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Tally wrenched free of his embrace.
“No.” Her voice was hoarse. “I don’t want that from you. Not anymore.”
He said nothing for a long moment. Then he let go of her.
“As you wish.”
“As I insist.”
“Please,” he said coolly, “no ultimatums. You made your point. And now…”
He glanced at his watch, then plucked his cell phone from his pocket and made a brief call. It was like a slap in the face, a way of telling her that the kiss had meant nothing to him.
“I’ve arranged for my driver to come for you.”
“That’s not necessary. My hotel—”
“I’ve checked you out of your hotel.” His hand clasped her elbow; he moved her into the elevator with determined efficiency. “Carlo will take you to your rooms.”
“Rooms?” she said, as the elevator plunged toward the lobby. “Aston said an apartment.”
“The rooms for you and your daughter are a separate suite within an apartment.”
“Whose apartment?” Tally said, heart suddenly racing.
His eyes met hers. “Mine,” he answered.
Before she could respond, the doors swept open on the lobby and Dante handed her over to his waiting driver.
CHAPTER SEVEN
DID HE REALLY THINK she’d live in his apartment?
Not even if the alternative was a tent pitched in the Millers’ backyard.
Tally let Dante’s driver take her to Central Park West but only because she had to go there if she wanted to reclaim her luggage.
She’d get it, write the imperious Mr. Russo a note telling him, in exquisite detail, what he could do with his contract, phone for a taxi and leave. No. This time, she’d face him. She would not forgo that pleasure.
The driver was new but the doorman was the same as in the past. He greeted her by name, as if three long years had not gone by since her last visit. So did the housekeeper, who added that it was good to see her again.
“This way, miss,” she said pleasantly, gesturing not to the library or the dining room or the sitting room, all the places—the only places—Tally had seen when she and Dante had been involved, but to the graceful, winding staircase.
“Thank you,” Tally said, “but I’ll wait for Mr. Russo in the library. If someone would just bring me my suitcase…?”
“Your things are already upstairs, miss. I’ll show you to your rooms.”
Arguing seemed pointless. Her quarrel was with Dante, not with his staff. She followed the housekeeper to a door that led into a sitting room as large as her entire house back in Vermont.
“Would you like some tea, miss?”
What she’d have liked was some strychnine for her host, but Tally managed a polite smile.
“Nothing, thank you.”
“Ellen’s unpacked your things. If you’re not pleased with how she’s arranged your clothes, just ring.”
But I’m not staying, Tally started to say, except, by then the housekeeper had disappeared.
