a bitter taste in his mouth. One of his favorite clients, Julio Mario Domínguez, had publicly humiliated Romeo’s staff at a business conference in Venice, and his repeated attempts to contact the billionaire businessman had been unsuccessful. The Colombian native was one of his wealthiest and most influential clients, and even though Romeo wanted to keep the entrepreneur happy, he had to stick up for his staff.
“Trust me. I know what I’m doing. It’s the only answer. If you don’t give her a cash settlement, she’ll crucify you and your family in the media.”
“A cash settlement? For what? Being mean and vindictive? No way. It’s not going to happen.” It was only seven o’clock in the morning, but his day was going from bad to worse. Talking to Giuseppe, a jovial character with a boisterous laugh, usually put Romeo in a good mood. Not today. His publicist wanted him to go on TV and dish the dirt about his family, and if that wasn’t bad enough, he wanted him to pay Lizabeth off. Hell. To. The. No.
The light turned green, and Romeo stepped on the gas pedal, speeding down the street as if he were on a racetrack. He couldn’t believe this was happening—again. Not after everything he’d done for Lizabeth over the years. During their tumultuous, drama-filled relationship, he’d showered her with designer clothes, Cartier jewelry, luxury cars and world-class trips, and how did she replay him? By dragging his name through the mud. Through friends, he’d learned of her bitter quest for revenge, and if Romeo didn’t respect her ailing father he’d sue her. “I’ve given Lizabeth enough money to last a lifetime. I’m not giving her another dime.”
An awkward silence infected the phone line. Romeo knew Giuseppe was upset, but he had to do what was right for him, not his publicist. A clean, refreshing scent wafted through the open window, and Romeo took a deep breath. The sun was shining, and the sky was a radiant shade of blue, but the balmy November temperature wasn’t enough to brighten his mood. He was so angry about Lizabeth’s interview his entire body was tense, and he decided a midday workout was in order. At lunch, instead of going to his favorite restaurant with his executive team, he’d use the speed bag in the office gym. Then he’d have a Cuban cigar. He hadn’t smoked since he was discharged from the hospital last year, but he was having the day from hell, and a stogie was the perfect antidote for his stress.
“You’re the boss,” Giuseppe said. “Like you always say, there’s no such thing as bad press. We’ll find a way to spin the story to your advantage, and you’ll come out on top.”
I was wrong. There is such a thing as bad press, Romeo thought with a heavy heart. This was a nightmare. He’d never been more humiliated in his life, and he hated the cruel, spiteful things his ex-fiancée had said about the people he loved most. Thinking about the lies Lizabeth had told the magazine about him, Romeo decided to call Markos later for legal advice.
A smile curled the corners of his lips. Two weeks ago, he’d traveled to Los Angeles to be the best man at his brother’s wedding. It still blew his mind that Markos had tied the knot. Years ago, Markos was a workaholic, determined to be the most successful attorney in the state of California, but program director for a non-profit organization, Tatiyana Washington had captured his heart, and now they were husband and wife.
Giuseppe yapped on and on about creative and innovative ways to increase Romeo’s online presence, but Romeo’s mind wandered. A year ago, the buzz about his company had reached an all-time high. Thanks to his team, his carefully cultivated image had not only added to his insane popularity in Italy, it attracted women like a sale sign in a boutique window. In the hopes of meeting him, socialites and heiresses had flocked to his office in droves, and once there, he had convinced them to invest with his company. A favorite of gossip bloggers, there was a time when Romeo enjoyed the spotlight. The more brazen he was, the more the public seemed to love him, especially the opposite sex.
Slowing down to allow a jaywalker to cross the street, he reflected on the highs and lows of his life in Milan. He’d done it all—partied too hard, drunk too much and spent money recklessly—but after his hospital stay he’d turned over a new leaf. Quit drinking, smoking cigars and eating like a college frat boy. At thirty-two, hooking up with a different woman every night of the week had lost its appeal, and although he had a life most men would kill for, Romeo felt empty inside, lonely now that his closest friends had wives and children. One by one, his brothers and cousins had found love, and they were all ridiculously happy. Romeo wondered if he was missing out on something. Everyone around him was moving forward, and he was stuck in neutral. For months, he’d been playing it safe, doing everything right and following his doctor’s orders, but Christmas was right around the corner and he wanted to enjoy the holidays without stressing out about his health. Or his bitter ex-fiancée.
“Handle it, Giuseppe. I don’t want this story hanging over my head during the holidays. Make it go away, now.”
“Nessun problema. Leave everything to me. I know just what to do.”
“You better,” he said in a stern voice. “Or you’re fired.”
Giuseppe chuckled. “You wouldn’t survive a day without me, and you know it.”
A grin overwhelmed his mouth. It was true. Giuseppe wasn’t just his publicist, he was also a confidante and a trusted friend. If not for Giuseppe, Romeo wouldn’t be alive. “Are you on your way to the office or are you having breakfast with Bellisa again?”
“Bellisa is my breakfast,” he said with a throaty laugh. “I’ll give you a ring in the afternoon, but promise me you’ll give some thought to what I said about Lizabeth.”
“There’s nothing to think about.” Switching lanes, Romeo punched the gas. “I’m not giving her a damn thing.”
“A million euros is chump change to you.”
“Dammit, Giuseppe, it’s not about the money.”
Making a right turn, Romeo heard something hit the passenger-side door and slammed on the brakes. Frowning, he peered in the rearview mirror. His heart stopped. His cell phone fell from his hands and dropped to his feet. Fearing the worst, Romeo took off his seat belt, threw open his car door and ran around the trunk.
Romeo surveyed the scene. A purple mountain bike lay in a tangled heap on the road along with the contents of a handbag. A woman of Caribbean descent with caramel-brown skin, delicate facial features and waist-length black braids sat on the sidewalk, shaking uncontrollably. Filled with concern, he moved toward her, speaking in a quiet tone of voice.
“Miss, are you okay? Are you hurt?”
Romeo tried to help her to her feet, but she pushed his hands away. Standing, she straightened her short sleeveless dress and brushed the dirt off the hem. Watching her every move, he admired everything about her—her almond-shaped eyes, the beauty mark above her lips, the diamond hoop earrings that grazed her shoulders and her womanly physique. He guessed she was in her early twenties, around the same age as his kid sister, Francesca, and suspected she was an exchange student.
Glaring at him, it was obvious she was pissed, and Romeo didn’t blame her. He should have been paying attention to the road instead of arguing with Giuseppe about his ex. He’d messed up, and now because of his mistake the cyclist was staring at him with tears in her eyes.
Romeo swallowed hard. Feeling like a specimen under a microspore, his throat dried, and sweat drenched his suit jacket. If looks could kill, he’d be dead, and the coroner would be notifying his next of kin. For the first time in Romeo’s life he was tongue-tied, in such a state of shock he couldn’t speak. And not just because he’d accidentally struck a cyclist with his car; he was transfixed by the woman’s natural beauty. There weren’t
