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Where the heck was he? He normally called if he was going to be late. Could something have happened to him? Knowing Dante, he had become engrossed in work and wasn’t paying attention to the time. That had happened before, although he did call to let her know he was running late.
She busied herself with preparing the gravy for the chicken and moving the vegetables into serving dishes. By the time she finished, a full thirty minutes had passed since she left the first message. Okay, this was weird.
She called again. “Hey, darling, where are you? This is like déjà vu, to be honest. Want to know what my surprise is? I roasted a chicken, so you better get your butt home.” She laughed a little, then paused. “Hey, call me, okay? I’m getting worried.”
At eight o’clock, she blew out the candles and cut off a piece of chicken to munch on because she was hungry. At eight-fifteen, she poured the ice out of the bucket and replaced the wine in the wine fridge.
While she was scooping vegetables into glass containers, she heard one of the garage doors lift. A minute later, Dante walked in with his jacket thrown over his arm.
“Where the hell have you been?” Annabelle asked.
His gaze swept the food on the island in the middle of the kitchen. “At work. Then I went for a drive.”
“And you couldn’t call? I’ve called you twice.”
Her fury dimmed when she noticed he was visibly upset. A frown marred his forehead, and the fact that he had gone for a drive was another clue something was wrong.
“What happened?”
“Nolson is selling the plaza to someone else.”
“No.”
His gaze switched away from her.
“Dante, I’m so sorry.”
Her comment was met with stony silence as he stared at a spot on the far wall.
“Who is he doing the deal with?”
“Roman Dixton,” he answered in a flat voice.
“Of Dixton Publishing?”
He nodded.
“What are you going to do?”
“What can I do? Nothing.”
“It’s not the end of the world,” Annabelle said gently.
The look he shot her would have caused a lesser person to wither where they stood.
“You know how much I wanted this,” he said.
“Yes, and I told you the other day not to get your hopes up. You know the risks. You’ve been in the real estate game for over a decade. Anything can happen.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Dante snapped. “Do you think saying I told you so is the best response right now?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound as if I was saying I told you so, but sometimes, when we want something too much, it doesn’t happen. I know how disappointment feels.”
“You didn’t want the CEO position too much, so you received it—is that what you’re saying?”
His antagonistic tone took her aback. “You’re twisting my words.”
“And you don’t seem to understand how important this was to me.”
