Page 18 of Bride By Coronation

Ramone is the only buyer we trust to look at our line before it's live. With everyone else, we guard our book with our life. However, he was one of Skylar's first major buyers and has an eccentric way of assessing a line. We excuse ourselves to the bathroom, where he studies our book, and then we return and discuss.

I rise, put my napkin on my seat, and say, "If you'll excuse me, I need to use the ladies' room."

"Sure, darling. Take all the time you need," he replies, as if he thinks I need to use it, and it's not his rules I'm abiding by.

I pat him on the shoulder and brush past him, strolling toward the back of the restaurant. I'm almost to the bathroom when I glance at acouple in a booth, and freeze. My heart pounds so hard that I get dizzy, so I grab the back of the booth to steady myself.

What's he doing here?

Who is she?

She's beautiful.

His hand is over hers.

I'm going to kill him.

What am I saying? He's not mine.

Who is she to him?

Kirill sits beside a woman with long, curled dark hair and gorgeous hazel eyes. She has flawless skin, and I'd bet all my money she's Italian. Her lips are the perfect shade of red. She looks powerful but distraught. From what I can tell, she's taller than me based on her long torso and crossed legs, complete with killer stiletto knee-high boots.

Who is she?

Kirill has a compassionate expression on his face and squeezes her hand. He declares, "It'll be soon. You have to remain patient."

She says something I can't understand, but I pick out the phrase, "It's already been years," and know enough from living with my stepdad Dante to realize it's Italian. Her eyes well with tears and she blinks hard.

Kirill frowns. He softens his tone further, insisting, "Valentina, you're so close."

My insides quiver harder.

Is she with him?

My lips tremble, and my knees wobble.

Valentina opens her mouth and then slowly pins her gaze on mine. Her eyes widen. "Ohmerda."

Why is she saying oh shit?

Kirill follows her stare, freezing momentarily when he catches sight of me, his glassy blue gaze burning through me until I'm trembling. When he recovers, he says, "Fiona. What are you doing here?"

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I grip the back of the booth tighter until my knuckles hurt.

His scar twitches over his jaw. "Fiona?"

I glance at Valentina. "Sorry." I rush past them, willing my legs not to fail me, and find the bathroom door. I jiggle the knob, finally open it, and step inside.

My pulse pounds between my ears, drowning out other sounds. I press my hands on the counter, staring at my reflection, trying to catch my breath.

Who is he?

Why did he buy me coffee if he's with someone?

Why am I putting any stock in whatever I thought was happening before I found out about the skull design?

I turn, lean against the counter, and put my hand on my gut, feeling sick.

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