He took out his phone and checked Circolo’s intranet for a photograph that had been posted by the team. The one of him and Simone, from Lake Garda. A moment frozen in time when he’d had something good within his grasp and simply didn’t hold on tight enough. He’d let it go.
Right now, Leo had everything he believed he’d wanted and yet he had nothing at all. The Tessitore deal had been signed, sealed and delivered. Within days, a message would be sent to the Silvestri company that after their current orders had been fulfilled, they would never use Tessitore textiles again. It should have made him feel like a victor, yet he felt like a loser in all ways.
He took another slug of his drink, not caring about its quality. Cheap Grappa, because he was punishing himself with firewater. After his mother had died, he’d had so many regrets. But most of all, he wished he could have had the time back to say all the things he’d left unsaid. Now, he wished he could have had the time over not to say some words, but to keep his mouth shut.
He’d hurt Simone. Callously. Deliberately. Leo deeply regretted the way he’d ended things, even though it had been better for her, to cut things off with no hope of reconciliation. Whilst he might always look back, he wanted her to look forwards to a life without him. To find someone to love who was good. Whose background wasn’t tainted by sins of the past. She’d almost died because of him and he hadn’t let her go, even then. Because he was a selfish man, who only ever thought about his own needs, and people suffered as a consequence. If Simone had stayed with him any longer, she would have suffered too.
She’d lived enough of her life for others. Running round after him as his executive assistant, marrying for Holly’s sake. It was time for her to live for herself. She had money. Their agreement also stipulated a generous settlement on their divorce, so she’d never have to worry, about herself or her sister again.
It was done. She hadn’t resigned yet, but it was only a matter of time before the official letter hit his inbox.
So, why did he feel so empty? He downed another mouthful of his drink, continuing the punishment he’d started an hour ago. Drowning his sorrows, yet they weren’t drowning fast enough.
‘You look like a man who’s lost something valuable. Or someone.’
Rocco Silvestri.
Leo gripped his glass so hard he thought it might crack, but that didn’t matter. The pain of broken glass might assuage his guilt.
Leo said nothing. Took another sip. The fluid burned in his gut. Or was that anger? Perhaps the night was getting hazy, as he’d wanted it to.
‘Leave now, Silvestri,’ he hissed, slamming his glass on the counter.
Rocco picked it up and sniffed. ‘Cheap booze. You might pretend to have left the streets but you never actually did.’
Leo turned on his seat and stood slowly. Maybe a little unsteadily. ‘This boy from the streets has just bested you.’
He was sure Rocco was goading him and that no one knew what he’d done. How he’d threatened people, stood over them, destroyed livelihoods that he was still trying to rectify.
Rocco snorted. ‘Bested me? You wish.’
‘I have a deal with Tessitore.’
Leo should have felt satisfied at Rocco’s frown, but it was like he was dead inside. Whereas once he might have taken pleasure in what was to come, there was no pleasure to be had any more. Numbness was all he sought.
‘You’re speaking rubbish.’
‘You wish,’ Leo echoed because he could be petty too. ‘I now have an exclusive partnership with them. As long as that exists, your furniture will never use another metre of Tessitore fabric in any design.’
‘I see you’re trying to bring them down to your level rather than elevate them.’ Rocco said with a sneer. ‘Since you seem to be making new acquisitions, maybe I’ll make some of my own.’
‘I don’t care what you acquire. You’re wasting your time.’
‘Word on the street says your EA might be looking for a new job. Or a new husband. Or both. She was wasted on you. The woman needs a real challenge.’
Never.
Over his dead body.
The rage boiled and spilled over. He moved from his chair, the legs scraping back, grabbing his nemesis by the shirt. ‘Leave her alone. If I ever hear you’ve been bothering Simone—’
‘Then what? You’ll try and destroy me? You’ve been trying in your own way for as long as you’ve been in business and yet I’m still here. It’s like you want everything I have,’ Rocco taunted. ‘And why? I’ll tell you. You’re just a pretty boy, a pretender with no substance. All envy, when the truth is, I’ve donenothingto you.’
‘Done nothing? Ask our father what was done to me. Ask him about—’ Leo’s voice broke on the thought of his mother’s name. Rocco didn’t deserve to hear it. ‘Ask him about his designs. Remind him that he’s a thief who stole them.’
‘Ourfather?’
Rocco’s eyes widened at those words, a look Leo recognised—shock. Leo released Rocco’s shirt and pushed him away. Rocco stumbled back.
