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But this photo is not of her, for once. It’s a picture of the ring and caption saying she said yes.
It’s official. It’s gone viral. It would only be a matter of time before everyone found out, including the man sitting across the table from me. I send Charlotte a quick text.
Me: I got the call. It’s official.
Charlotte: Yes, it is. How do you feel?
Me: I don’t know.
Charlotte: How is the meeting going?
Me: Uneventful. I’ll call you when I’m back in the hotel room.
In a single glance, my focus is pulled across the room. The force is strong, like a gust of wind before the storm. Romano’s attention is on his phone. For a moment, his body freezes mid-movement as his upper lip curls back.
Then, his expression shifts. The vein on his forehead pops, and his muscles tighten around his face and neck. Baring his teeth, his fingers tap fast against his phone with urgency. And suddenly, his eyes shut momentarily, breathing ragged until they snap open.
“Are we done, gentlemen?” he grits, barely able to control his anger.
Everyone appears confused by his outburst, remaining silent. Grabbing his phone, he pushes his chair out and rises, storming toward the door until I call his name.
Romano’s body stiffens, the grip on the doorknob tight. His hand falls off the silver handle, and at a slow and agonizing pace, he turns around with an unblinking stare. There is tension in his jaw. His chin held high with a pinched mouth. He loathed me, this much I knew. And I’m certain his resentment runs deep just as mine does.
I’d taught this man everything I knew, saved him from the mistakes I made all so he could grow his company into a billion-dollar empire.
And this is how he repays me.
“Leave her alone,” I demand, my equally penetrating stare just as hard. “It’s over.”
Not a single blink, nor flinch. His silence speaks a thousand words.
As is his exiting the room, a scorned man who just found out the game is officially over.
The penthouse suite is just as I remembered. Oversized, especially when you’re all alone. Outside the large glass windows is a view of the River Thames.
I remove my jacket, then yank my tie off and pour myself a much-needed drink. It’s been a long day, one I would rather forget. The familiar taste of luxury brand Scotch should offer me some relief, but my tense muscles refuse to relax despite my efforts.
With my drink in hand, I sit on the plush white sofa and call Charlotte.
“Hello there, my British husband.”
I chuckle softly. “Remind me again how I managed to live here for so long? It’s raining outside.”
“What’s new?” she retorts, a small laugh following. “I guess you don’t want to hear about the blue skies?”
“Don’t make me jealous,” I threaten in amusement. Taking a deep breath, I tilt my head to each side, trying to ease the tension in my shoulders. “Speaking of jealousy, we need to talk about something which happened today.”
“Let me just close the door to my office. You know what Eric is like.” The echo of her heels against the marble floor is all I can hear. “Okay, go ahead.”
“Romano knows.”
Charlotte takes a deep breath, a long-winded sigh accompanying it. “It was bound to happen. You can’t hide these things forever. So, how did he take it?”
“How do you think?”
“If he’s anything like you, in which he is remarkably like you, I’d say not well.”
Charlotte was never shy to point out our similarities, often referring to Romano as a “young Lex.” Perhaps, in hindsight, she’d said it enough for it to stick in my head. Ultimately, I judged his motives based on what I would do. I didn’t have the best reputation, known to treat women poorly during my time apart from Charlotte. So, why would he be any different?
