“She left France a few hours ago.” The other man’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “She wanted to visit her father, then scout out locations for her jewelry line.”
“She’s doing it?” Alessandro said faintly. “Really doing it?”
St. Raphaël glared at him. “My wife says Lilley’s jewelry is a sure thing. And she should know.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “You know, I should thank you. For doing the right thing by my cousin.”
Alessandro’s lips lifted humorlessly. “You mean marrying her?”
“Divorcing her,” he replied coldly. “Lilley is the kindest person I know. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. She and her baby deserve better than you.” He closed his briefcase with a snap. “But business is business. I have wanted these vineyards back for some time. Have your lawyers review the documents. There is no need for us to meet again. Adieu.”
Without another word, Théo St. Raphaël left. Numbly, Alessandro stared down at the file, and at the divorce papers still spread across his desk beneath. Picking up a page, he tried to read it, but the words seemed to move and jump across the pages. It was as if he were suddenly seeing the world from Lilley’s point of view.
Pushing the papers aside, he rose to his feet. From the window, he saw St. Raphaël carry a large box out through the gate. His limousine soon disappeared back into the streets of Rome.
Alessandro looked up. The bright-blue sky seemed smeared violet. As if the world were going dark.
I love you, Alessandro.
I’m yours. Forever.
He closed his eyes, pressing his hot forehead against the cold glass of the window. But even with his eyes closed, even if he covered his ears with his hands, he could still hear Lilley’s shaking voice, still see the grief in her eyes. I’m done trying to make you love me. Done.
And the truth hit Alessandro like a blow.
Lilley hadn’t betrayed him.
He had betrayed her.
His eyes flew open. He’d told her she wasn’t good enough to be his wife, or good enough to be liked by his friends. He’d insisted on buying her clothes. He’d told her why her jewelry would never sell, then insisted that she give up her own dreams in order to sit alone in their palazzo, waiting for him to come home.
He’d let her love him without offering her anything in return, except coldly expensive jewels, which he should have realized long ago, she would never, ever want.
No wonder when he’d turned on her so viciously at their reception, Lilley had finally given up. For months, she’d bent over backwards trying to please him. She’d convinced herself he was worthy of her love. That night, even her romantic, loyal heart had been forced to see the truth.
He’d finally proven that he wasn’t her knight in shining armor, and never could be.
She was right. He’d been afraid to love her, terrified to let himself be vulnerable again. For sixteen years, he’d kept his heart locked up. When Olivia had given him an escape, his cowardly heart had taken the first chance at the exit door.
Lilley was right. Cold rage filled him. Rage at himself.
Alessandro turned back to the window, staring at the early twilight of December. The blue sky was streaked with pink and orange, like a brilliant fire on the horizon.
We all must choose in this life, he’d told her once. The safety of a prison. Or the terrible joy that comes with freedom.
He’d thought of her as a timid little mouse. But all along, she was the one with the courageous heart. He was the one who’d been hiding.
But not anymore. Not anymore.
Whirling around, he grabbed the phone off his desk so fast he nearly it knocked to the floor.
He would bring the laughter and trust back to her eyes, even if it made him look like the biggest fool on the face of the earth. If he couldn’t even do that … then that bastard St. Raphaël was right. Lilley and his child really would be better off without him.
Alessandro would find her. Win her.
Squaring his shoulders, he set his jaw.
He would deserve her.
After six hours, Lilley’s backside was well and truly sore.