A Night of Living Dangerously (17 page)

Alessandro hadn’t had that. His friends weren’t real. Pity and grief for him welled up inside her. And suddenly she couldn’t hide her feelings. Not any more.

“I don’t need revenge.” Blinking back tears, she took a step towards him. “There’s only one thing I want. One thing I need.”

His jaw twitched. “What?”

“You,” she whispered. “I love you, Alessandro.”

She heard the catch of his breath. Then his eyes became wistful.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I’ve known since before our wedding, when you almost blurted it out, and I stopped you.”

“What?” She didn’t remember anything like that. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you remember? You said you had something to tell me before we could marry. I stopped you because I already knew. You were in love with me. I could see your feelings on your face.”

Lilley’s lips parted as she remembered the moment in Las Vegas when she’d tried to tell him the truth about her family. “That was what you thought I was going to say?” she said slowly. “That I was in love with you?”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t let you speak the words. I thought it would ruin things between us, that it would make a good marriage impossible.”

He didn’t know.
Lilley’s head was spinning. Alessandro didn’t know about her family. All these weeks they’d been married, she’d thought he was so kind not to reproach her, so generous to forgive and forget. But he hadn’t known. He still didn’t know!

“But now,” Alessandro said in a low voice, “I don’t know what to think. I don’t know if I can love anyone, Lilley.” Clenching his jaw, he looked away. “When I was nineteen, I was betrayed by everyone who loved me. The woman I thought I loved told me she was pregnant by another man. My father died after ignoring me most of his life. And then my mother,” he took a deep breath, “informed me that I was not his son.”

“What?” Lilley gasped.

“By their second year of marriage, she’d already grown to hate him. She had a brief affair, and got pregnant with me. My father never knew. He died thinking I was his son, and still left me nothing but debts and an unknown number of half-brothers and half-sisters around the world.”

Grief was shining in his black eyes. She’d never seen him so open with his feelings before. “I’m sorry,” she choked out, wrapping her arms around him. “Who is your real father?”

He looked away. “Not someone I ever wanted to know.”

“I’m sorry,” she breathed again, but it seemed woefully inadequate. Reaching up, she kissed his cheeks, his lips, his chin, his shoulders. She offered comfort by kissing every part of him she could reach. “I’m so sorry.” Tears streamed unchecked down her face as their eyes met. “But I’m your family now.”

He exhaled as he looked down at her. “I don’t know if I can love you, Lilley,” he said in a low voice. His dark eyes shimmered. “But if I could ever love any woman on earth … it would be you.”

Lilley’s heart stopped beating, then suddenly raced at a gallop. “It would?”

“You’re the first woman I’ve trusted in a long, long time,” he said softly, stroking her cheek. “Because I know you’d never lie to me—about anything.”

A tremble went through her. How could she ever tell him about her family now? How could she possibly explain what had started as a fib of omission to help her get a job, but had turned into months of lying straight to his face?

Honey,
she could say casually over waffles some Sunday,
a funny thing about how you thought my father owned a shop. He does own a store, but a few more than one!
Maybe they’d have a good laugh. Maybe he’d forgive her.

But then she’d have to tell him about Théo.

She had to tell him. Before he found out some other way. And she would, she promised herself. Once their marriage was on stronger footing. Once his friends didn’t hate her. Then she would tell him everything. She
would.
Even though it would make him hate her.

She trembled just to think of it ….

“I’m sorry I never gave you the wedding you deserved,” Alessandro said, stroking her cheek.

She gasped. “I loved our wedding!”

He shook his head ruefully. “You should have had friends at the ceremony. Family.” He looked at her. “Have you told your father about me yet?”

Her father.
She swallowed. “Um. No. Not yet.” Squaring her shoulders, she forced herself to add, “But I will take you to Minnesota to meet him. Anytime you like.”

“How about Christmas?” Holding her in his arms, he smiled down at her, the expression on his handsome face tender and bright. “We’ll have a wedding reception in Rome first. Then plan one there.”

“A reception?”

“Two. One on each continent. I want to properly celebrate.” He stroked her hair. “With our family and friends.”

“Oh,” she breathed.

“It’ll give your father a chance to know me.” He gave her a sudden wink. “I’ll win him over.”

His charm and thoughtfulness just made her feel more guilty. “Of course you will,” she said over the lump in her throat. “No one could help loving you.”

His expression grew serious. “But I don’t need anyone to love me.” He pulled her against his naked body, stroking her back over her beige jacket. “I only need you.”

Lilley suddenly felt like crying. She felt his naked body stir, and her own immediate response flooded her with need. She shivered as his hands gently caressed her breasts over the fabric, squeezing her plump flesh with his fingers, rubbing her swollen nipples until they were hard and aching beneath her jacket.

Her gaze fell on the bathroom mirrors and she saw their image, his naked body and muscular backside, as his lips lowered to her neck. The image caused a wave of immediate pleasure as he unbuttoned her jacket.

“You’re mine,” he murmured against her skin. She felt him hard between her legs, felt the gentle, insistent stroke of his fingertips as he pulled off her silk camisole and bra, running his palm down the valley between her pregnant breasts to her small waist and softly rounded belly. “Say it.”

She opened her eyes. “I’m yours.”

“Forever,” he demanded.

She swallowed. “Forever.”

Alessandro fell to his knees in front of her. Lifting her skirt to her hips, he yanked her panties to the floor. Moving his head between her thighs, he lifted one of her legs over his shoulder.

Her hands gripped his naked, hard-muscled shoulders as she felt his hot breath between her thighs. Then, the last moment before he kissed her, he lifted his head to look at her face.

“Never lie to me, Lilley,” he whispered. “And we’ll last forever. No one will ever be able to break us apart.”

He lowered his mouth between her legs, and as waves of pleasure exploded inside her, Lilley tilted back her head with a gasp, closing her eyes. Her heart pounded as she realized what she’d done. She should have told him the truth from the beginning. From the very first day. She’d thought it would be better to wait until he had a reason to care. But when he discovered she’d lied to him for months, after he’d allowed himself to be so vulnerable and care for her—trust her—it would be the beginning of the end.

No. She felt his wet, slick tongue between her legs and shuddered with need, closing her eyes with anguish. She couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not ever.

She would find a way to tell him the truth. And pray it wasn’t the end … of everything.

CHAPTER TEN

A
LESSANDRO
’s jaw dropped when he first saw his wife at the top of the stairs.

After five weeks of planning, he’d known she was choosing her gown with care for their wedding reception at their palazzo tonight. She’d insisted on picking her dress herself, in utmost secrecy. Now he saw why. Lilley was wearing a ball gown of watered silk in blending swirls of purple and fuchsia, with a snug corset tight beneath her breasts and loose over her swelling belly. Pink flowers adorned her long, flowing brown hair which tumbled over her shoulders.

She paused at the top of the landing, waiting for his reaction. “Well?” she asked with a deep breath. “What do you think?”

Alessandro opened his lips to tell her she must change, to tell her she couldn’t wear such an outrageous gown, not when they’d be surrounded by the critical eyes of the most stylish citizens of the most stylish city in the world. He opened his mouth to tell her that fitting in was the only way to survive.

Then Alessandro saw the hope in Lilley’s vulnerable brown eyes. He realized what a risk she’d taken, choosing a dress like this for the night of the reception she’d spent weeks planning.

She was, quite deliberately, taking a risk.

And the truth was she looked beautiful. Looking at her face, Alessandro suddenly didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought. He didn’t care about anyone but her.

He held up his hand with a smile. “You look beautiful.”

Relief and gratitude rushed across Lilley’s beautiful face before she gave him a mischievous grin.
“Grazie,”
she said, swishing her skirt as she came down the stairs. She adjusted his tie with a dimpled smile. “You don’t look so bad in that tuxedo yourself.”

Then, standing on her tiptoes, she reached up and kissed him so long and hard that if guests for the reception hadn’t already started to arrive, he would have taken her straight upstairs and ripped the colorful ball gown right off her.

As they went to the ballroom to greet their guests, Alessandro marveled at the changes Lilley had made in the palazzo. In the two months they’d been in Rome, Lilley had tossed out all his elegant, creaky antiques and replaced them with furniture that was both comfortable and warm. His palazzo had once been a showplace. Now it was a home.

And it had never looked better than it did tonight. It was early December, and there was a fire in every fireplace, white twinkling lights on the trees outside and holly and pine boughs on all the mantels, to celebrate the upcoming season.

Looking across the ballroom, Lilley gave a sudden intake of breath. “Uh-oh. The ambassador is hitting on Monica Valenti.” He followed her gaze to see the gray-haired ambassador clearly invading the personal space of the nineteen-year-old starlet. Lilley threw him an apologetic glance.
“Mi scusi.”

As he took a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, Alessandro watched his wife with admiration. Their ballroom was packed. Lilley had invited everyone: aristocracy, government officials and entrepreneurs, from the highest circles of Roman society. She’d even invited Lucretia and Giulia.

His wife had a forgiving soul. He did not.

Alessandro had called both women and disinvited them in no uncertain terms. Now they were missing this reception, which somehow—he wasn’t sure quite how—had turned into the social event of the year. The humiliation would teach the two women to show his wife a little more respect. His lips curled. The next time Lilley saw them, he suspected they would be in a far friendlier mood.

Finishing the glass of St. Raphaël champagne, he placed his empty flute on a silver tray and watched as his beautiful wife disengaged Monica Valenti from the ambassador with such friendly, warm charm, that instead of taking offense, the gray-haired man smiled at her, clearly enchanted.

And who wouldn’t be enchanted? Surrounded by skinny women who wore drab designer gowns of beige and black, Lilley stood out like a bird of paradise. Guests followed her, waiting to speak with her, and Alessandro suddenly remembered how shy and terrified Lilley had been when he’d taken her to the Preziosi di Caetani ball. That was just a few months ago. So much had changed since then.

Lilley’s eyes met his across the crowded ballroom, and he gave her a wicked half smile, thinking of what he intended to do to her later. Her brown eyes widened, and her cheeks turned a charming shade of pink. Ah, she was so adorable, his wife. So innocent and easy to read.

She looked away, their eye contact broken as a man came to speak with her, blocking Alessandro’s view of her face.

He scowled as he recognized Vladimir Xendzov talking to Lilley, touching the bulky necklace around her neck. It was her newest strange concoction, created from gold and sapphire gem clusters she’d found in an antique shop in Venice. He wondered what they were talking about. He trusted his wife, but he didn’t trust Xendzov. Setting his jaw, he grabbed a glass of bubbly pink champagne, then gaped at the raspberry in the bottom. He’d look like a fool drinking
that.
Setting the flute back on the tray, he barked at the waiter, “Get me a Scotch.”

The man bowed and backed away, and Alessandro looked slowly around the crowded ballroom. Lilley had thrown herself into planning this reception as if her life depended on it, finding caterers and musicians and florists. The end result was as unique and offbeat as Lilley’s jewelry. No one was dancing yet, but the mood was lively with a brash, lilting Irish rock band Lilley had hired from Dublin, just for fun. Dinner was being served buffet-style, with exotic dishes representing every country where Caetani Worldwide owned a subsidiary. The hodgepodge of cultures should have been a disaster. Instead … He looked around and saw powerful men laughing, saw their beige-clad wives giggling like schoolchildren. It was a hit.

Lilley
was a hit.

Emotion rose in Alessandro’s heart.

Why had he never realized it before? Lilley was perfect as she was. She didn’t need to change. She didn’t need to fit in. She was born to stand out.

The feeling in his heart expanded to his throat, choking him, and suddenly he had to tell her. He had to take her in his arms and tell her how proud he was of her, how much he cared about her, how much he … that he …

His feet moved across the marble floor, beneath the twinkling lights of the multicolored, sparkling glass chandeliers she’d bought in Venice. Alessandro moved faster, pushing through the crowds. His view of Lilley’s face was still blocked by the people clustered around her, by the Russian who called himself a
prince
. Alessandro needed his wife in his arms. Now.

“Darling.” Olivia suddenly stood in front of him, blocking his way. Skinny and pale, dressed in a black sheath that showed her complete lack of décolletage, she looked like an angel of death.