“I will just say, Whitney gets her spunk from her mother. I do not think she will pull any punches with her questions tonight at dinner. I feel there will be nothing off the table. You do not have to answer anything you’re not comfortable with and I will not be upset at anything you do feel you want to share with her.”
“You’re willing to discuss our personal life with this family?”
“No, but the press already has. I’d rather they hear truths from our lips than reading tabloid versions.”
“Makes sense I guess,” she whispered. “I look like hell Alessandro. I’m bruised and battered and there is no way I can hide this,” she lifted her bandaged arm.
“You forget I’m the best designer in the world,” he knew no humility, “I’ll sort you out and,” he touched the bruise on her forehead, “we have Sa
