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“Clearly it’s not enough. He told me not to come after him tonight. He’s...never pushed me away like that before.”
“We need a plan,” Leo agrees, frowning. “Now.”
People are talking. The gossip is taking away from whatshouldbe a triumphant evening for my whole family anda chance to reward our staff for all the hard work and long hours they’ve put in.
Everything has been carefully designed for tonight’s event. The champagne is flowing. The glamorous “viewing space” holds a replica of one of the lounge rooms of our penthouse suites. People sit and stand as though sketching themselves into their perfect home. It’s the culmination of hours and hours of blood, sweat and tears.
But clusters of reporters and photographers have been gathered outside our HQ all day. We’ve been bombarded with phone calls and emails, requesting comments on a claim made by an “anonymous source” that Lily and I have been sleeping together since before her wedding to Marc.Sure.Like one of those morally defunct tabloid columnists didn’t make it all up and then claim they had a “source” for their information.
“I’mnotmaking a public statement.” I scrub a hand over my face. “It’ll only add fuel to the fire.”
“The longer we let this fester, the more damage it will do,” Leo counters. “You need to convince Marc by any means necessary that nothing is going on.”
If I had my way, I’d let my hotheaded brother stew in his misery. If he doesn’t believe me, that’shisissue. How he could even think I would do such a thing...
My knuckles tighten around my glass again.
But Leo has a point. And we need Marc. Not only for this deal, but because he has the best head for numbers of anyone I’ve ever met. The company is better with him in the CFO role. Fact. Not to mention that I can’t stand to see Lily hurting, either.
But I have to say, I’m not entirely surprised that their marriage has problems—I’d warned Marc before the wedding that marriage wasn’t something to treat lightly. As much as I love Lily and was thrilled to have her officially join our family, my thoughts on marriage are grim. If our parents taught me anything at all, it’s that passionate love is a lit match hovering over a pool of petrol.
It will consume everything and leave you with nothing.
I’mnotgoing to fall on my sword and beg forgiveness for something I didn’t do. But I still need a solution—something to convince Marc that I’m not a philanderer like our dad. Something to convince my brother to come back to work and make sure we get this deal over the line.
“Also, your mum is on her way,” Leo says.
Shit. My eyes dart across the room to where my mother is striding toward us. Despite not even reaching five feet, she has the presence of a person three times her height, and the crowd parts like the Red Sea to let her through. Her black dress shimmers as if in warning, and her thunderous expression makes my spine automatically straighten.
“I don’t have the energy to deal with her right now,” I say, letting out a frustrated groan. “I’ve got to deliver this speech in five minutes and I need to look like I haven’t watched my life crumble to pieces.”
“I’ll run interference.” Leo holds his hand up. “Go.”
I ditch my drink and head in the opposite direction, leaving my friend and sister-in-law to deal with the Moretti matriarch. I need a moment to pull myself together. With all the hurt and frustration swirling in my head—things I’ll never let the public see—Ican’tstand in front of a room of important investors, industry titans and press unless I’ve got my head screwed on properly.
This is a critical moment.
The launch of the Cielo is a new direction for Moretti Enterprises. It’s a symbol of everything I stand for as a leader. Progress. Evolution. Innovation.
I willnothave this moment overshadowed by people making up stories about my sex life.
Ducking past a group of waiters coming out of the bar area, I spot a staff hallway across the room. A closet marked Supplies is exactly what I need. It’s the last place anyone will look.
Five minutes. That’s all I need.
I yank the door back and slip inside, looking over my shoulder to see if anyone has followed me. For a fleeting moment I have some reprieve. But that’s shattered the second I find myself staring at a woman covered in streaks of red. Her eyes widen in shock, and she scrambles to close a ruined shirt across her chest. But not before I get a good glimpse of her curvy body, skin generously dusted with freckles and a set of breasts so perfect I have to resist the urge to drop to my knees.
A lace bra in a shade of pale, flesh-toned pink peeks out from between the red-streaked shirt, and the dusky hint of her nipples creates a tantalising shadow.
The ponytail and conservative black pants give her away as one of the waitstaff, but even with history’s most boring outfit, there’s no denying the sensuality radiating from her. Her eyes are the most unusual mix of warm brown and coppery-gold. And her body...wow. She’s curvy, with full thighs and a dip at the waist that’s the exact thing that drives me wild.
If I was hoping to find solitude and calm in this cupboard, then that idea has officially been shot to hell.
CHAPTER THREE
Ava
COULDTHISDAYget any more humiliating? I bury my head in my hand—my free one,notthe one currently trying to preserve my dignity—for a full four seconds, before cracking my fingers open to see if the man has disappeared. Nope, still there.
