Rising Stars. Maisey Yates

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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

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