Page 93 of A Forgotten Promise

Maybe it’s for the better. Sleeping with Cormac Quinn would lead to heartbreak only. Or another confidence crisis.

Groaning, I reach for my phone. Six o’clock. I don’t think I slept at all. I drag myself out of my bed and put on sweatpants and an old T-shirt.

Trudging out of my room, I find Corm’s bedroom door open. His bed is empty. I guess he had his fun at The Velvet Room. Asshole.

Why does it bother me? Why would I even be jealous?

The hard-to-swallow truth is that being in his shadow in public is a comfortable place. But having his attention in private is ecstatic. Wonderful. Orgasmic.

I pick up my dress from the stairs, ignoring the dull ache coiling inside me. I’m hollow again. Well, I was hollow, and then I was filled for a moment, and it was addictive.

While I make my coffee, I scroll through my contacts and dial Vito. I haven’t heard from him, and frankly, I’m getting worried.

I get his voice mail again, but then I remember a big fashion event in Asia at this time of the year. I should just let him work. I should go to Italy and find out firsthand what the status is.

Yes, that’s a good idea.

“Good morning.” Livia comes in. “Do you want me to wash this?” She picks up my dress from the stool where I must have dropped it without thinking.

“Good morning, Livia.” I take a sip of my coffee. “No, I’ll take it to the cleaners.”

“I can do that for you. It’s a beautiful dress.”

“I made it.”

Her eyebrows shoot up and then she smiles. “You knitted this dress? My, my, you’re quite talented.”

Even with the lingering heaviness pressing on my chest and stomach, I manage a smile. God, I’m a glutton for praise. “I can make something for your grandchildren.”

“Really? That would be nice.”

“Okay, I’ll start with scarves, and then, after I meet them, I can make them sweaters.”

She stares at me, blinking. “You want to meet my grandchildren?”

I shrug. Shit, I’m probably crossing boundaries here. It’s not like I would be around long enough to meet her family. “Or you can take their measurement, so I get it right.”

She nods, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe I’ll bring them around when Mr. Quinn isn’t here.”

I snort. “That would be for the best.”

“Things have changed since you arrived.” She walks to the pantry and comes back with a bottle of vinegar. She pours it into a bucket she filled with water. “I don’t like those fancy cleaning concoctions. Good old vinegar is the best.”

“What do you mean, things have changed? Besides me destroying the living and dining room, I mean.” I bite my lip, and she laughs.

“Yes, you keep him on his toes for sure. But at least he seems alive now.”

Alive? If devils were alive, perhaps. “He seemed plenty alive based on his media coverage.”

I lean against the counter and sip my coffee, hoping she will share more. I should not care. I should stay away from anything Cormac-related. Especially pulling information from his trusted employee.

Livia clearly knows a side of him not available to the rest of the world. I’m perversely invested in learning more from her.

“After his father passed, he was a shell of a man. Before that, he was living life like it was nobody’s business, but he was never reckless. After that, something changed. His mother doesn’t come by anymore.”

“Since I arrived?”

“No, no, since the funeral. And those two were close. She’s a lovely woman, and despite his grim personality, you know a man is a good apple if they treat their mother well.”

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