He worked his way from one end of the tree to the other, with his brothers hauling and stacking the pieces. His muscles relaxed and his head cleared. He was nothing if not a man who knew how to solve a problem. His wife might think this was the way it was going to be, but she had it all wrong. This icy détente was ending. And it was ending tonight.
* * *
Lilly adjusted the plunging bodice of the lavender gown for the millionth time and asked herself why in the world she’d allowed the owner of Sam’s to convince her this gown was it.
She felt conspicuous and exposed. Okay, sexy and desirable too. But maybe it was too much. And the last thing she wanted to do was attract any more attention than she and Riccardo already would tonight. Their first appearance as a reunited couple since their divorce party was going to cause enough waves.
And as for when she came to model Antonia Abelli’s gown... All eyes would be on her, searching for and exposing her flaws. And they were going to have a field-day with her. With her less than perfect body, she could only imagine what they’d say.
Her stomach rose to her throat. Her fitting with the designer had been humiliating. The eclectic woman, whose romantic designs she’d always loved, had circled around her, frowning at the tight fit of the chosen dress. “We’ll have to let some seams out,” she’d muttered. “But it’ll work.”
Lilly had left, cheeks burning, wanting to tell her to make someone else wear the dress—someone it fit! The only problem with that was this was the new Lilly. The Lilly who wasn’t going to care. The Lilly who was going to go out with Riccardo tonight, act like the perfect wife and not let anyone see how it got to her. She was older and wiser now—she’d gained perspective in the past year. She could handle this. And Lisbeth was all that mattered.
She heard Riccardo turn the water off in the shower. “Shoes,” she murmured, ignoring the anticipatory surge of her pulse. And then she’d be ready.
She searched through a shelf full of shoes: slingbacks and stilettos in every shade of the rainbow. Her husband had walked in after his day with his brothers, taken one wary look at the pile of couture creations stacked on the floor for Magda to give away, and had said only, “Ready to leave in fifteen?”
“Aha!” She located her silver slingbacks on the top shelf. At least her shoes fit. They were her absolute weakness and, oh, did she love the strappy soft leather of these, which molded to her feet and felt like heaven...
She sat down on the bed and pulled them on. They made her legs seem a mile long, and if there was anything she needed tonight it was that. The fact she couldn’t walk in them was of little consequence. Anything that increased her confidence level was worth it.
Her fingers clumsily refused to obey her as she struggled to thread the thin strap through the tiny loop. The fashion show was one thing. How she and Riccardo were going to fool all those people they knew and make them think they were still in love when they were in the middle of the War of the Roses was another matter entirely.
She managed to get one shoe done up, then started on the other, enduring the same frustrating process. Maybe what she needed were glasses, because the strap didn’t seem to want to—
“Dammit.”
“Need help?”
Riccardo’s rich, sexy drawl sent the strap pinging out of her hand completely. “No, thanks,” she murmured, snatching it up again and yanking it desperately through the loop. This time the pin slid right into the hole and stayed. Thank goodness. She didn’t need a naked Riccardo any closer than he was right now because—
Hell. The blood had rushed to her head, bent over like that, but now, sitting up, her gaze moved over her husband leaning against the doorway of the bathroom and it seemed to congeal right there, pounding in her ears. Not naked. He’d wrapped a towel around his waist, but that was almost worse, because far, far too much mouthwatering muscled, bronzed flesh was still on display. Everything she hadn’t let herself look at the other night.
She gulped in a desperate breath as that six-pack she’d loved to tell him turned her on stared her in the face. Her gaze moved lower, over the grooves in his abdomen only the most defined men had, skipped the next part, because really she couldn’t go there, and ended up at his gorgeous thighs and calves. Riccardo had the best legs of any man she’d ever encountered. Muscled, strong and perfectly shaped. Heavenly.
No looking at me like that unless you intend to follow through with it.
She stood abruptly, teetering on the high shoes. “We should go. We’re late already, and if we’re going to get through traffic—” He was so not listening to her. His long-lashed dark gaze was conducting a thorough inspection of her physical assets that had begun with her face, swept down over the plunging neckline of her dress, over the flare of her hips in the clinging gown to her lavender-tipped feet.
Heat rushed to her face as his gaze lingered. Riccardo had always had a thing for feet.
Her feet in particular.
He turned, walked to the dresser and pulled something out of a drawer. Her heart-rate increased as he walked back toward her, a purposeful look on his face.
“We need to go,” she repeated in a strangled voice. “We’re already late.”
He stopped in front of her, took her by the shoulders and turned her around.
“You need a necklace,” he murmured, lifting her hair aside. “What are you worried about, Lilly? That I might tear this dress off you and end this détente?”
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t done it before... She shivered as he slid the necklace around her throat, the cold stones resting against her heated skin. “Riccardo...”
“Riccardo what?” Humor deepened his voice. “Tear the dress off?”
“Get the hell away from me.”
“Because you don’t trust yourself when I touch you?”
“Because this is a charade,” she hissed. “And when we aren’t in public you don’t touch me.”
He fastened the clasp of the necklace. “Do you remember how we christened this?”
She stared down at the row of diamonds encircling her throat, sparkling against her skin like a ring of fire. As if she could ever forget. They had been out for dinner, wholly unable to keep their hands off each other, and he’d slapped his credit card on the table as soon as the entrées were removed and taken her home, where he’d ravished her with such urgent, sensual demand she had never been able to wear the necklace again without going back to that moment.
The fleeting sensation of his lips on her bare shoulder made her jump under his hands.
“You look stunningly beautiful in this dress, tesoro. You could easily convince me to forget all about tonight and play hookey.”
She would have replied, except his teeth nipped gently into her skin and a wave of heat swept through her. That would be one way of avoiding the fashion show...
Not worth the consequences.
She yanked herself out of his arms and fixed him with a glare. Remember how he broke your heart. Remember this is only for six months...
He watched her with a hooded gaze. “I take it that’s a no?”
“Not ever,” she agreed icily. “Shall we go?”
He inclined his head, stepped toward the closet and stripped off the towel. She averted her eyes and left to wait for him downstairs—but not before she got a full-on shot of his firm, beautiful behind.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE BALLROOM OF the historic hotel near Central Park glittered with light, muted laughter and a sense that time hadn’t really moved on—it was just different souls passing through it.
Lilly stood at the entrance with Riccardo and took in the ambience with that same feeling. Massive chandeliers five feet in width still dominated the room, still exuded the elegance of decades past, the band was timelessly tasteful, filling the space with rich classical music, and th
e black-coated wait staff could have been from any time period. It was her that was different. Once she had walked in here with naive, trusting eyes that had seen only the sparkling beauty of so much loveliness in one place. Now she saw it for what it was—a backdrop for the rich and powerful, a symbol of how beauty could destroy and disfigure.
If you let it.
Her gaze shifted to the long runway that ran the center of the room. In an hour she would be up there, modeling Antonia Abelli’s dress. If she didn’t throw up first. It was a distinct possibility.
Heads turned. The open stares began. Her fingers dug into Riccardo’s forearm as the room seemed to ignite with speculative conversation. The press had been all over them since the divorce party, coming up with a multitude of creative, vicious angles as to why they were back together. Lilly was pregnant—thus her “added pounds,” one tabloid had said. Riccardo had had his fill of his mistress and wanted to start a family, said another. Worst of all had been the dirt they’d dug up on poor Harry Taylor—a former girlfriend citing his low libido as the reason Lilly had left him.
Riccardo looked down at her. “Just ignore them,” he said quietly. “Ignore the rubbish they say and be true to yourself.”
Lilly wished she had just an ounce of his self-confidence right now—or his supreme ability to focus on what was important and let everything else go.
“Let’s get a drink,” he murmured, sliding an arm around her waist. She leaned into him and allowed herself to absorb the innate strength that had once made her think nothing and no one could ever hurt her.
How wrong she’d been.
They procured martinis at the bar and were soon caught up in a rolling series of conversations with people eager to see if the rumors were true. Were the De Campos really back together?
Lilly tried to focus on the conversation, but the closer it got to nine o’clock and the fashion show the weaker her legs felt. She could feel the cold, assessing looks being thrown her way by the socialites who had claimed the limelight in her absence. And her stomach started to churn.
Riccardo shot her a look with those perceptive eyes of his, warning her to liven up. But Lilly was finished with the acting job she’d done for years. He wanted her as a wife? Then he was getting the real Lilly—not some plastic, manufactured replica of herself.
“Riccardo!”
The shrill voice of an outrageously beautiful blond just about took her ears off. About her own age, and so delicate a puff of wind might blow her away in her silver lamé dress, she threw herself into Riccardo’s arms and landed a big kiss on either cheek before Lilly could blink.
Riccardo set the diminutive blond down, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Always a dramatic greeting, Victoria.”
A rough-hewn, handsome man in a tux stepped up to shake his hand and clap him on the back. “She always did prefer you, De Campo.”
Riccardo smiled—a guarded smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Alessandro Marino. This is the last place I’d expect to see you.”
“My wife.” Alessandro inclined his head with a rueful look. “We had a family wedding in the city. And of course my fashion-obsessed wife couldn’t miss this.”
Riccardo pulled Lilly forward, his hand firm at her back. “I don’t believe you’ve met my wife. Lilly, this is Alessandro Marino, my former teammate, and his wife Victoria.”
Lilly felt his fingers digging into her back. Surprised, she looked up at his face. He looked firmly in control, as always, but there was a tightness in his face that belied his easy smile. Alessandro Marino. It hit her. The man who had taken Riccardo’s place as the star of TeamXT. She’d seen a cover story on him recently. He’d been described as “unbeatable.”
Alessandro leaned forward and pressed a kiss to both her cheeks. His wife followed suit.
“So you’re the woman stupid enough to walk out on Riccardo...” Victoria stood back, giving Lilly a once-over, her blue eyes assessing her as thoroughly as she might a prize filly. “Another few months and you might have been out of luck, with all those women lining up to catch him when he fell.”
“Victoria.” Alessandro bit out the word. “Not appropriate.”
His wife shrugged. “It’s the truth.”
“How is the wine business?” Alessandro asked Riccardo. “De Campo’s doing well.”
“We had a good year. And you,” he said, nodding at the other man. “You’re at the top of the pack. Congratulations.”
Alessandro shrugged. “You left big shoes to fill. No one is a daredevil like you, De Campo. I had to work on my style.”
“Well, it’s obviously working.”
“He was the best, you know.” Alessandro flicked a glance at Lilly. “He’d have a couple championship titles by now if he’d stayed.”
Lilly nodded. “So I’ve heard.”
Racing had always been a taboo subject with her and Riccardo. Anytime she’d brought it up her husband had shut down. As he looked like he was about to do right now, judging by the granite-hard expression on his face.
Their conversation with the Marinos deteriorated into an awkward, stilted back and forth that Lilly escaped as soon as she could with a trip to the ladies’ room. When she returned to her husband’s side he excused himself from the group of men he was speaking to and took her arm.
“Finished your little temper tantrum?”
“It wasn’t a temper tantrum. I’m bored, and I’m tired about hearing how much women love you. I get it.”
“Then why is smoke coming out of your ears?” He exerted pressure on her arm until she followed him through the crowd.
“Why didn’t you defend me?” she burst out. “Why didn’t you say something, like, Good thing I’m madly in love with my wife, or anything that would have made me feel less like an idiot?”
“What do you care? This is just an act for you, isn’t it?”
She glared up at him. “I don’t care. What bugs me is that all these people think we’re back together and madly in love and you’re letting her get away with that. You always do with women who fall all over you. You eat it up, Riccardo. You get that same look on your face like you had when you were standing on the podium splashing champagne over everyone after winning a race.”
His jaw tightened. “All men like attention, Lilly. Especially when you get none from your wife.”
Oh. She swung away from him before she hit him. “Is it unrealistic to expect you to stand up for me? You never reassure me. It’s humiliating.”
He led her onto the dance floor. “You know what’s humiliating? Me having to tell everyone we know you’ve left and not knowing what to say because I didn’t know why.”
She absorbed that as he pulled her into his arms and wrapped his fingers around hers. “You brought it on yourself, Riccardo. Don’t try and make me feel bad for you. One week with me out of the house and you were probably acting like ‘Ravishing Riccardo’ again.”
His gaze sharpened at her use of the tabloid nickname for him. “You have a wicked mouth—you know that, cara?”
She stared mutinously at his chest as he pulled her closer. So he’d had to answer some questions about why she’d left? It couldn’t possibly have matched the jealousy and humiliation she’d felt every time he’d left the house without her, wondering if he was with Chelsea. Wondering why she wasn’t enough for him.
She studied his hard, proud profile. Maybe it hadn’t been right for her to run as she had. She was sure it had been a knock to his pride for a man who was built around pride and honor, who had a public image to uphold, to admit his marriage had failed. But if she’d stayed in that house one more day she would have cracked in half.
Guilt lanced through her. “What did you tell them, then, when they asked where I was?”
He looked down at her, his expression cold and forbidding. “I
told them we were taking some time off. And I let them talk. It was our business, not theirs.”
“And you think I should do the same?”
“Let them think what they want. They can’t hurt you if you don’t let them.”
“Have you ever read what they say about me?” she challenged. “Even once?”
“I don’t have time to read those rags.”
Her mouth tightened. “Today they called my figure ‘less than fashionable’ and insinuated I was pregnant.”
“So what?”
So what? She clamped her mouth shut before she said something she’d regret.
“You need to recognize jealousy for what it is,” he said impatiently. “They want to be you. That’s why they try and tear you down.”
She gave him a vicious look. “What would you know about it? You’re Mr. Perfect. You have an affair and it only makes you sexier to them.”
His eyes went so black she took a step backward. His fingers tightened around hers, drawing her forward in a slow, deliberate movement that wouldn’t attract attention. His tone as he pinned her to the spot with his gaze was ice-cold. “Get over this obsession, Lilly. I did not cheat.”
She swallowed back the nausea that circled her insides like a shark waiting to pounce. Eight time-lapse photographs didn’t lie.
“I want to go.”
“Well, we’re staying. This is what you signed up for.”
She hated him. At that moment she hated him as she’d never hated anyone in her life. “We should never have done this,” she murmured huskily. “Look what we’re doing to each other.”
“We should have done this a long time ago,” he disagreed roughly. “My big mistake was giving you time and space when what you really needed was for someone to shake some sense into you.”
Her throat tightened. “What does it matter? We’re past fixable.”
A hard light glittered in his eyes. “That remains to be seen.”
“No, it doesn’t.” She lifted her gaze to his. “This is a short-term solution, Riccardo. You become CEO and we’re done.”
The Divorce Party Page 6