Chapter 18

Linny

I reread the cryptic text message that my dad sent me an hour ago.

Dad: Be at Calvetti’s at noon. Urgent.

I didn’t notice the message until ten minutes ago since I spent the morning at Whispers of Grace with Ivy working on the upcoming promo campaign.

We were supposed to do that last night, but when she came back to her store empty-handed and in a panic about her daughter, Jacey, having a fever, she rushed back out with Jax on her heel.

I checked in with them before I went to bed and everything was fine. Jacey was fast asleep and fever free.

That’s when Ivy asked if I could swing by the store first thing this morning to finalize which images to use for the promo.

I showed up with two coffees in hand and a box of pastries.

After setting the ringer on my phone to silent, we got to work. We settled on a handful of photographs that I’ll send to our graphic designer so she can work her magic and create a series of online ads.

I’m ordering a revamp of the Whispers of Grace website too since I landed Ivy a spot on a national morning show where she’ll show off her newest designs.

As I exit the subway, I glance down at my phone’s screen again.

There’s nothing.

My dad hasn’t responded to my text. I asked him why he arranged the sudden lunch date at his favorite Italian restaurant.

The last time this happened, he asked me to meet him so he could tell me that he was planning on proposing to Diane.

He wanted my blessing. I tearfully gave it to him without question, thrilled that he’d found love again.

My parents divorced when I was ten years old, but they made the transition as easy as they could for my sister and me. If they ever argued it wasn’t within earshot of Bethy or me.

They wanted the best for each other. My dad found that in Diane. My mom is still searching. Her quest landed her in Bora Bora six months ago and in the arms of a man a decade younger than her who is teaching her everything he knows about scuba diving and love.

She’s happy. I can’t ask for more than that.

I round the corner and spot the familiar red and white checkered awning of Calvetti’s halfway down the block.

I’m not dressed for racing around Manhattan.

I put on a simple black sheath dress this morning and paired that with red stilettos. Since I only got twenty minutes of sleep last night, I didn’t attempt to shove my contact lenses into my bloodshot eyes.

I’m wearing the same eyeglasses I was yesterday and my hair is loose and wavy. I should have grabbed the blow dryer and straightener after my shower this morning, but I spent too much time online researching everything I could find out about Jeremy Weston.

I didn’t make it past the images.

Thinking about him kept me up most of the night, and seeing dozens of pictures of him at different galas and benefits made me ache to be back in that hotel room with him.

Jeremy Weston in a tuxedo is better than I imagined.

I yank open the door to Calvetti’s and freeze.

Jeremy Weston in a dark blue suit with a white dress shirt and light blue tie isn’t half bad either.

Now I know exactly why my dad wanted me to meet him here. He’s sitting at a table with West and Trent.

The second West spots me he’s on his feet and approaching me from across the restaurant. As he nears where I’m standing, a smile touches his full lips.

Why does he have to be so handsome?

“Angel,” he whispers roughly. “You look beautiful today.”

My heart pounds fiercely in my chest. I can’t do this. I can’t give in to the temptation to acknowledge what we both already know. We fucked two months ago and I’ve spent hours since then thinking about every detail of that night.

“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Weston.” My voice is strained.

The corner of his mouth lifts into a smile. “What happened in Vegas isn’t going to stay there.”

“Vegas?” I squeak the word out.

“Vegas? What about Las Vegas?”

We both turn at the sound of Mitchell’s voice. He’s standing in the entrance of the restaurant with his hand still curled around the doorknob.

“What are you two talking about?” He moves closer, the door shutting behind him. “Tell me what I’m missing here.”

I close my eyes because the relentless hammering of my heart inside my chest is deafening. I need to get a grip.

“One of the ideas I’ve been batting around with Trent is a launch party on the strip.”

My eyes pop open at West’s words.

“That’s brilliant.” Mitchell moves to stand next to me. “Why didn’t I think of that? It’s the perfect way to launch the vanilla vodka.”

It’s also the perfect way to launch any new tequila brand, or bourbon, or beer, which is why it’s the go-to marketing move for so many companies.

It works, but it’s not for Rizon.

“I think we should have a launch party here in Manhattan. There’s a beautiful rooftop terrace on the Bishop Hotel in Tribeca. We could do it at dusk, and make it a black tie affair.”

I’m mildly impressed with myself for coming up with that in a split second.

Mitchell shakes his head. “I don’t like it. My vote is for Vegas.”

West turns his attention back to me, his gaze scanning my face. “My vote is for Manhattan. I don’t need to get on an airplane to get what I want.”

His words hold more meaning than Mitchell can comprehend. Maybe more than I can.

West wants me.

His desire is there in his eyes and woven into everything he says to me.

He has no idea that I’m trying to win the fight of my life against Mitchell, and I can’t risk losing that, not even for him.