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His fingers tightened around the glass, drawing his gaze to the fiery amber liquid. No, he wouldn’t feel any regret. His wife might have looked at him with those accusing, pain-soaked cat’s eyes of hers and begged him to let her go home. But he was through giving her time and space to come to her senses. She was back in his bed, where she belonged, and she was staying there.
Not for six months.
For good.
He lifted the glass to his lips and let the Scotch burn a path down his throat. It had been that conversation he’d overheard that had set him off. Not his father’s bullish suggestion that he repair his marriage in order to present the kind of image the De Campo board was looking for in a CEO.
The trash-talking locker room chatter he’d heard on his way out of the gym after a squash game with Gabe had amused him at first. There were things guys said in a locker room that were never repeated outside of them. He had smiled, remembering the crude conversations he and his fellow drivers had had after their races, when all the tension was gone, and then started packing up his stuff. But the conversation had turned to injuries and rehabilitation and he’d heard Lilly’s name.
He’d pulled the zipper shut on his bag and had frozen in place as the three men he’d figured must be professional athletes from their height and brawn, went on.
“She’s the best there is,” one of them had said. “Fixed my bum leg in a month.”
“Seriously hot,” added one of the others. “I bet you’d like to have more than her hands on you.”
He’d been halfway across the room before Gabe had intercepted him and shoved him bodily out the door.
“Not worth it,” his brother had muttered. “She’s your estranged wife, remember?”
But it had been too much. Troppo. It was time Lilly remembered who she was. Who she belonged to.
He skimmed his gaze over her still form. If anything, she had grown more beautiful since that day he’d bumped into her in that SoHo bar. She’d reminded him of a young colt, tripping over those long legs of hers, over him, as he’d stopped to put his wallet back in his pocket. She’d apologized, biting her lip in that trademark gesture of hers, and everything about her—her beautiful shoulder-length glossy brown hair, her big hazel eyes and her air of extreme innocence—had knocked him sideways. He wasn’t used to women without artifice. And it had made him want to possess her like no other.
He hadn’t let her leave the bar until he’d had her reluctantly given number. Then he’d pursued her, called her every day for a week, until she’d agreed to go out with him.
Finding out she was a virgin had been the end for him. He’d put a ring on her finger the week after.
She shifted restlessly onto her back and rubbed her hand against her face. Her vulnerability hit him like a punch to the chest. Lilly was different from any other woman he’d met. She hadn’t been attracted to his power or money. In fact it had made her distinctly uncomfortable, given her poor upbringing. But he’d pushed his agenda through anyway, like the big, forceful bull of a man he was. Because that was what a De Campo did. Took what he wanted. Success at all costs.
* * *
Lilly fought her way out of the drug-induced fog that held her under, reaching desperately for the glass of water she kept on the nightstand. But her hand grasped only air, and this didn’t feel like her bed. It felt bigger, softer, familiar and yet...
It was her old bed.
She bolted upright.
“Here—drink,” a husky, fatigue-deepened male voice urged, pressing a glass to her lips.
A strong arm slid around her waist. She blinked and opened her eyes and stared straight into the worried dark-as-night gaze of her husband.
Oh, God. She was in bed with Riccardo.
She pushed the glass away and pulled, panicked, at the sheets.
“Lilly.” He placed firm hands on her shoulders and held her down. “Drink for God’s sake. Those pills are always rough on you.”
She shook her head and reached for the side of the bed, but a series of wheezing coughs racked her body. She reached desperately for the glass and drank greedily. Her thirst quenched, she pushed the glass away. “What time is it?”
“One a.m.”
A dull, deep throb at the front of her head made her sit back against the pillows. “I want to go home.”
“You are home,” he said quietly. “Stay in the bed, Lilly. You’re in no shape to be going anywhere.”
It was then that she realized he was still fully dressed. Hazy memories filled her head. Him holding her hair out of her face while she vomited. Him carrying her to bed. Her cheeks heated with mortification. She needed to get out of here.
“My home is my apartment.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing as the movement made her head throb. Her legs were bare. And she was drowning in one of Riccardo’s white T-shirts. “Did you undress me?” she demanded, flicking him an accusing look.
An amused glitter flashed in his eyes. “That’s the way it’s usually done, tesoro, but I stopped at the underwear. I prefer to dispense of that when you’re fully conscious.”
Her face felt as if it was on fire. She scanned the floor desperately for her things. “Give me my goddamned clothes, Riccardo.”
His expression hardened. “Are you forgetting our deal? You live here now. You’re mine for six months.”
“Tu sei pazzo,” she spat at him. “I might have agreed to your crazy plan, but in no way, shape or form will your hands ever be on me again.”
“Tu sei pazzo?” he murmured appreciatively. “I do believe your Italian’s coming along. And, yes, I am crazy when it comes to you.” He gently pushed against her shoulders and sent her back into the soft pillows. “Tomorrow we go over the ground rules. Tonight you rest.”
“You are such a bully,” she muttered wrathfully, too weak to defy him. “I have an early clinic tomorrow.”
“I’ll drive you there. You still have some clothes in the spare room you can wear.”
He’d kept them? She’d left in such a hurry she’d taken only what would fit in a suitcase. Left all the beautiful gowns and jewelry behind.
“Yes, I kept them,” he murmured, a bitter smile curving his lips. “Unlike you, I didn’t give up on this marriage.”
She closed her eyes. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Riccardo.”
“Maybe you can enlighten me over the next six months, then. You never did grace me with an explanation.”
Her gaze met his with blazing fury. “You never wanted to hear what I had to say.”
The belligerent tilt of his chin matched hers. “Maybe now I do.”
And maybe there was a blue-cheese moon out there tonight.
A jagged pain whizzed through her head. She winced and held a hand to her temple.
“Hell, Lilly,” he bit out, waving a hand at her. “We’re done arguing. Close your eyes and go to sleep.”
She tried to fight it, but nature was having none of it. He tucked the covers up to her chin, then everything went black.
CHAPTER THREE
SEVEN HOURS OF sleep, one migraine-hangover-filled morning, three patients and one trip to the bank later, Lilly retreated to her office like a maimed fighter who’d escaped to her corner.
Coffee, she decided, setting her briefcase down. It was time to reintroduce the other banned substance in her life. Maybe it would help lift the paralysis that had gripped her since she’d woken up in her old bed this morning, dazed and confused at what had transpired.
She had agreed to become Mrs. Lilly De Campo again. The one thing she’d said she’d never do.
Worse, she’d let her husband see how deep her feelings ran. Distracted, she raised a hand to her hair and pushed it out of her face. The power Riccardo still held over her was disconcerting.
And that was the understatement of the year. She pressed her lips together, picked up her purse and let Katy, the receptionist at the small clinic she shared with another physiotherapist in SoHo, know she’d be in the café across the street. Scanning the menu board, she thought, To hell with it, and ordered the largest, creamiest latte they had, which would certainly knock her brain back into working order, and sat down to drink it in the window facing Broadway.
It helped. But with her escape hatch rapidly closing it was a case of avoiding the unavoidable. Her only alternative to accepting Riccardo’s deal had been to secure the money at the bank. And she was pretty sure the bank manager would have laughed at her request if she hadn’t officially reinstated her position as Mrs. Lilly De Campo by having it splashed across the morning papers.
She’d been getting to her feet when he’d given her a curious look and said, “Your husband is also a client, Mrs. De Campo. We’d be happy to draw up the papers with him.”
She had given him a withering look. “No, thank you, Mr. Brooks. This is a personal matter.”
He was an opportunist, she conceded, scraping the froth off the sides of her mug. Like almost everyone else in this city. Unfortunately Harry Taylor had also seen the news, if his multiple calls to her cell phone were any indication. A stomach-churning glance at her phone revealed she now had a message from him too. The latte seemed to curdle inside her. She’d been waiting, hoping there was some other solution that would allow her to call things off with Riccardo.
And who are you trying to fool? a voice inside her ridiculed. Their reconciliation was the subject of intense public speculation this morning. There was no getting out of it. And how could she when it was Lisbeth’s only chance at survival?
She squirmed on the stool. What was she going to say to Harry? I’m so sorry, Harry. I’ve gotten back together with the man who destroyed me? Or, I’m sorry for saying I wanted you when really I want my sexy, controlling somewhat ex-husband, who kissed me within an inch of my life last night and made me want more.
Ugh. There was no good way to put it that wouldn’t end up making her look like a horrible, horrible woman.
The café door chimed. She looked up to see the other person she was trying to avoid waltzing through the door.
“You really didn’t think you could hide, did you?” Alex asked grimly, tossing an order at the barista and plopping herself down on the stool beside her.
Lilly pushed her empty mug away. “I’m not avoiding you. I had a jam-packed morning.”
Alex’s eyebrows rose. “I’m your twin, remember? I can sense inner turmoil.”
“I’m fine. Just a little groggy from the medication.”
“Good.” Her sister threw the words at her with a determined tilt of her chin. “So you can tell me what the hell’s going on. Your autocratic husband ordered me out of the house before I could see if you’d actually lost your senses.”
Lilly pulled in a breath. “It was like Riccardo said. It took a tough conversation for us to realize our feelings for each other.”
Alex sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Do not try to spin me, Lilly. I know you too well. You walked in there last night intent on a divorce. What happened?”
“We talked...we came to some realizations...”
“Like what?” Alex waved her hand in the air. “Like the last hellish year of your marriage was just an apparition? Like he didn’t almost annihilate you?”
“It takes two to tango,” Lilly murmured. “Riccardo wasn’t the only guilty party in our marriage.”
“Only the majority holder.” Her sister screwed up her face. “What about Harry? Last night you were telling me he’s the one.”
“I didn’t say that. I said I wanted the opportunity to truly pursue things with him.” She bit her lip, realizing how confused that sounded. Dammit, she needed to make this believable. For Lisbeth’s sake.
“You know I’ve never really stopped loving Riccardo,” she said quietly. And the fact that saying it didn’t seem like too much of a stretch shook her to her core. “I want to give it another shot.”
Alex’s mouth tightened. “You left him to save yourself. And I for one don’t relish being the one to pick up the pieces again when he reverts to being his domineering, controlling self.”
“He’s changed,” Lilly lied.
“Men like him don’t change. They come out of the womb like that.”
Her mouth curved. “Probably true.”
“What about his infidelity? Are you prepared to put up with that again?”
Everything around her faded, blurred into the series of carefully manufactured images she had created to keep herself in one piece. Control. Because to imagine Riccardo in bed with another woman—to imagine the man who’d promised to love her for life doing that to her—would damage her beyond repair.
“It won’t happen again.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he promised me.”
In actual fact Riccardo had denied the whole thing. He’d put it down to the vicious money-making tactics of the tabloids. But Lilly had seen the photos. And photos didn’t lie.
Her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip. The effort it took not to blurt out what was actually going on was immense. “You have to trust me,” she forced out huskily. “I’m doing the right thing.”
Her sister gave her a long, hard look. “You promise if things start to get bad you’ll end it? You’ll walk away?”
“I promise. And, Alex—this means we can get Lisbeth’s treatment.”
A light went on in her sister’s cornflower-blue eyes. “Lilly Anderson, you promise me right now you are not doing this because of Lisbeth. I do not need two sisters in critical condition.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Lilly said firmly. “It’s just a very wonderful outcome of this decision.”
But she would. She would do anything it took to make Lisbeth well.
* * *
Riccardo came to pick her up at six. “You still don’t look good,” he said bluntly as she slid into his beast of a car.
She shrugged and pulled her seatbelt on. “You know what my migraines are like. It takes me a few days to get over one.”
He put the car in gear and pulled out into traffic, the low-slung powerful machine reminding her of the man himself. Smooth, dangerous.
He flicked her a glance. “I’d forgotten just how bad they get.”
She wondered if he’d done what she had. Used any method available to wipe her head clean of him—finding it impossible on so many levels.
Don’t fool yourself, Lil. Riccardo wasn’t the type to pine for anyone. Especially the woman who’d walked out on him.
Which begged the question: why hadn’t he had other women over the past year? If she was to believe the highly sexed man she’d married was capable of celibacy, the question was why had he chosen it? Riccardo loved women. He lived for the contrast. Hard versus soft. Rational versus emotional. And with his superstar racing background they were like a feast that had been put on this earth for him to enjoy in endless supply.
She had fooled herself that she could be the only one for him.
She twisted her hands together in her lap and stared sightlessly out the window. They drove in a tense silence until he passed her street.
