“I can take care of this for you, but I thought I would check with you first.”
I’d let my pride cloud my judgment when I met with Androssi. I didn’t appreciate anyone doubting my talents, not when I’d proven myself a million times over. But I shouldn’t be so stubborn and let my temper cloud my thinking. “Get in touch with Androssi Beaucount. I’m sure he’d like the business.”
Nicole picked up on my tone because she listened to it all the time. “Your meeting didn’t go well?”
“A bit rocky. But I’m sure he’ll be happy to do business now.”
“He’d be stupid not to, regardless of his personal feelings for you.”
I opened my laptop so I could access the documents she sent me.
“People were very thrilled to see Sapphire, even if she wasn’t on stage. I think having her as your girlfriend was even better.”
Girlfriend. I kept hearing that word over and over. “Yes, she was gorgeous.” Once the screen turned on, I spotted my name typed into the Google search engine in the top right corner. I never looked myself up on the Internet, so I knew I hadn’t typed it in there.
And only one person had access to my laptop.
Muse.
Why was she Googling me on my computer? I noticed she’d been jumpy when I walked into the room. And my laptop was placed in a way I hadn’t left it. I just assumed I was being paranoid.
No, I wasn’t paranoid at all.
“I just sent everything over,” Nicole said. “Let me know when you’re ready to go over them.”
I opened a new tab and entered my name into the search engine. “Hold on, Nicole.” A new page opened up with a list of headlines that all pertained to me, mainly my evening last night. The headlines were flattering, but there was one that was highlighted in a different color than all the rest.
The one that Muse clicked on.
I opened it and scanned the page. Someone had captured pictures of us together, of me kissing her and pressing my forehead to hers. They caught me staring at her. And there was an entire article written about me falling in love with my favorite model.
I wasn’t sure how it made me feel.
A part of me wanted to scoff because it was ridiculous.
Another part of me felt a little terrified. The article was an opinion based on these pictures, but the photos themselves couldn’t lie. I stared at her in a way I never stared at anyone else.
I was obviously obsessed with her.
How could I not be? She was beautiful in every picture, and she looked even more beautiful on my arm.
But I didn’t love her. She didn’t love me.
What these photographers captured was the intimacy between us, the friendship as well as the lust. Just because I didn’t love her didn’t mean I didn’t care about her—and I cared about her so damn much. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for her, nothing I wouldn’t sacrifice for her. The world misinterpreted what they saw, what they thought they understood.
They knew nothing about us.
I closed the tab and went to my email. “I’m ready, Nicole.”
We returned to Milan in the middle of the afternoon, and my men drove us back to Verona where my villa was waiting for me. Dante would have a full meal prepared, even though neither of us was hungry.
Muse looked out the window as she watched the countryside pass. She hadn’t worn makeup during the flight, and now the sun blanketed her exquisite complexion with the perfect lighting. She was in jeans and a t-shirt, laid-back after the long journey.
I never told her I knew she used my computer. And I never told her I knew what she was looking up.
I wondered what she thought about it.
Did she think I loved her?
I hoped not.
I never would.
We arrived at the house, and the men took our bags inside. The house was exactly the way we left it, clean, open, and bright. It was nice to be home. No amount of luxury at a five-star hotel could replace the comfort of my own place.
Our bags were set in the bedroom, and Muse immediately changed into a comfortable sundress.
It was still warm, but in the next few weeks, the weather would change drastically. It would get cold, start to rain, and soon after that, the snow would begin falling. The horses would be put in the stables, and I would be working from home almost exclusively to avoid the dangerous country roads.
“It’s nice to be home.” She hopped on the bed, bouncing up and down slightly as the mattress moved.
“It is.”
“Your mother said she would love to get together for dinner and talk about our trip.”
Now that the show was over, I had a little more time on my hands. Perhaps Muse and I would take a trip somewhere.