Grief struck her like sudden lightning flashing across the sky. Would Pia have been more reasonable if Mimi had learned to assert herself early on in their relationship? If she had refused to give in to her every whim so easily? If she’d just believed in herself a little more and been stronger? If her mom had taken her side and disciplined Pia’s extreme demands and tantrums?
Would Pia have been alive today?
Groaning, Mimi fell onto the bed, next to the neat piles of her new wardrobe.
Would these thoughts ever stop haunting her? Could she and Renzo ever make this work for each other with such guilt and grief hanging over them? Was that what she wanted for the future—Renzo as her partner, her lover, her husband for real?
Suddenly, she felt far too fragile to expose herself to Renzo’s friends and their scrutiny. In addition to his.
Then her gaze fell on the last outfit.
It was a single-breasted tuxedo-inspired pantsuit in a emerald green, crafted from a luxe crepe material. The jacket had a plunging neckline with satin lapels and a cinched waist. It looked like it had been made for her, in body type and color and fabric.
High-waisted slim trousers with a subtle flare to them immediately accentuated her long legs as she pulled them up over silk panties.
She tied the dramatic black silk sash belt at her waist and sighed. The belt added a hint of femininity to her structured look, which was her exact preferred style. Her usual bold red lipstick added a splash of color, and she finished with a slightly smoky eye. Her long hair—her crowning glory—she left in its naturally glossy waves down her back.
Put together, she looked effortlessly glamorous, two words she would have never applied to herself. And all thanks to Renzo’s thoughtfulness.He can’t have you embarrassing him, whispered that sneaky, distrustful voice that had always urged her to back down with Pia.
With a shake of her head, Mimi shut it down. The last thing she’d ever wanted in life was to become this…negative person who never trusted good things happening to her. But clearly she had. And that wouldn’t do, not for her, and not for Luca.
Renzo had been more thoughtful and attentive than she’d ever imagined, and she wasn’t going to ruin it with old patterns of thinking.
It was time to move forward, away from the grief and guilt, time to embrace her own desires and wants.
The private launch glided smoothly through the Venetian lagoon, its polished mahogany hull gleaming under the moonlight.
Mimi sat on one of the cream leather seats, the buttery-soft material cool beneath her fingers. The interior was a masterclass in luxury, with brass accents on the handrails and a small built-in bar stocked with sparkling water and champagne.
Outside, the rhythmic hum of the engine was a soft counterpoint to the gentle lapping of water against the hull.
Lanterns strung along nearby buildings cast shimmering reflections on the water, creating a kaleidoscope of colors that danced around them as they passed.
But the magnificent beauty all around her paled in front of the man sitting across from her.
She should be used to Renzo’s sensual appeal, and yet her belly sloshed with fizzy tingles near him. Even if she could fight the attraction on a physical level, the fact that she was beginning to like him and admire him was another thing altogether.
Overdelivering on his promise, he had had her bodyguard, Enrico, escort her to the most interesting places in the city all week—off-the-wall places imbued with history and art. She couldn’t deny the gut feeling that he had chosen those places specifically with her in mind. That he knew her.
It was exactly what she’d needed to find her footing again, to spark her own creativity back to life. She’d shot so much B-roll and had been editing and playing with it when he returned to the penthouse at night. There had been no cuddling in the bed, and she had lost even that little contact with him.
For the last two nights, though, he hadn’t returned home at all, and she had eventually slipped into a restless slumber.
Now, with his long legs stretched out casually, his focus was anything but relaxed. From the moment he had seen her step out of the penthouse elevator, something had come over him. He hadn’t even paid her a compliment, and it pinched.
Pity she had never learned the art of decoding powerful, breathtakingly handsome men like Pia had.
But she wanted to understand this one desperately.
His dark eyes rested on her even now, intense and searching, making her feel more exposed than the low neckline of her jacket ever could.
“Is everything okay at work?” she said, her voice thankfully breezy. She’d had a lot of practice with burying her emotions under a calm facade, and yet she was sure it was becoming a barrier with Renzo that she didn’t want to keep up. “You didn’t come home for two nights.”
“Are you thinking of the penthouse as home now,bella?”
“That’s not an answer to my question.”
Renzo’s eyes narrowed slightly, but instead of replying, he looked out toward the horizon. The rhythmic hum of the engine filled the silence, accompanied by the faint scents of brine and of roses from the gardens lining the canal.
