Awkward tension pressed at him from every angle of the room. Even as he kept his gaze on the table, Duke sensed the questioning looks darting across the room.
“You heard her,” he said. “She doesn’t want to do it. Let’s go.”
“I don’t think she’s made a final decision,” said Ms. Shay. “Why don’t we give her a day to consider? Let’s draw up the details of the interview, and we can find a replacement if necessary. My daughter Daisy would be a great alternative, but I won’t contact her just yet. How about we see what Vivia decides first and I’ll get in touch with you tomorrow?”
Duke glanced at Perry in time to catch his pleading, puppy dog look.
He didn’t have it in him to argue. Especially since doing the interview would earn him some time with Vivi. Time he desperately wanted.
But she wouldn’t agree to it, would she? He’d probably be the one person she turned down in her whole career. He couldn’t exactly wait around to be rejected in front of the group.
“Duke?” Perry urged.
“Fine,” he said, scooting his chair back and coming to a stand. “You go ahead and work out the details, send them to me once it’s time to sign. I’ve, uh…got to get going.”
He gave the fashion designer a polite nod, then did the same with Ms. Shay as he moved toward the door. Duke wasn’t sure where he was headed. He didn’t want to go home, but he didn’t feel like company.
Sure, he had time to swing by the country club and hit a bucket of balls, but even that didn’t appeal to him. May as well head back to the office instead and check off the list of details he had waiting for him.
Vivi Tripoli.
It didn’t matter that he’d be running from one place to the next in the hours ahead, she would take up the lion’s share of his headspace for who-knew-how-long?
He could hardly believe that well-known journalist Veritå was the feisty Italian who’d captured his heart in his college freshmen year.
She was, in the very least, the first woman he ever loved. And if he were being honest, she was probably the only one he’d loved too. Of all the ladies he’d met and dated since then, of all the attraction he’d felt toward several of those ladies, nothing came close to what he’d felt for Vivi.
Duke had worried over the years that nothing ever would. Not that he could do anything about it. He’d earned every bit of disdain she torched for him, and boy did he regret it.
Perhaps if she did agree to interview him, he’d get something he’d been wanting for the last ten years—something he wanted even more than redemption on a broad and public scale—a second chance with Vivi.
Viv stared at her reflection as a blend of shock and anger pushed through her body. Never had she accepted a job without first learning the subject’s name. So why this time—the one time she’d done such a thing—did Duke Benton have to come striding into the room?
She spun in place and folded her arms. At one side of the restroom was a sitting area with posh lounge chairs, fresh flowers, and a stack of Slipper magazines.
At the other side of the vanities were three bathroom stalls with floor to ceiling doors. Viv hurried over to the closest one, ducked inside, and leaned her back against the door once it was closed.
There, she would do something very brave. Braver, possibly, than taking the job itself. She would call her outspoken Italian mother.
The phone rang twice before she picked up. “Aren’t you supposed to be in your meeting?” she hissed from her end of the line.
“You were right. It’s Duke Benton.”
Silence.
“I can’t believe it. He just walked in and…”
“And what?”
An image came to mind. Duke’s wide and pompous grin falling flat. “He looked as shocked as I probably did.”
Mom mumbled a few choice words under her breath, an English/Italian combo that was distinctly hers. “I bet he did,” she said next. “So what did you tell them?”
Viv shook her head as an ache tore through her anew. She couldn’t have her reputation soiled by petty drama over a guy from her past. She’d worked hard to get where she had, and managed to score a steady stream of work from the nation’s top magazine and newspaper agencies alike.
“I told them the truth,” she said with a humorless laugh. “What else? I said that I wasn’t sure if I could give an unbiased report on him since I’d long ago formed an opinion of him that I doubted he’d be able to change.”
“Boh!” Mom did one of her worried groans. “What did they say?”
“I excused myself after that.”
“What? Vivia…”
“I had to. I was getting all flush-faced—you know how I get. I just needed a minute to think this through.”
“I think…” her mom came, pausing to whisper something to one of the twins. Something about turning off the timer. They’d probably already baked a batch of cookies. Her mother sighed into the phone before continuing. “You already know what I think, Vivia.”
Yes, she did. “Everyone deserves a shot at redemption.” Viv agreed. It was why she did what she did. Granted, there were people whose true colors were just as they seemed; when that happened, Viv spoke that truth at the very same volume. Interviewee beware.
“Un minuto,” her mom said next.
Viv could tell she’d set the phone down to attend to the twins. She let out a sigh of her own. She knew what she had to do. She did, but that didn’t mean it would be easy.
Viv leaned her head back on the door and glanced up at the tiny chandelier in the stall. So out of place, really. Something so fancy hovering over a woman’s toilet. A small laugh slipped from her lips as she recalled the cruel words of Sylvia Sampson. The professor had asked about the influence of wealth in social circles.
“It doesn’t matter what decade it is or how progressive our nation becomes—money matters.” She glared at Viv from across the classroom. She’d openly despised her once she found out she and Duke were an item.
“The lower class might be able to play with the big boys for a while,” Sylvia continued, “but eventually, they’ll be replaced with someone more…suitable.”
Viv had raised her hand next. “I disagree.”
“Why’s that?” the professor asked.
“She’s speaking for an entire social class based on her own narrow, biased perspective.”
“History backs me up,” Sylvia spat.
“And it disproves you too,” Viv assured.
“That it does,” the professor agreed. He posed a different question then, but Viv hadn’t shifted so easily. She’d seen the way Sylvia sought Duke out at social events; she had her eyes on him.
When Viv left the classroom that day, Sylvia caught up with her just past the doorway. “Enjoy your time with Duke while it lasts. He’s just using you. In the end, he’ll end up with someone like me. Just watch and see.”
Boy, had Sylvia gone the extra mile to prove her point.
“Vivia?” her mom asked.
“I’m here,” she replied. “Just…sometimes I still feel like I’m in a place that I don’t belong.”