LITMIR.BIZ

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she going to say to Harry? I’m so sorry, Harry. I’ve gotten back together with the man who destroyed me? Or, I’m sorry for saying I wanted you when really I want my sexy, controlling somewhat ex-husband, who kissed me within an inch of my life last night and made me want more.

      Ugh. There was no good way to put it that wouldn’t end up making her look like a horrible, horrible woman.

      The café door chimed. She looked up to see the other person she was trying to avoid waltzing through the door.

      “You really didn’t think you could hide, did you?” Alex asked grimly, tossing an order at the barista and plopping herself down on the stool beside her.

      Lilly pushed her empty mug away. “I’m not avoiding you. I had a jam-packed morning.”

      Alex’s eyebrows rose. “I’m your twin, remember? I can sense inner turmoil.”

      “I’m fine. Just a little groggy from the medication.”

      “Good.” Her sister threw the words at her with a determined tilt of her chin. “So you can tell me what the hell’s going on. Your autocratic husband ordered me out of the house before I could see if you’d actually lost your senses.”

      Lilly pulled in a breath. “It was like Riccardo said. It took a tough conversation for us to realize our feelings for each other.”

      Alex sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Do not try to spin me, Lilly. I know you too well. You walked in there last night intent on a divorce. What happened?”

      “We talked...we came to some realizations...”

      “Like what?” Alex waved her hand in the air. “Like the last hellish year of your marriage was just an apparition? Like he didn’t almost annihilate you?”

      “It takes two to tango,” Lilly murmured. “Riccardo wasn’t the only guilty party in our marriage.”

      “Only the majority holder.” Her sister screwed up her face. “What about Harry? Last night you were telling me he’s the one.”

      “I didn’t say that. I said I wanted the opportunity to truly pursue things with him.” She bit her lip, realizing how confused that sounded. Dammit, she needed to make this believable. For Lisbeth’s sake.

      “You know I’ve never really stopped loving Riccardo,” she said quietly. And the fact that saying it didn’t seem like too much of a stretch shook her to her core. “I want to give it another shot.”

      Alex’s mouth tightened. “You left him to save yourself. And I for one don’t relish being the one to pick up the pieces again when he reverts to being his domineering, controlling self.”

      “He’s changed,” Lilly lied.

      “Men like him don’t change. They come out of the womb like that.”

      Her mouth curved. “Probably true.”

      “What about his infidelity? Are you prepared to put up with that again?”

      Everything around her faded, blurred into the series of carefully manufactured images she had created to keep herself in one piece. Control. Because to imagine Riccardo in bed with another woman—to imagine the man who’d promised to love her for life doing that to her—would damage her beyond repair.

      “It won’t happen again.”

      “How do you know?”

      “Because he promised me.”

      In actual fact Riccardo had denied the whole thing. He’d put it down to the vicious money-making tactics of the tabloids. But Lilly had seen the photos. And photos didn’t lie.

      Her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip. The effort it took not to blurt out what was actually going on was immense. “You have to trust me,” she forced out huskily. “I’m doing the right thing.”

      Her sister gave her a long, hard look. “You promise if things start to get bad you’ll end it? You’ll walk away?”

      “I promise. And, Alex—this means we can get Lisbeth’s treatment.”

      A light went on in her sister’s cornflower-blue eyes. “Lilly Anderson, you promise me right now you are not doing this because of Lisbeth. I do not need two sisters in critical condition.”

      “I wouldn’t do that,” Lilly said firmly. “It’s just a very wonderful outcome of this decision.”

      But she would. She would do anything it took to make Lisbeth well.

      * * *

      Riccardo came to pick her up at six. “You still don’t look good,” he said bluntly as she slid into his beast of a car.

      She shrugged and pulled her seatbelt on. “You know what my migraines are like. It takes me a few days to get over one.”

      He put the car in gear and pulled out into traffic, the low-slung powerful machine reminding her of the man himself. Smooth, dangerous.

      He flicked her a glance. “I’d forgotten just how bad they get.”

      She wondered if he’d done what she had. Used any method available to wipe her head clean of him—finding it impossible on so many levels.

      Don’t fool yourself, Lil. Riccardo wasn’t the type to pine for anyone. Especially the woman who’d walked out on him.

      Which begged the question: why hadn’t he had other women over the past year? If she was to believe the highly sexed man she’d married was capable of celibacy, the question was why had he chosen it? Riccardo loved women. He lived for the contrast. Hard versus soft. Rational versus emotional. And with his superstar racing background they were like a feast that had been put on this earth for him to enjoy in endless supply.

      She had fooled herself that she could be the only one for him.

      She twisted her hands together in her lap and stared sightlessly out the window. They drove in a tense silence until he passed her street.

      “What about my apartment? I need to get my stuff.”

      “I sent Mrs. Collins over to pick it up.”

      Her jaw dropped. He’d had Magda go through her stuff? Sift through the very fiber of her personal life?

      “Stop the car.”

      He frowned over at her. “Lilly, it was—”

      “Stop the car.”

      He swore under his breath and pulled to the curb. “It was the efficient way to get it done.”

      “Efficient?” she demanded, her voice shaking with anger. “You violated my privacy. My God, how did you even get in to my apartment?”

      “I was the one who had the locks installed for you. You’re overreacting, Lilly.”

      She clenched her hands in her lap for fear she might slap his handsome face. He’d pretended to be worried about the dismal state of the locks on her front door and had insisted on having them changed and a deadbolt added. She’d been grateful at the time, because in New York a solid set of locks was never a bad idea. But really it had just been another of his attempts to control her.

      “You did that so you could spy on me,” she hissed, pressing her head back against the seat. “How could I be so stu—”

      “Stop.” His eyes blazed into hers. His bronzed skin was pulled taut across his cheekbones. “You know I have security on you. You are still my wife and, like it or not, there are people out there who itch to get their hands on you. But I have never, ever spied on you.”

      “You knew about Harry.”

      “I saw you with Harry. You were eating at Nevaros the same night I was.”

      “You didn’t introduce yourself.”

      “And

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