His jaw tightened. “Yet here you are again.”
Her mouth went dry. “You know this is different.”
“How do I know anything? You’ve been lying to me all along.”
“I have not been lying to you.”
“That’s right. You are an expert at the sin of omission.” He spun away and paced to the other side of the cellar, his broad shoulders ramrod straight. “Is there anything else you haven’t told me? Criminal records? Affairs with high-ranking politicians?”
Her breath caught in her throat. “You did not just say that.”
Silence stretched, chilling in its stillness. His voice, when it came, was dangerously quiet. “We were supposed to be a team, Lex. I trusted you with my livelihood. With the most important moment of my career.”
“You did,” she agreed fiercely. “And I’ve given you everything. Everything. I haven’t slept in a month to make this night a success for you.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t keep you instead.” He turned around, his rich voice so devoid of emotion, the look on his face so shuttered, she knew right then and there they were done. “You’re far more beautiful than his wife.”
Her heart splintered into a million pieces. “I didn’t want him. Dammit, Gabe, I was just as much the injured party as Jordan’s wife. I was in love with him. I thought I had a future with him. When I found out he’d lied, I hated him for it. I had been living a lie.”
His gaze hardened. “Blame isn’t the issue here. The issue is you didn’t tell me.”
She nodded. “I should have. I absolutely should have. But please don’t judge me based on emotion. Think about what you’re doing.”
He walked back to her, staring down at her, proud and fierce, everything she’d ever wanted. “I wanted to be there for you, Lex. I wanted to be the one to make you believe. I wanted to make myself believe that what we had was the real thing. But you were never going to let me in, were you?”
“I was,” she whispered. “I was letting you in.”
“Too little, too late,” he gritted. “My appetite for taking on your issues has passed.”
“Gabe—”
He held up a hand. “I need to get back upstairs.”
She could have called him back. Could have tried to say more to make him understand. But the look on his face stopped her—the finality of it. The judgment. Whatever she said, it wasn’t going to be enough.
The party was still in full swing when she went upstairs, the lights and loud voices stinging her senses. She put on the mask she wore so well when it was time to survive—to just get through it. She’d done it so many times it felt like putting herself on automatic pilot.
Lilly looked exhausted, so she sent her and Riccardo home. It was just about time to do the big reveal, so she prepped the staff and went in search of the fireworks crew. Then she found Gabe, refused to let his icy demeanor tear her apart and coordinated the toast on the outdoor patio.
Fireworks shot up into the air. In Napa, they had been a brilliant cascade of light against a black country sky. Tonight they were muted, overwhelmed by the lights of Manhattan. Just one more addition to a landscape already overloaded with flash. The excitement in the air grew. The reception for the wines seemed universally positive. It made her skin hurt to hear it. She left Gabe in a throng of people waiting to congratulate him and went inside, a good proportion of the crowd still indoors. She noticed the commotion near the bar immediately.
Emily appeared by her side. “They are going at it.”
“Who?”
“Davina and David.”
Great. It had taken them longer than she’d thought. Setting her jaw, she elbowed through the crowd and took stock of the situation. David looked drunk and furious. Davina, triumphant. Matty, as she’d suspected, was in the thick of it.
“What is wrong with you,” she hissed, taking him by the sleeve. He gave her an innocent Matty broad-shouldered shrug.
She pointed to the patio. “Go. Whatever this is, it is not your night to take Davina to bed.”
The youngest De Campo unfolded himself from the bar, gave Davina one last look and left. Alex leaned down and gave David her most reasonable smile. “Might not want the paparazzi snapping you like this, my friend. How about we get your car?”
David started to issue a drunken protest. The look on her face must have stopped him. Not tonight. She dumped him in his car, minus his girlfriend. Gabe left with Matty an hour later. Minus her.
She told herself that was not her heart breaking. That that wasn’t her future walking out the door. Sure, she had made a massive mistake not telling Gabe about Jordan. But she’d made a bigger one fooling herself that this one might be different.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“UM, ALEX? YOU’VE been pacing for a half hour.”
Emily flashed her a tentative smile from the doorway of her office. “Anything I can do?”
Alex stopped in front of her desk and gestured toward the coffee cup on it. “Could you tell the street vendor his coffee sucks?”
Her junior executive gave her an uncertain look. “You want me to get you another?”
A guilty flash went through her along with an extended growl from her stomach. Someday God was going to punish her for her smart mouth. “Sugar,” she muttered. “I need sugar. Whatever empty-calorie carb you can find that will put me in a diabetic haze, I’m there.”
“Got it.” Emily wisely backed out while the going was good. Alex eased her hip onto her desk and breathed. Big, full breaths like Lilly’s yoga instructor had counseled, only that wasn’t helping either. Nothing was helping. She was apparently going through the five stages of grief her disturbingly sensible, designer shoe-loving therapist had counseled her about. Stage one—denial—she had a firm grasp on that, it seemed. She’d knocked off two of the three new business proposals this week, sent them off and begun a punishing army-boot-camp regime at six every weekday morning where the instructor did an excellent impression of the sadistic drill sergeants from the movies. And now she couldn’t move. Even better.
Oh, and let’s not forget the unrehearsed conversation with her father this morning to give him an earful about her childhood. Needless to say, that hadn’t gone overly well. Perhaps par for the course when it had started, “Why weren’t you ever there for me?” and ended with her father’s bewildered acknowledgement that yes, he shouldn’t have left her in jail overnight.
The only thing that would help, it seemed, was a bone-meltingly good kiss from a sexy Italian who knew his way around a woman. That was, if she could get over stage two of the grieving process—the anger part—which seemed to be burning her up faster than an oxygen-aided fire in a decrepit old building.
She braced her hand on the desk and took another of those big breaths before she had a coronary. Had what they’d shared meant nothing?
It wasn’t fair. She picked up her stress ball and threw it across the room. The way Gabe had totally dismissed all the progress she’d made. How much she had trusted him. The fact she’d told him things she’d never told anyone else. Because of one bad decision he’d written her off? It had been a big one, she conceded. But you didn’t just jump on a bike and fly down a hill, did you? You put the training wheels on and hoped for the best.
Clearly, it had not been enough. The De Campo–branded envelope sitting on her desk with the massive check in it said that loud and clear. Full payment for the events had arrived this morning, early and unexpected, even though she hadn’t had a chance to round up all the supplier invoices and costs yet. But it had been more than enough. As if Gabe had wanted to sever all ties.
Evidently, that kiss wasn’t coming any time soon. As in ever.
She stood up and shoved the check in a drawer so she wouldn’t have to see it. But her throat and chest still ached as if it was staring her in the face. She missed him. She missed his damn espressos and she missed having his arms around her making her feel as though no matter what happened, she had an anchor. Someone who was willing to take a chance on her. Someone who made this whole crazy world make sense.
But it wasn’t going to happen. She got up with a jerky movement and walked to the windows, staring down at the hundreds of worker bees scurrying back and forth to their offices on the bright summer day. There had been radio silence from Gabe. Not a phone call, not an email. If he’d walked into her office and announced in that smooth, rich tone of his they were over, he couldn’t have done it more effectively.
When Jordan had sent her the flowers with the “we’re done” note after six months together, she hadn’t eaten for a week. This time, with Gabe, she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to eat again. At the risk of using a corny phrase she’d said she never would, there wasn’t a question in her mind that he was the love of her life.
She had broken every rule for him. She would have broken more if he’d let her.
And still it hadn’t been enough.
So now she had to move on. Mop herself up with big-girl acceptance and let go of the past. Step five. And frankly, she couldn’t stand here doing nothing anymore. It was making her crazy.