning.”
The air trapped in her lungs escaped in a slow ragged exhale. And...he called her Gwen. “You did?”
“Of course. I wanted to tell you myself I was coming back here.”
“Oh.” Not to smooth things out. To deliver the news that either way, they wouldn’t be together in any meaningful way. Right. Message received.
“And why weren’t you on our flight?” he asked.
Our. That little detail stabbed at her. She looked down, guilt creeping in. “I ended up taking a different flight home.”
The way he pursed his lips, meant he understood why. He looked down as well, clearly agitated.
“Okay.”
“Andrew, I’m sorry I—”
“No! I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. I came at you with a bunch of invasive questions about something obviously personal and sensitive. I know I overreacted.” His large hands, hands that had been all over her body, covered his beautiful face. She stroked the monitor mentally willing him to lower them. “It’s because of what happened...to me, with Cate. I just freaked out. I’m sorry.”
“So am I.” The explanations might be out of the way, but ugly and gritty residue like tea leaves at the bottom of a saucer, told her she and Andrew may be at some kind of an impasse. “Hey, it was only one night. We’re adults. We got through it once before.”
“I didn’t want just one night, this time.” His voice came out just above a whisper.
He tossed the ball in her court with his response, though. Last time she dropped it by shutting him out and hiding. Too many thoughts fought for position in her head, from run to that airport, now, to run away. She searched somewhere in between for the right response, but the words caught in her throat.
“I guess...” Andrew said when she hesitated. “I guess you just didn’t feel the same way.” He sat back, sounding sorrier than she was prepared for.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she groaned.
“Do what?”
Her hands pointed back and forth between them. “This. A relationship, like this.”
“But you were married.”
“Yes, to the second man I ever slept with. I met him the first week I was out of college.”
Andrew’s lips widened into a smile and his body shook from a laughing fit.
“What’s so funny?”
“You have a lot to make up for,” he said.
“Was I that bad?” she asked, appalled.
He coughed. “Are you kidding, you—” He cut his words short as his eyes drifted over her shoulder. “Um, can you call me back from our office?”
She twisted around. A group of women had gathered by Thalia’s desk, holding papers, but watched Andrew through the glass. Their flushed faces and puckered lips they were licking gave Gwen a glimpse of what being with Andrew Morgan would look like. The man could have anyone.
And they would line up for him.
She smirked. Step aside bitches. He’s mine.
She turned back and sat up straight. “We can finish this when I see you tomorrow.”
“We better.” His bold confidence sent a rush of heat through her.
He wanted her. Still.
“There’s an 11 p.m. out of JFK by the way,” he said. “It’s usually full, so you’d better call now to make sure you get a seat.” His eyebrows dipped with a seductive promise that made her almost slide off the damn seat.