“That’s where you’re wrong, Lucius.” She didn’t attempt to pull free. She simply met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down. “The gown is returnable. I haven’t mailed out the invitations. Both the floral shop and Joe Milano have been called and instructed to put the flowers and reception dinner on hold. The Dorchester Chapel is also on hold pending your phone call to either move forward with the ceremony or cancel.”
He stared at her a full thirty seconds, his black eyes narrowed in assessment. She could practically see him picking his way through the information, searching for the catch, struggling to evaluate what advantage canceling the wedding gave her. “You work for the Ridgeways,” he finally said. “It’s the only explanation. String me along, get inside information on me and then back out of our wedding right before they hit me with a lawsuit. Stand up in court and tell the judge about the Pretorius Program and my attempts to buy myself a wife. Custody of Mikey goes to the Ridgeways. End of game.”
She couldn’t help herself. She laughed. It was either that or burst into tears. “There are times you break my heart, Lucius.”
“What other explanation could there be?”
“An excellent question. Let go of my wrist, please.”
She continued to hold his gaze until he complied. And then she removed the ring for a second time. Instead of handing it to him, she crossed to his dresser and placed it dead center on the gleaming wood. The fire diamond flashed in reaction, sending out rays of hope that faded with each passing moment, along with a promise that would never be kept.
Angie glanced over her shoulder at Lucius. “Would you mind unbuttoning me? I had so much trouble getting it buttoned, it’ll take me all night before I can change back into my office furniture.”
Without a word, he approached. He released the column of tiny crystal buttons one by one, his fingers skimming the length of her spine. She fought to conceal her shiver of reaction, fought harder to divorce herself from the emotions clamoring for release. His warmth caressed her back and she gripped the edge of the dresser in an effort to steady herself. He swept the dress from her shoulders, baring her to the waist.
She wore a bra with barely-there cups specifically designed to work with the bodice of the dress, one that took what little she had and made it appear… Well, if not impressive, at least adequate. Based on Lucius’s reaction, possibly more than adequate. Angie caught the change in his breathing, the subtle catching hitch followed by a deep, dragging inhale. Bending forward slightly, she allowed the dress to drift toward the floor to pool at her feet in a puddle of ivory silk tears.
She’d hoped—how she’d hoped—they would be married by the time Lucius saw her in the delicate undergarments. The soft bridal ivory of the scraps of silk and lace matched her gown and were held together with tiny bows that coyly promised, with one gentle tug, to bare her to his gaze. She stepped free of the gown, fully aware of how she appeared in heels, garter and stockings. Let him look, she decided. Let him get a good, long look…and regret.
Ever so gently, Angie gathered up the gown and carried it to the closet, replacing it in the protective bag the shop had provided. She continued to ignore him, removing one of her older suits from its hanger, the outfit he’d once upon a time compared to chair upholstery. She started to dress, but before she could do more than reach for the skirt, Lucius stopped her.
“Don’t.”
He turned her around to face him. For a split second the barriers between them fell and he swept her into his arms, his fingers forking deep into her hair, loosening the topknot. And then he consumed her. The kiss held endless passion, combined with an underlying anger and hurt. She could taste his pain, his disillusionment, and tears filled her eyes.
One last time. For this brief moment, she’d take whatever he offered. Take it and imprint it on her memory so in the painful days to come, she could slip it out and remember. Just one last time.
Her lips parted beneath his and he swept inward, taking her. Marking her. Telling her with his kiss what he didn’t dare say aloud. He loved her. She didn’t have a single doubt in her mind, just as she didn’t have a single doubt that their love was doomed. He didn’t trust. Couldn’t. Not that she blamed him. She’d lied. Broken faith with him, which was the one thing he couldn’t forgive.
“Why?” he demanded against her mouth, the question escaping between deep, passionate kisses. “Why would you betray me like this?”