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“Those are all wonderful things you’ve done, and I’m aware of your work in the Houston community.” The local business media loved to splash stories about him across their pages. “I know how much you want this building and what it means to you, but if you don’t have the opportunity to purchase?—”
“I will.” Dante cut her off with bite in his voice.
His adamance worried her. If Nolson didn’t follow through…
“Okay,” Annabelle said quietly.
The scowl evaporated from his face. “What about you? What is your greatest achievement?”
“I don’t want to say after you gave such a perfect answer.”
His face softened into a smile. “Tell me.”
“Okay, well, it’s not my greatest achievement, but my most memorable. Working with my father changed my life. After our divorce, I didn’t know what to do with myself, and I went into the office to help my father at work after one of the portfolio managers resigned. Working with him and learning from him... I don’t know. The experience opened my eyes to the possibilities. I’d never had to work before, and I liked it. I became confident and believed in myself, that I could do more than shopping and going to parties. I was proud of myself and decided to go to college, and when I finished, I started working full time at B&B.”
For years, she let the general public believe she was a partying, empty-headed socialite, and at some point, she began to believe it too. It was better than revealing the truth—that she thought of herself as a pathetic substitute for the brother who had passed away.
“What about becoming CEO and saving the jobs of the people you care about? That’s a very big achievement, no?”
“Yes, but I wouldn’t have aspired to that goal or dared to dream so big if I didn’t start small—in my father’s office, helping him work—ten years ago.”
“So leaving me was the right decision,” Dante said quietly.
“No, that’s not what I?—”
He placed a finger over her mouth. “We both needed to grow up, and there’s no point in dwelling in the past. We should focus on what’s ahead. Our future business endeavors, and what happens nine months from now.”
What happens nine months from now.
Those words smacked her in the face with reality.
Annabelle dipped her gaze to where his hands continued to hold her, his corded forearms dusted with hair and resting on her thighs. Sadness tore through her chest. She had hoped they had grown close enough to try to give their marriage a real shot, but he clearly didn’t have the same point of view. He was thinking about divorce in nine months, and his words crushed her spirits.
She lifted her eyes to his and forced a lighthearted smile to her lips, though she was dying inside. “You’re right. We had a lot of growing up to do, and we’re better off now that we’ve had time to grow. I’m looking forward to what the future holds. For both of us.”
They made love later that night, and she clung to him with quiet desperation, determined not to give in to the melancholy which threatened to consume her.
She vowed to enjoy every moment they had together. In the end, if he wanted a divorce—she would let him go.
28
The aromas wafting through the kitchen smelled divine.
Annabelle lifted the pan of roasted chicken from the oven and inhaled the fragrance of rosemary and thyme. Before Viviana had left for the night, she had given Annabelle instructions on what to do with the chicken and the accompanying sides.
She placed the bird on the stove and did a little dance at the perfect brown color. Tonight she had planned and cooked dinner for her Dante. He had never had a chance to taste one of her meals, and though they’d been married for a while now, she hadn’t cooked because they had Viviana, his private chef, or they went out to eat.
She was a little nervous but excited for him to try the meal she prepared. It was simple but quite an accomplishment for someone who didn’t normally spend time in the kitchen—roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, and candied carrots.
With a quick glance at her phone on the counter, she saw the time was a few minutes after seven. Dante was usually at home by now. She picked up the phone and dialed his number, but the call went to voicemail.
“Dante, where are you? It’s after seven. If you’re working late, call me. I have a surprise for you.”
She had gotten the idea to recreate the dinner he had missed after they talked the other night.
Since he wasn’t home yet, she hurried upstairs and changed into a red sheath dress and applied lipstick. Satisfied, she went back downstairs to the big dining room, which had been set with formal dinnerware and silverware. She had placed wine in a bucket, and there were two long candles on the table, which she lit to create a romantic atmosphere.
She had left her phone in the kitchen, so she checked it, but there were no missed calls or text messages during the short time she’d been upstairs.
