LITMIR.BIZ

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she knew that was only because of him. Donald, her ex-boyfriend of eight years, always complained that she hadn’t brought any va-va-voom, but with Slade that wasn’t an issue.

      “I know you don’t approve of him. You’ve made that very clear and I’m not sure how I feel about him. He’s on the art council, which is how we met.”

      “He’s on the art council? I thought his family were all mobsters—which, by the way, concerns me.”

      “He’s not a mobster, Angela. He is also the only grandson of Philomena Conti. So he’s representing the family. I think Mrs. Conti had a hip replacement earlier this year, which is why he filled in at the meeting. We just hit it off. He likes art as much as I do. It was my description of a Van Dyck that made him notice me.”

      Angela stood up and walked over to her, putting her hands on Melinda’s shoulders and making her face the mirror. She met her sister’s gaze, avoiding looking at herself. She had the big rollers in because it made doing her hair easier, and she hadn’t put on any makeup yet so her freckles were visible.

      “Look at yourself,” Angela said.

      She glanced up at her own reflection. She always smiled at herself because that helped her start the day in a good mood. Angela smiled back at her as well.

      “That man noticed you because of you,” she said. “And it’s about time that you found a man who can make you forget yourself at the opera.”

      Melinda sighed. She knew her sister was right. No matter what Slade made her feel, at the end of the day their lives simply didn’t fit together. He was more Cristal champagne and parties at his penthouse and jetting off to Dubai than local artist openings.

      “I know. Not the danger part—he’s really not a bad man, Angela. But he’s not for me either. Honestly, I sort of thought after we slept together, he’d move on to someone else,” Melinda said. “But he hasn’t. There’s something between us that makes it hard to keep our hands off each other.”

      “Passion, Mels. Finally, you’ve found a guy who brings out the fire in you,” Angela said. “But not a Bartelli. Find someone else.”

      Melinda shook her head. She didn’t want the fire... Well, not all the time. Fire was dangerous. She knew that had led to trouble in her parents’ relationship and she’d always striven to keep her life on an even keel.

      But now she wasn’t on an even keel. She was already really overdue for her period and she’d always been regular. Maybe she was having perimenopause. She had read an article that some women started to experience symptoms at her age.

      She met her sister’s eyes in the mirror and knew better than to bring up that subject again unless she’d taken a pregnancy test. As close as she and Angela were, there were some things that they both just kept to themselves and this was going to be one of them.

      “If it were that easy, I would have done it a long time ago,” she said at last. “I’m not sure where things are going with Slade, but we both know it’s not going to last.”

      “Good,” Angela said, giving her a breezy one-armed hug. “Are you okay?”

      She wanted to nod but the hot rollers made her head feel heavy and awkward. “Of course. I’m always okay.”

      “Except I know that you’re not. You said you wanted to be a mom...and suspected you were pregnant. Are you? Is he the father?” Angela asked.

      She wasn’t ready to talk about pregnancy. She hadn’t even been to her doctor yet, even though she had bought more than a few over-the-counter tests. She hadn’t gotten up the courage to take them yet. She might want to be a mom, but she had in her mind the way it should happen. She was a traditional kind of gal. She wanted Slade to fall in love with her—desperately in love—and propose marriage, to have a huge society wedding—where her father, sister and family weren’t in the midst of a scandal—and then have a baby.

      “I don’t know if I’m pregnant,” she said, dropping her gaze from Angela’s in the mirror. She wasn’t a big fan of lying to anyone, but she wasn’t ready to deal with being pregnant while the Chronicle was running a photo of her and Slade kissing. “I mean, Slade Bartelli doesn’t sound like the right kind of man for me, does he?”

      Angela propped her hip on the edge of the vanity and looked pensively at Melinda’s bedroom. For the first time, Melinda realized that her sister might be hiding something of her own. “Are you okay? How are your wedding plans coming along?” Angela had just announced her engagement to Ryder Currin.

      “Yeah, I’m fine. Nice try, but we are talking about you,” Angela said. “I don’t know what to tell you. If you say Slade’s a good guy... Well, I’m on your side. Just make sure you know what you’re doing. While fire is good and I have always thought that’s what you needed to shake you out of your routines and lists, it can also burn you. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

      Melinda turned and hugged her sister, resting her head against her stomach. “I don’t want you hurt either. Men are...way more complicated than they look on the surface.”

      Her sister laughed as she started taking out the hot rollers in Melinda’s hair. “They are. Why can’t they just be hot, right?”

      “Yes. And sophisticated and like the things we like and then go away when we need to get back to real life.”

      Her sister laughed again. “If only we were in charge of the world.”

      “Someday,” she said.

      “Someday,” Angela repeated quietly.

      Angela left a few minutes later and Pixie came trotting into the room and plopped herself on her bed. Melinda leaned into the mirror to finish putting on her makeup and fixing her hair and then she got dressed for the day.

      She took extra care to make sure her A-line skirt was straight, and her blouse tucked in properly; she didn’t like it when it was too loose around the waist. She tied the pussy bow at the neckline and then switched the contents of her handbag to the purse that perfectly matched her magenta skirt. She had a lot of work to do at her foundation and meetings this morning.

      She put her sunglasses on the top of her head, patted Pixie’s head as she walked out the front door, then took the elevator down to the lobby of her building. Downstairs, she was met by a barrage of flashbulbs.

      Panicked, she ducked back onto the elevator. She went back to her condo, texted her assistant she’d be out this morning and then hit the treadmill. Walking always helped her figure things out. Things were definitely getting too complicated and now she knew she had to end things with Slade. No one had ever noticed when she kissed Donald.

      * * *

      Slade Bartelli tossed his phone on the passenger seat of his Ferrari Lusso as he backed out of his parking space at his downtown offices. He’d been trying to get in touch with Melinda since he’d gotten the news notification from the Houston Chronicle. And nothing. Total radio silence.

      She wasn’t a fan of too much PDA, which he admitted was cute and one of the reasons why he liked her. She dressed like a lady but kissed like...well, like his hottest, wettest dreams. She was different, and he liked that about her. But his gut—the same one that had always warned him when trouble was at the door during his childhood—was telling him that if he didn’t talk to her, she was going to walk out of his life without a backward glance.

      Part of him—the part that he was constantly fighting with—wanted to find the paparazzo who’d taken that photo and pound him. But he wasn’t that kind of Bartelli. He was trying to be the man his nonna Conti had raised him to be. But there were times when he had to admit his dad’s way was a lot more efficient.

      He pulled up in front of Melinda’s building, parking illegally out front because he knew the doorman would relish the chance to drive the Ferrari if the traffic cop came by. He saw the paparazzi as soon as he neared the building. They were snapping photos, calling his name, and he faced them

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