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“Will you miss it here?”
“Would you believe me if I said no?”
Italy has been wonderful. Italy never disappoints, but I’m eager to return to Boston.
“You’re too stunning to be standing out here on your own. It’s a waste. Come dance with me.”
“No.”
“Should I beg?”
I almost smile at the thought. “You wouldn’t know how.”
“True. It would be a first—but I get the sense you’d like that.”
I suddenly feel so exhausted by our games, by the pseudo friendship he seems insistent on perpetuating when we both know it’s not real. The two of us could never just be friends.
I shoot him a suspicious glare. “What is it that you want, Emmett?”
His brows knit together. “I’ve been trying to determine if I should apologize about the other night.”
“I’d rather we didn’t discuss it at all.”
“How can I resist when it gives you such a pretty flush, right here.”
The back of his knuckle grazes my cheek, and I don’t have the strength to pull away. Still, I manage a feeble “Don’t.”
“Fine. The apology wouldn’t have been sincere anyway. I’m not sorry for kissing you.”
“Ms. Davenport.”
I turn at the sound of my name and find Mr. Moretti standing at the doorway of the ballroom. Unlike the other attendants, he isn’t masked.
“I’m sorry for the interruption. Your grandmother sent me to fetch you. She’d like a word.”
“Of course,” I say, picking up my tulle skirt so I can hurry to join him.
I look back at Emmett only once before I make it to the door, and I find his easygoing expression has been wiped clean, replaced with terse annoyance. I don’t have time to delve into it. Whatever it is my grandmother needs, I don’t want to keep her waiting. A gnawing worry has already set in. I let Mr. Moretti lead me through the ballroom and then out into the hall. Through a heavy antique door, we enter a small, dark library.
My grandmother sits in her gown on a couch facing the doorway. Her hands are folded primly in her lap, and she nods in thanks to Mr. Moretti before he steps back and closes the door behind him.
“I—is everything okay?” I ask, taking in her appearance, hoping beyond hope that she isn’t about to tell me bad news about her health.
She looks ghostly white in this setting, the lamplight doing little to convince me she is fine and well. Her absence from the ballroom heralds bad news, I know it.
“I thought it best to tell you right away. Royce has called off the betrothal.”
Her statement absorbs into my bloodstream slowly, and all the while, I hold perfectly still, unsure of which emotion I should reveal, the agony of disappointment or the immensity of relief?
“And after your foolish behavior with Emmett this week, I’m hardly surprised.”
She spits out the word foolish so that it wounds me. Still, I work to give nothing away beyond my arms coming up to wrap protectively around me.
Whatever punishment she’s about to dole out, I’ll accept it with my shoulders back and my chin held high.
“Fortunately for you, I’ve already found a solution that I find far more appealing.”
Her gaze shifts over my right shoulder, and I realize for the first time since arriving in the room that I’m not alone with my grandmother. I look back and feel dread constrict my chest.
Frédéric Mercier has come to join us in Italy.
Chapter Twenty-One
Emmett
It’s not long after Lainey leaves before Moretti comes back for me. I’ve been out on the veranda, checking emails on my phone, confirming my travel itinerary for tomorrow. He clears his throat behind me.
“Sir, your presence has been requested in the library.”
When I don’t immediately hop to it, he adds, “Mr. Mercier seems rather impatient.”
Well then, we don’t want to keep him waiting.
If Papa has flown all the way to Italy and requested an audience with me, I have no doubt it’s for something important. I know it doesn’t pertain to work. My phone would have been lighting up with calls if there was an emergency at GHV, some issue with the Leclerc takeover, perhaps, but it hasn’t, which means this is personal.
My mind immediately jumps to Alexander. I haven’t heard from him since I’ve been in Italy, which isn’t unusual for us—we aren’t the type to talk every day—but there have been incidents in the past, issues with drugs and alcohol. I’ve had a few calls in the middle of the night, friends worried for him. It hasn’t happened in years, and I thought those days might be behind us, but I’m already following Moretti, letting him lead me toward the library while I run through the proper steps in my mind.
I’m so deep down the wormhole of worry over Alexander that I don’t think to consider other possibilities. It’s why I’m caught off guard when I arrive in the dimly lit library to find that my father isn’t alone. It hadn’t even occurred to me that there would be others here waiting for me.
