as he heard how foolish the words sounded to his own ears.
“There’s no point to being upset over something I cannot change.” She stared down at the marble floor. “And I truly didn’t come to cause a scene.”
“Then why did you?”
She looked up, her eyes luminous and wide. Beneath the darkening light of the upper windows, her eyes were the color of a mountain stream. Not just brown, he realized. Her eyes were a thousand shades, depths of green and blue and amber like a deep, ancient river.
“I have something to tell you before I can leave San Francisco.”
Leave? Why on earth would she leave? Then Alessandro remembered he’d convinced a friend to offer her a job in New York. When he’d been in Mexico City, enduring night after night of hot dreams, he’d thought sending her three thousand miles away from San Francisco was the only sane thing to do. Now, he thought it the stupidest idea he’d ever conceived. His shoulders tightened. “Lilley—”
The doorbell rang, and as Bronson hesitantly came towards the door Alessandro grabbed Lilley’s hand. He pulled her out of the foyer, away from the hubbub of the party, leading her down a side hall.
“Where are we going?” she asked, not resisting him.
His hand tightened around hers. “Where we can be alone.”
Turning down a second hallway towards a quiet wing, Alessandro tried to ignore how right her hand felt in his own, tried not to feel the enticing warmth of her soft skin. But as he pulled her into the music room where he often hosted concerts and parties, the large room suddenly felt small, the temperature hot and stifling. As he walked around the grand piano and past the Picasso on the wall, his tie felt tight around his neck. He just kept walking through the music room. Opening the sliding glass doors, he pulled her into a small private garden.
Outside, the air was cool. The garden was green and stark, just a lawn, really, surrounded on three sides by a ten-foot privet hedge that separated them from the poolside terrace. On the other side of the hedge, he could hear muffled conversation and the clink of wineglasses as guests milled around the Olympic-size pool and terrace.
Alessandro realized he was still holding Lilley’s hand. He looked down at their intertwined fingers. She followed his gaze and he heard her intake of breath, felt her tremble.
Their eyes met in the rapidly deepening twilight. The sky above the villa was dark with threatening clouds, and he heard a distant rumble of thunder. He heard the wind howl through the trees. Lilley’s full cotton skirt swirled around her legs.
Electricity filled the air as the temperature seemed to drop five degrees around them. But Alessandro still felt hot, burning from the storm inside him. Desire arced though him, and with an intake of breath, he dropped her hand.
Lilley deserved better than a series of cheap one-night stands. For her sake, he couldn’t risk her loving him. And for his own sake … he couldn’t risk caring for her. He’d learned long ago to trust no one. Sex and money were real. Love was a lie.
He knew this, but his body shook with the effort of not touching her, from not putting his arms around her and sinking into her softness and warmth. He tightened his hands into fists.
“Why did you come?” he ground out.
Colorful fairy lights high in the trees swayed violently in the rising wind. A flash of lightning illuminated Lilley’s stricken face.
“You’re in love with Miss Bianchi, aren’t you?”
He set his jaw. “I told you. Marriage is a mutually beneficial alliance. Love has nothing to do with it.”
“But surely you wouldn’t want to spend the rest of your life without love.” Long tendrils of soft brown hair blew across her face as she searched his gaze. Her expression faltered. “Would you?”
Thunder crackled in the sky above. Alessandro heard gasps from the other side of the hedge as the first raindrops fell, and guests ran back inside the
Marie Sexton
Belinda Rapley
Melanie Harlow
Tigertalez
Maria Monroe
Kate Kelly, Peggy Ramundo
Camilla Grebe, Åsa Träff
Madeleine L'Engle
Nicole Hart
Crissy Smith