I shower and change into a suit ahead of the investment dinner. I’m in the closet when she answers my text.
Paige
What color would you like for a new Rolls-Royce?
Never mind, I’ll just go with my gut.
I scoff and throw my phone back on the chair in thecorner. There are no Rolls-Royce dealers in Milan. She’s reaching, but she’s good at what she does.
A fucking penis enlargement treatment. It would be funny if it wasn’t her.
I turn to the mirror and start doing up my shirt. With each button, the scar along my torso disappears. It’s faded over the years, but it’ll never go away. I don’t deserve for it to.
By the time dinner starts, Paige still hasn’t returned.
I’m not surprised. Being late is her MO by this point. But if she thinks she’s alone in playing this game, she’s dead wrong. I’ll discover what bothers her soon enough. Darling, for starters.
The guests start arriving, dropped off in black cars or parking their own on the courtyard. Tonight’s dinner is the start of the summer season in Como. Most of the top executives at Maison Valmont will be slowing down the pace of work, preparing for the fall season. Most, if not all, will come here to report to me at some point during the summer.
Many of the designers from Milan will swing by here too, and several of the French ones will fly in. It’s a good tradition.
Every single guest congratulates me on my marriage.
More than one has a hint of speculation in their gaze, heavy with questions they won’t ask. We’re already seated for dinner on the terrace when Antonella taps me gently on the shoulder.
“È tornata,”she murmurs in Italian.
Paige is back.
I excuse myself and head into the house to meet her. She comes walking in through the front door, wearing a tiny slip dress and an oversized blazer despite the heat. A pair of sunglasses are pushed up in her blonde hair.
There are at least ten bags from various luxury brands in her hands.
Colors and brands I recognize.
“Hello, husband.” Paige drops the bags on the marble floor. “Have you missed me?”
I shove my hands into my pockets. “Did you have fun?”
“A great deal. Thanks.” She pulls the card out of the pocket of her blazer. Her veryfamiliarblazer. “You were right. No limit.”
“I told you.”
“Did I make it hurt? Just a little?”
“Do you think I’d admit it if you did?”
She takes a step closer. “No, of course not. Forgive me. Here I thought I was playing with an amateur.”
“Were you photographed?”
“Yes. And I had lunch with Leelyn, out in public,” she says.
That makes my lips tighten. I didn’t know they’d become such fast friends after meeting only last night, but I’m not about to admit what a smart move that was.
“I did my duty to the cause,” she says sweetly. “And I bought a little something just for you.”
I look her over. The sleeves of her blazer are folded up, and despite her height, it’s obviously too big on her. “That’s my jacket.”
