Page 42 of Incognito

Natasha shook her head, the thought of forcing a morsel of food down her throat making her nauseous, let alone sharing a dessert with Dante. She hadn’t been able to eat a thing this morning, her mind in a muddle from last night.

Her main problem should be Clay and clearing her debt, but Gina’s revelations kept popping into her head and she found herself pondering Dante’s motivations and the complete mess she’d made of her life without trying.

“Just the coffee, thanks, Luigi. And I will take it over there at his table.”

Luigi beamed and she walked to Dante’s table, basking in the appreciative once-over he gave to her favourite summer dress—a sunny yellow maxi dress scattered with tiny daisies—annoyed that she cared and surprised when he blanked his gaze as she drew nearer.

“You don’t mind if I join you?”

“Please sit.” He stood to pull out her chair further and as she slid into it she couldn’t help but inhale, savouring his citrus scent mingling with the rich aroma of coffee beans and vanilla in the air.

In that moment, realisation dawned. Despite being affronted by Gina’s implications last night about Dante using her for sex before settling down, she still harboured feelings for him.

Worse, she would miss him—his scent, his smile, his company, his attention—when he left. She would miss it all, and no matter how hard she tried to sugarcoat it, she knew Dante’s departure would leave her devastated.

When he remained silent, she searched his face, looking for the telltale crinkle of laugh lines around his eyes, the ever-present sparkle in their clear blue depths, the cheeky smile quick to appear at the slightest provocation.

Nothing. Expressionless, devoid of emotion, he stared at her with a forced, polite interest.

“Is something wrong?” She asked, trepidation tiptoeing across the back of her neck, raising her hackles.

“I am leaving today,” he said, his monotone sending a shiver of apprehension through her.

“You’re leaving?” Her voice came out an embarrassing squeak and she cleared her throat, hating her audible desperation.

“Yes.” He shrugged. “I’ve done what I set out to do.”

What the hell? All he’d done was coerce her into organising his nephew’s party, charm her into falling for him, before absconding earlier than planned?

She didn’t understand. Sure, he’d taken care of family business as he’d said at the start of the week, but what about the rest? What happened to his official duties?

If Dante didn’t stick around for business, where did that leave her?

Or more precisely, the hotel’s publicity she’d been depending on?

“What about our agreement?” She took a deep, steadying breath and blew it out to ease the tightness in her chest. “You said you’d help with the hotel publicity. I’ve upheld my end of the bargain, what about yours?”

Not a flicker of expression crossed his face. He looked like an automaton and she resisted the impulse to jump up and down, wave her arms in front of his face, and yell to elicit a reaction.

She wanted him to show some emotion, some recognition that he appreciated the week they’d spent together, chatting, laughing, cocooned in a special bubble, just the two of them.

“You will be suitably compensated,” he said, his cold, flat tone matching the frigid, lifeless aquamarine depths she’d once seen glitter with fire. “This should cover it.”

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and slid it across the table, his long, elegant fingers lingering over it while she stiffened in disbelief.

He was paying her off.

He drummed his fingers against the piece of paper that had to be a cheque, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at it.

“It’s that easy for you, isn’t it?” She swallowed, hating the way her voice shook, wishing her heart didn’t ache at the thought of him walking out of this café without a backward glance.

She could attribute the vice squeezing her heart to the thought of losing the hotel’s one-way ticket out of trouble, but she couldn’t lie to herself any longer.

She’d suffered through the indignity of discovering her relationship with Clay had been a sham perpetuated by a charlatan, and she’d been forced to tolerate his insane demands. Her broken heart and bruised ego had healed, but the thought of losing Dante sent an arrow of pain shooting through the organ she’d learned to protect more than life itself.

What an idiot, falling for yet another man totally wrong for her.

She hated to acknowledge that no matter how much self-talk she’d indulged in, she’d made the same mistake.

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