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“Oh, wow,” I breathed. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but I hadn’t expectedthis.
“It’s a silly hobby,” Alessandra said, her cheeks reddening. “I’m not curing cancer or anything, but it’s fun, and it helps me pass the time while my husband is working.”
“It’s not silly. These aregorgeous.” I brushed my fingers over the glass frame protecting a huge pressed herbarium on black paper. “How long did it take you to make this?”
“About a month if you include the drying time. That one is one of my favorites. They’re all night-blooming flowers, hence the black background.” Alessandra drew her bottom lip between her teeth. “I sometimes gift these to friends. People seem to like them, so I thought, why not open an online shop? A small one.”
“That’s an amazing idea.”
She didn’t need the money, but she was clearly passionate about the art. I counted at least a dozen pressed flower artworks in the room. She must’ve been doing this for at least a year.
Her face relaxed. “Thank you. I’m glad you think so. It’s much better than meth, no?”
I laughed. She was right. We were going to work well together.
Since it was my first day, we spent the next two hours ironing out my schedule, logistics, and expectations. Neither of us really knew what we were doing, but we had fun figuring it out together.
We agreed to a tentative list of tasks, to be amended if and when necessary. I would assist with research, marketing, and administrative tasks, including brainstorming business names. Alessandra wanted to keep things low-key to start, but once we got our bearings and ironed out the logistics, she’d hire more people. Until then, it was a two-person show.
I didn’t have set hours. As long as I met my deadlines, I could work whenever and wherever I wanted.
“That being said, you’re welcome to work here if you’d like.” Alessandra gestured around the apartment. We were back in the living room, which was so massive it could easily host a Super Bowl game. “Don’t feel obligated, but if you get tired of being alone, my door’s always open.”
“I might take you up on that offer. I hate working alone.” I hesitated, debating whether to ask my next question. “Are you sure Dominic won’t mind?”
She gave me a sad smile. “He won’t even notice.”
Their marriage was none of my business, but I couldn’t help feeling a pang of sympathy.Money can’t buy happiness. It was cliché, but it was true.
My eyes landed on the wedding photo propped up on the mantel. “That’s a beautiful shot of you two.”
Their physical features hadn’t changed much over the years—Alessandra possessed the same flawless skin and stunning bone sculpture, Dominic the same golden hair and chiseled jaw—yet I hardly recognized the people in the photo. In it, Alessandra’s face glowed with joy, and her new husband gazed down at her with obvious adoration. They looked young and happy and so incredibly in love.
It was difficult to reconcile them with the cold Wall Street titan dominating the business papers and the quiet, melancholic woman before me.
“Thank you.” Alessandra’s smile took on a strained quality. She didn’t look at the mantel. “Speaking of photos, we should create social media accounts, right? I’m not great at photography, but I can hire a professional…”
I went along with her obvious deflection. It was her marriage. If she didn’t want to talk about it, I wasn’t going to push her.
When I left her house another two hours later, it was late afternoon and I was riding high from our meeting. I had a shit ton of work to do on top of finishing my manuscript, but after getting fired, it was nice to feel useful again.
The ping of a news alert punctured my high as I entered the nearest subway station. I’d set up news alerts for my name against Sloane’s advice. I couldn’t help it; Ineededto know what people were saying.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket. I expected more tabloid rumors about me and Kai, maybe even someone who’d caught us together in Turks and Caicos. His staff had been the only other people on the island, but one never knew. Sleazy outlets like theNational Starhad eyes and ears everywhere.
But the most recent wave of headlines had nothing to do with our impromptu getaway and everything to do with me. Specifically, my family and my background.
Bile coated my throat.
Oh, fuck.
CHAPTER 29
Kai
Colin Whidby had been my primary liaison for DigiStream negotiations until his hospitalization and subsequent ouster. Charismatic, gregarious, and prone to hyperbole, he was the type of startup founder who graced magazine covers and was featured in viral interview clips.
Rohan Mishra was his opposite. Quiet, calm and methodical, the twenty-four-year-old wunderkind observed me with obvious skepticism.
