Page 5 of Casanova LLC

“… It’s not profitable, at the moment. I had to pause operations when he got sick. But I’ll get it back on track. I know how.”

He nodded, and I chose to take that gesture as a statement of faith in my abilities, because I needed that, even from a virtual stranger. “What else?” I looked down at my left hand. I felt his eyes follow. We stared at my wedding ring. “That’s it?”

I would not tell him that the only other thing I fought to keep was his painting. The painting that reminded me of the one time we’d met, at my rehearsal dinner. That reminded me of choices made, promises kept, and chances lost. So I just nodded.

His eyes found mine again. Then he looked at my whole face. Exploring every shade and texture, as if it were a canvas. What was he looking for? What did he see? Probably nothing. I’d developed a fool-proof mask.

Indeed, his eyes went cold and he looked away, southward, at the Freedom Tower.

Now, I studied him. His profile was much safer than his eyes.

And in that moment, I felt a depth of disappointment I had no right to feel.

Had I actually thought he was coming here to see me? To see if that spark from five years ago, that could have so easily ignited me had I allowed it, still burned?

He turned back to me. “You’re trapped. In all these concerns.”

I had to look away. At the water. “I’m almost out.”

“I thought—” he exhaled roughly. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’ve been getting the runaround from lawyers for months, and I came in here with a full head of steam, because I thought—hey.”

His gentle command beckoned me to look at him. Those eyes.

“I thought you knew. Okay? I thought you were in on it. ‘Black Widow’ and all that. But now?—”

I held up a hand. “Why would I have done that? Why would I have wanted him to hurt you?”

He just stared at me. His jaw tensed. Inscrutable.

I threw up my hands slightly. Weakly. I was too tired to even be effectively pitiful. “Why does everyone think…” I drifted off. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t about me. People were mad at me because they needed to be mad at someone and he wasn’t here. “I loved your work. I’m the one who told him about it. About you. I wanted him to blow you up.”

“Well, he certainly did that.”

“You know what I mean.”

I stared into those transportive eyes.

“I do. You’re very clear to me now.”

Then he stood. His hands went back on his hips and he looked down at me.

I looked up at him, but that angle? The fullness of his thighs against chambray slacks, his open jacket revealing a perfectly tailored shirt tight across—what I could only imagine were—washboard abs, his mouth set in admonishment as he gazed down at me… I levered myself to my knees, but that position wasn’t any better. I stood and brushed off my slacks.

“Well, whenever they’re done being appraised, let me know, and I’ll buy them back.”

My head snapped up. “Absolutely not.”

“What do you mean?”

“He broke the terms of your deal. I’m buying them back.” I reiterated what I’d been saying to myself and the lawyers for five months now: “All the victims get made whole.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Yes, I do.”

He shook his head and his eyes found my ring again. “Please, let me unburden you of this one thing.”

“No.”

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