It was going to be bad.
Lilly Anderson winced and put a hand to her pounding head.
If she held herself in just that position, with the
pressure building in her head like the vicious storms that
picked up intensity across the plains of the midwest, it
might not become a full-on migraine.
Might not.
Except staying in the dim confines of Riccardo’s Rolls-
Royce, driven by his long-time driver Tony, wasn’t an
option tonight. She was late for her own divorce party.
Excessively late for the one thing that would give her what
she wanted above all else. Her freedom from her husband.
“Oh, my God.”
Her twin sister Alex made a sound low in her throat. “How
can they print this stuff?”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Alex, read it to me.”
“It’s Jay Kaiken’s column. You don’t want me to.”
“Read it.”
“Okay, but I warned you.” She cleared her throat. “In
what’s expected to be the most scandalous, juiciest,
talked-about water cooler event of the season, billionaire
wine magnate Riccardo De Campo and former Iowa farmgirl-
turned-sports-physiotherapist Lilly De Campo host their
divorce party tonight. I once suggested they were the only
passionately in love couple left in New York. But
apparently even that fairytale doesn’t actually exist.
Rumors of heartthrob Riccardo’s infidelity surfaced and
this once solid marriage ended up in the toilet. So it’s
with mixed feelings that I bid this partnership adieu
tonight. I have the invite and will bring you all the
salacious details.”
She crumpled up the tabloid and threw it on the floor.
“He’s such an SOB.”
Lilly closed her eyes, a fresh wave of nausea rolling over
her. No matter how many times she’d envisioned this moment,
this freedom from Riccardo, she had never envisioned this.
Nor the insanely mixed feelings she had right about now.
“Sorry, Lil. I shouldn’t have started on those.”
“You’re a PR person, Alex. You’re addicted.”
“Still, I suck. I’m really sorry.”
Lilly smoothed her fuchsia silk dress over her knees. It
was elegant enough—and in Riccardo’s most hated color,
which was an added bonus—but it felt as if it was clinging
in all the wrong places. A glance in the mirror before
they’d left had told her she was paper-white, with dark
bags under her hazel eyes. Haunted. In fact the only thing
that was right was her hair, blowdried to glossy, straight
perfection by her savior of a stylist.
It was a problem—this not feeling together. She felt she
was already at a disadvantage. Facing Riccardo without her
mask, without all her defences in place, was never a good
way to start.
“You look a little too good,” Alex murmured. “I think you
should have put something frumpier on. And maybe messed
your hair up a bit.”
Lilly took the compliment and felt a bit better. Her sister
was, if nothing else, the bluntest person she’d ever met.
“Now, why would I do that?”
“Because Riccardo is like a banned substance for you,” her
sister said drily. “And your marriage almost destroyed you.
Be ugly, Lilly, it’s the easiest way.”
Lilly smiled, then winced as her head did another inside-
out throb. “He’s finally agreed to give me the divorce. You
should be doing a happy dance.”
“If I thought he was giving in I might be. Has he given you
the papers yet?”
“I’m hoping he’ll do that tonight.”
Alex scowled. “It’s not like him to do this. He’s up to
something.”
Her heart dropped about a thousand feet. “Maybe he’s
decided it’s time to replace me.”
“One can only hope.”
A stab of pain lanced through her. She should be elated
Riccardo had finally seen the light. Seen that there was no
way they could ever reconcile after everything that had
happened. So why had his decree that they finally end this
with an official public announcement hit her with the force
of an eighteen-wheeler? She certainly hadn’t been pining
away the past twelve months, hoping his refusal to divorce
her meant he still loved her. And there was no way she’d
harbored any silly notions that he was going to come
climbing through her window and carry her back home, like
in some Hollywood movie, with a promise to do everything
differently.
That would have been stupid and naive.
She squared her shoulders. He likely did have another
prospect in mind. Everything Riccardo did was a means to an
end.
“If I ever want to be free to pursue a real relationship
with Harry I need Riccardo’s signature on that piece of
paper.”
“Oh, come on, Lil.” Her sister’s beautiful face twisted in
a grimace. “Harry Taylor might be a decorated cardiotho-
racic surgeon, Doctors Without Borders and all that lovely
stuff, but really? He’s dull as dishwater. You might as
well marry him and move back to Mason Hill.”
“He’s also handsome, smart and sweet,” Lilly defended
tartly, not needing to tell her sister there wasn’t a hope
in hell of her moving back to the miserable existence
they’d escaped at eighteen. “I’m lucky to have him.”
Alex waved a hand at her. “You can’t tell me after Riccardo
he doesn’t seem like some watered-down version—like grape
juice instead of Cabernet.”
“You just told me Riccardo was bad news for me.”
“So is Harry Taylor. He’ll bore you to death.”
Lilly had to steel herself not to laugh out loud, because
that just would have hurt too much. “I’m through with men
who make my heart pound and my palms go sweaty. It’s self-
destructive for me.”
“The particular one you picked might have been… What time
were we supposed to have been there, by the way?”
Lilly checked her watch. “A half-hour ago.”
Alex gave her a wicked smile. “Riccardo’s going to love
that.”
She squirmed in her seat. She was always late. No matter
how hard she tried. Because it was just in her nature to
try and squeeze too much into the day, and also because her
multi-million-dollar athletes kept waltzing in half an hour
late. But Riccardo had never seemed to care what the reason
was. He wanted what he wanted when he wanted it. And that
was all.
Alex’s expression shifted. “I talked to David today.”
Lilly froze. Alex talking to their brother back in Iowa
only meant one thing. “How’s Lisbeth?”
Alex frowned. “He said she had a really bad week. The
doctor is saying she needs that experimental treatment
within the next few months if it’s going to do any good.”
Dammit. Lilly twisted her hands together in her lap,
feeling that familiar blanket of hopelessness settle over
her. Her youngest sister Lisbeth had leukemia. She’d been
told three months ago she was out of remission, and her
doctor was advocating a ground-breaking new treatment as
the one thing that might give her a fighting chance. But
the treatment cost a fortune.
“I can’t ask Riccardo for the money, Alex. I know it’s
crazy, but I can’t give him that kind of power over me.”
“I know.” Alex put her hand over hers and squeezed. “We’ll
figure it out. There has to be a way.”
Lilly pursed her lips. “I’m going to go back to the bank
tomorrow. Maybe they’ll let me do it in installments.”
There had to be a way. Lisbeth had to get that treatment.
Tonight, however, she had to focus on survival.
Her hands shook in her lap and her head throbbed like a
jackhammer as they turned down a leafy, prestigious street
toward the De Campo townhouse. She had taken one look at
the beautiful old limestone mansion and fallen in love.
Riccardo had taken one look at her face and bought it for
her. “You love it,” he’d said, not even blinking at the
thirty-five-million-dollar price tag. “We’ll buy it.”
They swung to a halt in front of the home she’d run out of
with only a suitcase twelve months ago, when she’d finally
had the guts to leave him. It was the first time she’d been
back and it occurred to her she was truly crazy making that
time tonight. Divorce parties might be in vogue, but did
she really want to detonate her and Riccardo’s relationship
in front of all the people who’d made her life miserable?
She didn’t have a choice. She scooted over as Tony came
around to open the door. Riccardo had been adamant. “We
need to end this standoff,” he’d said. “We need to make the
state of our relationship official. Be there, Lilly, or
this isn’t happening.”
She forced herself to grasp Tony’s hand. But her legs
didn’t seem to recognize the need to function as she
stepped out of the car on trembling limbs that wanted to
cave beneath her. The long, snakelike line of limousines
made her suck in a breath. The memory of Riccardo sweeping
her out of this car the night of their first anniversary
and carrying her upstairs made it catch in her throat. He
had made love to her with an intensity that night that had
promised he would love her forever.
The images of the beginning and the end collided together
in an almost blinding reminder of how quickly things could
turn bad.
How hearts could be shattered.
“We can still turn around,” her sister said quietly, coming
to stand by her side. “If Riccardo really wants this
divorce he’ll come to you.”
No, he wouldn’t. Lilly shook her head. “I need to do this.”
Do this and you won’t ever have to live in a world you
don’t belong in again.