Amen, Sister. “Um, are you back in town permanently?”
“You’re gonna tell Greg everything I say, aren’t you?”
Gwen exhaled. “We were best friends up until the day you left. I knew you liked Greg since you were ten years old. Did I say a word to him in all those years?” She’d been grossed out back then by anyone wanting her fifteen-year-old smelly brother, but that was irrelevant.
Faith’s jaw dropped and after a few moments, the love of Greg’s life exhaled. “No. Gwen, I’m sorry.” A few more seconds of silence stretched by before she spoke again. “And I only have myself to blame for what happened.”
“What did happen, Faith?” flew from Gwen’s lips so fast she slapped her mouth. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer that.”
“It’s bad enough Greg doesn’t know why I really left. I can’t tell you and leave you hanging with that information on your conscience.”
“I understand. Greg has access to interrogation rooms and bright lights.”
Faith released a soft laugh. “I’d almost forgotten your sense of humor.”
“I’m here all week.” She appreciated the break in tension as well, she had her own disaster to stress over.
“Are you still with that lingerie designer?” Faith asked, a career girl like her, knew what buttons to push.
“No. I just started a new job a couple of months ago.”
“Oh yeah? Where?”
“Prada.” Damn, she liked saying that.
“That’s amazing, Gwen. Good for you. Get your money’s worth from that FIT education.” Faith had understandably changed the subject from Greg.
She wanted Greg to take small steps with Faith. Gwen needed to as well if she were to rebuild a friendship that once meant the world to her.
“Thanks,” she said. “It is kind of wonderful. I was just in Milan.” She squeezed her shoulders together.
The idea of moving to Milan, now, made her queasy. There was no way she would take Marcello’s job and try to raise a baby overseas by herself. That meant Enrico would have to send Andrew. What if he refused?
Gwen had put everyone’s future in jeopardy.
“Gwen, are you okay?” Faith asked when she’d gone quiet and probably pale, based on how her stomach turned again and again.
“I don’t know,” she answered, catching her breath.
Faith narrowed her eyes. “Man trouble? I heard you and Dan are getting a divorce.”
“Yes. But I’m...seeing someone else.”
“Been with him long?”
“No. That’s part of the problem. Things sometimes just move so fast. First it’s all great sex and then...”
Faith slammed her head back against the vinyl seat. “God. What I wouldn’t give for some great sex.”
And what would Greg give to know that little confession?
Sympathetic eyes wandered again to Faith. Now that Gwen had a taste of fantastic sex, she never wanted to sit on a train and not know when she’d be rocked with her next orgasm.
Whatever had made Faith run out on her wedding must have made sense to her at the time. Or she felt she had no other options.
Faith stared for a moment and looked down. “Don’t make the same mistake I made, Gwen. Strong, deep emotions can cloud your judgment.”
And hormones. Gwen lowered her head. This had to stop right now. Her fears made no sense, yet they were driving her bad behavior. Her breath came in short bursts, realizing she was about to make the biggest mistake of her life.
She shot to her feet. “You’re right. Happy New Year, Faith.” Bending down, she kissed the girl she knew her brother still loved deeply and completely.
“You too, Gwen,” Faith hollered while she ran toward the train doors.
The train lurched to a stop at a transfer station and Gwen jumped out.
“Wait!” she screamed to the conductor closing the doors to the Manhattan-bound train across the platform.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
ou!” Salvatore’s garlic-laced spit flew in Andrew’s face. “You had a hand in this, didn’t you?”
“Y“Hand in what?” Andrew loosened himself from Salvatore’s grip, sending the man stumbling back a few feet. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Don’t play stupido with me, Morgan.”
“I’m not playing stupid. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The designer smoothed his dark-blond hair in place using the reflective surface of one of Andrew’s awards hanging on the wall. “I’m being transferred to Milan because of you.”
“What?” Andrew shot to his feet.
Salvatore sent a derisive scowl up and down Andrew’s height. “I will not let some ex-model dictate my career.” He said ‘ex-model’ as if Andrew had been a prostitute.
He held his tongue. So, Salvatore had known all along. How was the least important thing to him at the moment.
Andrew rounded his desk. “I assure you, I had no idea you were being moved to Milan.”
As much as he despised the man at times, he wouldn’t have let the top New York designer go willingly. Salvatore Corella was the key to Prada-New York’s brand success.
Salvatore puffed out his chest. “Enrico calls it a favore, of course. He needs a seasoned designer there to make Prada-Milan more productive. I have to clean up the mess you made with Marcello.”
How had he lost control of his own department? Enrico chose to send Salvatore to Milan to help Gwen. This wasn’t happening.
Andrew’s body seared hot with anger. “Salvatore, you’ll just have to live with Enrico’s decision.
I’ve been in Milan. I had no idea about any of this. I would love to stay and fight some more with you, but I need to speak to Enrico about something else.” Andrew geared up to quit. Right now.
His shoulder slammed into Salvatore as he stormed out of his office. The look that passed between them dripped with pure rage and hate. Andrew needed to stop all this from happening.
He’d only made it a few doors down from Enrico’s office, though.
“Yo stronzo! ” Salvatore yelled. “I have one more thing to say to you.”
Andrew spun around. Every head in the office looked up and most of them knew stronzo meant
‘asshole.’ The way Salvatore charged in his direction made Thalia turn ghostly pale.
“What?” Andrew met Salvatore several feet away. “Don’t do this in the office, Salvatore. This shit ends up online.”
“Have it your way.” Salvatore pulled him by the shirt collar into the copy room and closed the door.
Oh, great!
Salvatore stepped right up to him, his chin raising to meet Andrew’s eyes. In a low maniacal tone, he said, “I hope you and that little cock tease will be very happy together.”
The comment sent a shock wave through Andrew. He curled his fingers into a fist, and without thinking, executed a perfect jab into Salvatore’s pudgy jaw. The designer flopped against the copier and hit the floor like a bag of rocks. Blood and spit flew from his mouth.
Andrew shook his aching wrist, feeling nothing but panic. “Oh, shit.”
GWEN FEARED ANDREW really would quit to prevent her from going to Milan. He may have said he wasn’t looking for a princess, but she wanted to be the ultimate warrior princess—Wonder Woman