“And she no longer has a father.”
“Better no father at all than a man like Wentworth.”
“But now…” She took a deep breath. “We’re both alone.”
“No.”
His blue eyes caught hers, wouldn’t let them go.
“You won’t be alone for long. You are a woman who was made for love. You should have a family, Lucia. A faithful, loving husband, a houseful of children. I want all those things for you.”
The images battered her like wind in a storm.
The happy home. The children. And a husband who adored her.
If Maximo could give her those things…
“Is that what you want?” she whispered.
“Sì, cara, it is.” He paused, and for one minute she could barely breathe. Then he continued, “I want those things for you. After we are divorced, I will introduce you to friends—good men, not fortune hunters—who desire a wife.”
“But not you.”
He looked at her. “Between us it is only business, cara. You know this. Business and pleasure. I am not a man to settle down. Love only complicates what should be simple. But not all men think so. I have a friend in Rio, a self-made billionaire who might—”
“No, thanks.” Her voice cracked as she turned back to face the window. Just when she’d almost convinced herself he might care for her, he was already plotting to pawn her off on some Brazilian stranger. “I’m happy alone. Chloe can do without a father. I don’t need a loving husband or a houseful of children. Just Chloe and me and our thirty million dollars. Perfect.”
Telling all these lies, her vision grew blurry.
She covered her face. “I’ve never been so happy.”
She heard the soft click as he undid his seat belt. Then she felt his hands unclicking hers. A moment later, he pulled her into his arms, wrapping himself around her. She felt all his warmth and comfort. The hard, jagged lump in her throat—the one she’d felt ever since Alex had dropped her baby’s photo like trash—dissolved, and she began to sob.
Maximo held her closer, stroking her hair. He murmured soft words in Italian that she couldn’t understand, but for some reason his kindness only made her cry harder.
“Why are you treating me like this?” she choked out. “I don’t understand. You could have offered me a small financial settlement for my shares. Instead you insisted on giving me thirty million. You could have married me and left me in Chicago. Instead you brought me to your villa and made me a princess. Why?”
“I told you. I want the old man to die knowing that everything he’s ever cared about is mine.”
She shook her head. “It’s more than that,” she whispered. “If it weren’t, you would ignore me when we’re alone. Instead, even in private, you treat me like your princess. You try to fulfill my every dream.”
His jaw clenched as he looked away. “You are giving me too much credit.”
“No, I’m not.” Tears were streaming unchecked down her face. “We’re practically strangers, but ever since we met you’ve acted like—”
Like you love me, she almost said, but she didn’t have the nerve. Especially since she knew it wasn’t true. He had said it a hundred times: he would never love her.
But how was she supposed to believe that, when his actions spoke so differently?
“Perhaps,” he said, stroking her cheek, “it is all to lure you into my bed.”
Could it be? She closed her eyes, savoring his touch. She was married to a handsome prince. She was wealthy beyond belief. Her daughter was happy and well cared for. She had everything she’d ever wanted. She was living in a fairy tale.
So why was she so miserable?
Because there was one thing she didn’t have. Love. The handsome prince didn’t love her. They would divorce in a matter of months, and he would move on to the next gorgeous woman who took his fancy. Chloe would grow up without a father. And Lucy would live forever in some luxurious villa, a princess in diamonds—alone.
She pulled away.