“I don’t,” Alex stammered, running his hands nervously through his blond hair. “I just met her.”
“I can see how you pass your time when I cannot decide what to wear.”
“Honestly, she’s a stranger! Nothing to me! I just met her—” he turned to glare at Lucy “—and she was just leaving.”
Lucy looked at Alex’s handsome, slender face. And she finally understood how he’d been able to propose marriage and beg her to have his baby, then abandon them both. How he’d been able to love her and Chloe one day, then leave them the next.
He didn’t care about anyone but himself. He was selfish, lazy and a coward. He’d never understood the joy of real love—or the responsibility that came with it.
Lucy’s eyes narrowed.
You don’t deserve my baby.
“Yes, I’ll leave.” She reached back inside her handbag. “As soon as you sign this.”
He snatched the papers from her hands. He’d barely skimmed the document for five seconds before his face relaxed. He snapped his fingers at the bartender. “Get me a pen.”
The Roman bartender looked down his nose at him with a sigh. “Sì, signore.”
Alex quickly signed the paper, giving up his rights to Chloe—their beautiful, happy, loving baby—with an enthusiastic flourish. Lucy watched him, feeling sick.
Suddenly she felt a strong, supportive hand on the small of her back. She looked back with an intake of breath.
Maximo’s eyes smiled down at her. Giving her comfort. Giving her strength.
Not bothering to even look at her, Alex shoved the paper toward Lucy. “Thanks.”
“No, Wentworth,” Maximo said. “Thank you.”
Alex whirled around as Maximo leaned over the bar to speak to the bartender in Italian. With a glance at Alex, the man nodded and signed.
“D’Aquilla,” Alexander said, looking shaken. “What are you doing here?” He tried to smile. “Shouldn’t you be on your honeymoon? I heard you married some woman claiming to be the Ferrazzi heiress. Your first mistake, because I’m telling you, we won’t let it stand in court. You must be truly desperate if you think you can pull something like…”
His voice trailed off when he saw Maximo’s hand on Lucy’s back, saw the way she was instinctively leaning toward him for strength.
“What’s going on here?” he said faintly.
Maximo turned to him. Looking from one man to the other, Lucy wondered how she could ever have been attracted to Alex. He was blond, slender, washed-out—nothing but a selfish boy compared to Maximo. Her dark, fierce husband towered over him in every way possible.
“You’re right for once, Wentworth,” Maximo said. “I am on my honeymoon.”
He gave a weak laugh. “I don’t get the joke.”
“It’s no joke.” Maximo showed a glint of teeth. “You’ve lost. Ferrazzi is mine.”
“What are you talking about?” Violetta demanded. She turned to Alex. “You said there was no way we could lose. You said you had an inside man.”
“He did have an inside man, signora,” Maximo said. “Himself. As vice president of acquisitions, he made a deal with Giuseppe Ferrazzi to embezzle millions from your company. So I am sure he is very, very sorry to lose.”
She turned on him in fury, thundering, “Alexander!”
Alex ignored her, staring with shock between Lucy and Maximo. “She’s your—wife?” he gasped. “That can’t be. She’s no Ferrazzi!”
“The long-lost Lucia Ferrazzi.” Maximo’s smile widened into a hard grin. “So much for having her declared dead. Quite the trick of fate. You could have had her for the taking—and the enormous fortune that comes with her.”
Alex leaped to his feet with an impassioned gasp.
“Luce. This is all a mistake. I love you. You know I do. And our little baby. You wouldn’t take Callie from me—”