Page 17 of His Vow
“I’m just trying to navigate a way through this fucked-up situation,” he adds in a raspy voice, like he’s struggling to get the words out through a raw throat. I appreciate his honesty more than the glossy sales pitch earlier.
Slipping my arms around his waist, I give him a hug I think we both need. He hugs me back, and my tears finally fall.
“Please don’t cry,” he murmurs above my head as we continue to cling to each other, Parisian life going on around us. With one finger under my chin, he tips my face up to his. “Should I go?”
I nod, loosening my arms to stand alone before taking a step backward. His hand drops and his eyes turn storm-cloud gray, all the blue shades extinguished. The same ache in my chest reflected in his gaze.
My heart hopes for our friendship to survive, but my head is already preparing for the worst.
“I’ll speak to you soon,” he says, shoving one hand back in his pocket as he holds the rose out to me again. I take it this time.
“Goodbye,” I murmur. Then, for the first time in years, he turns and leaves without a kiss to my forehead.
Chapter seven
Antonio
“She agreed.” My words are delivered in a blunt tone that’s lacking the emotion squeezing my chest so tightly it hurts to draw breath. It’s only a short walk from Lucia’s apartment back to the Paris hotel where I’m staying tonight, and while people still swarm around me, I’ve never felt so alone in the city.
“And?” Gio asks on the other end of the call.
“And I don’t want to fucking talk about it.”
“Okay. But have you ever asked yourself why you were so angry when her father wanted her to marry me and not you? Or why you’ve hated every guy Lucia has ever dated?”
The reason I hated them was because they were jerks, and she deserved so much more. But I don’t bother telling my brother that.
“Shut the fuck up, Gio,” I growl down the line. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”
“We don’t have to talk about it. I just want you to think about why you’re so upset.”
I have no idea what point he’s trying to make.
“I don’t need to think about anything. I asked Luce to marry me. She said yes. And that’s the end of it.”
He remains silent this time, and my brows draw into a scowl. Gio and I are back on speaking terms, but our previously close bond has suffered a bruising, creating stilted conversations. I can’t see it returning fully to what it was until I’ve put my ring on Lucia’s hand.
Ah fuck! I need to get Lucia a ring. Now that she’s agreed, there’s a lot to organize. We haven’t even spoken about a date. I’ll give her the time she asked for to get used to the idea.
Truthfully, I need some time to wrap my own head around it. But then as soon as our calendars align, I want this done. Reading post after post about her engagement to Gio is like death by a thousand cuts. Each one stings a little more than the last.
“Are you still there?” Gio asks, pulling me back into our conversation.
“What did you say?”
“I said I received the report you emailed through. We’ve got a bigger problem than missing money in the accounts.”
This week, our lawyers started drawing up the new distribution contracts. And the production figures from the warehouse don’t match the invoices we were provided for exported goods out of the Port of Naples over the last year. The volumes didn’t even come close to matching. Somewhere along the way, thousands of euros’ worth of product is going missing.
“What do you suggest we do next? We don’t want to lose our new distribution partner, and we certainly don’t want word getting out about the fraud we’ve uncovered. Well, at least not until we know what the hell is going on.”
“I agree. Let me speak to an investigator I know. Hopefully, he can do some digging for us.”
It doesn’t surprise me that Gio knows a guy.
“Keep me in the loop, then,” I reply before ending the call as I step into the hotel lobby. The traditional charm of the burgundy interior comes with a quiet calm, blocking out the bustle outside. The few people milling about at reception speak in hushed tones, and I’m reminded of a college library, rather than a hotel in the center of Paris.
I’m glad I decided to book a suite here instead of spending the night at Lucia’s like I normally would. It proved to be the right choice, given the way our conversation went. I knew she wasn’t going to love the change of plans; after all, she still has no choice. But I’d hoped she would have been happier marrying me.
