Page 6 of Lorenzo

Outside the window, I watch pedestrians on the crowded sidewalks jostle for space.

“You know how Uncle Eton can get when he wants something bad. This time, he dangled Teddy’s tuition in front of me. Said he won’t pay next year if I refuse his request.”

“Oh, Emily!”

“It’s okay. As long as Teddy’s safe at his school, I can handle anything that life throws my way.”

I channel the steadfast determination my late Aunt Jane always embodied.

It runs in our blood. Aunt Jane inherited this trait from her own father. He led the Harvard Museum’s archeological expedition into Egypt back in the 1900s.

And I’m made of similar stuffing.

“Anyway, the marriage is temporary. That’s the part I keep reminding myself.”

“What’s your new husband’s name?”

“Lorenzo Ricci,” I say.

“Name sounds familiar. Give me a second.”

I hear rustling on her end of the phone.

“Ah, yes. Lorenzo Ricci. I see his picture almost every time I open Manhattan Social. “

“What’s Manhattan Social?”

“A juicy online gossip column about Big Apple ‘bad boys’ and the scandals they get themselves into. Required reading for Gotham’s movers and shakers. But it’s syndicated around the world.”

“But why was Lorenzo Ricci in it? Did he do something wrong?”

“There’s no such thing as ‘wrong’ in this publication. Lorenzo and his brothers own Dante’s Inferno, an elite club for Manhattan power players. And Lorenzo is a real playboy, Em. He has every model and actress in the Big Apple on speed dial. You lucky bitch!”

“Lucky?!” The word lands wrong. I shift in my seat and look out the window at the greenery. We must be approaching Central Park soon. With practiced fingers, I re-braid my long auburn hair tightly.

“Lorenzo Ricci being gorgeous is beside the point. You should check out the columns to see the photos I’m talking about. He’s out every night with beautiful woman at glitzy events. And now YOU get to visit all these places with him as his wife!”

“Temporary wife.”

“Either way, imagine how much fun it would be to be seen on his arm in the hottest places in town.”

“You’re reading too many billionaire romances, Anna. Besides, I doubt very much he’d find me attractive.”

“And why is that?”

“Given the fashion models that appear to be his usual choice of prey, I’m hardly his type.”

“You’re very attractive,” Anna begins before her tone turns into a tease. “At least when you put your mind to it.”

“Touché, bitch. As it happens, word got back to me that he’s expecting some dowdy New England girl. So I’m thinking, why disappoint him? First impressions are everything. Especially when you want someone to underestimate you.”

“Emily J. Fisher. What are you planning?” Anna demands.

Before I answer, I glance up and realize we’re already at the entrance to Central Park.

And I know that the 5-star hotel, The Circle, where we’ll be married, is just down the street.

The tantalizing scent of summer flowers wafts toward my open window.