“No.”
I’d spent my entire life preparing to take over the Russo Group. Pursuing another career path had never even crossed my mind.
“My father refused to take over the company, so it was up to me to carry on the Russo tradition,” I said. “Abnegating was never an option.”
“Your father could but you couldn’t? Seems unfair.”
“There’s no such thing as fairness in the business world. Besides, my father would’ve been shit as CEO. He’s the type of guy who cares more about being liked than getting the job done. He would’ve run the company into the ground within years, and my grandfather knew it. That was why he didn’t push him into taking an executive role.”
The words came out of their own accord.
I wasn’t sure why I was telling Vivian about my family. An hour ago, I would’ve rather jumped off the Empire State Building than spend another minute playing nice with her.
Maybe the kiss had short-circuited my brain, or maybe it was because this was my first moment of semi-peace since my grandfather died.
The past few months had been headache after headache. Funeral arrangements, Francis’s blackmail, Luca’s bullshit, the engagement and Europe trip and regular business and social obligations I had to keep up with.
It was nice to sit and breathe for a minute.
“Speaking of my parents, they’d like to meet you,” I said. Introducing Vivian to them was a headache I’d hoped to avoid, though I’d known the chances of fending them off for a year or however long it took to break the engagement were slim. “We’re spending Thanksgiving with them.”
According to Christian’s report, the Laus weren’t big on Thanksgiving, so Vivian shouldn’t be too upset about missing the holiday with her family.
Not that I cared if she was.
“Okay.” She paused, obviously waiting for more information. When I didn’t provide any, she asked, “Do your parents live in New York?”
“A little farther.” I tossed my empty coffee cup in a nearby trash can. “Bali.”
For now.My parents hadn’t spent more than three consecutive months in one place in decades.
Vivian’s mouth parted. “You want us to fly toBalito meet your parents for Thanksgiving?”
“We’ll be there for a week. We leave the Sunday prior and come back the following Monday.”
“Dante.” She sounded like she was struggling to keep calm. “I can’t just go to Bali for a week with less than two months’ notice. I have a job, plans—”
“It’s a holiday weekend,” I said impatiently. “What are you planning? The Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade?”
She crumpled her bagel wrapper with a white-knuckled hand. “I have to be back that Monday morning for a client meeting. I’ll be tired, jet-lagged—”
“Then we’ll leave Saturday instead.” My parents were the ones who’d insisted we stay a week. Vivian’s work gave me a good excuse to cut out early. “We’re taking my jet, and we’ll be staying at my parents’ villa. It’s not a big deal. We’re going to Bali, for fuck’s sake. Everyone wants to go to Bali.”
“That’s not the point. We should be consulting each other on this type of stuff. You’re my fiancé, not my boss. You can’t just tell me to jump and expect me to jump.”
God, this was tedious. “Considering I’m the one who paid for your shoes and flowers, I think I can do exactly that.”
I knew it was the wrong thing to say the second the words left my mouth, but it was too late to take them back.
Vivian stood abruptly. A breeze blew her skirt around her thighs, and a passing jogger gawked at her until I chased him off with a glare.
“Thank God you showed your true colors again,” she said, her cheeks flushed. “I was beginning to think you were human.” She threw out her cup and wrapper. “Thank you for breakfast. Let’s never do this again.”
She walked away, her shoulders stiff.
Behind his cart, Omar shook his head and frowned at me.
I ignored him. Who cared if that’d been an asshole thing to say? I’d already let my guard down more than I should’ve that morning.