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“You, with Luca Rossi. Amelia and Niddhi were talking about pictures of the two of you. Did the paparazzi really chase you?”
I rolled my eyes to deflect his interest. “That was nothing. We just happened to arrive at the same time. I feel sorry for actual celebrities. The press will twist the smallest thing to make it seem much bigger.”
Charlie eyed me with something a little less than belief. “I assumed it was something like that. There’s no way someone like you would actually be with someone like him.”
My spine stiffened. “What does that mean?” My question came out slightly sharper than intended, but I didn’t like the undertone of his question.
“No shade on you,” he amended, “but everyone knows what Luca Rossi gets up to.”
“How do you know?”
He jerked slightly at my whiplash question. “Well, I’ve seen the pictures, read the articles—”
“The pictures? We just finished talking about how the press makes things up. Maybe judge him by the content of his character, the type of boss he is, how he runs Rossi—not fictitious stories published for sensationalism.”
I tugged my chair out from under my desk. “I’m sorry, but I have a lot to do today. We can chat later.”
“Oh.” Charlie ran his fingers through his hair. “All right. I’m sorry if I offended you—”
I held my hand up. “No, it’s fine. I’ve had a weird morning. Sorry I snapped.”
He shot me a smile. “No worries, Saorise. Have a good day.”
I collapsed at my desk and groaned. I had a feeling this wasn’t the last I’d be hearing about those pictures.
I didn’t have to wait long. At the start of my lunch hour, Peter, the douchelord himself, texted me.
Peter:Ms. Smythe-Kelly has seen the pictures of you with Mr. Luca Rossi. She would like to add a meeting with you to her calendar within the week. We’ll need to allot an hour. Please let me know your schedule at your earliest convenience. Ms. Smythe-Kelly is waiting.
Peter was a thirty-five-year-old man who made a living kissing my mom’s ass. He also referred to my own mother as Ms. Smythe-Kelly when texting me, which was beyond strange. But that was him.
I did not want to talk to my mother for an hour about the pictures of Luca and me. I’d rather be shot from a cannon into a moat full of hungry sharks during my period than have that conversation.
If Luca and I were married, I could rope him into speaking to my mother. That would have to be a stipulation of our marriage contract. There was no way I would be springing the news on her by myself.
I emailed him my thoughts.
From:[email protected]
Luca,
I have a condition: you will be there when I tell my mom we’re married. Actually, now that I think about it, you’ll have to come to Wyoming with me when I drop the news to my dad and brother. They’re very big, and they won’t be pleased.
Are you rescinding your proposal?
Sincerely,
Your Inconvenient Maybe-Fiancée, Saoirse
When I got back from lunch, there was an email from Luca waiting for me.
From:[email protected]
Saoirse,
