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A lump of awareness clogged his throat. She’d come for him. She might not do this again, and he would be just fine. Now, he knew he would—because he didn’t need her showing up for him, even though he appreciated it.
“Then you must be crazy, Alessandra,” Giorgio said in quick Italian. “They made a mockery of the institution of marriage, and on top of that deceived us. And I bet he’s only telling me because either she threatened to tell me, or Conor did. Those O’Donnells always enjoy keeping these kinds of information under their sleeve.”
“She encouraged me to tell you. She’d never do it herself,” he said. She wouldn’t put him at risk. Hell, she could have told his parents if she wanted to, out of spite. But she hadn’t. Because maybe she cared for him as much as he did her. “Look, I’m not here for either of your approval,” he said, casting a glance between his mother and his father. “I’ve wanted it and didn’t make the best decisions to get it. So now I’m done. I just wanted to let you know—in case you want to be part of our lives.”
“I can’t let you run the company,” his father said.
“Then you’d be an idiot,” his mother said, stepping forward, determination lacing her voice. “I’ve always trusted you to make the right decisions about the boys. I now know I should have been more present. Not that you didn’t do a great job, but because I could have. And the person who made me see this was Lara,” she said, tears brimming her eyes. “I don’t care how they met or what brought them together. Her being in this family will be beneficial to all of us, especially Troy.”
The muscles of his forearms tensed up. Then, as his mother’s words registered in his mind, a softer sensation swirled through him. He hadn’t asked for his mother’s help, but she offered it anyway—which was an enormous step for her. To go against his father.
Relief poured over him as Troy realized he didn’t need her stepping up. Not anymore. “I don’t need for you to come to my rescue anymore, Mom. But I appreciate you. And Dad, I told you what was in my heart because I wanted you to know. If you give Mateo the position instead of me, so be it. He’ll do a great job. Now, I need to go and meet my wife.”
* * *
The sound of the insisting doorbell ringing buzzed in Lara’s ears. She moved on the couch, hoping maybe it was part of a dream. The buzz continued, and she yawned, looking around, wishing she hadn’t drunk more than she should have.
The light trespassing from the blinds wasn’t as harsh as earlier, which meant it had to be about seven or eight in the evening. Brit had stayed and talked a bunch, then finally had her husband pick her up because she, too, had had too much margarita. She’d mentioned she’d send for her car later—but Lara assumed she’d either ask an employee the next day or do it herself. Had she sent her husband to pick it up?
Lara smoothed her hand over her shirt and dashed to the door. Without thinking, she opened it, only to find another husband at her doorstep.
Hers.
Instantly, she sobered. Zings of awareness traveled through her body like she hadn’t seen him in much longer than a day. “Troy,” she said, her voice throaty.
He leaned over the door, a bit too close, his blue eyes regarding her like he’d just found a hidden treasure. She had to wrestle with her own need to erase the small distance between them and rest her forehead on his. For all she knew, he could have come to grovel and ask her to keep on misleading his family. Keeping the façade. Why else would he turn up at her house like this?
“We need to talk. Can I come in?” he said. She stepped back, gesturing for him to enter her home.
He’d been in here a couple of times, when she needed to quickly grab something before they headed somewhere else. But this time… felt different.
She folded her arms, unsure if she should lead the conversation with a smartass remark or let him do the talking. She sat in one of the sofas, deciding on the latter. Goose bumps raised on her skin, the anticipation of this talk messing with her nerves.
Would she do it?
If he asked her to come back to him and pretend all over again, would she?
He removed something from his pocket and gave it to her. She glanced at the sparkling diamond ring, a classic version of the princess cut. It was bigger than she would have liked, and not her particular style.
“Is this a joke?” she asked. Did he expect her to waltz back and pretend everything was fine?
“No. This is my mother’s ring, which she gave me when she ran after me as I left the house. She wanted me to give this to you from her… as a thank you for joining our family.”
She lifted the ring, studying it. It had to be worth a small fortune. Why would Alessandra give it to her? “Her wedding ring? I couldn’t possibly accept.” She shook her head, and gave him the ring, ignoring the frisson traveling up her arm when her fingers brushed his.
Like she’d been burned by is touch, she jerked her hand away, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Then you can refuse it. Fine by me.” He sat the ring on one of her wooden side tables, then turned his attention to her. “The only reason I brought it was to show you I have evidence.”
“What evidence?”
“I told my father about how we met. The real reason why we married.”
A dizzy sensation washed over her. He’d listened to her. She put both hands in her lap, drumming on her legs to give her fidgety fingers something to do. To give herself time to think. But so many different things flashed in her mind, she couldn’t keep up. “Good for you. So you don’t have to worry about Conor O’Donnell anymore.”
“Yes, but I have another worry that’s been eating me alive ever since you left.”
She swallowed. Should she ask? “What?”
