Page 105 of My Italian Love Affair

If he feels even an ounce of shame for how he acted at the gala, he doesn’t show it.

“Can I see you for a minute?” he asks, tilting his head towards his office.

I hesitate, but then I square my shoulders.

Might as well get this over with.

Mark’s office is sleek and impersonal - very much like him in many ways. I stand just inside the doorway with my arms crossed over my chest, waiting for him to start.

For a second, a stupid part of me assumes that he’s going to start off with an apology.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he lets out a small, almostpityingsigh.

“Look - about the gala,” he says, sounding as though he’s very much feigning concern. “I think we both had a little too much to drink. And as your senior - as yourmentor- I wanted to say I’m sorry if things got misinterpreted.”

I blink.

Misinterpreted?

“I -” I start, but he holds up a hand, cutting me off.

“Look, Daphne, I actually quite like you. You’ve got all of the signs of being a talented writer, and you’ve got a lot of potential in this industry.”

He exhales, like this conversation is some great, tasking burden on him.

“I’d hate for something like this to create unnecessary…friction.”

Something cold and sharp settles in my chest.

I see it now.

The way he’s twisting it, the way he’s rewriting the narrative and making it sound likeIwas the one who got the wrong idea.

LikeIwas the one who overstepped.

I open my mouth again, but something in his expression stops me.

A warning.

He doesn’t say it outright, but the implication is there: if I push this, it won’t end well for me.

Because Mark Chapman isn’t just my senior.

He’s respected.Connected.

A man who is very experienced in this industry - and a man who knowsexactlyhow to get away with something like this.

I highly doubt that this is his first rodeo. He’s too calm, too collected, too casual - like he’s been in this position more than once or twice before.

I force myself to swallow down the anger, the disgust and the helpless frustration clawing at my throat.

For now.

I nod stiffly.

“Understood.”

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