2

DAPHNE

Daphne’s fingers tapped out a rhythm on her keyboard, the soft clicks stark against the quietness of her office overlooking the manicured gardens of Martino House, a stark contrast to her tumultuous thoughts. The last few weeks had blown a large hole into her normally neat life, leaving her longing for the calm, predictable pre-Martino days that were free from emotional turbulence. And a two-day hiatus from work thanks to a concussion hadn’t been in her plans.

A few other things had cropped up that hadn’t been in her plans, either, she thought as she paused, her gaze falling on the framed wedding photo next to her monitor.

She stared at it, a mix of loyalty and regret stirring as she silently acknowledged the unexpected emotions swirling inside her for the new individuals who had entered her life, specifically Colin. Within a second, she found her eyes on the photo again. The lines of her contractual marriage to Colin had already blurred. Perhaps it wouldn’t be possible to maintain the level of distance she needed to ensure no messy entanglements or attachments. Particularly after their shared connection over her concussion and subsequent recovery. The time they’d spent together had shown her facets of her husband she hadn’t expected.

Perhaps it wasn’t a bad thing. She lived in constant fear of being found out, afraid every glance and every nuance of her behavior would be used to prove the fraud of their marriage. With the quickly approaching dinner party they’d host, she needed to come across as genuine as possible to help build the image of a stable home.

As she drummed her fingers on the mahogany wood of the desk, wondering for the umpteenth time if she’d made a mistake, the steady clicking of high heels paraded toward her room.

The ever-louder stomping made her certain Francesca sought her out. Daphne wrapped her fingers around the edge of the desk as she prepared herself for the confrontation.

Seconds later, as predicted, Francesca’s shoes clip-clopped their way into her office without so much as a knock. Daphne caught sight of the reflection of her stepdaughter in her monitor.

With her hands on her hips, she seemed displeased.

The scent of expensive perfume wafted past her nostrils as she twisted to face the woman. “Good morning, Francesca. Is there something you need?”

Francesca narrowed her heavily made-up eyes as she tugged her pinky-red lips into a frown and crossed her arms. Daphne arched an eyebrow at her, noticing the imperious tilt of Francesca’s chin, a silent reminder of the power dynamics at play.

“Daddy says I have to ask you if I can bring a potential business associate to the little dinner party you’re throwing tonight.”

“Ask me?”

“Yes, Daphne,” Francesca said, her voice laced with irritation, “he says I have to ask you. It’s ridiculous. So, can I?”

Daphne’s lips parted as her eyebrows knit. “Why would you need to ask me?”

Francesca huffed out a sharp breath. “That’s the same thing I said. But he insisted. ‘If it’s okay with Daphne,’” she said, her nose wrinkling as she used a mocking tone for the last statement. “So, here I am to get your blessing. I have it, right?”

Daphne sucked in a breath, pausing for a moment too long for Francesca’s liking.

“Right?” the woman snapped, her eyes going wide with disbelief.

“Umm, yes, that’s fine, yes. Of course, bring whoever you’d like. Just let Worthington know there will be one more.”

Francesca cocked her head and grinned at her. “I knew I could count on you, Step-mommy.”

She spun on her heel and took a step toward the hall. Memories of learning of Francesca’s secret relationship with James flitted through her mind. “Francesca,” she called.

“Yes?” the woman asked with a sharp glance over her shoulder.

Her mind raced, weighing the risks. Revealing her knowledge could shatter the precarious peace, yet silence felt like complicity in a deception she wanted no part of. Daphne vetted bringing up the affair, imagining the fallout. It ended with a seething Francesca hovering over her and pointing an accusatory finger in her face while she threatened her within an inch of her life.

“Uh, nothing,” Daphne said with a wave of her hand. “Sorry.”

Francesca narrowed her eyes. “Do remember, Step-mommy, we’re all here playing our parts.”

She tossed a lock of hair over her shoulder, a gesture of her disdain, and stormed from the room after unleashing the casual, yet cutting words.

Daphne eased back into the high-backed chair with a sigh. The knowledge would bother her until she said something, but she had no desire to have a confrontation with the already combative woman.

So, instead, she would continue to keep it to herself and allow it to twist her into knots. Daphne shivered, wondering how long secrets could stay buried before they upended the fragile balance of the household.

She reminded herself it was none of her business, but then again, she had just given the woman permission to invite someone to a dinner party. The boundaries were blurry at best in her new role, and she was still struggling to keep up.

With a sigh, she returned to her screen, ready to bury herself in a fictional world that seemed to have fewer complications than her current life when a knock sounded at the door.

“Yes?” she asked as she twisted. Relief washed over her and a genuine smile crossed her face as she stared at the face of the kindly butler.

“May I refresh your tea, Mrs. Martino?” he asked, motioning to the nearly empty teacup at her side.

“Oh, no, thank you, Worthington.”

“Is there anything else I can get you this morning?”

She shook her head again. “No, just trying to log a few more words this morning.”

Worthington crossed to collect the teacup and saucer from her desk. “And how is the work coming?”

“Uh, well, I wish better,” she said with a chuckle.

“Is there anything I can do?”

Daphne offered him a smile, tearing her eyes away from the blinking cursor on her page. “No. But thank you. I’ll get there, I just have some decisions to make.”

Worthington arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps talking them through with someone may help.”

“Yes, sometimes it does. And sometimes I just need to be alone with my thoughts to process them all.”

“Well, if you need a sounding board, I am always happy to provide assistance. And if you need to ensure you are not disturbed, I can help on that front, too.”

Daphne flicked her gaze to him, wondering if he’d seen Francesca leaving her room. “Thank you, Worthington. You’re always so helpful. I think I’ll be okay.”

“Of course,” he said with a nod. “And if I am not mistaken, you are lunching with Mr. Martino in town today, correct?”

“Yes, that’s right.” She glanced at the time with a wince. “Which means I’d better get going on this manuscript if I hope to make any progress before I leave.”

“I shall leave you to it. Best of luck.”

“Thank you,” she called, already clacking away at the keys, the time crunch spurring creativity.

Forty minutes later, she leaned back in her chair, her mind whirling as she skimmed the words quickly before she clicked to save the document.

If she didn’t hurry, she’d be late for her lunch date. She left the document behind, retrieved her purse, and hurried through the ornate halls, their opulence a reminder of how different her life had become.

As she descended the stairs, she found Worthington at the bottom, awaiting her. “And how did the work come along?”

“Better than expected,” she said with a grin. “Things are looking up.”

“Excellent.” He pulled the door open for her, and she stepped into the autumn day. “Have a lovely lunch, Mrs. Martino. Enjoy.”

“Thank you.”

James snapped the door open to the luxury vehicle as he greeted her. “Mrs. Martino. All ready for lunch?”

“Yes,” she said as she slid into the backseat. James rounded the back end and took his place behind the wheel.

“And how are you feeling today?” he asked as they pulled away from the house.

“Pretty good, thanks. How about you?”

“I wasn’t the one with a concussion.”

She smiled at him. “You did get the better end of the deal, didn’t you?”

He chuckled, flicking an amused glance through the rearview mirror. “Never again. You’ll never go off alone again.”

“Let’s hope there isn’t a next time to worry about.”

“You said it, Mrs. Martino. I just wish they’d make some progress on what happened with Mrs. Clarke.”

Daphne glanced out the window as the buildings closed in around her and the snarl of midday traffic echoed the chaos in her mind. “Me too. She must be unsettled. I wish for her sake they’d find something.”

“Oh, Mr. Martino mentioned she’s out today, so maybe just head straight into his office, otherwise you may be waiting forever before he realizes it’s lunchtime.”

Daphne chuckled. “He does get rather involved in his work, doesn’t he?”

“Oh, yes,” James said, echoing her laughter.

He slid the car next to the curb outside of Martino Global before he hurried around it to open her door.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And I’ll see you after your lunch.”

Daphne offered him a wave as she made her way to the door, and James disappeared into the car. With their plans to walk to their lunch destination in the beautiful fall weather, he was off the hook for at least an hour.

She hesitated for a moment, wondering if he’d spend time with Francesca. Her footsteps faltered for a moment as she bit into her lower lip, a sense of unease creeping over her. She shook it off and pushed herself inside the building.

The security guard hurried around the desk to press the elevator button for her. “Hi, Mrs. Martino.”

“Hi, Sam. How are you today?”

“Oh, doing just fine. How about yourself?”

“Good, thank you.” The doors whooshed closed, and the elevator tugged her upward. She had hoped to see Eva today to check how the woman was feeling. Too bad she was out.

When the doors opened, she stepped into the din of an office in full swing. Despite the lunch hour, people still bustled back and forth and phones rang.

Daphne wandered past the busy workers toward the back and into Eva’s office. She glanced at the temporary desk set up in the corner. Empty. Colin must be on his own today.

She bypassed the assistant’s office and stepped into Colin’s office. The smile on her face faded, replaced quickly by round eyes and an unhinged jaw as she stepped into the office, lit only by the midday sun sneaking through the slits in the blinds. The faint scent of Colin’s cologne mixed with a hint of Bianca’s floral perfume hung in the air, creating an uncomfortable atmosphere. The chatter of the office faded behind her, the ringing phones becoming muted along with the soft clicks of keyboards, making the scene all the more jarring.

Colin sat in his chair, tilted slightly back as the young assistant, Bianca, practically straddled him, whispering something in his ear.

She couldn’t keep a startled set of words from escaping her lips, almost immediately regretting it. “Oh, my goodness.”

Colin twisted to face her, an expression of equal surprise on his handsome features. The shock on the blonde assistant’s face curled with satisfaction instead of surprise.

“Daphne,” Colin breathed, frozen in the compromising position.

“I–I’m sorry. I’ve obviously interrupted something.” Daphne swallowed hard as she let her gaze sink to the floor, wondering how red her cheeks were based on the burning she felt across them.

She pressed a hand to her forehead as a cold wave of shock swept over her. She hurried from the office, her confusion hanging over her like a thick fog blanketing a sea of emotions she hadn’t anticipated, and barreled toward the elevator. Her heart thudded against her ribs, a mix of shock and an unknown emotion coursing through her. Her clammy palms slipped on her purse strap as a lump formed in her throat. The sight of Colin and Bianca stirred a whirlpool of emotions that she couldn’t identify.

“Daphne!” Colin’s voice called behind her as she repeatedly pressed the elevator button, hoping it would open and swallow her inside. She wanted to be anywhere but here.

“Daphne, wait,” Colin said again.

She clutched her purse until her fingers turned white as the numbers above the elevator rose toward her current floor.

A sense of panic started to sweep through her as she wished she could melt into the floor. She had no desire to have a confrontation over this, particularly with unexplored and unidentified feelings wreaking havoc within her.

Fingers wrapped around her arm and gently turned her around. “Daphne, please, I can explain.”

She stared up into his blue eyes, stormy and pleading. She shook her head as the elevator dinged, indicating the arrival of the car.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me.” She tugged her arm from his grasp and entered the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor, then holding the door closed button.

“No, Daphne, please, wa–”

The doors slid closed before he could finish his statement. A sense of relief washed over her at the narrow escape, though it brought her little peace. What had she walked in on?

Her sweaty palms closed into fists as she came to the resolution that it didn’t matter. He was under no obligation to remain true to her. They weren’t in love. They were in a business deal. Her feelings didn’t matter in this. He didn’t care.