Whatever awaited her beyond the bend was small stuff in comparison.
Viv had been in the particular greenroom twice before. It had glass walls, which—she realized as she turned the corner—would reveal just who her subject was before they were face-to-face.
The inner plea picked up once more. Please don’t be Duke Benton. Why she was entertaining Mom’s suggestion, Viv couldn’t be sure. Probably because he was exactly the type of guy people wanted to get their hands on—a sexy billionaire bachelor to put on their cover. One with a bad boy edge and a scandal at his heels.
Her eyes searched over the scene within the room as she approached it. There stood Riley Shay, editor-in-chief, perfectly poised in a pencil skirt and heels at the head of the table.
She recognized Rico Shimwah, the famous designer who’d spotlighted his spring line on live TV just last week. But the man sitting across from Rico—tall, thin, and visibly restless with a bouncing leg and fidgeting fingers—Viv didn’t recognize him.
She tried not to get discouraged; a lot of important people were known for what they’d done, not what they looked like. Perhaps the guy was CEO of the nation’s fastest rising company. Maybe he’d just blown millions somehow, put thousands out of a job with his reckless behavior, and needed to man-up and publicly take the blame.
The man’s eyes followed her as she approached the double doors, gripped the rose gold handle to pull it open, and stepped inside.
Or perhaps he was looking at something else, she realized as his gaze seemed to follow a different route. She glanced over her shoulder and came up empty.
“Thank you for joining us, Vivia.” Riley Shay motioned to the seat beside Rico. “We’ve got our lady of the hour here. We’re just waiting for the man of the hour to join us next. He had to step out for a moment.”
Wait, skinny guy wasn’t him? Viv’s eyes shot to the guy across from her in question.
“Oh, forgive me. You’ve met Rico, I know…” Ms. Shay said.
“Good afternoon, Veritå,” Rico said with a grin.
Viv returned the smile, hoping it looked more natural than it felt with as preoccupied as she was. “And to you.”
“And this is public relations specialist, Perry Cline.”
The guy did a half stand and extended his arm across the table. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m a big fan of your work.”
Viv shook his hand. “Thank you.”
“We’re all big fans of your work, Veritå, and we feel honored that you’ll be joining us in this highly anticipated feature.”
“Happy to be part of it,” she assured.
“My client may be…adventuresome,” Mr. Cline allowed as he settled back into his seat. “But I think you’ll find that much of his bad boy reputation is more implied than it is earned.”
Oh, no. Please don’t’ say it. Please don’t be Duke Benton. Please don’t—
“Sorry I’m late,” came a deep and far too familiar voice.
The view of him in her periphery sent a rush of goosebumps scurrying up her arms. Their past had haunted her enough that he was like a ghost to her. A living, breathing one who had just stepped into the very same room.
Viv ducked her chin as the shock had its way with her, determined not to meet eyes with him just yet.
He surprised her by heading over to not Mr. Cline’s side, but hers. The man shook Rico’s hand first.
“Always a pleasure to work with your family,” Rico said.
“And you must be Veritå,” the deep voice crooned.
The massive heart-pounds got even louder in her head. Viv gulped, nodded slightly, and forced her shoulders to rise. Her chin followed the upward motion and, at last, her gaze did the same.
An impressive three-piece suit, an even more impressive stature beneath it, and the very face that had haunted her all that time.
“Hi, Duke.” Those two words hadn’t fallen from her lips in years. Goosebumps rushed over her skin once more, but it wasn’t enough to stop an ache from settling deep into her heart.
Those eyes—dark blue and piercing—widened at the sight of her. “Vivi?”
Chapter 4
Duke couldn’t recall a time he’d lost ability to speak, but as he took in the beautiful woman before him, flushed cheeks and guarded eyes, all he could think was…was wow. His pulse spiked into a new pace.
“You two know each other?” stammered a voice from behind.
Vivi Tripoli tore her gaze from Duke and tilted her head to see past him. “Yes, and I’m afraid that fact might alter my decision about taking the job.”
What? No.
“Oh, I certainly hope not,” the editor-in-chief said.
Perry cleared his throat from his place across the table. Duke glanced over, and Perry jutted his chin toward the empty seat beside him.
It took him a moment to interpret the cue, but once he did, Duke straightened his posture and rounded the table, his eyes fixed directly on the seat he moved toward. Vivi Tripoli was there in the same room with him. The very woman he’d been thinking of moments ago, thanks to Grandma and her talk of the Starry Night Prom.
He only hoped to hide how very flustered he was.
Pulse racing.
Blood heating.
Palms breaking into a sweat.
Vivi waited for Duke to take a seat before continuing, her gaze fixed decidedly away from him and on Ms. Shay.
“I work with a firm policy in mind—discover the truth and deliver it without bias.” Her eyes hardened as she darted a glare in his direction. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to stick with that unbiased approach with Mr. Benton as he and I have a past that long ago influenced my opinion about his character.”
The words stung and outraged him all at once. “It’s been ten years, Vivi. Don’t you think I’ve changed since then?”
Perry rested his hand on the table space in front of Duke. “What he’s trying to say is that over the last ten years—specifically the last twenty-four months—Duke has transformed. Sadly, his public image hasn’t reflected that. Yet. That’s where you come in.”
Duke watched Vivi’s face as she listened to Perry. Jaw clenched, lips tight, and eyes filled with something that looked a lot like pain. A pain that echoed deep in his chest.
“We know you’re honest,” Perry continued. “We’re counting on that. I’m not aware of what your past with my client entails, but I’m confident you’ll discover a very changed man from the one you knew back then.”
“Will you excuse me?” Vivi shot to her feet suddenly. Halfway to the door she seemed to remember herself, correcting her posture until her shoulders were high and her steps paced.
What she hadn’t curbed was the flushed appearance of her cheeks or the fists she clenched at either side as she walked out of the room.
Duke stifled a curse. He wanted nothing more than to watch her every move as she strode down the hall, but a protective part of him sensed she didn’t want to be watched.
He looked down at the table instead, a fresh ache tearing through him as he considered the way he and Viv broke up. The hurt he’d caused. The stupid stupid stupid choice he’d made that ruined everything. And ironically, the part Sylvia Sampson—the very woman Grandma mentioned—had played in the whole thing.