He felt helpless against that gaze. Setting his jaw, he looked down at the floor. “They will hurt you.”
“I’m stronger than you think.”
“Olivia is there.”
For a second, Lilley fell silent. Then she lifted her chin. “We’ll have her to tea.”
He snorted in disbelief. “That might be overdoing it.”
“I’m serious,” she insisted in a small voice. “I feel guilty. She was in love with you, she thought you were going to propose to her, and we eloped. We hurt her.”
“You didn’t do anything,” he said sharply. “And if I treated her badly, she can handle it, believe me. She’ll find someone else to marry, someone twice as rich and better-looking in the bargain.”
“No one’s better-looking than you,” Lilley said, then her smile faded. She looked away, chewing on her bottom lip. “Do you think she was in love with you? Really and truly?”
Mesmerized, Alessandro watched her white teeth sinking into pink flesh that was full and swollen from days of lovemaking. Then he came back to himself. “Absolutely not,” he said sharply. “She just knew as I did, that on paper, we were perfect for each other.”
Lilley’s expression fell, and it occurred to him that such an honest statement might hurt her feelings. “But now I have you,” he said reassuringly. She blinked up at him. “The mother of my precious child,” he added. Her lower lip wobbled. He wrapped his arm around her waist and said hopefully, “The woman who’s given me the best sex of my life?”
A laugh finally escaped her. Then she shook her head, squaring her shoulders. “And I’m coming with you to Rome.”
Alessandro’s instincts screamed No. But he saw the yearning in her eyes and could not deny her what she wanted. What they both wanted. He didn’t want to be apart from her, either.
“Very well, cara,” he said quietly. “Rome.”
She sucked in her breath.
“Thank you!” she cried, flinging her arms around his shoulders. “You won’t be sorry. You’ll see. I can handle them. I’m not scared!”
As Lilley kissed his cheeks over and over, murmuring her appreciation, Alessandro almost believed he’d done the right thing. He would protect her, he told himself. And Lilley was strong. She’d gained a great deal of confidence in the days of their marriage. What had caused such a rapid change in her? The Italian lessons? The etiquette classes?
Whatever it was, she would be fine. He was worrying over nothing. After all, they were married now, and expecting a child. What on earth in Rome could possibly break them apart?
CHAPTER NINE
ROME. Roma. The Eternal City.
What was the Italian word for disaster?
Another fabulous, sophisticated dinner at an elegant restaurant with Alessandro’s friends, and once again, Lilley was hiding in a bathroom stall. She was becoming a connoisseur of fancy Roman bathrooms.#p#分页标题#e#
Since they’d arrived in Rome three weeks ago, Alessandro had worked endless hours at the office. The only time she saw him—aside from the middle of the night when he made love to her—was at dinner, and that almost always included his friends, who were thrilled to see him.
They were not quite as thrilled about her.
For the last two hours, she’d sat at the table with a frozen smile on her face while Alessandro and his friends talked and laughed in rapid-fire Italian. And it was her own fault. But their first night in Rome, Alessandro had taken her to an elegant restaurant with an English menu. A kind gesture, but Lilley was so nervous, trying to make his glamorous friends like her, that the letters on the menus had refused to stay still. In the end, she’d tried to laugh it off, and her husband had taken over and gallantly ordered for her. But ever since, she’d insisted on only Italian menus. At least then she had an excuse for why she couldn’t read them.
And she’d insisted to Alessandro that she preferred that he speak to his friends in their native Italian. “I’ll learn the language more quickly that way,” she’d said.
What she’d mostly learned was that his friends made her uncomfortable and she wished that she and her husband could stay home. Home in the bedroom of their palazzo, where Alessandro made her so happy, or creating jewelry in her makeshift studio in the mews, or decorating the large sitting room she was turning into a nursery suite. Heck. Even going for another OB visit, with her chauffeur on one side and her bodyguard on the other, would be more fun than this.
Hiding in the bathroom stall, Lilley stared down at her beige Prada shoes. She’d lasted two hours before she fled to the bathroom. A new record, she tried to comfort herself. It was helpful to be pregnant, because no one questioned long disappearances. Lilley’s beige designer suit skirt strained at the seams, feeling too tight around her waist, and she wished she hadn’t eaten so much bread. None of the other women ate bread.