Chapter 9 - THE WOMAN WHO REFUSED HIS PROPOSAL
Vincent asked Clare to dinner.
Not a business meeting.
Not a charity event.
Dinner.
She hesitated.
“Are you asking because of the violin?”
“No.”
“Because of my mother?”
“No.”
“Because you feel guilty?”
Vincent paused.
“Some of that.”
Clare smiled faintly.
“At least you're honest.”
He looked at her.
“I'd like to know you.”
She considered.
Then said:
“One dinner.”
Vincent smiled.
“One dinner.”
They met at a small Italian restaurant in Lincoln Square.
No private room.
No photographers.
No entourage.
Just a table near the window.
Clare wore a green dress.
Vincent arrived carrying a single white rose.
She looked at it.
“Is that supposed to impress me?”
He smiled.
“No. I thought you'd like it.”
She accepted the flower.
“Thank you.”
They talked for hours.
Clare told him about Owen.
Her mother.
Her years at the conservatory.
The accident.
Vincent told her about Lucia.
His childhood.
His complicated relationship with the family business.
And the pressure of inheriting a name that frightened people.
At one point, Clare asked:
“Do you ever wish you weren't a Moretti?”
Vincent considered.
“Sometimes.”
She nodded.
“Then why stay?”
He looked down.
“Because I thought leaving meant abandoning everyone who depended on me.”
Clare studied him.
“And now?”
He smiled sadly.
“Now I'm beginning to understand that staying doesn't mean I have to keep doing things the same way.”
After dinner, they walked along the river.
Vincent stopped near a bridge.
“Clare.”
She turned.
“Yes?”
He looked nervous.
That surprised her.
“I owe you something.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Another apology?”
He laughed.
“Possibly.”
Then he grew serious.
“At the gala, I offered to marry you because I thought you couldn't play.”
Clare folded her arms.
“I remember.”
He swallowed.
“I treated marriage like a prize I could dangle in front of someone I believed was beneath me.”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
He looked into her eyes.
“I was wrong.”
Clare waited.
Vincent continued.
“If I ever ask you to marry me again, it won't be because of a violin.”
Her heart skipped.
He smiled faintly.
“It'll be because I know you.”
Clare looked away.
Then whispered:
“Then you'd better take your time.”
May you like
Vincent smiled.
“I intend to.”
