by Danielle Monsch, Cate Rowan, Jennifer Lewis, Jeannie Lin, Nadia Lee, Dee Carney
She passed the window of a discount electronics store and the name Danieli caught her eye. A set of headphones for $59.99. She wondered what it must be like to see your name in random places, to know that products you had invented and manufactured played a part in people’s daily lives.
Then the glowing image on one of the display televisions caught her attention—an image of Marco leaving the Pentagon, flanked by men in gray suits. Probably from a couple of days ago. Captions scrolled across the bottom of the screen. “Opposition in the Senate threatens months of negotiations. Danieli unavailable for comment as senators threaten to block security clearance.” The image jumped to another story, but Sandy remained staring at the window.
Could Marco’s big deal truly fall apart because of his relationship with her?
The gaze of passersby seared into her. She cringed under their curious stares. She felt she should don a placard saying, “Yes! I’m that Sandy Riley.”
She had the check for her salary and severance in her wallet, and she headed to the bank to cash it. All of her instincts were screaming for her to buy some different clothes, a wig, some dark glasses. To hide.
It was a lot of money. Enough to go away. Far away.
She’d never had that opportunity before. Usually she barely had enough spare change to do her laundry. As she left the bank her wallet bulged with almost two thousand dollars.
She felt like a bandit hauling a sack of swag. Especially since she hadn’t actually earned most of it. The ill-gotten gains of her ill-gotten fame.
She could go to California—golden land of opportunity—and start again. No one would know her there, or know of her. She could go to Alaska and live in the wilderness. Well, maybe not. But she could move to Chicago or Atlanta or Miami. Almost anywhere, really. She was pretty generic-looking, so with a different name, a haircut, no one would recognize her.
Probably not even Marco.
At the thought of his name, her heart seized. Could she really leave him?
She could. It would nearly kill her but she could leave him. She could learn to live without him.
She could learn to live without her heart beating in her chest. Without hope, without love, with nothing to get her from day to day but the need to find the next meal. She’d done it before.
She knew what it was like to function as an automaton, denying yourself grief, sorrow, the indulgence of self-pity.
She pushed through the crowds, unthinking, unfeeling, her feet directing her toward the nearest PATH station. The clamor of the city blurred her senses, dulled her thinking. Possible futures unfolded in her mind like paper streamers that caught in the ocean breeze and lifted up out into the sky.
By the time she got home, she’d know what to do.
She wanted Marco to be happy, and there were many women out there who could make him happy. He deserved someone he could be proud of, someone whose accomplishments were in a league with his. Not someone who besmirched his reputation by her very presence in his life.
Tears pricked her eyelids and she gulped them back, unwilling to succumb to the terrible sadness building inside her. Marco didn’t need her. He thought he did, but it was only the spell she’d woven around him—the allure of mystery, the thrill of the chase. She’d led him on and stirred him up far more than she’d intended to.
When the reality of life with Sandy Riley set in, he’d regret his ardent pursuit of her. He’d be sorry he’d let himself be led astray.
But if she went away the whole fuss would blow over and Marco’s life would soon be back the way it was before. He’d be successful, well liked, respected.
And lonely.
The thought of Marco alone and lonely set her every protective instinct on fire. Made her want to run to him and hold him so tight he’d never feel lonely again. But being lonely wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
It was better than being trapped in a relationship that would destroy his name and all he’d worked so hard for. A tear escaped her stinging eyelids and rolled down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away as she hurried down the stairs into the PATH station.
She cared about Marco so much. She wanted him to be happy. And if that meant she had to sacrifice her own chance at happiness, she could do it. She was strong enough to do that much for him.
When she reached her block, her chest tightened with horror. The street was packed with reporters. Television vans jockeyed for position, double-parked in the middle of the road. Reporters with still cameras jostled with video cameramen. Correspondents chattered into lenses in front of her building.
Sandy froze at the end of the block. It wasn’t too late to turn and run. With two thousand dollars in her pocket, she could run and keep on running. She could leave her few belongings in her apartment. What did she want with sentimental mementos of a life that had brought her nothing but grief and regret?
They hadn’t seen her.
Her feet itched to start sprinting. Her nerves sang with the call to flight. Go, go, go! The powerful instinct to flee, to run and hide, surged through her on a stinging wave of adrenaline.
But something else inside her held her steady.
This is it, Sandy. Fight or flight. And for the first time in her life, she knew she was going to fight.
Chapter Eleven
‡
She marched along the block, propelled by a sense of injustice. Filled with the conviction that no one was going to mess up her life and Marco’s life—their life together—for the sake of a few entertaining sound bytes before a commercial break.
She pushed her way through the crowd of reporters thronging around her stoop. For a moment she wasn’t sure any of them would recognize her. Certainly none of them were paying here any attention as she elbowed her way to the stoop. Maybe she could just climb the steps up into her apartment and no one would care.
“Sandy Riley?” A hush descended on the whole block, interrupted only by the rapid fire of a motorized camera.
“Yes, I’m Sandy Riley.”
A mantle of calm wrapped itself around her as she stood on the top step and turned to face the crowd. A sudden barrage of questions assaulted her from all directions. She couldn’t distinguish one from the next, and the roar of tangled demands and accusations sent a quick flash of anger surging though her.
“Stop!” She held up her hand. “Listen to me. I’m Sandy Riley, my father was Ralph Riley, who is now passed on and not involved in anything at all any more. Yes, I had a juvenile record from some things I got talked into doing when I was too young to know better or too scared to say no, but I’m a changed person today. I live an honest life.”
She looked out at the sea of faces and a sudden realization of what she was doing—exposing herself to public view, to ridicule, humiliation and doubt—was like a splash of iced water in her face. But the iced water evaporated in the heat of her anger and indignation.
“I’m guilty of nothing more than loving Marco Danieli.”
A surge of relief swept through her and threatened to knock her off her feet. Even if Marco turned her away now—if he thought better of their dalliance and sought to break their connection—she’d been true to herself.
For the first time in her life she’d stood up for what she believed in, and she wasn’t going to run, consequences be damned. And that was a damn good feeling.
“And,” she continued, “Marco’s honesty and integrity, and that of his company, are in no danger whatsoever from any dealings with me. On his behalf, I resent and reject any trumped-up accusations made in the interests of filling page space and airtime.”
Suddenly her attention fixed on a long, black sports car parked across the street, partially hidden by an Eyewitness News van. As she watched, the door opened and a familiar black-haired figure emerged.
Marco.
Her heart tripped, and her blood iced over like a river in winter. Who knew what had gone on in his mind since their last conversation?
He was here to personally control the
damage. And what that would mean for her she had no way of knowing.
Time slowed almost to a standstill as their eyes met. His face was a mask, expressionless, his eyes fixed on her.
He shoved his way though the throng of reporters, his expression stony as flashbulbs made him blink and scowl. When he reached the stoop, she could see the fierce blackness of his eyes and what she read there made her blood slow to a glacial flow and her heartbeat rise to an agonizing thud, thud, thud that threatened to deafen her.
He reached out a hand to her. His mouth was a hard line, his jaw set. Fear kept her own hand at her side for a few moments before she lifted her agonizingly heavy arm and held it out to him. Tentative. Afraid.
He took her hand in his and a massive shockwave of blazing heat ricocheted up her arm, threatening to knock her off her feet. But the heat did not engender warmth. Marco’s expression remained inscrutable, fearsome. Unnamable emotion blazed in his eyes as his grip tightened around her trembling fingers.
“We need to talk.” His voice was low but not tender.
Her already constricted heart crushed a little further inside her chest.
Damage control.
“Your keys.” He held out his other hand, and Sandy obediently handed them over. So different from the last time he’d asked for them and she’d refused. When she was still protected by her silence, by her secrecy.
Marco unlocked the door and pulled her inside. The hum of excited chatter disappeared as he slammed the door behind them. Alone with Marco in the dark, tight lobby of her apartment building, Sandy swallowed, words departing her.
Marco seized her by the upper arms and held her with a grip that dug into her flesh, scared her. The black storm clouds gathered in his eyes made her shiver with foreboding.
“Sandy…” Marco’s brow creased as if he struggled to find the words.
I’m sorry.
We have a problem.
And the problem is you.
Her brain filled in the blanks left by his silence. The ice in her veins moved slowly, pushing sensible words to her lips. She’d led him on. She’d gotten him into this mess. It was nothing more than her responsibility to let him off the hook, to set him free.
“It’s okay, Marco. I won’t hold it against you.” Her voice was so calm and controlled, so convincing, she barely recognized it as her own.
“Thank God!” His brow smoothed momentarily as relief washed over his features.
Sandy’s blood chilled. Deep down she’d held on to a thin shred of hope that he wasn’t here to cut her loose. That maybe he’d even come to claim her. With his exclamation of relief, that thin shred of hope drifted to the bare tiled floor to be crushed underfoot.
Marco’s grip on her arm softened a little. If only his grip on her heart could do the same. His voice was so deep that the sound of it reverberated in her ears like a bass drum. “I wasn’t sure you’d understand.”
Oh, she understood. In the deepest recesses of her brain, in the microcosm of each cell in her body, she understood. The blackness and totality of her realization threatened to engulf her. She understood far too well.
His gaze remained steady, unblinking. His control perfect. “I wasn’t sure you’d be able to accept it.” As the rivers of ice pushed relentlessly through her body, she sought comfort in the fact that she was still standing.
Or was it only his iron grip that held her up?
“I’m stronger than you think.” The control in her own voice surprised her. She was indeed stronger than she’d thought. And she’d need all the strength she could muster to get her through this. To help her survive while her heart was being ripped in two.
“I always knew you had that strength buried deep inside you. I could see it even when you couldn’t.” The tenderness in his eyes jolted Sandy and threatened to shove her off balance.
Don’t show any weakness!
If only one of them was destroyed by this parting, it would be a victory she could cherish, a balm to sooth the raw hurt of her own pain. Because even now she loved Marco with her whole heart.
And she really did understand.
He’d been hurt before and knew better than to risk his whole life on a gamble that might destroy his company and leave him with nothing.
Marco’s lips were tightly closed. Perhaps he didn’t feel he’d have to say any more. That he could count on her to know the score. And he could. She’d warned him about the dangers of being involved with her.
“I’m glad you understand. That you can deal with it. I confess I wasn’t sure how you’d cope. That’s why I came here.”
He took one hand off her shoulder, and Sandy stiffened her spine in an immense effort not to slump to the floor. Despair was beginning to melt her icy resolve. Marco reached his hand down into his pants pocket, underneath his suit jacket.
Oh God, he was going to offer her money. Hush money. Keep-quiet-and-go-away money. On instinct, she closed her eyes and pulled back from him. This was more than she could bear.
She wanted him to go away so she could nurse her pain alone. Or did she? The fingers of his left hand still held her right arm and even now the warmth of his grip steadied and calmed her. No, she wanted him to stay as long as possible. She wanted to savor every last second of their time together. Of their last time together.
“Sandy, open your eyes.”
She didn’t want to open her eyes and see the thick pile of banknotes or the crisp check signed with a flourish, the gesture of generosity that cheapened what they’d shared.
“Sandy.” His hand left her arm and she flinched as the touch of his fingers on her jaw surprised her. His touch was so gentle, so soft—loving…. If only that were the case.
He stroked her cheekbone and pushed a strand of hair back of her face. “Open them, Sandy.” And she did.
In his right hand, Marco held a small velvet box, opened to reveal a white satin interior that held the most beautiful ring she’d ever seen. A diamond solitaire flanked by two smaller stones, in a simple platinum setting.
Her eyes darted to Marco’s face. His severe features glowed with excitement, his mouth curved into a smile as he watched her.
Confusion knocked the last vestiges of Sandy’s senses from her mind.
A ring?
“Sandy,” his voice was a little tentative, hopeful, but not overly confident. His hope, and his own fear, danced in his eyes. “Will you marry me?”
Shock and confusion dissolved into an understanding that shook Sandy from head-to-toe.
He hadn’t come here to break their union; he’d come to seal it.
Hot tears stung her eyes. Her chest warmed and expanded as the sun rose on a new world of possibility. Intellectually she couldn’t comprehend what was happening at all, but her soul understood. Her heart knew.
“I’ll marry you, Marco.” She bit her lip and hot tears dripped over her cheeks as Marco lifted the ring from the box and slipped it onto her finger. It fit perfectly.
“For better or worse,” said Marco quietly, looking into her eyes, reading her reaction. “For richer or poorer…”
Sandy nodded. She knew what he was asking. He wanted the assurance that even if his company was destroyed and his wealth vanished, she would still love him.
And they both knew she would.
She whispered, barely able to form the words, “As long as we both shall live.” Two more tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped off her chin, and she blinked, struggling to staunch the flow.
Marco lowered his head and his lips claimed hers in a kiss that warmed and softened her body. Her blood pumped hot and her heart filled, brimming with the love they shared, a love she’d never have to deny again.
When at last their lips parted, Marco pressed his cheek to hers and murmured in her ear. “I was so afraid this evil circus would drive you away, that you’d regret ever having met me. I suddenly had a terrible feeling you were going to run again.”
He was right. That had been her first thought. Though no
w it seemed like a lifetime ago.
“I knew I couldn’t stop you if you really wanted to go, but I had to try. When I saw the way you stood up for yourself, for us—”
Marco buried his face in her shoulder. “I was so proud of you at that moment. So hopeful—but I still couldn’t be sure until I’d talked to you. Then when you said you understood—”
Laughter bubbled up and gushed out of Sandy like water from a mountain spring. “I thought you’d come here to break up with me! That’s what I meant when I said I understood. I understood that you needed to get away from me—that you couldn’t take the pressure.”
Marco pressed his lips softly into her neck and she felt his smile curve against her skin. “The only pressure I’m worried about is the pressure of your body on mine and how I want to feel that kind of pressure for the rest of my life.”
Sandy wrapped her arms around his chest. She could feel his muscled torso through the fabric of his suit, and the strength and steadiness of his body rooted and grounded her. Confidence crept through Sandy. Confidence in Marco, in their love, confidence in herself.
“I love you, Marco.”
“I know. I really do. And I love you, Sandy, more than I thought was possible.”
Sandy’s body hummed with pleasure as Marco settled his lips over hers in a kiss that charged and fortified her.
“Well,” he said, when they finally drew back to gasp for air, “I think we have an announcement to make.” His eyes sparkled with excitement. There was no trace of worry or anxiety in his bearing. “Are you ready to face the vultures?”
Sandy nodded. With Marco at her side, she could face the hounds of hell and pet them on the head.
He settled his arm around her shoulders and, with a broad smile on his face, he opened the door onto the explosion of camera flashes and barrage of questions that awaited them.
Epilogue