Chapter 9: What Vanessa Said Before She Left
Dante found Vanessa in the room she used when she stayed at the estate — the blue guest suite at the top of the east stairs, chosen by her for the light and the view of the gardens.
She was packed.
Two bags stood by the door.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed in a cream cashmere coat, her hands in her lap, her ring still on her finger.
"You knew," she said when he came in.
"About the hotel?
Since last night."
"About my father.
What he was.
What he did."
Dante sat in the chair across from her.
"I've known Richard was difficult.
I didn't know the extent of it until recently."
Vanessa looked at her ring.
"He told me Elena's family history to make me angry.
To make me see her as a threat." A pause.
"It worked, for a while.
Last night, after you left — I was furious.
I told myself you were being naive.
Sentimental." She turned the ring on her finger.
"Then this morning she made me coffee and I said terrible things and she didn't flinch.
And I thought — what kind of woman doesn't flinch when she's being cornered?"
"A woman who's used to it."
"Yes." Vanessa looked up.
"He ruined her, Dante.
My father deliberately ruined that woman's life to protect a manager who was stealing from him, and then he walked into your engagement party and drank champagne and smiled at everyone."
"Yes."
"And I didn't know."
"I believe you."
She looked at him for a long moment.
"Do you love her?"
Dante was quiet.
"I don't know yet what it is.
I know I'm not willing to pretend it isn't something."
Vanessa made a small sound that was almost a laugh but wasn't quite.
"At least you're honest." She stood up and straightened her coat.
"I'm not angry at you.
I want to be.
It would be much easier." She picked up the smaller of her two bags.
"I'm angry at him.
I've been angry at him for years and I've been dressing it up as loyalty."
"Vanessa—"
"Don't." She shook her head.
"Don't be kind to me right now.
I can't bear kindness from you specifically right now."
She took off the ring.
She placed it on the nightstand.
Not handed to him — set down, the way you set something down when you want it to be clear that you're choosing to let it go.
"Tell her," Vanessa said at the door, "that I'm sorry.
Not for last night — for the hotel.
For my father.
For the years she spent trying to repair something he broke on purpose." She picked up her second bag.
"She doesn't have to accept it.
But tell her anyway."
She left.
Dante sat in the blue guest suite for a while after the sound of her footsteps faded.
He picked up the ring from the nightstand and held it in his palm.
Seven carats.
A stone chosen to be seen from across a room.
May you like
He set it back down.
Then he went to find Elena.
