Lacey looked around and realized that she was near the foster home where Christina was living. To hold that sweet child, to bury her face in Christina’s bright hair, to cuddle her close and let the child’s kindness soothe her—
No. She couldn’t show up, this distraught. Christina had too much to contend with already.
And Lacey understood, in a way she never had before, just how the little girl felt. Abandoned. Alone. Everything familiar lost.
She pulled to the curb, realizing that her dream of adopting Christina was only a fantasy now. She had no job to support her. She didn’t feel right about keeping her trust fund, her townhouse, her car—they belonged to an impostor. All of it should go back to the people who’d been so ashamed of who she really was.
They’d loved her, she’d thought. But they’d lied to her with every breath. Everything she thought she knew about herself was a hoax. She was no princess, no River Oaks DeMille. She was a phony, a child who’d been given away. They’d considered her unworthy of the truth.
So where did that leave her? What was the truth of her life? If she wasn’t Lacey DeMille in blood and bone, who was she?
Her stomach was on fire. She curled into a ball against the pain and willed herself to stop thinking. Slow, deep breaths. Calm down. Have to calm down.
She had no idea where she would go, where she belonged. She wanted to go back, to forget what had happened, to resume the life she’d once found wanting, but that life was forever beyond her reach. How could she possibly face anyone in her old life now? She was a fake.
One step. One thing at a time. Drive back. Get some sleep. Don’t try to figure it all out yet.
Boneless with exhaustion, Lacey put the car in gear and headed for the place that was no longer home.
Dev was going crazy. Houston was huge, sprawling for miles in every direction. He’d been by her house three times, driven everywhere he’d ever seen her go. He couldn’t find her, didn’t know where she was or what she was doing in her ravaged state.
A chill invaded his bones at the thought that she was out there somewhere alone. He’d seen her devastation, seen the way she’d held that fragile body together by sheer will as she escaped. He wanted to hold her, to shield her, to protect her from the pain.
It was one of life’s nasty little ironies that he’d proven to be the chink in her armor. That he’d been the one to bring her down from princess to peasant, who’d been the bridge from heaven to hell. It seemed a century ago instead of only last night that she’d been naked beneath him, that he’d held her heart in his hands. That they’d been one.
Dev knew all about how a life could shatter. That he would be the instrument of her destruction was a cruel joke, but he wouldn’t lie to himself about who was at fault. It had been his desire for revenge that had first brought Lacey into the line of fire between himself and her father.
He’d never expected to fall in love with the princess years ago.
Nor wanted to find out last night that love had not died.
And now here she was, the innocent sacrificed to pay for old debts, old anger, old betrayals.
The one most hurt—and the only one blameless.
Dev’s jaw clenched as he turned to head back toward her townhouse once more. He had to find her. Had to replace the family he’d torn away with the family he knew would envelope her with love.
She wouldn’t want to see him. DeMille was right. And it was only fair that his own heart pay the price.
Whatever he must pay, even if it be Lacey’s eternal hatred, he could not rest until he’d given her back a life to replace the one he had destroyed.
It would be the worst kind of torture to be near her, knowing he could never have her, but he’d forfeited his right to her heart by his own actions, by setting the wheel in motion years ago to gain revenge without considering who might be hurt.
Revenge is a dish best served cold. He’d heard that somewhere. But no one had ever told him what it could cost the revenge-seeker.
Charles DeMille must be laughing now. In the end, he’d taken everything Dev had ever wanted, including the only woman Dev would ever love.
She moved toward her bedroom, but stopped dead-still in the doorway. Just looking at that bed and the shambles she and Dev had made of it hurt so badly she could barely breathe.
Memory after memory rolled over her in waves. The strength in his arms, the hot, sweet passion of his touch. The feel of him inside her after so many years’ waiting—
She’d given herself to him so trustingly, welcomed him to her deepest self. How could he betray her like this? He’d known, all along, about the truth. Every second that he’d spent heating her skin with his kisses, driving the breath from her lungs with the power of his wanting—