The Delicious De Campos: The Divorce Party

The pounding music made her head spin. The crowd gathering around her was claustrophobic.

She nodded. “I don’t know what happened. I—”

“Lilly—” Antonia pushed through the crowd, a horrified look on her face. “I forgot to do up your shoe.”

Lilly grimaced and put her hand on Harry’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m fine. You can put—

“Her down.” Riccardo stepped in, his gaze not leaving Harry’s face.

No thanks for saving his wife from breaking a few bones. Not even a curt acknowledgement of what he’d done. Her husband stood glaring at Harry, his expression so dark Lilly was convinced most men would have dropped her and run.

But not Harry. He lowered her gently to the floor and held her steady as Antonia knelt and did up her shoe.

“You okay?” he asked again, keeping his hands on her arms until he was sure she had her balance.

Lilly nodded, humiliation washing over her until she wanted to shrivel up into a little droplet of water and disappear between the floorboards.

Kelly Rankin stepped forward. “I am so sorry, Lilly,” she murmured. “Are you okay to get back up there and continue?”

Riccardo slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her to his side. “She’s had enough. Go on without her.”

Lilly’s humiliation degenerated into a slow, explosive burn. He had been the one to make her do this. He had insisted on her doing something she clearly wasn’t comfortable with. How dared he act so concerned?

If she didn’t get back up there and hold her head high she would never get over it. Pressing her lips together, she turned to Kelly. “I’m fine. Let’s do it.”

The organizer gave her a relieved look and went backstage. Harry stepped back and went to his seat. Lilly went on tiptoe and put her mouth to Riccardo’s ear. “Never, ever speak for me in public again.”

Then she turned and followed Antonia, leaving her stunned husband staring after her.

* * *

“Good for you, getting back up there.”

An attractive fifty-something brunette gave Lilly an encouraging smile as she touched up her lipstick in the ladies’ room. “I’m not sure I would have.”

Lilly flashed her a polite smile. “Not much else I could do.”

The woman shrugged and tossed her perfume in her purse. “Well, you looked gorgeous. I hope you get to keep the dress.”

She did, in fact. Riccardo had it outside, in a monogrammed Antonia Abelli bag that also held her own less-than-spectacular underwear. Although she doubted she’d ever wear the dress again. Not after tonight. Not after she’d crashed and burned so spectacularly in it.

She nodded at the woman and left. No less than a dozen people had come up to her since the show had ended. It would have been more if Riccardo hadn’t acted as gatekeeper.

Her husband’s mood had gone steeply downhill since she’d ended up in Harry’s arms, and she’d been relieved at his suggestion they leave shortly after. Determined to avoid as many people as she could, she walked around the edge of the crowd toward the entrance.

“Lilly.”

Harry Taylor stood in front of her, a determined look on his face.

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

She smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “More embarrassed than anything. Thank you for rescuing me.”

His gaze sharpened on her face. “You sure? You looked like a ghost up there—not like yourself at all.”

She nodded. “I’m fine, really. Just tired. We’re leaving now.”

He pulled at his tie and gave her a pained look. “You know I meant what I said the other day. I don’t think Riccardo is the right guy for you. And I’m always here if you need me.”

Lilly bit her lip. “Look, I shouldn’t be talking to you, Harry—Riccardo will hit the roof.”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” he pointed out, frowning. “Why should you have to worry about that? Dammit, Lilly, if that bastard starts treating you badly I swear I will—”

“What?”

She spun around to find her husband standing behind them, a barely restrained look of violence on his face.

“What will you do, Taylor? I’d like to know.”

Harry stepped forward. He wasn’t a short man, but Riccardo had three inches on him easily. That didn’t seem to faze Harry as he stood toe to toe with him. “I will hold you accountable.”

Riccardo gave him a silky look. “My wife and I and our personal life are none of your business. Accept the fact that you never stood a chance, Taylor.”

Harry’s face turned bright red. Lilly stared as a man who never lost control balled his hand into a fist and sent it arcing toward her husband’s face. Riccardo’s reflexes, honed by years as a competitive athlete, were lightning-fast and he caught the other man’s wrist in his hand before it connected.

Light exploded around them. Lilly looked up to see a half-dozen cameras pointed at them. Oh, my God. How could this be happening?

“Guys,” she pleaded, pulling on Riccardo’s arm. “Stop.”

Her husband dropped his hand away but stayed toe to toe with Harry. “You come near my wife again and I will take you apart piece by piece.”

Harry lifted his chin. “You don’t scare me, De Campo. You—”

“Harry!” Lilly had the hysterical thought that if he’d acted more like this—more manly, more aggressive—he might have done it for her. She took a deep breath and gave both men a level look. “We are leaving. Goodnight, Harry.”

* * *

Riccardo drove home like he was on a racecourse instead of in the middle of Manhattan, and was shocked when no police officer appeared to pull him over. Lilly was out of the car and flouncing up the walkway before he came to a complete stop in their driveway, but she’d forgotten he was the only one with keys and had to cool her heels while he parked and strolled leisurely up to the door. She stood back while he inserted his key and pushed it open, then swept by him, her head held high, fury in her hazel eyes. Her heels clicked on the hardwood floor as she charged upstairs without another word.

His own safety valve about to blow, he walked into his study and poured himself a Scotch. “I don’t think Riccardo is the right guy for you...” Taylor’s smug pronouncement: “I’m always here if you need me.” His blood burned in his veins, snaking through him like a river of fire. Taylor was there in the wings, waiting for her. Waiting for him to screw up. And what had he done to deserve it?

He took a swig of Scotch and stifled the urge to go back there and finish Taylor off. He was the only man Lilly was ever going to run to. He knew it and she knew it.

It was time he proved it to her.

He downed the Scotch in two gulps, slammed the glass down on the sideboard and took the stairs to their bedroom two at a time. When he arrived in the doorway Lilly was standing in front of the closet, her shoes in her hands. He sucked in a breath. She had taken her dress off and stood there in a very sexy, very skimpy lacy white panties and bra.

Desire slammed into him, hot and hard.