Chapter 3 #2
Sweet, warm air greets me as I slip out of the car and take the short walk into the belly of the beast. My shoes clip along smooth, polished slabs of stone.
A receptionist’s desk sits to the right, a prim young woman in a tight black skirt suit sitting behind it like it’s her sworn duty to watch over every inch of this place.
She cocks her head, giving me a pointed look as I approach with my shoulders thrown back and my chin held high.
“The tour offices are on the other side of the building,” she tells me, eyeing my outfit.
“Actually, I’m here to see Dante Bellanti. Where might I find him?”
The woman tilts her head the other way. Up close, I realize how pretty she is, and how much younger than her heavy makeup and outfit first suggested. “Is he expecting you?”
“Yes. Well, not exactly. But…maybe if you let him know I’m here, he’ll take a moment to see me.”
She smiles tightly. “And you are?”
It’s my turn to cock my head. I’m already tired of being judged. “His fiancée.”
I’ve never seen such a perfect pair of stamped-on eyebrows arch so quickly. “I see. Please take a seat, and I’ll let him know you’re here.”
A trio of plush leather chairs are artfully arranged around a free-standing electric fireplace on the wall behind me.
I sit closest to the windows where I can see the activity outside.
The sun streams in, golden rays offering warmth that would be comforting were the circumstances different.
Instead I find myself sitting stiff, tight.
It’s the only way I can keep my nerves under control.
My shoulders start to ache a few minutes later, but I don’t dare let my guard down. People in business attire come and go, their interactions fast and efficient. Someone mentions Dante. She gives a quick nod and flicks a gaze at me, but looks away when I return the look.
Forty-five minutes later, I’m no longer nervous. I’m fuming.
The deep timbre of a male voice sounds from down the hallway past the receptionist’s desk, followed by a different voice that calls out, “Sure thing. Thanks a lot, Dante.”
I let out a breath. Dante’s here. And he’s kept me waiting almost an hour. Either he was on the world’s longest phone call, or he just didn’t care enough to see me. Enough.
I stand, smooth my dress, and plaster on a smile as I go back to the desk. Channeling Livvie, I muster up as much disarming sweetness as I can when I say, “Excuse me. I hate to be a bother, but is there a restroom? I didn’t realize I’d be waiting so long.”
The receptionist pauses, giving me a blasé look. I actually think she might deny me. I bat my eyelashes and widen my smile.
“Of course. It’s that way. Back and to the left.” She points down the hall.
“Thank you so much.”
I wonder how far I can get before she can no longer see me.
The hall splits into two corridors, the restroom on the left.
Breezing past it, I continue along, discreetly reading the name plate beside each door until I finally reach an ornate carved door at the very end of the hall.
It’s unmarked, but it practically screams “In here.”
A thread of the same deep voice I heard before filters through the door. Bingo.
I toss back my hair, take a breath, and turn the brass handle.
The door swings open wide, and the conversation halts.
Barging in, my breath catches in my throat as I get my first look at the man standing behind the desk.
My fiancé’s head swivels toward me, dark eyes immediately sizing me up as if evaluating a potential threat—which, let’s face it, is probably exactly what he’s doing.
His chiseled face is strikingly handsome, something I wasn’t expecting.
The angry words I’d been ready to toss at him stick in my throat.
It’s then that I notice an attractive redhead sitting behind the desk.
She’s leaning over a tablet with a stylus in her hand, showing off some deep cleavage.
Dante’s hand is on her arm, fingers splayed over her tanned flesh as if he’d been stroking her while she was taking notes.
Frozen in place, my eyes shift between Dante and this…woman. I’m struck by both how undeniably hot he is and how infuriated I am that he’s flirting with someone else while he’s engaged to me.
He comes around the desk, revealing an impressive body. “What is this?” His tone and body language tell me he’s clearly annoyed at being interrupted.
Clearing my throat, I say, “I’m Frankie. Abbott. I just wanted to introduce myself—”
“Talk to Jessica,” Dante interrupts. Then he rudely brushes past me and out the door, as if I’m completely insignificant.
Just like that, he’s gone, leaving me with the redheaded woman.
“I…I just wanted to meet him,” I say softly.
Jessica crosses her arms. “Mr. Bellanti is a busy man. He hates being interrupted at work, and you shouldn’t be showing up here unexpectedly.”
Charlie’s words about staying out of her husband’s business echo in my mind.
Standing, smoothing down the front of her tight red dress, the woman goes on, “Look, why don’t you go home and take the next few hours to get ready for your scheduled dinner tonight?
Maybe change into something a little more…
current.” She makes a circular gesture around my body, smirking.
“Mr. Bellanti prefers his women in clothes from this century.”
I dislike her. Like, a lot. I also have no retort.
As I watch her stroke her hand down the same arm that Dante had been touching, I suddenly know with a fierce certainty that she and my fiancé are fucking.
She walks over to me, and damn near pushes me toward the door.
“I’m leaving,” I say.
“Good.” Gripping my elbow, she guides me over the threshold. “Goodbye, now.”
With that, she closes the door in my face, solidifying my suspicion that she’s sleeping with Dante.
For some reason, that makes me angrier than anything.