by Joan Kilby
“Why don’t you tell me? Isn’t there something you’d like to say to me…Bettina? Or should I say, Signora Borlenghi? I suppose that’s your limo downstairs. You must have been slumming it that day you took a taxi to the St. Regis.”
Her throat went dry. She was falling, sinking through the floor, the walls closing in on her. Her mouth opened but she couldn’t speak. Somehow though the words croaked out. “H-how did you know I’m staying at the St. Regis?” A tiny curl of indignation penetrated the thick fog of guilt and regret. “Did you follow me?”
Luke’s blue eyes were icy but below the surface a storm was brewing. “You wouldn’t tell me a damn thing about yourself. What was I supposed to do?”
“Trust me?” She’d meant it to come out stronger but her voice cracked on “trust.” She cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders. This day was already spiraling out of control. She absolutely could not break down.
“Oh really, the way you trusted me,” he said flatly.
“I never meant to hurt you.” Her heart beat erratically but she managed to keep her voice even. “We were having a fling. You agreed that it was only temporary. I was just casual sex to you.”
He threw her a scathing glance, and she was forced to step out of his way as he bulldozed past her into the dining area. “You were never just sex to me. Why did you lie about who you were?”
She clenched her hands to stop them from trembling. “I intended to tell you, I really did. But when you assumed I was a sales assistant, going along with it just seemed easier. If you knew who I was, you would have acted differently around me.”
“Oh, you mean I would be scheming to get my hands on your money,” Luke said, disgusted.
“No. Yes.” She gestured impatiently. “Okay, I might have thought so in the beginning, but that was before I got to know you.”
“Did I ever ask you for a single dime?” he snapped.
“No, but Fabio—”
“Fabio’s an asshole.”
“He pretended to love me only to further his career. He’s still asking me for money.”
“I’m not Fabio.” Luke ground out the words so harshly she wanted to cover her ears.
“I know that now, but I didn’t at first. In the beginning, I didn’t think we would last. You didn’t, either. But after a while, I wanted to get to know you. That’s why I came to the hockey game. And last night? That was wonderful.” She dabbed at her eyes. “How can you turn your back on that? I wish…”
She wished for lots of things. Trust, first and foremost. Love. Fireworks. Ordinary things like hockey games and roller skating in the park. Oh, she would never give up House of Borlenghi. She’d created the atelier and built it into an international business. Why did it seem so impossible for her to have both the privileges that came with success and a lasting relationship?
Luke moved restlessly, pacing the perimeter of the carpet that covered the hardwood floor almost to the wall. “You should have told me the truth, if not right at the beginning, then soon after.”
“Yes, I should have. But now that you know about Fabio, y-you could forgive me.”
Her plea fell into a profound silence. He wasn’t going to dignify her plea with a reply. Some of her hurt turned to anger that he could just leave her hanging. With every second that ticked past, her heart hardened a little more. “Okay, if that’s the way you want it.”
She got a leather folder out of her handbag and wrote a check. The money had gone into her account yesterday and now that Luke knew who she was there was no point in sending the donation anonymously. She slid the check across the dining table. “That’s for the foundation.”
“I don’t need your money, thanks very much.”
“It’s not for you. It’s for the kids.”
He planted his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Did you hear what I said? I. Don’t. Want. Your. Money. You can’t buy me.”
She stiffened, drew back her shoulders. “I wasn’t trying to.”
He looked at the amount on the check, and his mouth tightened. “Buy me off, more like.”
She watched his face for any sign, even the smallest, that he felt anything for her. “Why can’t you accept my donation? You were going to when you thought I was a salesgirl.”
Picking up the check he circled around her. “I would have taken an honest fifty dollars from you but not a guilty million. We’re through.”
“Were we ever really together?” Tina asked bitterly. “You clearly care nothing for me. It really was just a fling. By turning down my money you make me feel used in a different way. Fine for sex but not for anything that matters.”
“Now you know how I feel.”
She stared at him. How could they both have it so wrong? “Don’t tear up my check. We have to put aside our differences for the children’s sake.”
“And have you always wonder if I used you? No way.” He shook his head. “Admit it, Tina, you would never be with a guy like me long-term. Our lives would never have meshed. I was fine for sex games, but there was no point in telling me who you were because that would mean letting me into your real life.”
Oh, god, they were accusing each other of horrible things. Wrong things. For a few minutes, she’d had a crazy hope that they could talk this out and make up. That they would fall into each other’s arms, laughing about what a silly fight they’d had. Instead their explanations turned into misinterpretations that seemed to push them farther apart.
“I-I should go.” Maybe if she wasn’t here, he would cool down and come to his senses about keeping the donation.
“Tina, you’re an amazing woman who any guy would be proud to be with. Why do you think you need to give a man money to earn his love?” He waved the check. “Soon as I’ve destroyed this, you can go. You’ll never have to see me again. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
No, her heart cried.
Let him go, countered the voice of painful experience.
Without further warning Luke tore the check in half. She winced, as if he was tearing her heart in two. The pieces of paper fluttered to the floor. She and Luke were through, that was clear. What was true and real between them had been destroyed by too many lies, too many games.
A horrible clarity pervaded her mind as she realized he would never, ever forgive her. No matter how much she begged or pleaded or tried to explain. The cruelly ironic twist to his mouth told her he’d heard it all before. From other women. From his mother. Tina could choose between humiliating herself by groveling at his feet or salvaging the American launch of the House of Borlenghi.
She drew herself up with as much dignity as she could muster. “I have business to attend to.”
On shaky legs, she crossed the dining area and went down the short hallway and out the door. One foot in front of the other, all the way to the elevator. Her eyes were pricking hard, but she didn’t look back, didn’t break stride. She stabbed the button and breathed a sigh of relief when the doors parted.
He didn’t call her back. Or utter one word to soften their good-bye. Va bene. He was cruel, no better than Fabio.
Riding down to the lobby, her hurt segued into righteous indignation. How dare he treat her as disposable? Had this last week, especially last night, meant nothing to him, allowed her no benefit of the doubt in his mind? Clearly not.
She slipped into the limo. “Buongiorno, Frank. Lincoln Center, per favore.”
Anger was empowering.
She strode into the tent set up outside the Opera House at Lincoln Center. The normally unflappable Charmaine and the hapless booking officer were both nearly in tears. Tina took one look at the manager, a sweaty, round-faced man in his forties, and tore strips off him. If she was such a terrible person she would make it work for her. Within ten minutes he was apologizing profusely and promising her that the venue was hers exclusively.
The rehearsal went ahead on schedule, but there were problems. A fight had broken out with a fashion editor and a top fashion blogger o
ver who got the last reserved seat in the front row. One of the models had come down with the flu and the casting agent had snagged a super model, but she was demanding double her usual pay rate. There was a glitch in the air conditioning and the event manager was waiting for the technician. Fingers crossed it would be fixed by show time.
With the rehearsal over she went back to her hotel. It would have been nice to collapse, but she didn’t have the luxury when there was work to be done. First, a phone interview with the fashion editor of the New York Times. Then a few tweets to her new American followers about the fashion show. A Facebook update and photos posted to Instagram. She made a call to Janelle to see how the shop was doing and then checked in again with Charmaine to discuss the final arrangements.
Finally she’d dealt with everything that was in her power to deal with and tried to force the rest out of her mind. While she prepared for the show she flipped on the twenty-four hour news channel, but the events of the world washed over without penetrating. She knew she should eat something, but she had no appetite. Losing Luke was like a black hole, sucking all the joy out of her life. She couldn’t wait for the fashion show to be over so she could get out of New York and go back home to Rome.
She hated that he’d torn up her check. What was going to happen to the bambini if they couldn’t play hockey? Yes, she knew he had fundraising on the go, but she wanted to help, too. If only there was a way she could contribute in a way that didn’t come from her personally, a way that Luke wouldn’t be able to turn down.
The fashion show. That was it! She called Charmaine and asked her to track down Stella’s phone number. Her agent called back with it within minutes, and Tina placed the call. It would be so great to turn the event into more than just business and at the same time make up for the loss of her donation.
“Stella,” she said when the other woman answered. “I know this is horribly last minute but I have an idea to raise money for the foundation. I’m hoping you can help me out.”
She chatted to Stella for half an hour, taking care not to let on that anything was amiss with her and Luke. Any sympathy at this point, and she might dissolve in a flood of tears. His sister would only find out they’d broken up when Tina was long gone. There would be time enough to cry when she was back in Rome.
With every item crossed off her “to do” list, Tina took a long shower, did her hair and makeup and then put on her red sequinned gown, the one she’d posed in for the bus ads. It had become something of a signature look for her in New York, part of her brand. Really, it was a wonder Luke hadn’t come across a photo of her before today.
She smoothed on concealer beneath her puffy eyes. She couldn’t bear for even Frank to know she’d been crying. And her family would be there tonight. They would ask questions Tina didn’t want to answer, not when she had to be “on” for the whole evening. She just had to get through tonight. That would be the worst part. Tomorrow she would review the campaign with Charmaine and plan for the next quarter. The following day she could go home.
She’d just slipped into her dress when the doorbell to her suite rang. Madre mia. Was it more flowers? Giorgio had sent two dozen yellow roses and Mamma, Angela and Francesca had all sent huge bouquets plus half a dozen bottles of Dom Perignon. Clearly they were coming ready to party.
The doorbell rang again, insistently. She hurried to open the door to Giorgio looking exceedingly handsome in a tuxedo while Layla and Angela were gorgeous in glittering evening gowns. Tina hugged and kissed them all and then went back around the circle for more hugs. “Oh, my God, I’m so glad to see you all!”
“Are you okay?” Giorgio asked, holding her away from him to study her face. “You look pale. Has the launch been too much for you? I knew we should have sent someone from the head office to oversee things.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him, dabbing her eyes. “The launch is going brilliantly. Everything is taken care of. The fashion show is going to be a huge success so you can just stop worrying and let your little sister have her moment of glory.”
“I’m so excited about tonight,” Angela said. “You saved us front row seats, I hope.”
Tina smacked her forehead. “Will second row do? Sorry, there are so many others clamoring for the front row.”
“She’s teasing you,” Layla said. “We’ll stand in the back if you need more room for buyers or editors. We brought the painting. Giorgio, where is it?”
“Here, by the door.” Giorgio picked up a large square package wrapped in heavy brown padded paper. “Do you want to have a look?”
A sharp pang pierced Tina’s chest. She wanted this to be not just a parting gift, but a token to make up in some small way for the wrong she’d done Luke in not telling him the truth about who she was. It hurt to know she would never get to see her girl hanging next to Luke’s boy. Would he even accept the painting from her or would he immediately give it away or sell it? She would likely never know. “I’ve seen it enough times. Don’t unwrap it.”
Smiling to ward off the tears, she ushered her family into the sitting area of her suite. “How about a champagne before I call the limo?”
She’d hoped to celebrate with both her family and Luke tonight, had planned to ask Luke to accompany her to the fashion show. That wasn’t going to happen now. Their fling had started out so fun and spontaneous. How had things gone so wrong?
When flutes of Dom had been poured and toasts made, Tina turned to Giorgio seated next to her on the loveseat. “Fabio came to my boutique demanding money. I sent him away but I’m worried. Does he have any hope of this lawsuit being successful?”
“Not in the slightest,” Giorgio said. “Our lawyers confirmed before we left Rome that he has no case against you. But if he’s harassing you we should get in touch with the local police and take out a restraining order.”
“That’s what Luke said, but I don’t think it’s necessary. I’ll only be here a couple more days. If he’s still a problem when I’m in Rome then I’ll act.”
“Who’s Luke?” Giorgio lowered his voice so Layla and Angela couldn’t hear.
Tina was grateful for his discretion. “Just a man I got to know. He’s the one I’m giving the painting to.”
“Do you care for him?”
“I…yes, I do.” She twisted the stem of her flute. “It was…intense for a while but now it’s over.” Those damn tears that had been so close to the surface all day started to seep through her lashes.
“Cara.” Her brother took both her hands and squeezed tenderly. “You are too passionate. How do you lose your heart so easily? First Fabio and now this Luke.”
“Luke is nothing like Fabio.” Her feelings for him were so much deeper and stronger than anything she’d felt for the photographer. She couldn’t believe now that she thought she’d ever loved him. “I resisted as long as I could, believe me. But Luke is a very special man.” She sniffed and touched the corners of her eyes with a napkin and smiled. “Never mind. Let’s not talk about him. Tonight is for celebration.”
Thank goodness her family was around to lend her moral support. If she looked closely into her heart she knew she would see a small kernel of hope that Luke would, on reflection, forgive her and give her another chance. At the very least, she hoped he would see in her gifts a genuine love for him and a desire to make things right between them. After that, it was up to him.
Chapter Eleven
“I had to end it, right?” Luke slid another beer across the bar to Allan and cracked open his third since they’d started drinking only half an hour ago. There was a smallish group watching some tennis tournament, but Rosie was covering the bar. He wasn’t normally a big drinker, but tonight he was going on a bender. All day he’d been trying to convince himself that breaking up with Tina was the only possible course of action under the circumstances. So far it hadn’t worked because he kept thinking of all the good things about her. Now he was counting on Allan for reassurance. “She’s a liar, not the kind of woman I’m looking
for.”
“Technically, she didn’t lie. She simply omitted the truth. And aside from that, she’s beautiful, sexy, smart, passionate and generous—if you’d bothered to cash her check,” Allan mused as he searched the internet on his phone. “Hell, no, who would want someone like that?”
“Put that thing away and pay attention,” Luke said. “You’re not being any help at all. And you’re obviously not hearing me. She—”
“She’s being sued for breach of promise by a creep called Fabio Donatelli,” Allan said, reading off his phone. “I didn’t even know you could still do that nowadays. His rap sheet includes charges over conning women in France, Italy and Spain. Handsome devil, judging by the photos, and apparently charming too, if the list of high society women who’ve been taken in by him are any indication. Most of them were too embarrassed to make an accusation. Until Tina. From what I gather, she shuns publicity of any personal nature.” Allan glanced up. “You can add brave to her list of attributes.”
“Let me see.” Luke scanned the popular magazine article, getting angrier and angrier as he read all that Tina had been through. She’d told him only the barest details but not only had she been cheated and swindled by the man she’d thought loved her, then to add insult to injury, he’d sued her when she broke off their engagement. He, who’d committed criminal offenses. Luke wished he’d bashed his face in at the boutique when he had the chance. “His case will never stand up in court.”
“That’s not the point,” Allan said. “He’s harassing her. I’m not surprised she’s wary.”
“She told me her last boyfriend had used her, but I had no idea it was this bad,” Luke said. “Why didn’t she explain? I would have understood.”
“How would she know that?” Allan sipped his beer. “Once bitten, twice shy. All this took place less than six months ago. And the lawsuit is recent.”
“Oh, man.” He’d accused her of trying to buy love. After what she’d been through, that must have cut deep. Yes, he’d been angry and hurt, but he’d taken all his mommy issues and put them on Tina. In doing so he’d thrown away the best thing that had ever happened to him. “I’m an asshole.”
