Aurora willed her heart to start beating. She willed herself to turn and make sure he was truly there. But nothing happened. Her body was completely frozen in place.
“Well, I’m back now. And I’d appreciate it if you’d stop looking down Ms. LeMonde’s dress.”
George Junior balled his hands up and jammed them in the pocket of his suit. “You’re such a fucking prick, Callaghan. And you just lost yourself a valuable client.” He turned and stomped into the crowd.
“For all his sudden interest in his father’s business, he doesn’t even realize that he was never your client in the first place,” Aurora mused, her brain latching on to any detail that she could right now. Because suddenly Dante was there, in front of her. Deep blue eyes and short hair. He was a toasty tan with a short, full beard. God, he looked good enough to swallow whole.
But his eyes were pained, horrified, desperate.
He stood in front of her, gripping her shoulders. “Aurora—”
“You came back.” She felt as if she were in a dream, her words floating out of her and toward him on a lazy river.
“Yes. Michelle and I came back. I have to talk to you right now. Can we go outside?”
Aurora took a deep breath. Her vision blurred everything but his face, which was in bright, sharp definition, almost painful to look at. He wanted to talk with her. He had things to say. After two months of complete silence, the thought of actually having a conversation with him was like starving for weeks and then sitting down to a plate of filet mignon.
She’d have settled for a text.
But here he was, in full living color.
“Dante,” she started, lifting a hand to her hair in a lost, absent gesture. “I—”
“Aurora, will you join me on stage?” Gio’s voice carried through the banquet hall. She was dimly aware that he’d been speaking to the crowd through the microphone, explaining about Von Willebrand’s and thanking people for their generous donations. He must be about to auction off the consulting services. Is that why he needed her onstage?
Dazed, as if she were wading through hip deep water, Aurora stepped away from Dante and toward Gio onstage.
* * *
She was walking away. Dante’s breath came fast. She was walking away from him. But not before she’d looked at him like he was the fucking Ghost of Christmas Past. Stunned. Wrecked. He’d never seen Aurora look that caught off guard. And he didn’t blame her. Her baby daddy shows up out of nowhere and she’s supposed to what? Leap for joy?
He watched as Gio helped her up onstage. Dante glanced down at Michelle pulling on his pocket.
“What happened? Did you tell her? Did you know she was pregnant?”
Dante scrubbed a hand over his face. “I had no idea she was pregnant and no I didn’t tell her I love her yet.”
Then, with surprising strength for a ten-year-old girl, Michelle reached up and tugged his face down toward hers. “I swear to god, Coco. The first chance you get, you tell her everything. All of it. And you better be crystal fucking clear.”
Dante blinked at her, straightened up and stared at Aurora, so gorgeous she made his heart contract. “Got it.”
He glanced back down at Michelle. “And we’ll talk about your use of the F-word later.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She waved a hand through the air. “You can ground me later.”
Dante cocked an ear, listened to what Gio was saying.
“Not only has Ms. LeMonde planned this entire event, but the final item up for auction tonight is actually Ms. LeMonde herself.” Whispers and cheers broke out in the crowd as Aurora went sheet white on stage. She tugged Gio’s shoulder, furiously whispering in his ear.
Dante’s head started to buzz.
Gio patted Aurora’s shoulder and continued to talk into the microphone. “Esposito Group would like to put up for auction one year of Ms. LeMonde’s consulting services. And as her friend and business partner, I can tell you that there is no one smarter, sharper, or more hard working.” He pushed Aurora slightly forward.
Dante could see how much she was currently wishing she could be anywhere else. And then he saw her professionalism kick in. Her smooth and polished exterior immediately covered up her insecurities. One hand automatically rested over her rounded belly.
Her child. His child. Their child.
“Let’s start the bidding at $5,000,” Gio’s voice echoed out through the room.