She did the same with Dante. “I better get going.” She tossed an arm around her mom and gave her a squeeze. “Thanks again for helping with the boys.”
“It’s my absolute pleasure,” Mom cooed. And well Viv knew it. Thank heavens the twins had such loving, involved grandparents. Viv couldn’t imagine playing the role of single mother without them.
Mom followed her through the dining room and toward the front door. “So, are you going to meet him today? The guy you’re interviewing?”
Her mom was a real fan girl of several of Hollywood’s finest. Already, Viv had interviewed one of her favorites, which said something considering Viv’s unique specialty. She only interviewed high-profile people whose reputation had been soiled in some way. Those needing redemption.
“I bet it’s one of three people,” Mom said. “Thomas Findsley from all of those soap operas.”
Yep, that one made sense after word of his recent affairs hit the news.
“The gold medalist who got caught fraternizing with one of the judges…what’s her name.”
“Leighona Stone?”
“That’s it.”
“So who’s the third one?” Viv looped the strap of her purse over her shoulder before second-guessing herself. She creaked open the custom bench seat where she stashed some of her extra handbags.
“I really do love this home, Vivia,” her mother said. “I mean, you’re going to have a hard time parting with it when the time comes.”
Viv nodded, feeling the truth of it in her gut. “I know. But I’ve got a lot of money tied up in it. Plus, I want to keep renovating other homes in the valley, you know? Up the value in this area.”
Her mom sighed. “I know. I love that about you.” Her eyes widened suddenly. “I can’t wait to hear who your interview’s with.”
Viv smiled. “I’ll call you as soon as my meeting’s over. Bye, guys.” She gave the twins a final wave.
A waft of warmth greeted her on the sunlit porch. Her shadow stretched over the pavement as she hurried down the porch steps toward her car.
“I didn’t tell you who I think the third one could be,” Mom called.
Viv pointed her remote at her Mustang until it let out a beep. “Who is it?” When the reply didn’t come right away, Viv glanced over her shoulder.
Hesitation played over Mom’s face. Pinched lips and that heavy tilt of her head. “I don’t know if I should say.”
Viv scrunched her forehead. “Why?”
“Because it’s…well, due to that whole scandal with the live TV wedding and all, it just seems like Duke Benton is probably seeking redemption about now.”
Viv felt the blood drain from her face and rush like lava to her heart. “Oh.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I know how you feel about him.”
“No,” Viv assured as she climbed behind the steering wheel. “It’s fine. And let’s just hope that it’s not him.” She closed the door and gripped onto the wheel with both hands. Viv released two heavy sighs before sliding the key into the ignition.
The muffled sound of Mom’s voice carried beyond the windows. With the press of a button, Viv slid the passenger side down. “Yeah?”
“What would you do if it was?” she called.
A knot of anger dug into the center of Viv’s chest as she considered that. “A shot at redemption? From me, of all people?” A cold laugh slipped from her lips. “That’s not going to happen.”
Now Mom was racing down the steps, holding a hand to her chest as she went. “Vivia Maria Tripoli,” she started. “You can’t go by the name Veritå and give someone a biased report. That’s not how we raised you.”
But Viv only grinned. “I know that. If it ends up being Duke, then I’ll reject the job altogether.” With that, Viv turned to look over her shoulder and backed onto the street. She forced herself to breathe out through pursed lips, slowly against the wild thumping in her chest.
The sidewalks of the neighborhood might be quiet and calm, but the sudden spike in Viv’s heart—the frantic voices in her mind—were anything but. She shook her head. Please don’t let it be Duke Benton.
Chapter 2
Duke adjusted his tie, smoothed a hand down the front of his suit coat, and stared out the window of Slipper Magazine’s office suite.
It was a different perspective from that outside his office, but it looked close to the same. Sunny skies, busy sidewalks with manicured hedges, and tall, swaying palms.
LA was beautiful no matter how he looked at it. Even if the city had turned against him.
“Would you stop pacing?” Perry asked from his seat at the oblong table.
Duke slipped his hand into his pocket and thumbed the small, smooth stone within. Some called it a worry stone, but Duke liked what his father called it best—a calming stone. “I’m not pacing,” he said, eyes stuck on the view. “Do you really think a magazine interview is the answer? Why not just take one of the TV interviews?” They had some big names asking to interview him, after all.
“If you’re going to make me repeat myself,” his public rep said, “then I’ll say it again.”
A playback of the exhaustive conversation shot to Duke’s mind. “No, don’t. I remember.” He’d heard enough about how the station would likely take ten or fifteen minutes tops, stretch it into an hour-long segment, and play misleading, out-of-context tidbits to lure viewers into watching. In the end, the program could paint him with whatever persona they’d like to portray.
Duke’s phone buzzed from his other pocket. He was quick to retrieve it and give the screen a glance; he had some important deals to close that afternoon. But the message wasn’t from the office.
Grandma Lo: Guess who Stanford’s Alumni Gala is featuring for their scholarship fundraiser this year?
Duke: Who?
Grandma Lo: Your father.
A smile crossed his lips. A spot of warmth stirred in his chest. Dad. If only he and Grandpa were there to enjoy the tribute. It’d been seven years since the private plane crash that took them both. An ache settled into his chest as he pictured the two men, accompanied by his brother, Winston, watching from their place in the heavens.
Duke tapped out a text in return: That’s awesome!
Grandma Lo: And they’d like you and Sylvia Sampson to announce the award together on a live feed. She’s back in town, you know. And her engagement just fell through.
Oh, great. Duke knew where Grandma was taking this and he wasn’t interested.
Another text popped in. It’d be great if the two of you went together. She mentioned that you took her to the Starry Night Prom at Stanford ten years ago.
No, it wouldn’t be great. That prom marked one of the dumbest decisions Duke had ever made, losing him a woman he still hadn’t gotten over.
Duke shook his head. For all he knew, his grandma had been the one to arrange for him and Sylvia to introduce as a duo. The Sampsons had a big name, after all. She was probably trying to help him repair the damage done to the Benton family’s image. An image he’d tarnished with the whole marriage swap thing.