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“Maybe one day.”Never going to happen.

“Humph.” Theresa didn’t sound impressed. “So are you sure you don’t want me to come with you.”

“No!”

“He is my brother. If he’s going to get a bollocking, I should be there.”

“He’s not going to get a bollocking.”

“Well, he should. This isallhis fault. What a crazy half-assed idea.”

No, it was her fault. Yes, it had been a stupid idea, but she’d agreed to it. Maybe she had thought that Vito was the bad guy, but even so, as soon as she’d realized what sort of man he really was, she should have walked away instead of allowing herself deeper and deeper into the role. Instead of allowing herself to fall…

Don’t go there, Gabby. If you don’t say it, then it won’t be true.

She sipped at the coffee in the hope that a caffeine injection might somehow get her ready for the day ahead. So far it wasn’t working. She couldn’t get Vito’s final expression out of her mind. Betrayal. She’d hurt him, and really, she’d never meant to, hadn’t actually thought he would ever care enough for Gabby to hurt when he discovered the truth.

And she had her meeting with Luca to get through. Not that it was going to take long. She was going to hand over the check to cover the money she had borrowed from him, and then, as far as she was concerned, the whole episode was over.

The show was moving to New York. She’d applied to go. A new city. A new life.

She’d be okay.

I will survive.

Hah.

“We never got around to talking about it,” Theresa said, “but how did dinner go last night? Did Vito like your dress?”

God, she’d forgotten all about it with everything else happening. She huffed out her breath. “He did—it blew his mind.” She took a sip of coffee. “I’m not so sure his father and stepmother appreciated itquiteso much though.”

“What?”

“Didn’t I mention? Vito’s parents joined us for dinner.”

“That’s…nice.”

“And they’re missionaries.”

Theresa spluttered coffee over the table, and then put her mug down. “You’re kidding me?”

“Nope.”

“So the scarlet woman look might have been a little over the top.”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“What were they like?”

“His father looked just like Vito, and his mother sort of looked like me but without the pink hair, the nose stud, and the scarlet whore dress.”

“Were they snooty and praising the lord the whole time?”

“Actually, after the first startled glance, they were nice. Too nice really.”

Why couldn’t they have been horrible?

Then maybe she could have looked on the whole Vito fiasco as a narrow escape.