She took a breath, held it and blew it out in a long, trembling rush. At this moment she struggled to find any peace of mind. Struggled harder to focus on anything besides the man she’d left in Italy, the same man who had made her dreams come true here only to break her heart.
It was maddening that she longed for him still and she hated herself for it. She’d known going in that it wasn’t going to last. It couldn’t last. She didn’t want it. Didn’t seek it. So why couldn’t she let it go?
Her cell rang, or more precisely broke into song, a sound she hadn’t heard in weeks while she was abroad. She checked the displayed number but didn’t recognize it.
“Hello,” she said after the sixth ring.
“Caprice, darling, how are you?” came a feminine voice she hadn’t heard in decades.
She shook her head. Was she hallucinating? Her mother? Calling her now?
“Caprice?” her mother asked again.
Her stomach curdled. The last person she wished to engage in even the briefest of conversations was her mother.
Caprice dropped onto her bed. “I’m here.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” her mother said, not the least deterred by her daughter’s abruptness. “The baron and I just bumped into your Italian and discovered you’d been his guest in the Alps for a month. Is it true?”
She shook her head, always knowing her mother would call the moment she learned her daughter was involved with a billionaire. “Yes, Mother.”
“Well, good. I was afraid to hope you were having an affair with a rich man.”
“We’re not involved,” she said.
“Splendid. Darling, take my advice and choose a man with a title and not some sports medal. A woman never goes wrong attached to nobility.”
“I’ll bear that in mind.” She bit her lower lip and gripped the phone, gathering strength to warn her mother about her upcoming announcement. “Mother, I’m giving a press conference tomorrow—”
“Oh, sorry to cut this short, darling, but the baron says it’s time to leave. We’re off to Brazil for Carnival. Do smile when you meet the press. Ta-ta.”
“Right,” Caprice said to a suddenly dead line that ended another typical out-of-the-blue call from her mother.
That was her mother, more concerned about how Caprice would look than what she planned to say. But then if her mother had known what she had prepared, she might have tried to change her mind.
That wasn’t going to happen. It couldn’t, she thought as she paced her office.
Where had her mother run into Luciano? And why was she letting him occupy her thoughts? Wasn’t she nervous enough over the upcoming press conference? Stressed and terrified over what reaction she would receive from her friends and strangers?
As for forewarning her mother, she likely wouldn’t have believed Caprice was attacked, and she certainly wouldn’t have wanted the world to know about it.
But Caprice knew she had to reveal the truth, the whole ugly mess, in hopes other woman would pay better heed to their own vulnerability.
In that regard, Luciano had been right. She realized it now. Knew she couldn’t hide behind silence any longer, even though she no longer had to fear Mario’s retribution.