My day had been shitty enough. First, someone spilled coffee all over my brand-new, white Theory dress during my morning latte run. Then, I found out a pipe had burst at the Legacy Ball’s original venue. The place was flooded and would take months to repair, which meant I had three months to find and move all gala preparations to a new venue that would 1) be available on such short notice 2) fit within my budget, and 3) have the space and grandeur necessary to host five hundred extremely discerning, extremely judgmental guests.
I came home hoping to relax, only to have Heath show up at the door rambling about a text I supposedly sent him, telling him I wanted to reconcile.
Now, my fiancé and ex-boyfriend were at each other’s throats, and there was blood dripping everywhere.
Needless to say, my sympathy reserves were at an all-time low.
“Heath, you should go and get your nose looked at.” Every second he and Dante stayed in the same room was another opportunity for more trouble.
I’d go with him to the hospital, but considering Dante’s current mood, offering to leave with him would hurt more than it helped.
Heath looked at me, his eyes tortured. “Viv…”
A rumble of warning emanated from Dante’s chest.
“Go,” I said. “Please.”
He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but Dante’s death glare had him scrambling up and out of the room without another word.
I waited until I heard the front door slam before I whirled on the other infuriating, migraine-inducing man in my life.
“What is wrong with you? You can’t just go around punching people! You probably broke his nose!”
“I can do whatever I want,” Dante said, the picture of remorselessness. “He deserved it.”
A headache gathered behind my temples.
“No, you can’t. Newsflash, having money doesn’t absolve you from consequences. There’s a…a proper way of doing things that doesn’t include violence. You’re lucky if he doesn’t sue you for assault.”
”I’m lucky?” Dante growled. “He’s lucky I didn’t break more than his nose for coming into my house and trying to wreck our engagement.”
“I’m not saying he’s right. I’m saying there was a better way to handle the situation than opening yourself up to an assault charge!”
Dante had enough lawyers and money to shake such a charge off like it was nothing, but that wasn’t the point. It was the principle of the matter.
“He was touching you.” Dante’s eyes darkened to midnight. “Did you want him to touch you?”
Oh, for God’s sake.
“You don’t get to do that,” I said through gritted teeth. “You don’t get to storm in and act like a jealous fiancé when you’ve been ignoring me for weeks. I tried to talk to you about Heath after the flowers. You refused and ran off to D.C.”
His lips thinned. “I haven’t been ignoring you, and I did not run off to D.C.”
“You gave me the cold shoulder, avoided eye and verbal contact, and communicated in caveman grunts or via a third party at most. That’s the textbook definition of ignoring.”
Dante stared at me, his face like granite.
Frustration bubbled in my chest and rose up my throat.
“You open up, then you shut down. You kiss me, then you leave. We’ve been doing this back-and-forth dance for months, and I’m sick of it.” I lifted my chin, my heart wavering beneath an onslaught of nerves. “I just want to know, once and for all. Is this still only business, or is it more?”
A muscle flexed in Dante’s jaw. “It doesn’t matter. We’re getting married either way.”
“It does matter. I’m not playing this game with you anymore.” My frustration morphed into anger, turning my words into blades. “If this is business, we’ll treat it as such. We’ll produce an heir, smile for the cameras in public, and live our lives separately in private. That’s it.”
It wasn’t the life I would’ve chosen, but I was in too deep to back out now. At least then, I’d know where we stand and adjust my expectations accordingly.
No more overanalyzing every crumb of intimacy, searching for something that wasn’t there. No more hanging onto the hopes Dante would change and I’d be one of the lucky ones whose arranged marriage turned into love.
“Live our lives separately in private?” Dante’s voice dropped to a dangerous decibel. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means exactly what it sounds like. We do what we want, discreetly, and we don’t question the other about it as long as it doesn’t affect our…public image.”
My words faltered at the storm gathering in his eyes. “Are you talking about an affair, Vivian?”
Goosebumps erupted in alarm over my chest and shoulders.
“No, and that’s not the point. Answer my question. Is this business, or is this something more?”
He remained silent.
“Heath was wrong for what he tried to do, but you’re upset because…why? You’re threatened? Territorial?” My nails dug into my palms. “I’m not a toy, Dante. You don’t get to toss me aside and pick me back up only when someone else wants me.”
“I don’t think you’re a toy,” he ground out.
“Then why do you care? Why did you punch Heath when you were the one who told me to leave our feelings out of this?”
More silence. The cords of his neck visibly strained against his skin.
The tension was so thick I could taste it in my throat, but I pushed forward, unwilling to let him off the hook so easily.
“We’re only together because of a deal you made with my father. What’s it to you if my ex shows back up in my life? You know the wedding would move forward either way,” I said. “Are you afraid I’ll break the engagement? Run off with Heath and leave you looking like a fool in front of your friends? Why do you care?”
“I don’t know!” The force of his reply stunned me into silence.
Dante’s granite mask cracked, revealing the torment underneath.
“I don’t know why I care. I just know I do, and I hate it.” Self-loathing coated his voice.
“I hate the idea of you touching anyone else, or anyone else touching you. I hate that other people can make you laugh in a way I can’t. I hate how I feel around you, like you’re the only person that can make me lose control when I. Don’t. Lose. Control.”
Every word, every step brought him closer until my back pressed against the wall and the heat of his body enveloped mine.
“But I do.” His voice dropped, turning ragged. “With you.”
My blood thundered in my ears, muffling his words until I was underwater and drowning in a sea of emotions.
Shock, hope, fear, elation, uncertainty…they all mingled until they were indistinguishable from each other.
“I don’t know isn’t good enough,” I whispered.
Once upon a time, it would’ve been. But we’d passed that marker long ago.
Dante’s jaw tightened. This close, I could see the hints of gold in his eyes, like flecks of light in a sea of darkness.