The Divorce Party

by Jennifer Hayward

  “We are not carting this baby back and forth between the two of us, Lilly.”

  “What are you suggesting, then?” she demanded flippantly. “That we stay together and live happily ever after?”

  His lips curved in a smile that showed his teeth. “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting, tesoro. Glad you’re keeping up with me.”

  A feeling akin to shock settled over her. She studied his face, searching for some sign he was joking, but other than his twisted smile there was nothing but grim determination. Her chin lifted. “There is no way in hell I’m staying in an unhappy marriage. I know what it’s like to grow up like that, and I won’t do it to a child.”

  “You think it’s better to subject them to a tug of war between two adults?”

  “I think it’s better to create an amicable separation where we both have this baby’s best interests at heart.”

  “Buona prova, Lilly,” he drawled. “But I’m not about to let your baggage destroy the future of our child. You contest this and I’ll make it a court battle of epic porportions.”

  She shrugged out of his hold. “You are crazy. This is crazy.” She looked at him desperately. “It will never work.”

  “It will work because we’ll make it work.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stood looking down at her like the impenetrable force he was. “Haven’t we proved the last few weeks we can compromise?”

  “About our social schedule,” she said dully. How would a child fare in a marriage based solely on sex? In a marriage so far gone there was no pulling it back?

  He lifted her chin with his fingers. “We have been good together lately, Lil. And we once had a fantastic marriage. We can make this work.”

  Or the bitterness between them would consume both them and their child, just as it had her.

  She went for the jugular. “Don’t you remember what it was like to live as part of a business partnership? Do you want that for yourself? For your child?”

  “If what we’ve been doing in bed is a business partnership, then I’m all for it,” he returned with a mocking smile. “Sign me up.”

  “You are—” She spun away, frustration burning a path of fire through her.

  “A man who wants the family that was promised to him,” he rasped. “You are having my child, Lilly. De Campos don’t divorce. So this is it. And I want more than one. My brothers are the most precious thing I have. I want that for our child.”

  Once she would have been sure he would say she was the most precious thing he had. Wrapping her arms around herself, she stared up at him. “So you were never going to let me walk away?”

  “You would have been free to walk when our deal was up. But I would never have remarried.”

  Why? She wanted to scream it at him, but her throat felt as if it was closing over as the inevitability of what had happened hit her. How could she have been so stupid as to allow this to happen? To do the one thing that would bind her to the man she loved forever when she would never have his love back?

  “I’m tired,” she said abruptly, sure that if she attempted one more word she was going to sob. “I need some rest.”

  He let her go.

  Overwhelmed and exhausted, she climbed the stairs to the bedroom, unzipped her dress and left it on the floor. She washed her face and brushed her teeth and slipped beneath the silk sheets of their bed. The dark, silent room finally allowed a refuge for her tears. They ran hot, silent, down her face.

  What once would have been the news that completed her and Riccardo’s dream had only driven them further apart.

  She cried for that dream. She cried for her childhood. She cried for Riccardo’s. She cried for the damage they had done to each other. And when he came after her and reached for her with strong, comforting hands she curled into him and let him hold her until her tears soaked his shirt.

  “Don’t be sad, amore mio,” he murmured. “The past is the past. We are in control of our future and I promise you we can make this work.”

  My love. He’d said it not in the taunting tone he’d adopted of late, but the way he’d used to say it to her. Her sobs gradually subsided into big, hiccuping breaths that shook her body. When she was silent against him he undressed her and moved over her, kissing every inch of her skin. His passionate tenderness revealed more to her than he ever could have said with words.

  They had a chance. He might not have meant the words literally—maybe they had just been to comfort her—but as her head rested on his chest and the solid warmth of him put her to sleep her heart told her differently. She had seen that look on his face before.

  He cared more than he was saying.

  Could she hope his feelings would eventually turn into love again, for the sake of their unborn child? Or was she just fooling herself in a very dangerous game?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  WHEN LILLY WAS a little girl she’d dreamed of attending a Hollywood movie premiere on the arm of a handsome man, with paparazzi flashbulbs exploding in her face as they made their way down the red carpet. She would blink, steady herself on his arm, and continue on, a big smile on her face as she showed off her very fabulous dress.

  Never once, outside of those dreams, had she allowed herself to believe she would actually live that life. Not Lilly the awkward, shy farmgirl. Not even Lilly the graduate physiotherapist with a budding career in front of her, living in one of the most exciting cities in the world where red carpets were a star-studded fixture.

  Then she’d met Riccardo. And her life had become that dream. Only for her to realize how lonely and empty a life it was.

  She walked into her office and shut the door, feeling as if her life had come full circle. Tonight she was to walk the red carpet for the premiere of this summer’s hottest blockbuster with her very own dark and dangerous male. The man she was falling more in love with every day she was with him.

  She didn’t want the dream. She wanted what was real. She wanted him.

  She sank down in her office chair and dropped her head into her hands. She had married Riccardo for the man he’d been early in their marriage. And ever since they’d returned from Barbados she’d seen glimpses of him again.

  He’d been by her side through all the doctor’s appointments and tests, asking the pertinent questions her scrambled brain didn’t think to. He’d made her sit down to a proper meal every night, and sent her to bed early. And when he did he would stay for a few minutes before he started working again. He would cradle her against him and talk to her, even confide in her if his mood was right. She was realizing how complex a man her husband was—that she’d never really known him in their two years of marriage.

  Or one, if you counted the year they’d stopped talking.

  He’d sacrificed so much for De Campo. And she was starting to see what becoming CEO would do for his soul. It was the final piece in the puzzle that was Riccardo De Campo.

  She wondered how she’d never seen it before.

  Weariness swept over her and she closed her eyes just for a moment. The weight of the decision she had to make was killing her. Was she going to follow her heart, agree to stay with Riccardo and hope she was right about his feelings for her? Or was she going to run and fight him all the way to the bitter end for custody of a child who would become a pawn in their tug of war?

  She’d promised herself she would stop running. Which also meant running from herself.

  She blinked to keep herself awake, so exhausted she wanted to crawl onto her desk and sleep there. She had nothing to wear tonight that fit, and hadn’t had time to shop since she’d really started showing.

  She wanted to walk the red carpet like she wanted a hole in her head.

  But it was important to De Campo, this sponsorship, and she didn’t really have a choice.

  A knock sounded on the door. She pulled
herself up off her desk, expecting to see Katy. Instead Riccardo strolled through the door, looking as if he’d just slayed ten dragons and was ready to move on to the next. The smile on his face faded into a frown when he saw her wipe a trail of drool from the corner of her mouth.

  “Dio, Lilly, you’re sleeping at your desk?”

  “Resting,” she corrected, sitting up straight and smoothing her hair. “Wasn’t I meeting you at home?”

  “My meetings were canceled this afternoon.” He walked over to her desk and leaned against the edge of it, his gaze resting on hers. “This is ridiculous. You’re asleep on your feet.”

  “I’m fine,” she murmured, standing up. “Just give me a minute to gather my stuff.”

  He waved her on. She shoved a file she was working on in her briefcase, along with the antacids that had become a new food group for her, and went to retrieve her sweater off the coat rack near the door.

  “Jim—Riccardo here.”

  She turned to see her husband on his phone.

  “Lilly and I can’t make it to the premiere tonight. Can you and your wife attend in our place?”

  Her eyes widened. She waved at him to say she was fine, but he held up a hand.

  “Great. We’ll drop off the tickets on our way home.”

  She stared at him as he disconnected the call. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

  He lifted his shoulders. “Jim’s the head of North American sales... It’ll be a great networking opportunity for him.”

  “I would have been fine.”

  He crossed over to her. “I know you would have. You’ve been a trooper, tesoro. But enough’s enough. I’m worried about you.”

  She pushed her hair out of her face. “It just hit me how tired I am.”

  “You’re not getting enough rest.” He ran his fingers down her cheek. “You have big black bags under your eyes.”

  “Heartburn,” she lied. “But I am glad you canceled.”

  “Because you have nothing to wear?” His dark gaze slashed over her in a reprimand. “You refuse to go buy new clothes, because that would be admitting you’re gaining weight, and you don’t like the way you look. So I went out and bought some for you.”

  Her jaw dropped. “You mean you had Paige get me a dress for tonight?”

  “No, I bought you a dress for tonight—plus the rest of the wardrobe you need.” He shrugged. “I’m sure I forgot something, but it’s a start.”

  “You went shopping?”

  His teeth flashed white. “I run one of the world’s top ten beverage companies, cara. A trip to a recommended fashion house isn’t beyond my means.”

  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “How did you know my size?”

  He lifted his hands. “I told them you were this tall and like this.” He arced his hands in the shape of an hourglass.

  “You did?”

  “I did. It’s all in the car.” He looked supremely satisfied with himself as he took her sweater and pushed her out the door in front of him. “I think I have pretty good taste.”

  * * *

  He had exquisite taste. In everything. Lilly stared at the cream silk sweater draped over her arm. It was exactly the right size and style she would have chosen. As were the T-shirts, blouses, jeans and gowns he’d picked out.

  He had forgotten nothing.

  A lump the size of Mount Everest formed in her throat. The little pieces of her heart she’d thought shattered forever started to put themselves back together again.

  His attention to detail wasn’t surprising. What got her was how in tune a big, macho man like him could be with what she loved. Who she was.

  She pulled the last couple of items out of the bag—a sexy lilac-colored silk nightie she was sure Riccardo had chosen with himself in mind, and a pair of yoga pants. Fuchsia yoga pants. Her mouth twisted in her first real smile of the day.

  She slipped her too-tight pants off and pulled on the pink pair. And sighed. To be in something that fit, that didn’t make her feel like an overstuffed sausage, was heavenly. She added a T-shirt, pulled her hair into a ponytail, and went downstairs to find Riccardo.

  She found him in the den—a cozy, comfortable room that housed their big screen TV and library.

  “I ordered us Chinese,” he told her. “Should be here in a few minutes.”

  “I’ve decided you are always to shop for me,” she murmured, moving toward him. Lifting on tiptoe, she brushed a kiss across the light stubble that dusted his cheek. “Since you do such a good job.”

  He slid his arms around her waist. “I closed my eyes when I handed the woman the yoga pants.”

  “You get bonus points for those,” she murmured, lifting her chin and inviting his kiss. She was rewarded with a hard, possessive one that left her breathless.

  “You need to cut down on your schedule.”

  “I’m not taking any new patients. It’ll gradually lessen.”

  He pressed his lips together, consciously controlling his automatic response, which she was sure would have been, Cut it down now.

  “You also have to accept the changes in your body. They’re natural and healthy.”

  “I’m getting there,” she murmured. “It’s just hard when it feels like my body is out of control. The control part is the hardest for me.”

  He spread his hands wide. “Just hand it over to me, cara, and I’ll take care of it for you.”

  She made a face at him. “You would love that, wouldn’t you?”

  He caught her hand in his much larger one, the teasing light in his eyes darkening into seriousness. “No more keeping things inside, Lil. If you’re struggling you need to tell me.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  He put some classical music on—a haunting piece of Mozart she knew was his favorite—then pulled her into his arms on the sofa while they waited for the food. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest. This was what she’d always wanted. The way they were when they were together like this.

  At that moment she knew with certainty that everything he’d been holding back, everything he hadn’t said to her these past few weeks, had been because she’d hurt him so badly. Because she’d deserted him when he’d needed her the most.

  Because she had failed him.

  “Ric?”

  He pressed his lips to her hair. “Mmm?”

  “I’m sorry for walking out on you. I’m sorry I gave up on us.”

  He stiffened. Then his arms tightened around her. For a long moment silence bound them together, her husky admission sitting on the air between them. Then he bent and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “I’ve made so many mistakes too,” he said thickly. “It wasn’t just you.”

  Her eyes burned. Her throat was clogged with so much pent-up emotion she wasn’t sure she could articulate it all. “I hurt you.”

  He turned her around so their gazes met. “We hurt each other.”

  “I want to make this work.” Her voice came out husky, edged with the fear she felt.

  His eyes were razor-sharp. “What do you mean?”

  She sucked in a shuddering breath. “I was so angry with you at first—threatening to turn this into a custody battle, not giving me any choice in the matter. But then I realized you were right. It’s time for me—for us—to move on. To let go of the past. To give this marriage the shot it deserves. To give our baby the home it deserves.”

  An emotion she wished desperately she could identify flashed in his eyes. He lifted his hands to frame her face.

  “But I want you, Riccardo,” she said shakily. “I don’t want the Golden Man from the Golden Couple. I want the Riccardo De Campo who charmed me out of my phone number in that bar. The man who just wanted to be with me.”

  His gaze da
rkened to midnight. “You will have him,” he promised huskily. “You have always been the only woman for me.”

  “You won’t want me in a few months,” she murmured. “I’ll be so far from the woman you married you’ll be repelled by me.”

  A smile curved his lips. “Don’t you know there’s nothing you could ever do to make me want you less? You’re like a fire in my blood, cara. I want you all the time.”

  The heat in his eyes stole her breath. The reverence of his hands as he slipped her T-shirt over her head and cupped her breasts in his palms made it catch in her throat. And when he stripped the bra from her and set his mouth to her flesh she moaned her appreciation.

  The pink yoga pants went next, landing on the floor in a heap. “This part you hate so much,” he whispered, sliding his hands up over her hips, “allows you to carry my baby. And that is a miracle.”

  Her heart turned over and emotion so sharp it was almost painful sliced through her. When he was touching her, when he was holding her like this, his reverence eclipsed her insecurities and made her feel like the most beautiful woman on the planet.

  She got the buttons undone on his shirt, divested him of his jeans and boxers, and then there was only his magnificent body, free for her to touch at will. She dropped to her knees and worshipped him, moved her lips over his perfect chest, his powerful abs, then down over the hard, throbbing length of him that telegraphed his desire for her. Reveling in his sharp intake of breath, she teased him until he begged—begged for her to take him into the heat of her mouth—and then, when he’d had all he could take of that, he begged for her to end the torture.

  She crawled up his body and hooked her legs around his waist. Slowly, torturously, she took him inside her, prolonging it until sweat beaded on his forehead and he cursed out loud.

  Her gaze locked with his. She wanted to look away, needed to look away, because surely her love for him was written across her face. But she’d promised honesty. To herself and to him. She kept her eyes on his as he allowed her to drive him crazy with shallow, then deeper twists of her hips. His eyes were closed. His big body was shaking with need. She had control. But she knew it was an illusion. She was about to take the biggest risk of her life. Bigger even than that day when she and Alex had driven out of Iowa, a dust cloud rising up behind the beat-up old car they’d paid a hundred dollars for, which had barely been moving, with nothing but hope and determination in their hearts.