My jaw aches; I'm clenching it so hard. I want to tell her she doesn’t know me. Doesn’t have the first clue, but even so nothing I say to her will matter.
Bob lets out a bubble of laughter, yet he's a lot gentler about it than I would be. “If you consider the millions Mr. Rossetti has offered you as an example of stinginess, it's clear we'll never come to a final agreement. Mrs. Rossetti, I've been handling marital disputes and divorce agreements for thirty years, and I've never had a client willingly offer such a generous percentage of their net worth. Mr. Rossetti has not once threatened to reduce his original offer. He only refuses to increase it. I’m not your lawyer, but if I could give you a piece of advice, it would be to take the offer.”
“So I won't get another red penny.” She folds her arms over her chest, arching an eyebrow. “Not a single cent?” She tilts her head to the side, examining me. ”I thought you were motivated now?” Laughter dances behind her otherwise empty eyes, and it has the power to raise my hackles. I can’t give her the explosion she so visibly wants. Especially in front of so many witnesses.
“You shouldn't—” one of her lawyers cautions, but she dismisses him because she's always ignored common sense.
“Aren't you in a hurry to get me to sign the papers?” she continues, batting her eyelashes at me. Like that would fucking get me to break. “Wouldn't it make sense for you to be free, at least legally? That way, you can move on with your life?”
Roger sits up a little straighter, but a soft growl from me keeps him quiet. She's at a high simmer now, about to start steaming. The longer I sit here, refusing to react, the greater her rage grows. She’ll shoot herself in the foot the way she always does. It’s only a matter of time.
“It would be wise of both of you to come to an understanding, so you can both be free,” Bob points out in a firm voice. He’s losing control of the situation and he knows it.
“Mrs. Rossetti played a large part in Mr. Rossetti’s success,” one of her team points out. “She only wishes to be compensated for that.”
“Mrs. Rossetti lived an extremely comfortable life while living beneath her husband’s roof,” Bob counters. “And, by all appearances, lives very comfortably now. Mr. Rossetti filed for divorce when evidence of his wife’s various infidelities were uncovered—if it wasn’t for that, we might not be sitting here now.”
He checks his watch, sighing. “And we’re wasting time. Either she signs the papers as they stand now, or we start carving up what she’s already been offered.”
Amalia’s nostrils flare while I remain impassive, gazing at her without emotion. “I have an idea,” she murmurs, reminding me of a snake preparing to strike. She’s fresh out of ammunition, and the only way she knows how to react now is to hit below the belt. “Why don't you give up your little whore, and maybe then I'll sign.”
Roger grunts. Bob stammers.
I stand.
There’s an evil gleam in her eyes as she lifts her chin, following my progress. I lean in, palms flat on the table. My blood is boiling, raging. I can’t believe I ever found anything about this woman attractive. “You would know about being a whore,” I snarl. “That’s what this is all about, after all. Money. The only thing a whore truly cares about.”
“Gianni…” Bob murmurs in warning.
Roger stands beside me, even as I ignore him the way I am ignoring Bob’s voice and the way her team inches their chairs away from her, like they don't want to get caught in the blast.
Amalia doesn’t even blink, nor does she look away. “And you mean to tell me she doesn't? What the hell would a young girl want with an old man like you? Typical midlife crisis,” she laughs, shaking her head. “I’ve considered you to be many things, however… I never thought you would go after a girl your daughter's age. How long has it been going on? Was she even eighteen when you started screwing her?”
“You will not say another word!” I slam my hands on the table hard enough that even she jumps, while one of her lawyers scrambles out of his chair and backs away, his back slamming into the glass wall surrounding us. “You don't deserve to talk about her. And you don't have the first fucking clue what we are or aren’t. But then again, how would you?” I demand, and Roger grips me by the shoulders, pulling me back before I climb over the table and wring her neck until the light leaves her eyes for good. “You don't understand anything beyond your fucking bank balance. And if you think I won't find a way to make you pay for what you've done to me, and Tatiana, you're out of your fucking mind.”
“Boss, that's enough,” Roger warns and pulls me away from the table. He backs me up to the window, placing himself between me and the evil bitch still glaring at me.
Fuck. I'm not proud of that. All the fighting against playing into her hand, and I did it anyway. She got the reaction she wanted out of me.
“I promise you,” I warn, straightening my suit as I sidestep Roger to look her in the eye. “You will get exactly what's coming to you and then some. All of the shit you've put in place will come back and bite you in the ass, and I can only hope I'm there to see it happen.”
“Is that a threat?” she asks in a sickeningly sweet voice. “Because we are in a room full of lawyers, and it’s not exactly the best time to threaten me.”
I grant her a smile that makes her breath catch. The smile people see before they realize they’ve pushed me too far and there’s no going back. “Not a threat, sweetheart. A promise. You’re playing with fire, and we all know what happens to people who do that.”
“We’d better call an end to this.” Bob wastes no time gathering everybody and ushering them out of the conference room. Amalia glares at me, almost pouting as she leaves. Almost like she believed she would have gotten somewhere tonight. Like the mention of Caterina would inspire me to sign on the dotted line.
She never was one for subtlety.
Roger blows out a heavy sigh once we’re alone, with Bob showing everyone else to the door. “So much for playing it cool.”
“Was I supposed to sit idly and let her insult Caterina that way? I don’t give a shit what Amalia thinks about me. She does not disrespect the woman I—”
He lifts his brows yet says nothing, only waiting by the door for me to cool down and give the other team time to clear out of the building before we go. I wouldn’t trust myself to do the right thing if I had to set eyes on her again this evening.
I never imagined blowing up the way I did. It isn’t me, especially not when there’s so much at stake. Not in front of a half-dozen lawyers. Specifically not when it was so clearly what she wanted. None of those things matter, in any case. When it comes to Caterina, all bets are off. There’s no predicting what I will or won’t be able to endure when she’s involved.
The thought of her unravels a deep unsatisfied need. It’s only been a couple of hours since I saw her outside Charles’s dump, but it might as well be a lifetime. I crave her, burn with the need to possess her. Only I can’t. I can’t do anything, not while she’s there.
“Let’s go,” I decide, already crossing the room. “I have things to do at home.”
Like watching her. I need to see her, to hear her, to exist even on the fringes of her world because it’s better than enduring the emptiness of being without her.
That's all I have to go on. It won’t be this way forever. Caterina will be mine again in due time. I just have to devise a plan to get her back.
And I think I know the perfect place to start.
“I know that look.” Roger’s voice drips disapproval as we step out of the elevator in the parking garage. “You’re plotting something.”
“And if I am?” I counter. “I pay you to make things happen, not to judge me.”
“Just promise one thing.” He comes to a stop at the driver’s side door, throwing me a fatigued look over the roof of the car. “Promise I won’t have to break into a girl’s bedroom again.”
“This time, I’ll be working solo,” I assure him before climbing into the car.
Don’t worry, Caterina. We’ll be together again soon.