I sat in my usual chair and snagged a piece of cheese. Eating my feelings seemed like the best option when your fiancé walks out on you on Valentine’s Day.
I carefully lifted the cover on the platter in front of me and let out a sigh. Beef Wellington.
Son of a bitch.
He’d pulled out the big guns, and it ended in a fight and a perfect meal getting cold. Tears blurred my vision, and I muttered a curse as I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hands.
“I’m eating it.” I grabbed one with my hands, not too concerned about decorum or what was normal table behavior, and dropped it on my plate. “I’m not letting him ruin this.”
Despite being a little cold, the first bite was a revelation. Bite after bite, I shoveled room-temperature gourmet food down my gullet and guzzled the expensive wine like it came from a box. Tears flowed freely as my stubborn heart kept hoping Luca would walk back through that door and we’d make up like always. That same stubborn streak kept me from calling Luca and telling him to come home. I was scared he couldn’t, or worse, wouldn’t, and I’d still be alone.
I eyed the cannoli with extreme prejudice before picking one up and crushing it in my fist. Cream and flaky pastry went everywhere. I shook out my hand over the table, and a small laugh bubbled up in my chest.
Here I was, engaged, and I was sitting alone on Valentine’s Day, my hand covered in cannoli and my eyes red from crying. I wiped my hand off and left the table, food and all, to head up to bed. It was only ten, but I was done with the day.
I stripped out of my clothes, fresh disappointment washing over me when red lace came into view. I’d bought a new set of lingerie, especially for tonight, and now I was the only one seeing it. Well, damn it. I was going to enjoy it. The wine made me a little unsteady, so I sat at my dressing table to take off my jewelry. The bracelets and watch were easy enough to get off, but then I tangled the necklace and dropped an earring. “Of course.” Sighing, I dropped to my hands and knees and smoothed my hand over the plush rug. Unfortunately, I never snagged the diamond stud.
Tilting my face toward the ceiling, I blew the hair out of my eyes. I sat back on my heels, my palms resting on my knees, completely unmotivated.
“Sasha?”
I perked up. “Luca?” I clumsily rose to my feet.
Heavy footsteps were coming down the hall, and I went to meet him at the door. Only, when I got there, it was Frankie, not Luca, staring down at my body.
“Not Luca.”
Cocking my hip, I put my hands on my hips. “What are you doing here?”
He shook his head, dragging his eyes up from my cherry-painted toes to my face. The heat of his stare caused my skin to flush, but I didn’t move an inch to hide myself. “We’ve got company. You might want to put something on.” He shook his head, taking one more look before giving me his back.
“Who’s here?” I grabbed my short silk robe from the closet.
“You decent?”
“Yes.”
Frankie turned around and raised an eyebrow. “You call that decent.”
“Can you see my tits or ass?”
“No.”
“Then I’m fucking decent. Now answer me. Who’s here?”
“The cops.”
My stomach dropped to my ass. I pushed past Frankie and headed downstairs to where my phone was sitting in my purse. “I need to call Luca.”
Frankie trailed behind me at a respectful distance. “Already did. That’s why I’m in here and not out in my car.”
I froze with my hand in my bag. “You were sitting out in your car this whole time?”
He shrugged and looked over his shoulder toward the front door. “You should’ve come inside.”
“No offense, but I don’t think Luca would appreciate me hanging out with you on Valentine’s Day while you’re in your underwear.”
“I wasn’t—You know what? It doesn’t matter. What am I supposed to do?”