Lauren smiled with empathy. “It’s exhausting, isn’t it? People so love to judge.” She opened a cupboard and drew out a box of linguine noodles. “I guess you make peace with whatever you’ve done to get yourself into that situation and accept that you can’t control what others think or say. It’s what you think of yourself that matters.”
“I’m obsessed with what other people think,” Gwyn admitted glumly. She had a childhood full of starting new schools, being teased for being first to wear a bra, then constantly being underestimated because she was smarter than anyone expected from a girl with good looks.
Her mother had nursed the same sort of angst, having quite an inferiority complex due to an orphan’s upbringing. Sometimes Gwyn wondered if that had been her mother’s reason for moving so often—part habit, but also a continuous attempt to reinvent herself in hopes of ever-elusive acceptance.
For Gwyn, landing this job in Milan had been her first step in believing she really was good enough and smart enough to earn respect on her own merit, but she was seriously struggling to believe in herself now.
And while she could dismiss the dim views of strangers and comfort herself with the knowledge she hadn’t done anything to deserve the humiliation she was suffering, she was acutely sensitive to what Vito might be thinking of her.
Why? Why couldn’t she shrug off his judgment of her?
Because he affected her on every level, she acknowledged. Because he had literally controlled how she felt in the car today, working ecstasy through her. If he had the power to make her feel good, he also had the power to devastate her.
She started to blush, feeling the heat rise from deep spaces to become a hot glow on her cheeks. Such power. She wished she could get him out from under her skin!
“My turn to pry,” Lauren said, handing Gwyn a bag of mushrooms, scanning Gwyn’s guilty pink cheeks with interest. “This thing with you and Vito. Have you really been seeing him? Or is it just for show?”
“What?” Gwyn said dumbly, nerveless fingers nearly losing the featherweight of the bag.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Lauren said with a teasing twinkle in her eye. “I’m being nosy because he’s one of my favorite people, but I realize there are things at the bank that can’t be discussed. Believe me, I know.” She made a face of long suffering. “But...” She sent Gwyn a cagey look as she moved to the sink. “I have a feeling that if he’d been seeing you before this story broke, I would have known.”
“What do you mean?” Gwyn asked, knocked off balance by something she couldn’t identify. Was she suggesting Vito acted differently around her? Lauren had only seen them together for a minute and a half before they’d come inside and the men had gone to the beach.
“I don’t know. There’s something in the way he looked at you—” Lauren shrugged, starting to wash her hands, then cut herself off as she gave the soap dispenser next to the sink a shake. “I think there’s a new one in the upstairs bathroom,” she said, turning off the tap.
“I’ll get it,” Gwyn said, setting down the mushroom she was stemming.
“I’ll peek in on Bianca while I’m up there,” Lauren said with a wave.
Seconds later, Lauren’s voice was considerably less relaxed as she swore loud enough for Gwyn to hear her all the way down in the kitchen.
“Are you all right?” Gwyn called, making a panicked start up the stairs.
Lauren came to the open door of the main bathroom, bracing herself against it with a white-knuckled grip, expression somewhere between exasperated and remorseful.
“He’s going to kill me. Tell Paolo my water just broke.”
* * *
Vito was not a romantic, but he had seen the longing in Gwyn’s expression and felt a kick of commiseration. Paolo and Lauren made anyone covetous of their happiness. He envied his cousin himself, not just for finding his soul mate, but for his freedom to pursue a life with her. Even if Vito did find the right woman...
He was adept at not letting himself dwell on such things and cut off the thoughts as he and Paolo took Roberto down to the water and exchanged reports.
Paolo expanded on what he’d already messaged, saying Fabrizio was a tough nut, but cracks were showing in his story. The board of Jensen’s foundation was not yet moved to worry about any of this, let alone meeting to discuss Jensen’s possible removal. Jensen himself was leaving the country for a minor quake that was more photo op than actual disaster relief, but would bolster his image.
“You haven’t frozen the foundation’s assets?” Vito asked.