Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
She places her fork on the almost empty plate in front of her. “Three years ago. I went with Lia on her twenty-first birthday.”
That steers me in another direction, so I go with it. “I saw her the other day.”
She smiles. “At the office?”
Apparently, even though I’m one of the founders of Modica, I’m also the last to know that another Calvetti was on the payroll. “Yes. She seems to be doing great.”
“Lia is always doing great.” She laughs. “She stopped by the restaurant for dinner last night. I took a break so I could sit with her.”
“A break from what?”
Her gaze locks on mine. “Marti was short-handed, so I stepped in.”
“To do what?” I ask because I’m genuinely confused.
Clearly exasperated, she sighs heavily. “To help, Daniel. I worked the front of the house for most of the day yesterday.”
“At Calvetti’s?” I want clarification. “You worked all day at the restaurant your grandmother owns?”
“Why are you such a jerk?”
The fact that she asked me that with a straight face sends my head back in another round of laughter.
She pushes back from the table to stand. “Why are you laughing? I thought you knew…I thought you could see that I’m not just... I need to pack.”
I’m on my feet, too, rounding the table to stop her before she can rush to her bedroom. “You thought I knew what, Gina?”
I want to ask why the hell she needs to pack, but I fear I already know the answer to that question. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had an airline ticket to Las Vegas booked and paid for.
She glances at the floor. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does,” I insist. “You thought I knew what?”
I run the conversation we just had back through my mind. I’m tired because I got no fucking sleep last night due to the fact that I crashed in a room at a cheap motel by the airport, staring at a door that wouldn’t lock while I was on a lumpy mattress.
Every goddamn hotel room in Boston and all vacation rentals were booked solid.
I would have fared better if I had rented a car and drove back to Manhattan.
Her brown eyes swim with disappointment as she stares at me. “Let’s drop it.”
I see it then. I see what I’ve sensed since I first saw her in Vegas. “You thought I knew that there’s more to you than the beautiful woman everyone sees online.”
Her bottom lip trembles. “I want to be more than beautiful. I am.”
“Damn right, you are.” I ache to touch her, but I stop myself by balling both hands into fists at my side. “You’re brilliant, compassionate, and one hell of a businesswoman.”
She runs a finger over her right eyebrow. “You’re right. I am all of those things.”
“I do know that, Gina,” I say in a low tone. “I’ve always known that.”
Her gaze slowly travels over my face. “I need to pack.”
I can barely get the question out, but I do because I can’t avoid this forever. “Where are you going?”
“Las Vegas.” She takes a breath. “We said we’d handle the annulment when you got back to New York.”
I nod because I don’t have words.
I did say that, but I want to take all of it back. I want more fucking time. I don’t know why or what I think that will gain me, but I just want time with her, like this, with the wedding band in my pocket and her heart within my grasp.
“I can’t go to Vegas now,” I lie because I could make the time if I wanted to. “I have clients here, Gina. They need my attention.”
“That’s fine.” Her shoulders rise. “I did some research, and we can handle the paperwork remotely with the help of an attorney here, but my family has such far-reaching connections in New York. I understand lawyer client privilege, but we both want to keep this under wraps.”
“Sure,” I spit out because it seems my wife has put some real effort into this.
“Only one of us needs to be present to file the documents in Las Vegas, so I’ll handle it,” she states.
That can’t be right. We got into this mess…no, wait, it’s not a mess. It’s an opportunity; an opportunity that I’m fucking up more and more with each passing hour.
Even though I know this is a horrible idea, I ask for something I have no right to ask. “Before you do that, I need a favor, Gina.”
She eyes me suspiciously, “You need a favor?”
Under any other circumstances, this would be off-limits and a clear violation of professional protocol, but this is an exception. “I do. I’m meeting a new client on Saturday. I want you to be there.”
Her arms cross. “You want me to witness the contract signing? Don’t you need a notary or something for that?”