We arrived at the den. I hesitated for a beat before opening the doors.
Get your shit together, Russo.I was in my late thirties. I was too old to be acting like a damn teenager on his first date.
But that was exactly what this was, minus the teenager part. Our first real date.
No lies, no secrets, no deceptions.
Just us.
A rush of anxiety spiked through me when Vivian surveyed the room with wide eyes.
I’d agonized over the date for hours before settling on something simple yet personal. Today wasn’t about the glitz and glamour. It was about spending time together and fixing our relationship.
She liked romance and astronomy, so I’d cued up some romantic fantasy about a fallen star who was actually a woman (or some shit like that) on the flat-screen TV. I’d never heard of the movie, but according to Greta’s granddaughter—yes, I’d resorted to asking a high schooler for help—it was “super cute.”
Over two dozen takeout containers sat on top of the coffee table next to Pringles, pickles, and pudding. I’d bought a vintage popcorn machine and rush-installed it yesterday for the full movie experience. The snack was disgusting, but Vivian and most of the world liked it for some godforsaken reason.
“You said you haven’t found a new favorite dumpling place after the shop in Boston closed, so I figured I’d help you,” I said when her eyes lingered on the takeout boxes. “Samples from thirty-four of the best dumpling places in the five boroughs, as determined by Sebastian Laurent himself.”
The CEO of the Laurent Restaurant Group was a renowned gastronome. If he said something was good, it was good.
“Are you sure this isn’t a ploy to stuff me with so much food I won’t be able to leave?” Vivian teased. Her shoulders relaxed for the first time since she arrived.
I grinned. “Can’t confirm or deny, but if you want to stay, I won’t stop you.”
She hadn’t moved the rest of her belongings yet. I knew it was because she’d been busy with the Legacy Ball, but I took it as a sign they were already where they—and she—belonged. With me.
Vivian’s cheeks pinked, but she didn’t reply.
“How did you know this was one of my favorite movies growing up?” she asked when the film got underway.
She plucked a dumpling from one of the containers and took a delicate bite. I wasn’t sure she could fit all thirty-four in one day, but we could always try the ones she missed later.
“I didn’t,” I admitted. “I was looking for a movie about stars thatwasn’ta documentary or sci-fi. Greta’s granddaughter helped me out.”
I should buy the girl a thank you present. Maybe a car, or a vacation of her choice.
“Taking advice from a teenager? Very un-Dante Russo-like.”
“Yeah, well, being Dante Russo-like hasn’t been the best decision lately.”
Our gazes touched. Her smile faded, leaving soft wariness behind.
“Luca came over Monday night,” I said. “I told him what happened. For the first time, he gave me advice instead of taking it. It was damn good advice too.”
“What did he say?”
“That I needed to fight for you. And he was right.”
Vivian’s breaths shallowed. Something exploded on screen, but we didn’t look away.
My heart slammed against my ribcage. The air thickened and sparked like kindling doused with gasoline, and just when the silence stretched to its breaking point, she spoke again.
“I confronted my father on Wednesday,” she said quietly, shocking the hell out of me. “I flew to Boston and showed up at his office. I didn’t tell him I was coming. I might’ve lost my nerve if I had.”
I waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, I gave her a gentle nudge. “What happened?”
She toyed with her food. “Long story short, we got into a huge fight over what he did. He asked me to askyouto…help with the company’s troubles. I said no. And he disowned me.”