Losing the Belmont deal was a real possibility. It was becoming more and more clear the branding issue might be a deal breaker. The business pages were ripe with speculation on the potential megamerger, Ricci stock was on a roller-coaster ride, the board meeting was looming and he needed to get Erasmo Bavaro, the Bavaro scion, onside. But the Bavaro brothers weren’t offering access to their father. He had to play the situation very, very carefully and it was driving him mad.
Oh, the world wouldn’t end if the deal fell apart, he conceded, but Ricci’s stock and reputation would take a serious hit. Confidence would be shaken. And it would be his fault.
I am beginning to think your ambition has got the best of you on this one.
A nerve throbbed at his temple, his fingers tightening around the glass. Had his father been right? Had he finally overstepped himself? Gotten too confident? Cocky?
He rested his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. His culpability was a moot point at this stage. All that mattered was getting the deal done. Pulling it out of the ashes.
As for his wife? He’d never promised her perfection—had warned her this was who he was. He’d vowed to be there for her and he would. But perhaps she was right. Perhaps he’d dropped the ball on his promise to be present of late, had let their dinners together slide.
He could rectify that—take her out for dinner tomorrow night. Calm the waters at home.
IT WAS GOING to be a late night.
Angie set the almost completed, black-and-white diamond bracelet on her workbench, sat back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. Almost there wasn’t good enough when the bracelet was due to one of Manhattan’s most noted philanthropists tomorrow, a woman who could make or break her reputation. And since she had already pushed the delivery date back because of her trip to Europe, then had to wait for some stones to be delivered, it needed to get done tonight.
She headed for the coffee machine, thinking maybe java might perk her up. But she suspected what was really bothering her was the fact that although her husband had made an effort to reinstate their dinners at home whenever his schedule permitted, although he was making an effort to be physically present, he had become even more emotionally distant over the last couple of weeks.
Keeping the faith, believing in them, was growing increasingly difficult when not knowing if he’d ever love her was burning a hole in her soul. She wanted him to say those three words so badly, it was almost painful. But she knew if he ever did, and it wasn’t a given he would, it would take time.
“Do you want me to stay and work with you tonight?” Serina threw her a glance as she put on her coat.
Angie poured herself a cup of coffee. “You have a date.” She gave the diminutive blonde an amused look. “That exciting is he?”
Serina made a face. “Friends set us up.”
“Then you should definitely go. That’s how all the good matches are made.”
She wasn’t so sure how love at first sight was going to work out for her.
Picking up her coffee, she nursed the steaming cup between her hands. “I have to finish Juliette Baudelaire’s bracelet. The clasp I’d envisioned isn’t working.”
She and Serina conferred on the issue, the other designer agreeing her current design wouldn’t work. They tossed around a couple of alternatives, then Serina headed out for her date.
No sooner had Angie settled into her work than her cell phone rang—it was her husband’s name on the caller ID.
“Yes,” she purred, craving a taste of his raspy, delicious voice to ease her jagged emotions. “I thought you had to work late.”
“Marc Bavaro’s invited us to the opera tonight. I need you to come.”
No hello. No preamble. No sexy rasp. Cool, rapid-fire words thrown at her with that hint of edge he’d been wearing all week.
She bit her lip. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I have a bracelet due to an important client in the morning.”
“It’s a bracelet. Not life or death. Finish it tomorrow.”
She stiffened. “It’s due tomorrow. I’ve already put her off once because of Marc Bavaro.”
“A few hours isn’t going to make a difference. Stop being so contrary and get ready. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes to pick you up.”
The line went dead. She stared at the phone. Had he just called her contrary? Dismissed her like that?
She put down the phone. Took a couple of deep breaths. Seriously considered calling him back and telling him what he could do with his opera invitation. Except Marc Bavaro was driving him crazy. She could see it on his face when he walked in the door at night...in the dark circles under his eyes he was wearing like a badge. He was under immense pressure to close this deal and the strain was showing.
She exhaled a long breath. Even though her own work would suffer, she would not be the one to sabotage their relationship this time.
Juliette’s nearly done bracelet glittered on her desk. She supposed she could send her an email and let her know it would be done in the morning, afternoon at the latest. Surely that would be fine?
Decision made, she sent the email and gathered up her things, her animosity growing by the minute. By the time Lorenzo pulled up at the sidewalk in front of her studio, her blood was boiling.
“Ciao.” He leaned toward her to give her a kiss when she got into the car. She gave him her cheek instead. His ebony gaze narrowed. “What?”
“If you don’t know what, you don’t deserve an answer.”
He eyed her. “Is it because I called you contrary?”
She didn’t deign to respond to that.
A muttered oath. “It’s one night, Angelina.”
She turned a furious gaze on him. “I have a commission due tomorrow. How would you feel if I insisted you attend a party with me when you had a security filing the next day? I can just see you now—‘Pff, it’s just a security filing...the lawyers have this. Be right with you, honey.’”
“Now you’re being ridiculous.”
She turned to look out the window.
He gave up after that, getting them home in record time. She changed into a cap-sleeved, navy classic sheath dress, adding elegant gold sandals and jewelry to spice it up. Lorenzo looked devastatingly handsome in a dark suit, white shirt and an ice-blue tie he had clearly put on to match her dress, but she was in no mood to acknowledge it.
They met up with Marc and Penny outside the stunningly beautiful Metropolitan Opera House, with its white travertine stone facade and five massive, graceful arches that, lit up at night, made it a sight to see. It had always been one of Angie’s favorite places to go for its sheer magnificence. Her first trip there, to see a ballet as a little girl,
