“And where did you go for lunch? I phoned and you hadn’t told Joan or your new assistant where you’d be.”
Tally was trembling with anger. “Where I went and why I went there is none of your business. Unless—” The color drained from her face. “Ohmygod, is it Sam? Is my baby ill?”
“No!” Dante stepped in front of her as the car doors opened on his penthouse. “Listen to me. Samantha’s fine. This has nothing to do with her.”
Sweet relief flooded through her, but it didn’t last. She’d accepted a job from this man and moved into his guest suite. If he thought that made her his property, he was wrong.
“Then, get out of my way,” she said coldly. “I don’t answer
to you.”
“You damned well will,” he said grimly, his hand closing like a steel band around her wrist. “This is New York, not a blip on the map in Vermont. Anything might happen to you on these streets.”
“What a short memory you have, Russo!” Tally jerked free of his hand. “I know all about New York. I lived here for five years!”
She had. He knew that. She’d traveled the city’s streets, ridden its subways, lived in an apartment alone. Of course he knew that…but things had changed.
He told her so, and she looked at him as if he’d gone crazy.
“Nothing’s changed. The city’s the same. So am I.”
“You’re not.” His mouth twisted and the ugly suspicions he’d tried to deny while he’d paced the floor and wondered where she was, burst from his lips. “You slept with another man while you belonged to me. How do I know you’re not seeing him again?”
Tally’s eyes went flat. “You don’t,” she said coldly, and brushed past him.
Dante let her go. He had to; he was still rational enough to know that if he went after her now, it was a sure bet he’d do something he’d regret.
So he turned his back, strode along the marble floor to the library, flung open the liquor cabinet and poured himself a stiff shot of bourbon. And began pacing again, back and forth on the antique silk carpet before the fireplace, while the hours ticked away.
She’d all but called him crazy.
Hell, maybe she was right.
How come he hadn’t thought about this before? All the plans he’d made to bring Tally back to New York and it had never occurred to him that he might be pushing her straight into the arms of her old lover.
The man who’d made her pregnant.
If he wasn’t crazy, he was just plain stupid, because the idea hadn’t even popped into his head until he’d been at lunch in Philadelphia after a morning of meetings. Somewhere between the salad course and the entrée, he’d suddenly realized he wanted to hear Tally’s voice. He’d excused himself, left the table and phoned.
But she wasn’t at her office, and Joan had no idea where she’d gone. He’d started to call her on her cell phone, only to realize that he didn’t have the number.
He’d gone back to the table. Shoved the grilled shrimps and vegetables back and forth on his plate. Said “yes” and “no” and “how interesting” when it seemed fitting.
And all the while, he’d been thinking, Where is she? Where did she go?
That was when he’d first realized that bringing her back to the city might have been a mistake. That even now, while he pretended to pay attention to the details of a billion-dollar deal, Tally might be lying in the arms of the man she’d left him for. She’d slept with the man only once, she’d said, but Tally wasn’t like that.
She wouldn’t be anybody’s one-night stand.
Had she lied about that? Had the bastard been her lover for weeks? For months? Did she want to go back to him now?
Why would she, when he’d abandoned her when she was pregnant?
He had abandoned her, hadn’t he? Because if he hadn’t, if something, who the hell knew what, had kept Tally and the SOB apart and that something no longer stood between them—
You are losing your mind, Dante had told himself.
The warning hadn’t helped.