by Pamela Yaye
His brothers chuckled, the women gave one another high fives, and Zoe winked at him. Romeo couldn’t contain his laughter. He loved her wit, and he enjoyed listening to her joke around with his family.
Francesca cupped a hand around her ear. “Anyone else hear wedding bells?”
“Come on, you guys.” Zoe wore a shy smile. “We’ve only been dating for a few weeks. Hardly long enough to be thinking about marriage—”
Interrupting, the women all spoke at once. By the time they were finished telling Zoe about their whirlwind romances and lightning-fast engagements she looked stunned, as if she’d never heard anything more shocking in all her life.
“Wow,” fell from her lips for the umpteenth time, and everyone laughed.
“Zoe, are you spending Christmas Day with us?” Jariah asked, rubbing her baby bump.
“Yes, and I’m really looking forward to it. My family’s in New York, so it’ll be nice to celebrate the holidays with you guys.” Zoe picked up her flute. “Romeo promised to make me homemade ravioli with garlic focaccia, and I can’t wait to try it. It’s my favorite dish.”
“Great!” Isabelle said with a cheer, her auburn curls tumbling around her forehead. “We’re going to have so much fun. We’ll open gifts, eat brunch, sing Christmas carols around the piano, then eat some more!”
Feeling his cell phone vibrate inside his jacket, he took it out of his pocket and saw Simona’s number on the screen. He wondered if his COO had an update about the money laundering investigation. She’d remained in Paris, but had promised to touch base with him before she left for her family ski trip in the morning. “I need to take this,” he said, wearing an apologetic smile. “I’ll be right back.”
Standing, Romeo pressed his cell to his ear and marched out of the reception hall. Noisy and crowded, the lobby was filled with so many people he couldn’t hear himself think. Needing privacy, Romeo breezed past the fashionable group and ducked inside the men’s washroom. “Have you heard from our attorneys? Are the French authorities going to press charges?”
“No, thank God,” Simona said, releasing a sigh. “I found out from our attorneys that Markos called the lead investigator this afternoon, and had a lengthy conversation with him...”
Filled with relief and gratitude, Romeo nodded his head as she spoke. Markos never told him about his conversation with French authorities, but he wasn’t surprised by what his brother had done. That was the Morretti way. Like the rest of his family, he had his back. Romeo could always count on Markos.
“I don’t know what your brother said to get French authorities off our backs, but Markos came through for us big time. The next time I see him I’m going to give him a big fat kiss!”
“Please don’t. His wife will go ballistic, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll just send him a Christmas fruit basket and call it a day.”
They laughed, and for the first time since he’d learned about the arrest of Julio Mario Domínguez, he felt calm; he could finally breathe.
“Simona, I have to go. I’m at the Wonderland Ball with my family. They’ll kill me if I spend the rest of the night on my cell,” he explained, checking his reflection in the mirror.
“No worries. I understand. Merry Christmas, Romeo. Take care.”
“Thanks, Simona,” he said, adjusting his crooked bow tie. “Happy holidays. Have fun skiing with your sisters in Val Thorens tomorrow. Be careful. Don’t break anything.”
Simona giggled. “I’ll try not to. See you in the New Year.”
A man of African descent with lifeless eyes and pockmarked skin emerged from the handicapped stall and approached the sink.
Eager to share his good news with his family, and thank Markos for his help, Romeo turned to the door.
“For two hundred million euros, no one ever has to know about your massive heart attack last year or your weekly papaverine hydrochloride injections...”
Romeo stopped. The room spun around him at a hundred miles an hour, then flipped upside down on its head. His knees buckled, but he faced his tormentor. Took a good look at the creep who was blackmailing him. Over six feet tall, with a lanky frame hidden under a weathered, black trench coat, Romeo knew the stranger was no match for him. One punch and he’d be flat on his back, sleeping like a baby. Filled with anger, he struggled to control his temper. He was at an A-list party, crawling with reporters and paparazzi, and since Romeo didn’t want to do anything to embarrass himself or his family, he kept his cool.
The stranger moved toward him wearing a menacing expression on his face, and Romeo curled his hands into fists. His tuxedo felt tighter than a straitjacket, and his bow tie was cutting off his air supply. But he was ready for war. If the man touched him it was on. He’d kick his ass like he stole something, then worry about the consequences later.
“Take this,” the stranger instructed, holding up a white business card. It had a row of numbers written in black ink. The man gestured to it with a flick of his head. “Deposit the money into this account by midnight.”
Romeo spoke through clenched teeth. “And if I don’t?”
“Your secrets will be published online for the whole world to read.” He wore a smug smile. “I wonder what your celebrity clients will think when they find out about your ties to organized crime?”
Rage boiled inside him, causing his entire body to quiver. A minute ago he was relieved that French authorities weren’t going to charge him with money laundering, and now he was stuck in the men’s room, face-to-face with the devil. When was he ever going to catch a break? Refusing to feel sorry for himself, he shrugged. “I’m not giving you shit.”
The man rocked on his heels, as if he’d been slugged in the stomach. “S-S-She said you’d pay. That you’d do anything to keep the story out of the papers.”
“Publish whatever you want. I don’t negotiate with criminals, and I don’t give a—”
A British pop band, their bodyguards, and a wave of cigarette smoke filled the room. Thinking fast, Romeo slipped through the open door and out into the lobby. His heart was racing, pounding out of control. Romeo didn’t know why he thought he could have a successful relationship. He’d had bad luck with the opposite sex all his life, but he’d hoped things would be different with Zoe. But like all the women in his past she’d played him, and he hadn’t even seen it coming. Had never guessed in a million years she’d break his heart.
Questions bombarded his mind. Played in his ear like a bullhorn. Was Zoe dating the man in the trench coat behind his back? Had they plotted together to ruin him? He couldn’t quiet his thoughts, didn’t know what to believe or think, and feared the woman he’d fallen hard for had plotted his demise. Why? he wondered. Why would Zoe hurt me like this?
Desperate to reach his family, Romeo marched through the reception hall, oblivious to the world around him. Ignored the partiers smiling, waving and shouting his name. Spotting Zoe standing at the dessert table with Isabelle and Francesca, conflicting emotions flooded his body. Sadness, confusion, hurt and love. His tongue felt heavy, his throat tight. Grabbing her arm, he led her to a quiet corner of the room, away from the crowd and demanded answers. The music was loud, and Romeo had to shout to be heard over the R&B singer crooning onstage.
“What did you do?” he asked, glaring at her. “Who’s the guy in the trench coat? Are you guys lovers? Why did you tell him about my heart attack?”
Frowning, Zoe reached for him, but he pushed her hands away. “Romeo, calm down. What are you talking about? You’re not making any sense.”
“Someone just threatened to post my health problems online if I don’t pay him millions of dollars.”
Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open.
“Answer me, Zoe. What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. I swear. I never tol
d anyone about our conversation. I wouldn’t.”
“Did you hear what I just said?” he shouted, pointing at the doors. “A guy just tried to shake me down in the men’s room. He knew about my heart attack, the medication I’m on, and the money laundering case.”
Blinking rapidly, Zoe fervently shook her head, her earrings swishing back and forth as she denied the accusations. “I never said a word. Baby, you have to believe me. I’d never betray you like that. Not for any amount of money.”
Francesca tried to talk to him, but Romeo ignored her. He was so riled up about his conversation with the man in the trench coat, he was shouting. “You did it. You screwed me over. I know you did. You betrayed me for two hundred million dollars—”
“I-I-It wasn’t me,” she stammered, her voice low and strained, as if it were painful for her to talk. “It could have been Lizabeth, or Giuseppe or someone who’s jealous of you...”
“Lizabeth and I weren’t together at the time I was hospitalized, and Giuseppe would never sell me out. Not for any amount of money. He’s my mentor, and I trust him explicitly.”
“And you don’t trust me?”
Her gaze bored into him. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and his feet were glued to the floor. He couldn’t escape even if he wanted to. And he did. Desperately. He wanted to get far away from the man in the trench coat and the partygoers dancing around them. “No. I don’t. Not anymore,” he said, burying his hands in his pockets to avoid reaching out to wipe the tears from her eyes. She’d betrayed him, but it hurt Romeo to see the woman he loved cry, made him feel like the scum of the earth even though he’d done nothing wrong. As much as he didn’t want to believe it he couldn’t ignore the facts: he and Zoe were over.
Needing to be alone and anxious to leave the party, he searched for his brothers. Zoe touched his forearm, warming his chilled body, but he hardened his heart. Told himself she was no longer worthy of his love. That she was his past, not his future, and she never would be.
“Romeo, non farlo,” she pleaded, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hands. Zoe spoke in Italian, but he didn’t believe her, couldn’t look at her.
Her words blew his mind. Don’t do this? We can fix this. We can work things out.
“Work what out? There is no us. You ruined us when you betrayed me.”
“Stop saying that! I never told anyone about your health issues. Not even my sister.”
“Then how the hell does that scumbag know about the worst day of my life?”
Zoe hugged her arms to her chest. Tears dribbled down her cheeks, running the expensive makeup she’d spent an hour putting on in his master bathroom as he’d gotten dressed for the Wonderland Ball. She was shaking so violently, Isabelle had to come to her aid. He didn’t know how much of his argument with Zoe family members had heard, and didn’t want to put them in the middle of his relationship dispute, but he needed their help.
“Francesca, see to it that Zoe gets home safe,” he whispered in her ear. “Please? As a favor to me? I need to be alone right now. I can’t be here. I need to go.”
“I understand. I will.” Francesca kissed his cheek. “I love you, bro. Take it easy.”
Romeo turned and walked out of the room, but as he pushed open the glass door he noticed he wasn’t alone. His brothers were beside him, shoulder to shoulder. For as long as Romeo lived, he’d never forget the night they’d sacrificed time with their wives to comfort him.
The air was crisp and cold; the wind was howling, the ground now covered in snow. Ducking inside the limousine parked at the front entrance of the castle, Romeo collapsed into the backseat and yanked off his bow tie. Tossing it on the floor, he stretched his legs out in front of him. He tried to block out the noises in his head, the memory of his argument with Zoe, but he couldn’t do it. Pressing his eyes shut, he prayed when he woke up he’d discover that the Christmas Wonderland Ball had been nothing more than a bad dream, and the vivacious Long Island beauty he adored in every way was still his ladylove.
Chapter 19
Zoe yanked open the front door of Casa Di Moda so hard she was surprised it was still on its hinges. The burly security guard with the thick beard must have seen the peeved expression on her face, because he moved out of her way and took cover behind a leafy, potted tree.
Stomping through the darkened reception area, her suede over-the-knee boots slapping against the floor, she struggled to control her emotions, the sadness and anger pulsing through her veins. Zoe had never experienced such pain in all her life, and every time she remembered what happened at the Christmas Wonderland Ball on Saturday night she’d break down. Couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop the tears from falling once they started. She’d tell herself to toughen up, but she didn’t have the strength it required.
Each day without Romeo was unbearable. It had only been four days since he’d dumped her, but it felt like months had passed since she’d seen the man she loved. Stuck in her apartment, listening to sad love songs only made her feel worse, but Zoe didn’t know what to do to get out of her funk.
For days, she’d mentally reviewed their argument, analyzing everything he’d said and done at the party. That morning, while Zoe was curled up in bed looking at pictures of Romeo on her cell phone, she’d realized she’d overlooked something important. Something she should have told Romeo before he stormed off. She never told anyone what he’d told her about his health issues, but she’d journaled about it in the taxicab after their first weekend together at the villa on her way to work.
A light bulb had gone off in her head. Scrambling to her feet, she’d jumped out of bed, grabbed her leather tote bag from the closet and opened it. To her surprise, her journal was inside. Flipping through it, she noticed all of the pages were intact, and her owl-shaped bookmark was right where she’d left it.
Disappointed, she’d slumped to the floor, striking the carpet with her fists. She’d thought her journal was stolen, was convinced someone had taken it from her purse when she’d gone Christmas shopping with Francesca or to the movies with Jiovanni, just days before the Wonderland Ball. Finding it meant she was back to square one.
Another thought had come to her. Had one of her colleagues read her journal, then hired someone to blackmail Romeo? It was hard to believe, but the more Zoe considered it, the more plausible it was. She had great relationships with her colleagues and couldn’t imagine any of them snooping through her things, but she couldn’t rule it out, either.
Who would do something so sinister? So cruel, she’d wondered, racking her brain. Who had motive? Opportunity? A desire for fame and fortune that rivaled a reality TV star? A chilling thought rocked her mind. Conversations she’d had with Aurora in recent weeks blared in her ears. Romeo Morretti’s a smart, influential businessman with friends in high places, and we could use someone like him in our corner... Hooking up with a Morretti is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, so don’t blow it... Do whatever it takes to persuade him to invest in Casa Di Moda... I’ll do anything to save Casa Di Moda. It’s my life, and I won’t lose it.
Convinced she finally knew who the guilty party was, Zoe had tossed her journal aside, surged to her feet and marched into the bathroom to shower and change. An hour later, a taxicab had dropped her in front of Casa Di Moda. The office was closed for the holidays, but Zoe knew Aurora was hard at work on the spring collection. Zoe wasn’t leaving the fashion house until the cold and callous designer answered her questions.
Heading toward her boss’s large corner office, her anger intensified. Obsessed with fame and fortune, Aurora would do anything to achieve her goals—including stabbing her in the back and destroying the best relationship Zoe had ever had. Hell, she’d probably fake her own death and collect the insurance money if she thought she could get away with it, Zoe thought. I can’t believe I ever considered Aurora a friend!
Seeing the Christmas
wreath hanging on the staff room door reminded Zoe of the plans she’d made with Romeo and his family for the holidays. Plans she was now excluded from. Zoe never imagined she’d be at Casa Di Moda on Christmas Eve, instead wishing she was with Romeo and his family at the Milan Christmas parade. Last night she’d reached out to Francesca, and to her surprise and relief, she agreed to talk to Romeo on her behalf. It was the best news she’d received all week, and even though Francesca told her not to get her hopes up, Zoe was praying for a Christmas miracle.
“Davide, what should I do? Should we tell Zoe the truth or wait...”
Zoe stopped. Hearing voices coming from the end of the hall, she spun around and peeked inside the staff room. And there, sitting at the round table sipping coffee and eating cookies, were Aurora and Davide. Sketchbooks, file folders, fashion magazines and vibrant silk fabric were spread out in front of them. But it was obvious they were relaxing not working. Italian music was playing on the stereo, and the festive up-tempo song only made Zoe feel worse about being alone on Christmas Eve.
Something snapped in Zoe, and as she stormed over to the table she shouted her words. “Aurora, how could you do this to me? To Romeo? Don’t you have a heart? Don’t you care about anybody but yourself?”
The couple stared at her, their mouths ajar.
“I helped you, supported you, did everything in my power to promote Casa Di Moda, and how do you repay me? By betraying me. How could you?”
Aurora dropped her utensils on her plate, wiped her mouth with a red star-shaped napkin and rose to her feet. “I saw the articles online about Romeo’s health crisis, but I had nothing to do with it. I didn’t even know he was sick,” she said quietly, meeting her gaze. “You’re important to me, Zoe, and I’d never do anything to hurt you. Neither would Davide.”
Biting the bottom of her lip, Zoe stared down at her boots. For some strange reason, she believed her. Knew in her gut that Aurora was telling the truth. That her boss didn’t sell the story to the press her.
