A Night of Living Dangerously (20 page)

He would bring the laughter and trust back to her eyes, even if it made him look like the biggest fool on the face of the earth. If he couldn’t even do that … then that bastard St. Raphaël was right. Lilley and his child really would be better off without him.

Alessandro would find her. Win her.

Squaring his shoulders, he set his jaw.

He would deserve her.

After six hours, Lilley’s backside was well and truly sore.

She shifted on the hard cushion of her father’s reproduction Louis XIV couch as she sat in his fancy parlor. She looked down at her watch. Six hours he’d made her wait now.
Six.
It was her first visit in three years, and he’d just left her here, alone and unwelcome in the sprawling house he’d built for his mistress, a forty-thousand-square-foot mansion on a sprawling estate near Minneapolis.

Clearly this was her punishment for not coming home in June to marry his employee, as he’d demanded.

Her lower back gave a sudden stab of pain, and she rose to her feet. The parlor had beautiful views of snowy Lake Minnetonka through the black, bare trees, but it still felt like an office, not a home. There were no personal photographs, just posters from various Hainsbury’s advertising campaigns. The closest framed poster showed a happy young couple embracing on a park bench with the image of an engagement ring superimposed around them. Beneath it in big letters was the tagline, Hainsbury Jewelers. When Only Perfection Will Do.

Perfection. Engagement rings. Love in general. Lilley hated them all right now. But most of all, she hated her knack for loving men who did not have the capacity or desire to love her back.

Her father’s abandonment had left a hole in her heart. But Alessandro had done far worse. He’d cut through that hole with a machete, leaving one side of her heart drenched in acid, the other smashed with a meat mallet.

She’d given her husband everything, and it still hadn’t been enough. Alessandro hadn’t even tried to hear her side. He’d just taken Olivia’s every word as gospel—even believing it was possible Lilley might have slept with another man!

Well, she
had
slept with another man. Without thinking, she reached up and touched the brass-and-pink-rock-crystal necklace hanging around her throat, a gesture she’d repeated many times over the last week. A tragedy that the man she’d loved, the man she’d been so sure Alessandro could be, had been entirely a figment of her imagination.

She swallowed, blinking fast. But work would see her through. After all she’d endured, she was no longer afraid of failure.

She just hadn’t been thinking big enough. Instead of opening a boutique, she was starting her own line of handmade, unique jewelry art, as Vladimir Xendzov had called it. After Alessandro had effectively ended their marriage, Lilley had spent days weeping in her old housekeeper’s suite in her cousin’s castle before she’d resurfaced to play with her cousin’s baby. Théo’s wife had demanded, “Where did you get that fabulous necklace?”

“I made it myself,” Lilley had replied, turning away. Then something inside her made her pause. Made her turn back around. With a deep breath, she’d added, “I’ve decided to start my own business. I’m going to sell handcrafted jewelry to luxury boutiques and exclusive department stores across the world. I’m going back to the States to try for a business loan.”

Carrie had shaken her head vehemently. “No!” she’d cried, and for a moment Lilley was taken aback. Then her friend smiled. “Don’t take out a loan with some banker, please. Let me do it! This is just the investment I was looking for.”

Closing her eyes, Lilley took a deep breath. Her dream was coming true in a way she’d never imagined. She had her financing now and was dependent on no one, not even Carrie. She’d finally been brave enough to take a risk. Alessandro had helped her do that, she admitted quietly to herself. He’d taught her how to have the confidence to follow her dreams. Her business might succeed or fail, but either way, it was all up to her.

She’d finally become strong enough to stand up for what was right, even if it terrified her. And she would rather be alone than be with a husband who didn’t love or trust her.

Lilley was no man’s housekeeper. No man’s helpless wife. And apparently, no man’s daughter.

As the sun started to set, scattering pink light over the snow beneath a black lattice of trees, Lilley finally gave up and turned for the door.

“What do you want?” Her father’s voice was low and hard. Lilley saw him in the doorway, and her mouth fell open with shock.

Walton Hainsbury seemed to have aged decades in the three years since her mother’s funeral. His beady eyes glared at her through his wire-rimmed glasses, but his face looked pale as he took a long suck of his cigar.

Her nose wrinkled at the smell. Cigars had become her least favorite smell in the world. He’d been smoking the day he’d left Lilley and her mother, when he’d announced he would go and build a mansion on Lake Minnetonka for his far younger mistress. Eighteen-year-old Lilley had cared for her mother at their family home in Minneapolis for two years, until she died.

“What are you doing here?” Walton rasped, looking contemptuously at the powder-blue coat and dark, fitted jeans. “Have you come crawling here to try to worm your way back into my will? It’s too late, missy! I’ve left everything to charity!”

Lilley stiffened. “I didn’t come for money.”

“Likely story.”

The accusation stung. “I’ve never asked you for money. Not once. You know I haven’t.” Lifting her chin, she looked at him. “I just came to tell you you’re going to be a grandfather.”

He stared at her. She noticed that the color of his skin was ashy, his jowls flabby, as if he’d lost weight. He took several puffs of his cigar before he said in a low voice, “You’re pregnant?”

She nodded.

His eyes narrowed at her bare left hand. “And no husband.” He glared at her. “You couldn’t marry the man I chose for you. Had to throw yourself away!”

“The man you chose for me was twice my age.”

“If you’d married him, I could have left him my company. I would have known you’d always have someone to take care of you. But you wouldn’t see sense, as usual. And now it’s too late.”

She heard a wistfulness in his voice. A lump rose in her throat. “I’ll be all right. I can take care of myself.”

“You can’t,” he barked. “You’ve just come back with another mouth to feed, expecting me to solve things for you as I always do.”

The accusation was so unjust, she sucked in her breath.

“You’ve never solved anything for me! You just made me feel helpless and stupid as a kid. The instant you knew about my dyslexia, you treated me differently. Same as you did when Mom got sick!”

“I loved your mother,” he said harshly. “As I loved you. I tried to take care of you both—”

“By divorcing her when she was dying? By deserting us both so you could build—” She looked around the gilded parlor. “—
this
for your mistress? Where is Tiffany, by the way?”

Walton looked away. “She left me a few months ago.”

“Oh.” Lilley blinked at him, not knowing what to say.
Good riddance
seemed rude.

“I never wanted to leave your mother,” he added gruffly. “Paula’s the one who told me to go.”

Lilley’s brow furrowed. “What?”

He exhaled. “I’ve never dealt well with illness, I’ll give you that. But when I told your mother about Tiffany, I was trying to wipe the slate clean. I vowed to her that if she could forgive me, I’d be a better husband, a better man.” His lips trembled in a smile. “But she told me to get the hell out of our house. She refused to see me again. And so I didn’t.” He clawed back his wispy hair. “Not until the funeral, when she couldn’t stop me.”

“I never knew. I just assumed—”

“Your mother didn’t want to drag you into our quarrel. I respected her wishes.”

“And took all the blame,” she whispered.

He looked at her. “I reckon I deserved it.” He looked away. “So who’s your baby’s father? Some penniless musician? An artist? Any chance the man has a shred of honor or decency?”

“If you’re asking if he’s married me, the answer is yes. We were married in September in Las Vegas.”

His face grew more ashen. His long eyebrows shook as he said, “You got married! Without telling me!”

“You disinherited me. I didn’t think you’d care.”

“Tell me you got a prenup.”

“No.”

His hand trembled as he stabbed the cigar towards her. “I haven’t worked hard all my life to let some greedy fortune hunter steal it all now!”

“He doesn’t want your money,” she whispered. She looked away. “And anyway, he’s about to divorce me.”

“After such a short marriage? Who will take care of you and the child?”

“I will.” She took a shallow breath, trying not to inhale his smoke which was making her feel sick. “Théo offered me a spot at his headquarters in Paris, in his mergers and acquisitions department. He said I have a fresh take on things, an original mind. But his wife Carrie and I had already decided—”

“Original mind?” her father interrupted derisively. “You can’t survive on your own, and take care of my grandchild alone. You will come home,” he ordered. “You’ll move in with me.”

Lilley sucked in her breath. “Why can’t you believe in me, Dad? Just once?” she whispered. “Why can’t you forget my dyslexia and tell me you believe in me, tell me I can do anything I put my mind to?”

Walton scowled. “Lilley—”

“Forget it.” She turned away. “Good-bye.”

Leaving the parlor, she fled the mansion. Outside, the frigid Minnesota air hit her skin with a vengeance, making her shiver in her warm jacket. Cold December light gleamed off Lake Minnetonka, and she could see a white cloud of fog rising up from the ice as she climbed back into her rental car. Starting the engine, she drove down the gravel driveway, her back tires sliding over the packed snow.

But when she reached the gate, the security guard ignored her. She waved at him furiously, but he turned the other way, a phone to his ear. Finally, she got out of the car and stomped to the guardhouse. “Open it,” she demanded. “Right now!”

The guard pushed the button to open the gate, but leaned out of his window. “Mr. Hainsbury wants you to wait.”

Lilley muttered under her breath. She was done waiting for anyone, especially men who’d proven over and over in every possible way that they didn’t love her. Climbing into her car, she gunned the engine. “Let him wait.”

But as she pulled out of the long driveway and out onto the quiet country road, she saw her father run through the gate, waving his arms as he shouted after her. For a moment, she stared towards the inviting open road. Then, cursing herself aloud, she slammed on the brake.

Lilley closed her eyes, heart pounding as she leaned her head against the steering wheel. Then, slowly, she turned off the engine.

She climbed out of the car, turning back towards her father. He was wheezing loudly and his run slowed to a walk. But she didn’t take a single step. She let him walk all the way.

“You don’t know, do you?” he said in a low voice. “Before I found out about the baby, I thought that was the only reason you turned up here. Because you found out.”

“Found out what?”

He looked at her. “I’m dying, Lilley.”

She stared at him, not moving. “What?”

He gave her a wan smile. “That’s why Tiffany left.” He held up the lit cigar between his fingers and stared down at it. “Doctors give me a few months, maybe a year. I wanted you to marry Gerald because … then I’d have known,” he whispered. “That you’d always be all right.”

Trembling, Lilley looked at her father in the gray December light. She’d had a happy childhood, back when her parents had loved each other. Her father had taught her to ride a bike. Taught her how to weld. He’d taught her how to evaluate uncut gems, and the different names for the stones. He’d shown her, through his example, the value of hard work and big dreams. She exhaled.

“There’s no hope?”

He dropped the cigar, crushing it beneath his feet. “Nope.” His lips creased. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, Lilley. First with your mother—then with you. But even I couldn’t be stupid enough to make this last one, and let you leave, knowing I might never see you again.” He lifted his head. “I do love you, Lilley,” he whispered. “And I’ve always been proud of you. I know I wasn’t always a good father, and I’m sorry. But before I die, I need … I’m asking—” His voice cracked. “—for you to forgive me.”

Lilley stared at him, her heart squeezing in her chest. Even her mother had forgiven Walton at the last. He’d treated them both badly. But she suddenly knew she wasn’t going to let him die alone.

Narrowing her eyes, she shook her head decisively. “Not going to happen.”

Her father’s face fell. Then she added with an unsteady smile, “There’s no way you’re going to die. I know you, Dad. Death itself wouldn’t be able to talk you into a deal you didn’t like.”

He exhaled. He looked up, and his eyes were filled with tears. “I told you that you needed me. That was a lie. The truth is—I’m the one who needs you.” He swallowed. “I swear to you, if I live long enough, I’ll be a better grandfather than I was a father.”

She felt a lump in her throat. “You weren’t so bad. Really.”

“No?”

“Well.” She gave him a crooked smile. “You did teach me how to ride a bike.” He smiled back at her. But as she started to reach out to him, the road suddenly rumbled and shook beneath her feet. She heard a loud honking behind her.

Turning in surprise, she saw a delivery van barreling down the country road, followed by a semitruck so huge it hung over the edges of the asphalt. The delivery van drove by, honking.

“What the devil?” her father sputtered, coughing.

“Abbott,” she whispered in shock. What was Alessandro’s chauffeur doing in Minnesota, driving a delivery van on this small country road?

The semi parked behind her car, blocking her on one side as the delivery van blocked the other. Confused, she started walking towards Abbott, who’d leapt out of the driver’s seat and was swiftly walking around to the back of the van.