“And now for the story we’ve all been waiting for—Manhattan’s most eligible bachelor may not be a bachelor for long! August St. Jean was spotted on Fifth Avenue today shopping at both Cartier and Tiffany & Co.”
The TV cuts to footage of August peering into the counters at Cartier, walking around with a smile on his face, his hands in the pockets of his tweed suit.
“Mr. St. Jean, can you tell us what you’re shopping for today?” the reporter’s voice sounds from behind the camera.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Vinnie mutters from beside me, sitting up, then leaning forward to see the screen better.
Her hair falls down her bare back, and if I wasn’t so transfixed on the screen, I’d admire the soft curves of her body. Instead, I push myself up, resting my back against my headboard.
On screen, August looks up and shakes his head, giving them a boyish smile. “I plead the fifth.” He laughs, then continues strolling around the store.
Vinnie’s hands curl into fists on my sheet.
They cut to another video of him, this one filmed from outside the store. It’s grainier and darker from being zoomed, but you can clearly see August standing at the jewelry counter with a showcase of rings on a velvet slab. He picks one up and inspects it, nodding his head to the woman before placing it back down. Then the frame cuts back to the newscaster.
My blood turns to ice. Every bit of anger for August that I’ve been holding back rushes to the surface, engulfing me into a raging inferno. I grip the remote control so tightly in my grasp the plastic groans under the pressure.
“Based on the photo we saw just last week of August St. Jean and Vinnie Paladino getting cozy on the red carpet, we now have to wonder if there’s been a love affair happening right under our noses. Stay tuned for more updates as this story continues to unfold.”
They move into talking about another socialite who was caught with a wardrobe malfunction that caused her to flash the camera, but I turn it off, slamming my thumb onto the power button just to make it stop.
My self-control is hanging on by a thread—only because I know Vinnie is just as stunned as I am.
I will myself to relax—to bottle the onslaught of emotions—but as much as I try to hold it in, the anger wins. Rearing back my arm, I hurl the remote acrossthe room and it slams into the wall before clattering to the floor.
“Is he shopping for a ring for you, Vincenza?” My tone is icy. I see red, the anger coursing through my veins like molten lava erupting from a volcano that’s laid dormant for centuries.
“I have no idea,” she says, her voice breaking as she stares at the dark screen of the TV. “He set this up.”
“Does he think you will accept a marriage proposal, Vinnie?” I question, insecurities thick in my voice.
“I wouldn’t.”
“That’s not what I asked. Doeshethink you would?”
“I don’t know why he would! I’ve never given him any flicker of interest. You know I hate him.”
“Sì, but it is a thin line between love and hate, Vincenza. A man does not just shop for rings without intentions.”
I think of the smile on her face in the snapshot that was all over the front page news not so long ago.
My stomach churns.
She gasps, rearing back as though she’s been slapped. Looking at me with widened eyes, her hand floats up to her mouth. “You think I knew about this.”
It’s a statement, not a question, and it makes my heart dip within my chest.
I cannot deny the doubt that has crept into my head and my heart.
But I trust her. Iloveher. So I shake my head.
“No, piccola ladra, I don’t think you knew.”
At the same moment I say the words, Vinnie’s offmy bed, naked as the day she was born, rushing to her pile of belongings sitting in my oversized reading chair.
“What are you doing?” I demand with far too harsh of a tone, but I am struggling to control the feelings swirling within me. I stand and come around to the side of the room she’s on, raking my hand through my hair in frustration.
“Looking for my phone,” she snaps, rifling through her small purse. When she finds it, she presses a few things on the screen before pulling it up to her ear.
