Alessandro stiffened, then realized his security guard was watching with interest, as were the paparazzi who’d been parked across the street ever since the scandalous night of their reception. He set his jaw. “Fine.”
Turning on his heel, he led the count silently into the palazzo.
“I’m here to collect Lilley’s things,” St. Raphaël informed him once they reached his study. “Her tools. Her mother’s quilt.”
“And the clothes I bought her?”
“She doesn’t want them.”
Alessandro sank into his office chair, feeling weary. He swiveled towards the window. He’d nearly thrown her most precious belongings away in his rage after she’d disappeared, but he hadn’t been able to do it. T
he tools and quilt were too much a part of what he’d loved about her. “It’s boxed up by the front door. Help yourself.” He glared at the other man. “I’ll be glad to get it all out of here.”
St. Raphaël stared at him coldly, then set his briefcase on the desk. Opening it, he pulled out a file and held it to Alessandro.
“What’s this?” he asked, not touching it.
“The Mexico City deal,” St. Raphaël said scornfully. “If you still want it.”
Alessandro opened the file. Skimming through it, he realized it was a contract to exchange Joyería for the St. Raphaël vineyard. He looked for a catch. He couldn’t find one.
“I will step away from the Tokyo deal as well.”
Alessandro looked up in bewilderment. “I don’t understand.”
“Lilley’s idea.”
“But why would she arrange this, when she’s the one who betrayed me?”
“Lilley didn’t betray you,” St. Raphaël bit out. “Someone else gave me that information. She said she wanted payback for the way you replaced her with some cheap file-room girl.” He paused. “I had no idea she was talking about Lilley.”
“Olivia?” Alessandro said in a strangled voice. “Olivia Bianchi?”
St. Raphaël’s eyes settled on his. “The two of you deserve each other.”
Was it possible he was telling the truth? Had Olivia betrayed him? Alessandro suddenly remembered all the times he’d done business on the phone in the back of the limo, with Olivia sitting bored beside him. She’d certainly known about his rivalry with St. Raphaël.
She’d had motive, means and opportunity.
The Frenchman leaned forward, his knuckles white against the desk. “But you must promise, in writing, that you will keep the design studio in Mexico City. I gave Rodriguez my word that none of his people would lose their jobs. And, unlike you, I do not wish to be a liar.”
Alessandro’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t lie. I might have implied—”
“You lied. Worse than Lilley ever did. All she was trying to do was get a job. You were trying to enrich your own pockets at the expense of someone else’s honor. You lied to Rodriguez. Just as you lied to Lilley when you didn’t mention until after you were wed that you wouldn’t allow her to work.”
Alessandro’s cheeks grew hot. Then his chin lifted coldly. “Lilley slept with another man, then tried to pass off her unborn child as mine.”
With a snort, St. Raphaël stared at him, then shook his head. “If you believe that, you’re even more stupid than I thought.” He pulled out one last paper. “Here. Give that to your lawyers.”
I slept with a different man, just like you said. Alessandro remembered Lilley’s wide, stricken eyes as she stood in her pink ballgown amid the holly and ivy. He remembered the strange way her voice had trembled. And I loved him.
Alessandro’s heart gave a sickening lurch.
What if Alessandro was the man she’d loved—before he’d turned on her so brutally, in public, with his ex-mistress egging him on, practically chortling with glee?
He’d vowed to honor and protect his wife. Why hadn’t he cared for her enough to speak with her privately? To ask, to listen, to give her the chance to explain? Instead, he’d turned on her like a rabid dog. He’d attacked her, his beautiful wife who had never done anything but love him with all of her gentle, loyal heart.
“Where is she?” he whispered.