“I wish to say a special thank-you to Miss Ellis for her patience and unwavering integrity during this entire process,” Paolo had said. “Due to the sensitive nature of the investigation, we asked her not to make any public comments during a time that has obviously been very distressing for her.”
The cameras’ lenses had shifted to where she had stood next to Vito, trying to capture her reaction, which she had fought to keep noncommittal. Inside, she’d been screaming in agony and still was. This was it. The End.
Paolo’s private words to her afterward were what had really done her in. Handlers had moved them into an anteroom and scattered. Vito had stepped away to call his assistant with some instructions.
“Grazie,” Paolo had said to Gwyn, not showing any reaction when he shook her hand and found it clammy. “We will pursue defamation charges on your behalf and that could result in prison time for Jensen, but I realize that does nothing to compensate you for all you’ve lost. Vito promised you a settlement, sì? Hire a good lawyer and begin those negotiations immediately. I want a number so I can add it to our list of damages when Jensen is tried.”
“Of course,” Gwyn had murmured, as if she had the first idea how to hire any kind of lawyer, let alone a “good” one. Her mind had started buzzing the minute Vito had called her to say he was sending a car and was bursting with a bigger swarm of bees over how abruptly this press conference ended the need for their affair.
She was devastated. Her very nascent and juvenile crush had become something real and deep and heart-wrenching.
She had started to think of his beautiful apartment as her home.
Vittorio had modern tastes and liked space around him. The penthouse had high white ceilings and three bedrooms, one that he used as an office, off a tiled upper hallway that he called a loft. It was nothing so modest as that. It was a second story. The main bathroom had His and Hers powder rooms on opposite ends of a tub that they easily, and frequently, shared. This flat was wall-to-wall understated luxury, from the designer furniture to the kitchen that sparkled with stainless steel functionality, positioned to allow the cook to visit with guests while stirring and chopping.
High-end art, lush plants and family photos rounded off the space into a haven of warmth and welcome. Her snapshot of her almost family, her own image with her arms around Henry and her mother, sat on the night table next to her side of the bed.
Gwyn swallowed, trying to hide her devastation at leaving all of this, along with the man who lived here, by kicking off her heels beside the front closet, then realized she would have to pack them. She couldn’t wrap her brain around what that would entail so she moved to where she’d left her tablet on the sectional before the big screen TV, pretending she was checking email.
“Are you hungry?” Vito asked behind her, shrugging out of his suit jacket and tossing it across the back of the sofa. “I’m going to make coffee.”
She wasn’t, but she loved cooking with him, enjoying the foreplay of brushing bodies, senses stimulated by the aroma of fresh ingredients, the sizzle of a pan and the rich textures and flavors they seemed to create together.
The full scope of all that she was losing gripped her and she lifted her head to stare blindly through the bright windows.
“Cara?” He was right behind her, making her start. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Everything.
His gaze dropped to her tablet. “Something has upset you? Do not tell me you’re reading reactions to today’s press conference. Stop polluting your head that way.”
“No, um—” She glanced at the tablet, saw Travis’s latest message, started to gloss past it, then decided to confront it. Just pull the bandage off in one ruthless yank. She showed him what Travis had written.
I saw the press conference. Does this mean you’re coming home?
Vito’s gaze came up and slammed into hers. He was so handsome. Brutally, impossibly handsome with his white shirt and striped tie and tailored pants with their knifelike creases, then black leather shoes glossed to a mirror finish. She didn’t know any other man who could wear a vest with the buttons offset at an angle like that, the edge piped in silver, and look so suave.
She longed to trace that piping, touch those buttons. She very much needed the connection that seemed to have been building between them with each physical encounter, but what did they really have? Sex. That was all.
“We haven’t really talked about the next steps. I imagine I will be leaving?” she said, insides hollow. “Now that we don’t have to pretend anymore?”
They weren’t pretending. That’s what his cocked brow said.