she could say casually over waffles some Sunday, a funny thing about how you thought my father owned a shop. He does own a store, but a few more than one! Maybe they’d have a good laugh. Maybe he’d forgive her.
But then she’d have to tell him about Théo.
She had to tell him. Before he found out some other way. And she would, she promised herself. Once their marriage was on stronger footing. Once his friends didn’t hate her. Then she would tell him everything. She would. Even though it would make him hate her.
She trembled just to think of it ….
“I’m sorry I never gave you the wedding you deserved,” Alessandro said, stroking her cheek.
She gasped. “I loved our wedding!”
He shook his head ruefully. “You should have had friends at the ceremony. Family.” He looked at her. “Have you told your father about me yet?”
Her father. She swallowed. “Um. No. Not yet.” Squaring her shoulders, she forced herself to add, “But I will take you to Minnesota to meet him. Anytime you like.”
“How about Christmas?” Holding her in his arms, he smiled down at her, the expression on his handsome face tender and bright. “We’ll have a wedding reception in Rome first. Then plan one there.”
“A reception?”
“Two. One on each continent. I want to properly celebrate.” He stroked her hair. “With our family and friends.”
“Oh,” she breathed.
“It’ll give your father a chance to know me.” He gave her a sudden wink. “I’ll win him over.”
His charm and thoughtfulness just made her feel more guilty. “Of course you will,” she said over the lump in her throat. “No one could help loving you.”
His expression grew serious. “But I don’t need anyone to love me.” He pulled her against his naked body, stroking her back over her beige jacket. “I only need you.”
Lilley suddenly felt like crying. She felt his naked body stir, and her own immediate response flooded her with need. She shivered as his hands gently caressed her breasts over the fabric, squeezing her plump flesh with his fingers, rubbing her swollen nipples until they were hard and aching beneath her jacket.
Her gaze fell on the bathroom mirrors and she saw their image, his naked body and muscular backside, as his lips lowered to her neck. The image caused a wave of immediate pleasure as he unbuttoned her jacket.
“You’re mine,” he murmured against her skin. She felt him hard between her legs, felt the gentle, insistent stroke of his fingertips as he pulled off her silk camisole and bra, running his palm down the valley between her pregnant breasts to her small waist and softly rounded belly. “Say it.”
She opened her eyes. “I’m yours.”
“Forever,” he demanded.
She swallowed. “Forever.”
Alessandro fell to his knees in front of her. Lifting her skirt to her hips, he yanked her panties to the floor. Moving his head between her thighs, he lifted one of her legs over his shoulder.
Her hands gripped his naked, hard-muscled shoulders as she felt his hot breath between her thighs. Then, the last moment before he kissed her, he lifted his head to look at her face.
“Never lie to me, Lilley,” he whispered. “And we’ll last forever. No one will ever be able to break us apart.”
He lowered his mouth between her legs, and as waves of pleasure exploded inside her, Lilley tilted back her head with a gasp, closing her eyes. Her heart pounded as she realized what she’d done. She should have told him the truth from the beginning. From the very first day. She’d thought it would be better to wait until he had a reason to care. But when he discovered she’d lied to him for months, after he’d allowed himself to be so vulnerable and care for her—trust her—it would be the beginning of the end.
No. She felt his wet, slick tongue between her legs and shuddered with need, closing her eyes with anguish. She couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not ever.
She would find a way to tell him the truth. And pray it wasn’t the end … of everything.
CHAPTER TEN
ALESSANDRO’s jaw dropped when he first saw his wife at the top of the stairs.
After five weeks of planning, he’d known she was choosing her gown with care for their wedding reception at their palazzo tonight. She’d insisted on picking her dress herself, in utmost secrecy. Now he saw why. Lilley was wearing a ball gown of watered silk in blending swirls of purple and fuchsia, with a snug corset tight beneath her breasts and loose over her swelling belly. Pink flowers adorned her long, flowing brown hair which tumbled over her shoulders.
She paused at the top of the landing, waiting for his reaction. “Well?” she asked with a deep breath. “What do you think?”
Alessandro opened his lips to tell her she must change, to tell her she couldn’t wear such an outrageous gown, not when they’d be surrounded by the critical eyes of the most stylish citizens of the most stylish city in the world. He opened his mouth to tell her that fitting in was the only way to survive.
Then Alessandro saw the hope in Lilley’s vulnerable brown eyes. He realized what a risk she’d taken, choosing a dress like this for the night of the reception she’d spent weeks planning.
She was, quite deliberately, taking a risk.
And the truth was she looked beautiful. Looking at her face, Alessandro suddenly didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought. He didn’t care about anyone but her.
He held up his hand with a smile. “You look beautiful.”
Relief and gratitude rushed across Lilley’s beautiful face before she gave him a mischievous grin. “Grazie,” she said, swishing her skirt as she came down the stairs. She adjusted his tie with a dimpled smile. “You don’t look so bad in that tuxedo yourself.”
Then, standing on her tiptoes, she reached up and kissed him so long and hard that if guests for the reception hadn’t already started to arrive, he would have taken her straight upstairs and ripped the colorful ball gown right off her.
As they went to the ballroom to greet their guests, Alessandro marveled at the changes Lilley had made in the palazzo. In the two months they’d been in Rome, Lilley had tossed out all his elegant, creaky antiques and replaced them with furniture that was both comfortable and warm. His palazzo had once been a showplace. Now it was a home.
And it had never looked better than it did tonight. It was early December, and there was a fire in every fireplace, white twinkling lights on the trees outside and holly and pine boughs on all the mantels, to celebrate the upcoming season.
Looking across the ballroom, Lilley gave a sudden intake of breath. “Uh-oh. The ambassador is hitting on Monica Valenti.” He followed her gaze to see the gray-haired ambassador clearly invading the personal space of the nineteen-year-old starlet. Lilley threw him
