Chương 8
“You could have left.”
Bianca looked at him.
“That was exactly what I was afraid of.”
The room went quiet again.
Vittorio opened his mouth.
Bianca held up one finger without looking at him.
He closed it.
Alessandro studied her face.
“So you stayed and punished her.”
Bianca’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
No one softened the answer.
Bianca looked toward the doorway.
“I thought I could make you choose.”
Alessandro’s expression hardened.
“Between you and Livia?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“Between being angry and being absent.”
He frowned.
“I thought if I did something you couldn’t ignore, you’d finally say what you felt.”
“And you picked my daughter.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know.”
His voice rose for the first time.
“I don’t know what sentence makes that less disgusting.”
Bianca’s mother flinched.
Vittorio stepped forward again.
“Watch yourself.”
Alessandro turned toward him.
“No.”
Vittorio stopped.
Alessandro pointed toward the hallway.
“You heard what she said.”
“She admitted she made a mistake.”
“That was not a mistake.”
Bianca spoke behind him.
“He’s right.”
Vittorio looked at her.
She swallowed.
“I did it on purpose.”
Her father’s face changed.
“Bianca.”
“I didn’t mean to cut that much.”
“That’s enough.”
“I wanted her upset.”
Her mother began to cry again.
Bianca continued before anyone could stop her.
“I wanted Alessandro to see me do something he couldn’t politely excuse.”
Vittorio stared at his daughter as if he no longer recognized the shape of the conversation.
“Why?”
Bianca looked at him.
“Because he was leaving me without leaving.”
Her father’s face softened immediately.
Alessandro saw it and hated him for it.
Then he hated himself for hating him.
Vittorio moved toward Bianca.
She stepped away.
“Don’t.”
“I’m not trying to—”
“Don’t make this easier.”
He stopped.
Bianca looked at Alessandro.
“I knew you were pulling away.”
“Yes.”
“You stopped touching me unless I touched you first.”
He looked down.
“You started staying at the office later.”
“Sometimes I was working.”
“Sometimes.”
“Yes.”
“You moved into the guest room after that fight in April.”
“For three nights.”
“You never really moved back.”
“I slept in our room.”
“You slept there.”
The distinction hung between them.
Alessandro pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek.
He had no useful answer.
Bianca’s voice dropped.
“I should have left.”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“I know.”
Her eyes shifted toward the clippers.
“I didn’t.”
Outside the room, a luggage cart squeaked somewhere down the corridor.
The ordinary sound seemed indecently normal.
Bianca’s mother wiped her face with a folded tissue.
Vittorio walked to the window and looked out over the city.
Alessandro remained where he was.
He thought of Livia upstairs with Rosalie.
He thought of her hand leaving his.
He thought of the way she had said no when he offered to come with her.
That hurt more than Bianca’s confession.
He glanced at his watch.
Fifteen minutes had passed since the elevator doors closed.
“I need to go upstairs.”
Bianca nodded.
“I know.”
“I’m not leaving this unfinished.”
“There isn’t much left.”
“There is.”
She looked at him.
“The wedding is over.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t trust me with Livia.”
“No.”
Her face tightened but she accepted it.
“You don’t trust me with you either.”
Alessandro hesitated.
“No.”
Bianca looked down.
Her shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly.
“That might actually be the first honest thing you’ve said to me in months.”
He absorbed the accusation without defending himself.
Vittorio turned from the window.
“What exactly are you planning to do now?”
Alessandro looked at him.
“Go to my daughter.”
“And after that?”
“Handle the guests.”
“Handle?”
Vittorio’s old contempt returned.
“Like vendors?”
“No.”
“Because my daughter is not one of your problems to manage.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
Vittorio stepped closer.
“You made promises to her.”
“So did she.”
“You had doubts and said nothing.”
“Yes.”
“You let her family fly across the country.”
“Yes.”
“You let her put on that dress.”
Alessandro looked at Bianca.
“Yes.”
Vittorio’s voice roughened.
“Then don’t stand there pretending all the cruelty happened this morning.”
Alessandro’s hands curled once at his sides.
Bianca spoke quietly.
“He isn’t.”
Her father looked at her.
She wiped beneath one eye.
“Stop defending me from the part I did.”
“I’m your father.”
“I know.”
“That means something.”
“It means you don’t have to lie for me.”
He stared at her.
Bianca looked away first.
Alessandro moved toward the door.
Behind him, Bianca said his name.
He stopped.
“I want to apologize to Livia.”
He turned.
“Not today.”
Bianca nodded.
“Okay.”
“And not because you need her to forgive you.”
Her eyes flickered.
“I understand.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“You need to understand that she gets to decide whether she ever wants to hear it.”
Bianca’s throat moved.
“Yes.”
“And if she says no?”
She looked toward the vanity.
“Then no.”
Alessandro studied her for a moment.
He believed she meant it now.
That did not make him trust her.
He left the room.
The corridor had filled with quiet activity.
Hotel staff moved carefully between floral arrangements while Marcy stood near the elevators speaking into her headset.
She saw Alessandro and ended the call.
“I told the banquet captain to hold everything.”
“Cancel it.”
“Everything?”
“The ceremony, dinner, speeches, all of it.”
She nodded.
“What should I tell the guests?”
“The truth without details.”
Marcy waited.
Alessandro rubbed his forehead.
“Tell them the wedding will not take place and that we’re sorry for the disruption.”
“Do you want to address them personally?”
He looked toward the elevator.
“No.”
Then he stopped.
The easy answer felt familiar.
He had spent months choosing quiet exits because quiet felt less cruel.
It had not been less cruel.
“Yes.”
Marcy raised her eyebrows.
“I’ll speak to them.”
“When?”
“Give me ten minutes.”
She nodded.
“The ballroom is already seated about halfway.”
“Fine.”
“Mr. Moretti.”
He looked at her.
May you like
Her professional expression softened just slightly.
“You don’t have to explain everything.”
