The flea market was alive with the sounds of haggling and the faint honks of cabs from the neighboring streets. The scent of churros swirled through the air, and everywhere I looked, I saw an explosion of different colors, textures, and fabrics.
I’d been visiting the same market every Saturday for years. It was a treasure trove of inspiration and one-of-a-kind items I couldn’t find in the carefully curated luxury stores, and it never failed to pull me out of a creative rut. It was also my favorite place to visit when I needed to clear my head.
Today, however, it did neither of those things.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the memory of Dante’s mouth on mine.
The firmness of his lips. The heat of his body. The subtle, expensive scent of his cologne and the self-assured weight of his hands on my hips.
Days later, I could still feel the vividness of the moment as clearly as if it’d just happened.
It was infuriating.
Almost as infuriating as how I’d opened up to him over breakfast, only for him to revert to asshole status after a brief, shocking display of humanity.
There’d been a moment when I’d liked Dante, though that might’ve been my loneliness talking.
Contrary to what I’d told him at the photoshoot, there was something unsettling about coming home every day to a silent, spotless house. Our month apart had eased the sting of his words before he left for Europe, and I hadn’t realized how much Dante’s presence electrified the space until he was gone.
“We’ve been to this stall already,” Isabella said.
“Hmm?” I toyed with the fringe on a purple patterned scarf.
“This stall. We’ve been here already,” she repeated. “You bought the pashmina?”
I blinked as the rest of the stall’s contents came into sharp focus. She was right. It was one of the first vendors we’d visited when we arrived.
“Sorry.” I released the scarf with a sigh. “I’m a bit out of it today.”
I’m too busy thinking about my jerk fiancé.
“Really? I couldn’t tell.” Isabella’s teasing smile faded when I didn’t return it. “What’s wrong? You normally blitz through this place like hellhounds are chasing us.”
Isabella loved thrifting and joined my Saturday excursions whenever she could. I’d tried to convince Sloane to come once, but the chances of her stepping foot in a flea market were slimmer than a Jimmy Choo stiletto heel.
“I just have a lot on my mind.”
I wanted to tell Isabella about the photoshoot, but there was nothing to tell. Dante and I had touched lips for thirty seconds for a photo. Anything beyond that was hormones and my dry spell talking.
Besides, I wasn’t lying. Between my job, my fraught relationship with Dante, my new social obligations as the future Mrs. Russo, and my miles-long to-do list for the wedding, I was running on fumes.
“We’re almost done,” I added. “I just need to find a gold mirror for Buffy Darlington’s granddaughter’s Sweet Sixteen.”
“I can’t believe we live in a world where there are people named Buffy Darlington.” Isabella shuddered. “Her parents must’ve hated her.”
“Buffy Darlington the Third, to be exact. It’s a family name.”
“That’s even worse.”
I laughed. “Well, name aside, Buffy is the grande dame of New York society and the head of the Legacy Ball committee. I have to impress her, or I can kiss my business goodbye.”
The Legacy Ball was the most exclusive event on the international circuit. It rotated locations every year, and the upcoming ball in May happened to take place right here in New York.
Hosting it was considered a huge honor. I’d hoped for a shot at the position, but it’d gone to the wife of a hedge fund tycoon instead.
“Speaking of high society, how’s your new job?” I asked.
Isabella quit the dive bar last week after landing a highly coveted job at the Valhalla Club, a members-only society for the world’s wealthiest and most powerful. My father had been trying to gain admission for years, but the Boston chapter was closed to new applicants, and our family wasn’t connected enough to slip through the back door.
Isabella’s face lit up. “It’s amazing. Higher pay, better benefits, and fewer hours than anything else I’d find in the city. It beats bartending with Creepy Colin breathing all over me by a mile. Maybe I’ll actually have time to finish my book…” She trailed off as she stared over my shoulder. “Um, Viv?”
“Hmm?” I spotted a gold mirror on a nearby table. Buffy’s granddaughter’s party was Beauty and the Beast themed, and while I’d finalized the decor already, I wanted a unique piece to tie everything together.
“You might want to look behind you.” A strange note dampened her voice.
Curiosity kindled as I turned to see what Isabella was staring at. Not much rattled her.
At first, all I saw were passersby holding churros and vendors hawking their wares. Then, I noticed the person standing behind us.
Sandy blond hair. Blue eyes. A once lanky frame that’d filled out with muscle over the years.
My shopping bags thudded to the ground as shock displaced the air in my lungs.
Heath.
“I’m sorry for ambushing you. I was passing by, and I remembered you loved coming here every Saturday.” Heath let out a small laugh. “I guess you still do.”
I returned his smile with a wary one of my own. “Old habits die hard.”
After I’d gotten over my shock and Isabella had excused herself to “nap and write,” Heath and I had left the market to grab coffee at a tiny outdoor cafe down the street.
There were no other customers, so it was just us talking over cappuccinos like two years hadn’t passed since we last saw each other.
It was surreal.
“Are you here on vacation?” I asked.
Heath had randomly sent me a photo of the pumpkin hot chocolate at Bonnie Sue’s the other day, so I knew he was in town. It was the first text he’d sent since I told him I was engaged.
He hadn’t mentioned the engagement, and I hadn’t made plans to see him.
“Work. I have a meeting with investors on Monday and figured I’d fly in early to enjoy the city. It’s been a while.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I would’ve called you but…”
“You don’t have to explain.”
Today was an anomaly. We normally didn’t tell each other when we were in town or catch up over drinks. We didn’t have that type of relationship anymore.
“Right.” Heath cleared his throat. “You look good, Viv. Really good.”
My face softened. “So do you.”
The Heath I’d dated had been a poster boy for New England prep. The one sitting in front of me looked like he belonged on the poster for a California surfer movie. Tanner, healthier, more muscled.
I’d often wondered what would happen if I ran into Heath again. I’d expected to feel sadness, regret, and maybe longing. We’d been friends and dated for years; feelings didn’t disappear just because people parted ways.
They did, however, dull with time, because all I felt right now was the cold breeze on my skin and a strange unease in the pit of my stomach.
“How’s the IPO prep going?” I asked for lack of anything better to say.
We used to talk about everything under the sun. Now, we were more hesitant than strangers forced to share a table at an overly crowded restaurant.
“It’s great. Stressful, but we’re making good progress.” Company IPOs, or initial public offerings, required extensive preparation, so Heath was probably getting only a few hours of sleep a night until his was done.
“How’s, uh, event planning?”
“Good. I hired someone to run our social media a few months ago, so we’re up to a team of four.”
“Good.”
We had to stop using the word good.
The uncomfortable silence expanded.
Heath and I stared awkwardly at each other for another minute before his gaze dropped to my engagement ring.
A storm of emotions clouded his eyes, and I resisted the urge to pull my hand off the table and into my lap.
“You weren’t joking about the engagement.”
A pang hit my chest at his first direct acknowledgment of my new relationship status.
“I wouldn’t joke about something like that,” I said softly.
“I know. I just thought…” He tipped his head back and blew out a long breath. “When’s the wedding?”
“Next year. Early August.” I rubbed a nervous thumb over my ring. It was cold and hard to the touch.
“At the Russos’ estate in Lake Como?”
He must’ve looked up the news after I told him.
“Yes.”
“You and Dante Russo. Your parents must be thrilled.” Heath met my eyes again with a sardonic smile. “What’s he worth? Like a billion dollars?”
Two.
“Something like that.”
“How’d you two meet?”
“At an event,” I replied vaguely. I didn’t want to lie to Heath, but I didn’t want to tell him it was an arranged marriage either. My parents’
approval was a sore subject for both of us.
Unfortunately, he knew me well enough to pick up on the nuances of my non-answer.
His eyes narrowed. The unease in my stomach swirled faster as realization dawned slow and horrified across his face.
“Wait. Are you marrying him because you want to or because your parents want you to?”
I shifted in my seat, suddenly wishing I’d skipped the market today.
I didn’t answer, but my silence told him all he needed to know.
“Dammit, Viv.” Frustration seeped into his voice. “I knew you’d never willingly choose someone like Dante. I looked him up after your text. All those rumors about him and what he’s like…no amount of money in the world is worth it. What the hell were your parents thinking? Besides the fact he’s a billionaire.” An uncharacteristically bitter edge poisoned his words.
“He’s not that bad,” I said, strangely defensive of Dante even though he’d been a jerk during ninety percent of our interactions.
But…the kiss. The breakfast. The story of the Moondust Diner.
They were small things in the grand scheme of our relationship, but they gave me hope.
Dante Russo had a human side. He just didn’t show it often.
“That’s what he wants you to think. Even if he isn’t as bad as the rumors say, do you want to be married to someone who’s already married to his work?”
My mind flashed to Dante’s month-long trip to Europe.
I rubbed my ring again, my insides twisted with frustration. I felt like a bird trapped in a cage of circumstances beyond my control, unable to do anything except sing and look pretty.
Heath leaned forward, his expression intense. “You don’t have to marry him, Viv.”
“Heath—”
“I mean it.” The fierceness of his tone startled me. “You’ve always done what your parents told you to do, but this isn’t about a job or where you go to college. This is about the rest of your life. You’re not a teenager anymore, and you have your own money. You can push back.”
We’d had this conversation before, and it ended the same way every time.
“It’s not about pushing back,” I said. “They’re my family, Heath. I can’t turn my back on them.”
His laugh lacked humor. “I should’ve known you were going to say that.” He leaned back, his gaze heavy on mine. “I haven’t dated anyone since we broke up, you know. Not seriously. My longest relationship after you lasted a month.”
Another pang worked its way through my chest at his low confession.
“Neither have I,” I said quietly. “But I’m engaged now, and this conversation is inappropriate.”
I didn’t like Dante, but I would never cheat on him or disrespect the implicit promise I’d made when I accepted his ring.
Heath painted a tempting picture of a world where I was free to do as I pleased, but that was all it was, a picture. Fantasy, not reality.
In the real world, I had duties and obligations to fulfill. No matter how rude or overbearing Dante was, I had to make my engagement work, one way or another.
There was no other option.
“You should go,” I said. ”I’m sure you have a lot to do before your Monday meeting.”
Heath stared at me for a second before he shook his head.
“Right.” He pushed his chair back and stood. His bitter expression returned, but his voice was soft as he left. “It was good seeing you, Viv. If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”
I watched him walk away, my heart heavy and my thoughts running in a dozen different directions.
So much had happened in the past week it felt like a fever dream.
Dante returning from Europe.
Our kiss and first real conversation together.
Heath showing up out of the blue and asking me to break my engagement.
Dante and I hadn’t discussed our dating history, but what would he say if he found out what happened with Heath today?
No matter his feelings toward me, he didn’t strike me as the type of man who’d respond well to other people interfering in his relationships.
His security team once hospitalized someone who tried to break into his house. The guy wound up in a months-long coma with broken ribs and a shattered kneecap.
Sloane’s voice echoed in my head, followed by an image of coal dark eyes and calloused hands.
A shiver skated down my spine.
I was suddenly glad Dante didn’t take any interest in my comings and goings.
If he did…I had a strong feeling Heath might not make it to see his company’s IPO.
