DANTE
I took the next three days off work.
I tried to work. I really did, but I couldn’t focus. During every call, I heard Vivian’s voice. During every meeting, I saw her face.
At this point, I was a liability to the company, so I instructed Helena to cancel my meetings for the week and took the time to get my head straight.
That meant cracking open a bottle of whiskey every night, retreated to the living room, and ignoring Greta’s questions until she stormed off in flurry of curses.
Tonight was no exception.
I tipped my head and bottle back.
The liquor burned down my throat and filled my stomach, but the aching emptiness remained.
I was simply unused to Vivian’s absence after living with her for so long. It’d pass, as would my emotional attachment to her.
People broke up and moved on every day. It wasn’t anything fucking special.
I tossed back another swig. The fireplace was unlit for spring, but a hazy memory of its flames and the way their light danced across Vivian’s features filled my mind.
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?
They’re ice cream cufflinks. I know a jeweler on Rue de la Paix who makes customized pieces…
It’s not just business for you. And it’s not just duty for me.
I’m glad I came to Paris.
Pain lashed at my chest, a stinging burn.
“Maybe you can talk some sense into him.” Greta’s grumble drifted into the room from the hall. “He’s been sitting and drinking these past few days like his no-good great uncle Agostino used to do. Non mi piace parlare male dei morti, ma grazie al cielo non è più qui con noi.”
“I’ll try.” Luca’s voice gave me pause before I shrugged it off and lifted the bottle to my lips again.
He probably needed an advance on his allowance. He rarely visited unless he wanted something.
I didn’t look at him when he entered and took the seat across from me. He watched me for a moment before speaking.
“What the hell happened?”
“Nothing.” My head swam, and I blinked away the fuzziness before correcting myself. “Vivian and I broke up.”
The words tasted bitter. Perhaps I should switch from whiskey to something sweeter, like rum.
“What?” Luca’s pale face came into my line of vision when I finally turned. The small movement required as much effort as swimming through molasses.
Christ, had my head always been this heavy?
It’s your ego. It adds at least ten pounds. Vivian’s hypothetical teasing sounded in my ears.
A vise clamped around my heart. It was bad enough her every word and smile were burned into my memory. Now I was hearing things she didn’t say?
“Why?” Luca demanded. “What about Francis and the photos?”
Right. I hadn’t told him I’d destroyed the photos yet, partly because I’d been distracted, and partly because they kept him in check. Hell, he deserved to sweat a little longer after the fucking mess he landed me in.
“I took care of them,” I said curtly. “Which was why Francis visited me earlier this week. Vivian overhead. We broke up. The end.”
“Christ, Dante, you couldn’t have told me this earlier? Why’d I have to get a call from Greta fretting about how aliens took over your body?”
“I don’t know, Luca. Maybe because I was busy saving your ass,” I bit out.
He stared at me for a second before slumping in his chair. “Shit. Well, this is good, right? Blackmail’s gone. Francis is gone. Vivian’s gone. This is what you wanted.”
Another long pull. “Yep.”
“You don’t look very happy,” he observed.