Rising Stars

He’d crossed a line. He’d violated her innocence in a way he could never take back.

If that wasn’t the work of a monster, what was?

With an intake of breath, he turned away. In just an hour or two, dawn would break across the purple hills. But there could be no sunrise for Alessandro. He felt cold to the bone.

There was only one way to cut her loss. One way to leave her heart bruised, but not shattered. He exhaled, closing his eyes.

He had to let her go.

“It’s almost morning,” she said, sounding sad. She splayed her small hand against his chest. “In a few hours, I’ll go back to the file room. What about you?”

He opened his eyes. “Mexico City.”

Lilley took a deep breath. “Alessandro,” she whispered, “I want you to know that I—”

Turning to her almost violently, he put his finger against her lips. “Let’s not talk.” Pulling her down on the mattress beside him, he breathed in the scent of her, the intoxicating smell of sunshine and flowers. He gloried in her warmth and beauty for the last time.

“This has been the happiest day of my life,” she whispered. “I’m just sad to see it end.” She gave him a crooked smile. “In a few hours, you’ll forget I ever existed.”

He looked down at her. “I’ll never forget you, Lilley,” he said, and it was the truth.

“Oh,” she breathed. Relief and gratitude filled her eyes. She thought his words meant they might have a future. She didn’t know they were the death knell for any relationship they might have had.

She put her hand on his rough, unshaven cheek. “Then give me a kiss I’ll never forget.”

He looked at her full, rosy lips, and his whole body shuddered with need.

One last time, he told his conscience savagely. He would give her up at dawn. Set her free before he did any further damage to her soul.

Cupping her face, Alessandro kissed her, as if trying to burn the memory of her lips against his for all time. Tasting the sweetness of her mouth, he spread her lips wide, plundering her with his tongue. Pulling the pillow away from her body, he rolled her beneath him on the bed, covering her naked body with his own.

Alessandro looked down at Lilley’s beautiful face. He knew the bitter memory of the joy shining now in her sweet, joyful eyes, her strange trust and belief in his goodness would haunt him for all time. An ache like regret pierced his soul.

Then, closing his eyes, he pushed himself inside her.

CHAPTER FIVE

A MONTH later, Lilley felt sick as she sat in a hard office chair in the basement office of the human resources department. The fluorescent lights above the desk flickered and hummed as Lilley licked her dry lips, praying she’d heard wrong.

“What?” she croaked.

“I’m sorry, Miss Smith, but we must let you go.” The kindly older man on the other side of the desk shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I’m afraid Caetani Worldwide isn’t the right place for your skills.”

Fighting nausea, Lilley took a deep breath as grief and pain washed over her. She’d known this would happen, known she’d lose her job no matter how hard she tried. Effort couldn’t compensate for her slowness in filing numbers and letters that danced in front of her eyes.

Maybe she really was incapable of taking care of herself, just as her father said. Case in point: she’d slept with her boss, and then was surprised when Alessandro disappeared before she woke up on Monday morning and never bothered to contact her again. Exactly as he’d told her he’d do. Her throat suddenly hurt. She really wasn’t smart.

“I can assure you,” the HR director continued, “there’s a very generous compensation package.”

“I was too slow, right?” she whispered, blinking back tears. “I took too long to finish my work.”

The man shook his head, his ponderous jowls wobbling. He didn’t look as if he wanted to fire her. He looked as if he wished the earth would swallow him up beneath his desk. “You did a good job, Miss Smith. You were popular with the rest of the staff. Yes, you took longer than the other file clerk, but your work ethic—” He took a deep breath, tapping a file on his desk. “That’s neither here nor there.” His voice was clipped. “We will give you an excellent recommendation and I can assure you that you’ll find a job soon. Very, very soon.”

He started to explain the details of her severance package, but Lilley barely listened. The sick feeling was starting to win, so she focused on her breathing, staring hard at the little gray trash can on the floor by his desk. Fighting the desire to throw up into it.

“I’m sorry it turned out this way,” he said finally. “But someday you’ll be glad that …” He saw that she wasn’t listening and was clutching her stomach with one hand while covering her mouth with her other. He sighed. “Please sign this.” He pushed a paper towards her on the desk. Grabbing the pen he offered, Lilley skimmed the document—her father had drummed that much into her, at any rate—and saw she was basically promising not to sue the company for sexual harassment. Harassment?

She sucked in her breath. That meant it wasn’t her work that was at fault, but she was being fired by—

She cut off the thought, unable to bear his name. Scribbling her signature, she rose to her feet. The HR director shook her hand.

“Best of luck, Miss Smith.”

“Thanks,” she choked out. Grabbing the file he held out, she fled to the women’s bathroom, where she could be sick in privacy.

Afterward, Lilley splashed cold water on her face. She looked at her wan, green expression in the mirror. She tried to force a grin, to put the cheerful mask back in place that she’d worn for the last month while enduring teasing and innuendo about Prince Alessandro. But today, she couldn’t even smile.

Fired. She was fired.

Numbly, she walked to the elevator. She exited on the third floor and went to her desk in the corner of the windowless file room. Other employees had pictures of family or friends or pets hanging at their desks. Lilley had a lonely pink geranium and a postcard that her cousin’s wife, Carrie, had sent from Provence a few weeks ago. On the tidy surface of her desk, she saw someone had left a gossip magazine for her to find. Again.

Her body felt cold as she looked down at the latest issue of Celebrity Weekly. The cover had a picture of Alessandro in Mexico City, where he’d been living for the last month in his attempt to keep the Joyería deal from falling apart. But last week, Lilley’s cousin Théo had made a successful counterbid. It should have made her feel glad, but it didn’t. Her heart ached to think of how Alessandro would feel after failing—at anything.

At least she was used to it.

Her eyes moved to a smaller picture at the bottom of the magazine’s cover that had been taken at the Cannes film festival months before. Alessandro wore a tuxedo, looking darkly handsome, holding the hand of a beautiful blonde dressed in black. Olivia Bianchi.

Playboy Prince to Wed at Last, the cover blared. Someone had underlined the words with a thick black pen.

Ever since she’d been Alessandro’s date at the ball, she’d been paying for it. Some of her coworkers had worried Lilley might think too well of herself for briefly being their boss’s mistress. Well, she thought bitterly, no chance of that.

Lilley jumped as she heard a man clear his throat behind her. Turning, she saw Larry, a security guard she knew. Just yesterday, Lilley had given him advice about how to get ink stains out of fabric, something she’d dealt with fairly often as her cousin’s housekeeper. But today, his face was regretful and resigned.

“Sorry, Lilley. I’m supposed to escort you out.”

She nodded over the lump in her throat. She gathered up her geranium, the magazine, the postcard from Provence, her nubby old cardigan and the large bag of toffees she kept at the bottom of her desk for emergencies. She packed up her life in a cardboard box and followed the security guard from the file room, trying to ignore all the employees staring at her as she was escorted from the building in a walk of shame.

In the lobby, Larry checked her cardboard box for contraband—what did he think she might take? Pens? Copy paper?—and then took her employee pass card. “Sorry,” he mumbled again.

“I’ll be fine,” she whispered, and was proud she managed to leave the building without either crying or throwing up.

Numbly, Lilley took the bus home. As she reached her apartment, her cell phone rang. She glanced at the number. Nadia had missed all the action, so Jeremy must have told her the news. But Lilley couldn’t face her roommate’s sympathy right now. Or the suspicions Nadia had voiced lately, which Lilley was desperately trying not to think about: the reason for her frequent nausea over the last week.

Turning her phone to Mute, she threw it on the counter. She gulped down some dry crackers and water to help her stomach calm down, then changed into flannel pajamas and a pink fleece robe. Wrapping herself in her mother’s quilt, she lay down on the couch and closed her eyes, even though she knew she was far too upset to sleep.

She was woken by the rattle of her cell phone on the kitchen counter. Sitting up, she saw the deepening shadows and realized she’d slept for hours. Pulling a pillow over her head, she tried to ignore the rattle. The phone finally stopped buzzing, then after a brief pause, it rudely started again. Muttering to herself, Lilley got up and grabbed it. She blinked when she saw the out-of-state number. Alessandro, she thought, still half confused by her dream, the dream she’d had over and over all month. She could still feel the heat of his lips against her skin. She swallowed.

“Hello?” she said almost timidly.

“Lilley Smith?” a jovial voice boomed at the other end. “You don’t know me, but your résumé has come to our attention, and we’d like to offer you a paid internship with our company in New York.”

By the time Lilley hung up the phone, her dreams about Alessandro were gone. She finally understood. He wasn’t just ridding her from his company. He was completely erasing her from his life.

Her eyes fell on the magazine, visible from the cardboard box on the kitchen counter. Snatching it up, she stared with narrowed eyes at the picture of Alessandro with Olivia Bianchi. The blond Italian socialite looked like a smug, satisfied Persian cat who’d just licked up a whole bowl of cream.

Another huge wave of nausea overwhelmed her. Tossing the magazine to the floor, she covered her mouth and ran down the hall. Afterward, her eyes fell on the brown paper bag that sat ominously on the sink, like a loaded gun. Nadia had bought it for her days ago at the drugstore, and Lilley had scrupulously ignored it.

She couldn’t possibly be pregnant. They’d gone through boxes of condoms! They’d used protection every single time, all weekend long.

Except …

She froze. Except that one time. In the shower.

Wide-eyed, she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror.

She exhaled. How could their affair have ended so badly? She’d fallen asleep so happily in Alessandro’s arms, foolishly believing they might have a future. Then she’d woken up alone. Wrapping herself in a bedsheet, she’d called his name teasingly as she went downstairs. Instead, she’d discovered only his housekeeper. “The prince has been called away,” the woman said stiffly. “Abbott will drive you back to the city.” She’d handed Lilley the red gown, mended and pressed, and served her eggs, coffee and toast at the same table where Lilley had enjoyed that joyful, sensual breakfast with Alessandro just the day before. The chauffeur had driven her back home without a word. Lilley’s cheeks still burned to remember.

But in spite of everything, she couldn’t regret their time together. How could she, when she’d finally discovered what it felt like to take risks? To be truly alive? She’d discovered passion that had been like a fire consuming her body, making her soul blaze like a beacon in the night.

All right, so she’d never see him again. She could accept that, since she had no choice. She could even be grateful for the experience. For the memory.

But what if she was pregnant?

Lilley squeezed her eyes shut, her heart pounding. She would take the test and find out for sure. It would prove once and for all that she’d just eaten some bad Chinese takeout or something.

Her hands shook as she took the test, then waited. She told herself she wasn’t worried. Hummed a cheerful little lullaby she’d sung to her cousin’s baby in France. Looked at her watch. Two minutes. It was probably too soon to check, but it wouldn’t hurt just to—

Pregnant.

Pregnantpregnantpregnant.

Her shaking hands dropped the stick in the trash as she staggered down the hall and into the kitchen. She found herself with a kettle in her hand and realized she was making tea, just as her mother had always done in times of crisis.

“Sweetheart, there are very few problems in the world that can’t be made better by a hug, a plate of cookies and a cup of tea,” her mother had said, smiling. It had worked like a charm when Lilley was nine and had failed a spelling test, and when she was a teenager and the other kids mocked, “Guess your father can’t buy you a new brain.” It had even worked when her father had asked her sick mother for a divorce, abandoning their family home in Minneapolis to build a huge mansion for his mistress on the shores of Lake Minnetonka.

She swallowed, trembling as tears filled her eyes. The difference was that her mother had been there. Lilley missed her so much. Paula Smith would have hugged her daughter, told her everything was going to be all right. And Lilley would have believed her.

The kettle screamed. Numbly, Lilley poured boiling water over the fragrant peppermint tea. Holding her steaming, oversized mug in her shaking hands, Lilley went to the couch.

A baby.

She was going to have Alessandro’s baby.

Raw, jagged emotion washed over her. He’d arranged for her to be fired and had offered a job that was three thousand miles away. There was no other explanation for her to be spontaneously head-hunted for a fantastic internship with a New York jewelry company at double her current salary. He wanted Lilley out of San Francisco, so he wouldn’t have to see her scurrying in the halls and could settle down, mouse-free, with his beautiful, sleek bride.

Setting her mug on the end table, she picked up the magazine from the floor. Opening it, she skimmed through the article. Alessandro was holding his annual wine-harvest celebration at his villa in Sonoma. Rumor was that it was going to be an engagement party.

Friday. That was tonight.

Lilley’s fingertips stroked the image of Alessandro’s handsome, cold face. She’d been so sure he would want to see her again. For the last month, she’d jumped every time her cell phone rang. She’d had such naive faith. She’d expected him to call, send flowers, a card, something. He hadn’t.

But it turned out he had given her something, the greatest gift any woman could receive. A baby. She placed her hand on her soft belly. She’d always disliked her plump figure, wishing she could be thin and athletic. But now she realized her extra pounds didn’t matter. Her amazing body was creating a baby. How could she be anything but grateful to it?

How would Alessandro react when she told him?

The memory of his harsh voice came floating back to her. I will not marry you. I will not love you.

She’d known from the beginning that Alessandro only considered her a fling. He’d been honest from the start. If Lilley had a broken heart, she was the only one to blame, because she’d allowed herself to hope for more.

Setting down the magazine, Lilley rose to her feet and walked to the tiny window in her pink fleece robe. Opening the gingham curtains, she looked out into the quiet street, remembering the night she’d made the choice that had changed her life so completely, the night she’d decided to give her virginity to Alessandro.

She would regret leaving San Francisco. She’d come to love the city, and had even become friends again with Jeremy and Nadia. Perhaps she would come to appreciate New York. But she would be going alone.

Then she remembered: she’d never be alone again.

She placed her hand on her belly as a wave of joy, sudden and unexpected as a child’s laugh, washed over her. How could she be sad about how her time with Alessandro had ended, when he’d given her such a gift?

And the grip around her heart loosened. She would leave, as he wanted. But there was one thing she had to do first. She couldn’t exactly make an appointment to see him via Mrs. Rutherford, who was highly skilled at blocking former lovers from contacting him. And this wasn’t the sort of news she wished to convey via his business email address. He’d deliberately never given her his private phone number. So as unpalatable as it was, that left only one option.

Picking up the magazine, she looked down at his hard, handsome face, and at the image of the villa in Sonoma where they’d first made love. Where he’d taken her virginity. Where he’d filled her with his child.

Before she left him forever, she had to tell Alessandro he was going to be a father.

“Alessandro, at last.” Olivia’s sultry voice immediately set Alessandro’s nerves on edge. “Did you miss me, darling?” Forcing his lips into a smile, Alessandro turned to face her, his shoulders tight. He’d seen her arrive through the window of his study. His first party guest to arrive tonight.

It was unlike Olivia to be early to anything, so that meant she’d heard the rumors. And unfortunately the rumors were true.

The five-carat diamond ring in his jacket pocket felt like an anchor, heavy enough to drag him down through the floors of his villa, through his wine cellar and continuing straight to hell.

“I’ve missed you.” Olivia gave him a smile that showed her white teeth. She was impeccably dressed as always, in a black one-shoulder cocktail dress that showed off her tanned body, muscular and slender from hours of running and self-denial. As she came towards him, her diamond bangles jangled noisily on her skinny wrist. She’d be the perfect Caetani bride, he told himself firmly.

And he needed to settle down before he became every bit as reckless and corrupt as his father. His night with Lilley had shown that all too clearly.

Alessandro pushed away the memory of Lilley’s big trusting eyes and soft, sensual body that always hovered on the edge of his consciousness. He never should have allowed himself to touch her. Never.

Olivia came forward to kiss his mouth, but at the last moment, his head twisted away, causing her lips to land squarely on his cheek. His body’s abrupt reaction surprised them both. Surely his body, at least, should have been pleased to see her? He hadn’t had sex for a month. And what a hellish month it had been.

She drew back, her eyes offended. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” What could he say? That he’d missed her while he was in Mexico City? That he’d thought of her when he’d lost his bid on Joyería to his most hated rival, that French bastard Théo St. Raphaël?

The truth was that it hadn’t been Olivia’s face he’d yearned to see the night he’d suffered that bitter disappointment.

He’d hungered for a different woman’s face. Her soft body. Her kind heart.

Alessandro took a deep breath. Lilley was likely already packing for New York. She almost certainly hated him now. He could only imagine how she’d felt this past month since he’d abandoned her without even the bare courtesy of a farewell. Usually his one-night stands at least got flowers.

But his coldness was deliberate. He was being cruel to be kind.

Olivia’s red lips lifted into a determined smile. “I was so glad when you called me,” she murmured. “I was almost starting to think you’d broken up with me.”

“I did.” He stared down at her. “I do not care for ultimatums.”

“Lesson learned,” she said, still smiling, though it did not meet her eyes. She tucked her hand into his own. Her skin felt cool. She had no softness, either of body or soul. “I’m glad we’re back together. We’re perfect for each other, aren’t we?”

Alessandro looked down at her beautiful face, her big green eyes and sharp, hollow cheekbones. Physically, she didn’t have a single flaw. She would fit well into his world. No one would ever be able to hurt her or criticize her performance as his principessa. “Sì,” he said tightly. “Perfetto.”

They walked down the hall towards the two-story foyer. From the landing, he saw many new guests had already arrived. This party had been planned in celebration of the early wine harvest, just for a few friends. But six weeks ago, feeling arrogantly certain of impending success with the Joyería deal, he’d invited business associates, thinking it would be the perfect victory lap.

Instead, the grape harvest was turning weak and the Mexico City deal was a failure. And he was going to propose to Olivia. It wasn’t a celebration. It was a wake.

With every step, he felt the dead weight of the diamond ring grow heavier in his pocket. He wondered who’d leaked the story about him purchasing it in Mexico City. Some underpaid store clerk, most likely. He’d carried it for over a week now, but he’d called Olivia only two days ago.

He’d been dragging his heels, but now he’d made his decision and wouldn’t go back. He was thirty-five and had defiled one virgin too many. He’d selfishly and ruthlessly possessed Lilley, when he’d known it would ultimately bring her pain. He’d sworn he’d never be like his selfish, callous father. And yet, seducing his innocent, brokenhearted file-room girl, he’d come perilously close.

Olivia’s cool, bony arm twisted hard around his as they walked down the stairs. The weather forecast was calling for thunderstorms, so the party had been moved indoors from the pool, although many guests had remained outside. He could hear a jazz trio playing in the ballroom, and he saw friends and business acquaintances from Silicon Valley. The men wore suits similar to Alessandro’s, and their wives wore shiny cocktail dresses, and everyone was drinking his wine. He should be enjoying this … shouldn’t he?

He heard Bronson arguing loudly at the door. His normally staid butler seemed to be struggling with an unwanted guest. “Service entrance is at the back,” Bronson insisted, trying to close the door.

“I’m not here for a delivery!” a woman said, pushing at the door. “I’m here to see Alessandro!”

The butler sucked in his breath as if she’d just insulted his mother. “Alessandro?” he repeated in disbelief. “You mean His Serene Highness, Prince Alessandro Caetani?”

“Yes!”

“The prince is currently hosting a party,” Bronson said coldly, his tone clearly adding and is unavailable to the

likes of you. “Make an appointment though his secretary. Good evening.”

But as he started to slam the door, the woman blocked him with a foot. “I’m sorry to be rude,” she begged, “but I’m leaving in the morning and have to see him. Tonight.”

Prickles went down Alessandro’s neck.

He knew that sweet voice. It was clear as a freshwater lake to a man dying of thirst. Dropping Olivia’s hand, he went down the stairs to where white-haired, dignified Bronson was struggling with the door like an American bouncer at a bar. The butler panted, “Unhand the door this instant—”

Grabbing the door over his head, Alessandro wrenched it open. The butler turned. “Your highness,” he gasped. “I’m sorry for this interruption. This woman has been trying to force her way into your party. I don’t know how she talked her way past security at the gate, but …”

“It’s all right,” Alessandro said, hardly knowing what he was saying, staring at the woman from his dreams on the doorstep.