She nodded.
He leaned in as if he hadn’t seen her nod. “You’re shaking.” He ran his hands along her bare arms. “Are you cold?”
“No,” she snapped, the unintentional reference to ice princess far too frustrating. “I’m furious, and I want to kick some butt, and I want to—”
She threw her arms around him and held on tight, squeezing close and soaking in comfort as he cradled her. Dean leaned back against the outside of the restaurant window, and they stood there until she could breathe again without wanting to bite out a curse.
He must have sensed her relax, because he released her carefully, keeping hold of her hand as he tilted her chin up and met her gaze.
“C’mon, let’s go somewhere to talk,” he said quietly, and then he put his arm around her and led her back to the car.
Chapter Sixteen
They went to her suite. Back to the familiar setting where they’d spent a surprising amount of time together. Emma dropped her keys on the side table by the door and wandered into the living room, abandoning her coat to the floor.
Dean was hard on her heels like a bloodhound refusing to lose the scent.
“Do you need something? A cup of tea?” he offered.
“Yes, but let me do it.” Maybe it was clichéd but the few moments it took to prepare cups for both of them gave her enough time to decompress so that she could speak without her voice shaking.
She joined him in the living room, taking the single seat to the side of the couch.
Dean noticed her seating choice but didn’t comment.
It wasn’t because she didn’t want his touch. She was craving his comfort right now, but she had to do this. She had to be brave enough to be honest.
It was the only way she could continue to move forward.
“I’m not mad at you,” she said softly.
“I know.” Dean curled his fingers further around the cup she’d handed him. “When you’re mad at me there tends to be elbows and knees and guns involved.”
Even his patented charm couldn’t make her smile. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“How about with that phone call?”
Emma let out a long breath. “The call was from my assistant informing me that Lorenzo made it to his last two interviews with the guidance of the ex-military guy I hired, but then insulted everyone in the room by throwing a hissy fit and flipping tables.”
Dean frowned. “Literal tables?”
“So it seems. Which was right before he stormed out of the salon into the hotel lobby and urinated in the tropical plants.”
“What the fuck? Was he drunk?”
Emma took another sip of tea then placed the china cup carefully on the coffee table. “Not according to him. It was all part of a grand publicity scheme, although I have no idea how he thinks making a fool of himself in public can possibly help Fire and Ice.”
“Are you worried about your job? With your boss acting —”
“He’s not my boss,” Emma cut in. She hurried on before Dean’s confusion could come out in a pile of questions she didn’t know how to answer. “It’s a long story.”
Dean moved in on her like the immovable object he was, linking his fingers with hers as he sat on the coffee table and surrounded her with his presence. “I have nowhere I need to be except right here.”
Emma looked down at their hands, at the scars and calluses that were part of the new Dean. Marks that had not been there eleven years ago.
There were marks on her soul as well.
“When I went to Milan I had some catching up to do. By the time I got to the end of the semester, I had managed to put in enough extra hours I was nearly in line with the rest of the students. The final project was the student show, and although everyone was required to participate, there was also a really awesome opportunity to be had. Every year, one student in the program is chosen as the showcase designer, and—”
“Showcase designer?” he interrupted, his brow wrinkling.
“You close the show,” she explained. “You’re the headliner, pretty much, and everyone else is considered your opening acts. The featured designer is chosen by an industry professional, and that year it was one of the most influential buyers in the Italian market. And the best part—you get funding to help open your own label after you graduate.”
Dean whistled softly. “That’s a pretty sweet deal.”
“Tell me about it. Do you know how hard it is to get a label off the ground? Most students end up struggling after graduating from design programs, working their asses off to create a label, or interning with bigger names and doing the grunt work until they get their big break. But in Milan one person would be handed that big break right out of the gate.”