Extraits

** Extrait offert par Jennifer Hayward **

1.

La douleur n’allait pas passer par magie, hélas…

Lilly porta la main à son front. Il lui semblait que son cerveau cognait contre les parois de sa boîte crânienne. Si elle évitait tout mouvement, peut-être le mal se calmerait-il avant de devenir une vraie migraine.

Mais éviter tout mouvement dans les prochaines heures alors que la Rolls-Royce de Riccardo, conduite par Tony, son chauffeur habituel, la propulsait vers sa soirée de divorce, ce n’était même pas envisageable. D’ailleurs, elle était déjà en retard. Et pourtant, cette soirée allait consacrer ce qu’elle voulait plus que tout au monde : sa séparation d’avec Riccardo. Enfin, elle allait retrouver sa liberté !

— Mon Dieu ! s’exclama Alex.

Lilly se tourna vers sa sœur jumelle assise à côté d’elle, qui tenait un magazine à la main.

— Que se passe-t-il ?

— Comment peuvent-ils imprimer ces horreurs ?

— Lis-les-moi, demanda Lilly.

— Sûrement pas !

— Alex, lis…

— C’est dans la rubrique « Ragots ». Tu as mieux à faire que d’écouter ça.

— Allez ! insista Lilly.

— Je t’aurai prévenue, répliqua sa sœur en s’éclaircissant la gorge. « Dans ce qui promet d’être l’événement le plus croustillant, le plus scandaleux et le plus commenté de la saison, le millionnaire Riccardo De Campo, dont la famille a fait fortune dans le vin, donne une soirée en l’honneur de son divorce d’avec Lilly De Campo. Cette fille de la campagne avait quitté la ferme familiale pour pratiquer son métier de kinésithérapeute du sport, avant d’épouser Riccardo et de s’installer à New York. J’ai pu dire à une époque qu’ils me semblaient le seul couple vraiment amoureux de notre belle ville. Mais apparemment, le conte de fées, s’il a jamais existé, prendra fin ce soir. Les infidélités de Riccardo, bourreau des cœurs notoire, ont enterré cette union supposée solide. Je suis bien sûr invitée et vous chuchoterai tous les détails savoureux. » Signé Lacey Craig. Quelle vipère, cette femme ! Je n’aurais jamais dû ouvrir ce torchon !

Alex froissa le magazine et le jeta à terre. Lilly avait fermé les yeux, en proie à une nouvelle vague de nausée. Dieu sait qu’elle avait voulu ce divorce, mais elle n’avait pas imaginé toute cette boue. Pas plus que l’étrange sentiment qui lui serrait le cœur à l’idée que son mariage serait bientôt à ranger au rayon des souvenirs.

Elle devait être folle…

— Désolée, Lil’, reprit sa sœur, j’aurais dû t’épargner cela.

Elle soupira. De toute façon, ce soir, rien n’allait comme elle le voulait. Sa robe fuchsia — une couleur que détestait Riccardo — était élégante, mais bien trop moulante, elle s’en rendait compte à présent. Avant de partir, le miroir lui avait révélé sa pâleur et les cercles sombres des nuits sans sommeil marquaient ses yeux noisette. Elle avait la tête d’un spectre. La seule chose qui la consolait un peu, c’était sa coiffure. Sa styliste lui avait sauvé la mise en lissant ses mèches châtaines à la perfection. Pour le reste…

C’était vraiment problématique de se sentir si vulnérable avant même que la soirée ait commencé. Affronter Riccardo sans défense pouvait se révéler très dangereux.

— Je me demande si tu as bien fait de te faire si belle ce soir, murmura Alex. Tu es trop bien coiffée.

Sachant que sa sœur n’était pas une championne de la diplomatie, Lilly apprécia le compliment, qui lui fit même du bien.

— Pourquoi aurais-je dû négliger ma mise ?

— Parce que Riccardo est presque une substance interdite pour toi. Ce mariage a failli te détruire, ne l’oublie pas ! Tu aurais mieux fait d’avoir l’air moche, cela t’aurait simplifié les choses.

Lilly esquissa un sourire, vite rengainé à l’approche d’une nouvelle attaque de migraine.

— Tu devrais être satisfaite, maintenant qu’il m’accorde le divorce, dit-elle en se massant les tempes.

— A voir… T’a-t-il envoyé les papiers ?

— J’espère qu’il va me les donner ce soir.

— Tu vois que j’ai raison de me méfier, répliqua Alex d’un ton furieux. Je crains qu’il ne mijote quelque chose.

— Je ne vois pas quoi, vu qu’il est manifestement temps pour lui de me remplacer, murmura Lilly, le cœur serré.

Pourquoi cette soudaine douleur ? Elle devrait se réjouir d’avoir obtenu ce qu’elle voulait de Riccardo. Il avait fini par admettre qu’il n’y avait aucun moyen de réparer les dégâts qu’il avait causés. Et Lilly savait toute réconciliation impossible. Alors comment se faisait-il qu’elle soit si déstabilisée à la perspective de cette soirée ? Ils annonceraient officiellement la rupture de leur mariage, ce qu’elle voulait depuis un an. Il était absurde d’être abattue par ce qu’elle désirait ? Elle n’avait pourtant pas passé ces douze derniers mois à pleurer, en espérant que le refus de Riccardo de lui accorder le divorce voulait dire qu’il l’aimait encore ! Elle n’en était plus à rêver que Riccardo vienne la rejoindre en passant par le balcon, comme dans un film, pour lui jurer un amour éternel et promettre un nouveau départ. Nourrir de tels espoirs aurait vraiment été stupide. Et naïf.

Lilly affermit sa résolution : il lui fallait se méfier. Riccardo avait sans doute une idée derrière la tête. La soirée devait sûrement servir un de ses projets, car rien de ce qu’il faisait n’était sans arrière-pensée.

— Si je veux être libre de nouer une vraie relation avec Harry, ajouta-t-elle, il me faut la signature de Riccardo au bas de ce papier !

— Harry Taylor ?

Sa sœur avait levé les yeux au ciel.

— Il a beau être un distingué cardiologue, membre de Médecins sans frontières et tout le tralala, reste qu’il est triste comme la pluie ! Tu vaux mieux que cela, sœurette. L’épouser, ce serait revenir à ce que tu as été si contente de quitter.

Lilly frémit. Revivre la vie sans joie qu’elle avait connue jusqu’à ses dix-huit ans ? Plutôt se faire découper en morceaux !

— Il est bel homme, chic et adorable, rétorqua-t-elle. J’ai beaucoup de chance de l’avoir rencontré.

— Après Riccardo, soupira Alex, c’est comme de boire un mousseux tiède après une coupe de champagne…

— Je croyais que Riccardo était dangereux pour moi ?

— Harry Taylor aussi : il te tuera d’ennui.

— J’en ai fini avec les hommes qui font saliver les femmes, décréta Lilly. C’est trop destructeur pour moi.

— C’est juste que celui avec lequel tu as fait l’essai a failli te réduire à néant. Mais il en existe d’autres ! A quelle heure est-on censées y être, au fait ?

Elle jeta un coup d’œil à sa montre.

— Depuis une demi-heure…

Sa sœur lui décocha un grand sourire.

— Riccardo va adorer !

Lilly se tortilla sur son siège. Elle était toujours en retard, ce qui avait toujours fait rager son mari — et pourtant, elle se battait contre ce défaut ! Mais c’était dans sa nature de prévoir des journées trop pleines, et dans celle des athlètes richissimes qu’elle soignait de ne pas être ponctuels. Or Riccardo se moquait bien de ses excuses : ce qu’il voulait, il le voulait quand il l’avait décidé. Non négociable…

L’expression d’Alex se fit soudain plus sérieuse.

— J’ai parlé à David tout à l’heure.

Elle se figea. Si Alex avait eu leur frère au téléphone, cela ne pouvait signifier qu’une chose…

— Comment va Lisbeth ?

— Elle a eu une semaine difficile. Son médecin dit qu’il lui faut ce traitement au plus vite, si on veut la sortir de là.

Lilly se tordit les mains, de nouveau envahie par ce désespoir familier qu’elle ne savait plus comment combattre.

Lisbeth, leur plus jeune sœur, était atteinte d’une leucémie. Depuis trois mois, elle n’était plus en rémission et son médecin préconisait un nouveau traitement révolutionnaire, le seul, selon lui, qui pouvait lui donner une nouvelle chance. Mais il était terriblement coûteux.

— Je ne peux pas demander l’argent à Riccardo, Alex. Je ne peux pas lui donner un pareil pouvoir sur moi.

— Je sais, fit doucement sa sœur en lui pressant la main. On trouvera une autre solution. Il doit bien y avoir un moyen.

Lilly grimaça.

— Je retourne à la banque demain. Peut-être qu’on m’accordera un prêt.

Il fallait qu’elle le trouve, ce moyen, la vie de Lisbeth en dépendait. Mais ce soir, elle devait se focaliser sur une chose et une seule : sa propre survie.

* * *

Le cœur de Lilly battait la chamade lorsque la Rolls quitta l’avenue ombragée pour pénétrer dans l’allée privée. Au bout se dressait la prestigieuse maison de ville de Riccardo De Campo. Ancienne, élégante, elle avait conquis Lilly au premier coup d’œil. Son mari n’avait eu qu’à voir son expression ravie pour prendre sa décision.

« Elle te plaît ? avait-il dit sans ciller une seconde devant le prix faramineux. On l’achète. »

La limousine s’arrêta devant la demeure que Lilly avait fuie douze mois plus tôt avec une simple valise, quand elle avait enfin trouvé le courage de partir. Elle devait être folle pour se prêter à cette mascarade ! Fêter son divorce était peut-être du dernier chic, mais voulait-elle vraiment s’y plier face à tous ceux qui avaient fait de sa vie un enfer ?

En fait, elle n’avait pas le choix. Riccardo avait insisté : « Il faut mettre un terme officiel à notre relation, Lilly. Si tu n’es pas là, nous ne divorcerons pas. »

Tony avait fait le tour de la voiture pour lui tenir la porte et elle s’accrocha à sa main pour quitter l’habitacle. Mais ses jambes lui refusaient tout service et elle faillit s’effondrer, soudain saisie par le souvenir de Riccardo, la nuit de leur premier anniversaire, la soulevant dans ses bras pour lui faire passer le seuil de la maison. Il lui avait fait l’amour ce soir-là avec une intensité passionnée qui promettait un bonheur éternel.

Et voilà, la boucle était bouclée, elle revenait à leurs débuts. Pour célébrer la fin. Comme les choses pouvaient vite vous échapper ! Et combien les sentiments étaient fragiles…

— Tu es sûre que tu veux y aller ? demanda Alex en la soutenant.

— Il le faut si je veux ce divorce.

Et elle le voulait, au moins pour ne plus être obligée d’évoluer chaque jour dans un monde qui n’était pas le sien.

Un valet leur ouvrit et les fit entrer.

— Curieux d’avoir besoin de montrer patte blanche pour entrer chez soi…, murmura sa sœur.

— Ce n’est plus chez moi.

Mais chaque détail de la décoration disait le contraire. Ce lustre de verre de Murano, elle l’avait choisi avec Riccardo pendant leur lune de miel. Sur la goutte en cristal qui pendait au milieu, ils avaient fait graver deux cœurs entrelacés et leurs initiales.

— Ce sera le symbole de notre union, avait-il dit. Nous ne faisons plus qu’un, à présent.

Le souvenir la fit vaciller sur ses hauts talons, dispersant aux quatre vents le peu d’assurance qu’elle avait réussi à gagner. Le désir de faire demi-tour l’assaillit avec une telle force qu’elle dut se cramponner à Alex pour ne pas fuir.

— Lilly…

— Ça ira, ne t’en fais pas, la rassura-t-elle.

Elle se força à sourire au jeune serveur qui leur indiquait la direction de la salle de bal.

— Nous connaissons le chemin.

Aux côtés d’Alex, elle grimpa le magnifique escalier de marbre. Avant, c’était aux côtés de Riccardo qu’elle le montait. Il avait été un roc, l’avait soutenue sans relâche dans un monde qui lui était étranger. Aujourd’hui marquait le début de sa vie après Riccardo.

Elle fit une pause à l’entrée de la salle de bal : un orchestre de jazz jouait sans parvenir à couvrir le bourdonnement des conversations. Les chandeliers de prix qui éclairaient la salle faisaient étinceler les joyaux des invitées. Lilly se raidit. Tous ces gens étaient parfaitement habillés, comme pour une vraie célébration !

Alex la poussa pour qu’elle franchisse le seuil.

** Extrait offert par Jennifer Hayward ** (VO)

It was going to be bad.

Lilly Anderson winced and put a hand to her pounding head. If she held herself in just that position, with the pressure building in her head like the vicious storms that picked up intensity across the plains of the midwest, it might not become a full-on migraine.

Might not.

Except staying in the dim confines of Riccardo's Rolls-Royce, driven by his long-time driver Tony, wasn't an option tonight. She was late for her own divorce party. Excessively late for the one thing that would give her what she wanted above all else. Her freedom from her husband.

"Oh, my God."

Her twin sister Alex made a sound low in her throat. "How can they print this stuff?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Alex, read it to me."

"It's Jay Kaiken's column. You don't want me to."

"Read it."

"Okay, but I warned you." She cleared her throat. "In what's expected to be the most scandalous, juiciest, talked-about water cooler event of the season, billionaire wine magnate Riccardo De Campo and former Iowa farmgirl-turned-sports-physiotherapist Lilly De Campo host their divorce party tonight. I once suggested they were the only passionately in love couple left in New York. But apparently even that fairytale doesn't actually exist. Rumors of heartthrob Riccardo's infidelity surfaced and this once solid marriage ended up in the toilet. So it's with mixed feelings that I bid this partnership adieu tonight. I have the invite and will bring you all the salacious details."

She crumpled up the tabloid and threw it on the floor. "He's such an SOB."

Lilly closed her eyes, a fresh wave of nausea rolling over her. No matter how many times she'd envisioned this moment, this freedom from Riccardo, she had never envisioned this. Nor the insanely mixed feelings she had right about now.

"Sorry, Lil. I shouldn't have started on those."

"You're a PR person, Alex. You're addicted."

"Still, I suck. I'm really sorry."

Lilly smoothed her fuchsia silk dress over her knees. It was elegant enough—and in Riccardo's most hated color, which was an added bonus—but it felt as if it was clinging in all the wrong places. A glance in the mirror before they'd left had told her she was paper-white, with dark bags under her hazel eyes. Haunted. In fact the only thing that was right was her hair, blowdried to glossy, straight perfection by her savior of a stylist.

It was a problem—this not feeling together. She felt she was already at a disadvantage. Facing Riccardo without her mask, without all her defences in place, was never a good way to start.

"You look a little too good," Alex murmured. "I think you should have put something frumpier on. And maybe messed your hair up a bit."

Lilly took the compliment and felt a bit better. Her sister was, if nothing else, the bluntest person she'd ever met. "Now, why would I do that?"

"Because Riccardo is like a banned substance for you," her sister said drily. "And your marriage almost destroyed you. Be ugly, Lilly, it's the easiest way."

Lilly smiled, then winced as her head did another inside-out throb. "He's finally agreed to give me the divorce. You should be doing a happy dance."

"If I thought he was giving in I might be. Has he given you the papers yet?"

"I'm hoping he'll do that tonight."

Alex scowled. "It's not like him to do this. He's up to something."

Her heart dropped about a thousand feet. "Maybe he's decided it's time to replace me."

"One can only hope."

A stab of pain lanced through her. She should be elated Riccardo had finally seen the light. Seen that there was no way they could ever reconcile after everything that had happened. So why had his decree that they finally end this with an official public announcement hit her with the force of an eighteen-wheeler? She certainly hadn't been pining away the past twelve months, hoping his refusal to divorce her meant he still loved her. And there was no way she'd harbored any silly notions that he was going to come climbing through her window and carry her back home, like in some Hollywood movie, with a promise to do everything differently.

That would have been stupid and naive.

She squared her shoulders. He likely did have another prospect in mind. Everything Riccardo did was a means to an end.

"If I ever want to be free to pursue a real relationship with Harry I need Riccardo's signature on that piece of paper."

"Oh, come on, Lil." Her sister's beautiful face twisted in a grimace. "Harry Taylor might be a decorated cardiotho-racic surgeon, Doctors Without Borders and all that lovely stuff, but really? He's dull as dishwater. You might as well marry him and move back to Mason Hill."

"He's also handsome, smart and sweet," Lilly defended tartly, not needing to tell her sister there wasn't a hope in hell of her moving back to the miserable existence they'd escaped at eighteen. "I'm lucky to have him."

Alex waved a hand at her. "You can't tell me after Riccardo he doesn't seem like some watered-down version—like grape juice instead of Cabernet."

"You just told me Riccardo was bad news for me."

"So is Harry Taylor. He'll bore you to death."

Lilly had to steel herself not to laugh out loud, because that just would have hurt too much. "I'm through with men who make my heart pound and my palms go sweaty. It's self-destructive for me."

"The particular one you picked might have been… What time were we supposed to have been there, by the way?"

Lilly checked her watch. "A half-hour ago."

Alex gave her a wicked smile. "Riccardo's going to love that."

She squirmed in her seat. She was always late. No matter how hard she tried. Because it was just in her nature to try and squeeze too much into the day, and also because her multi-million-dollar athletes kept waltzing in half an hour late. But Riccardo had never seemed to care what the reason was. He wanted what he wanted when he wanted it. And that was all.

Alex's expression shifted. "I talked to David today."

Lilly froze. Alex talking to their brother back in Iowa only meant one thing. "How's Lisbeth?"

Alex frowned. "He said she had a really bad week. The doctor is saying she needs that experimental treatment within the next few months if it's going to do any good."

Dammit. Lilly twisted her hands together in her lap, feeling that familiar blanket of hopelessness settle over her. Her youngest sister Lisbeth had leukemia. She'd been told three months ago she was out of remission, and her doctor was advocating a ground-breaking new treatment as the one thing that might give her a fighting chance. But the treatment cost a fortune.

"I can't ask Riccardo for the money, Alex. I know it's crazy, but I can't give him that kind of power over me."

"I know." Alex put her hand over hers and squeezed. "We'll figure it out. There has to be a way."

Lilly pursed her lips. "I'm going to go back to the bank tomorrow. Maybe they'll let me do it in installments."

There had to be a way. Lisbeth had to get that treatment.

Tonight, however, she had to focus on survival.

Her hands shook in her lap and her head throbbed like a jackhammer as they turned down a leafy, prestigious street toward the De Campo townhouse. She had taken one look at the beautiful old limestone mansion and fallen in love. Riccardo had taken one look at her face and bought it for her. "You love it," he'd said, not even blinking at the thirty-five-million-dollar price tag. "We'll buy it."

They swung to a halt in front of the home she'd run out of with only a suitcase twelve months ago, when she'd finally had the guts to leave him. It was the first time she'd been back and it occurred to her she was truly crazy making that time tonight. Divorce parties might be in vogue, but did she really want to detonate her and Riccardo's relationship in front of all the people who'd made her life miserable?

She didn't have a choice. She scooted over as Tony came around to open the door. Riccardo had been adamant. "We need to end this standoff," he'd said. "We need to make the state of our relationship official. Be there, Lilly, or this isn't happening."

She forced herself to grasp Tony's hand. But her legs didn't seem to recognize the need to function as she stepped out of the car on trembling limbs that wanted to cave beneath her. The long, snakelike line of limousines made her suck in a breath. The memory of Riccardo sweeping her out of this car the night of their first anniversary and carrying her upstairs made it catch in her throat. He had made love to her with an intensity that night that had promised he would love her forever.

The images of the beginning and the end collided together in an almost blinding reminder of how quickly things could turn bad.

How hearts could be shattered.

"We can still turn around," her sister said quietly, coming to stand by her side. "If Riccardo really wants this divorce he'll come to you."

No, he wouldn't. Lilly shook her head. "I need to do this."

Do this and you won't ever have to live in a world you don't belong in again.

She walked woodenly up the front path alongside Alex. A dark-haired young man in a catering uniform opened the door and ushered them inside.

"How weird to have someone invite you into your own home," Alex whispered.

"It's not my home anymore."

But everything about it was. She couldn't help but stare up at the one-of-a-kind Italian cut-glass chandelier that was the centerpiece of the entryway. She and Riccardo had chosen it together on their honeymoon in the little town of Murano, famous for its glass. They had hand-picked a crystal to have their initials carved into, which had been placed on the bottom row. Riccardo had insisted on adding two entwined hearts beside their initials.

"It symbolizes us," he'd said. "We're no longer two separate people—we are one."

She lurched on her high heels, feeling whatever composure she'd had disintegrate. The urge to run far away from here as fast as she could was so overwhelming she could barely keep her feet planted on the floor.

"Lilly…" Alex murmured worriedly, her gaze on her face.

"I'm okay." She forced herself to smile at the young man offering to show them up the staircase to the ballroom. "We know the way."

She climbed the gleaming wooden staircase alongside Alex, her heartbeat accelerating with every step she took. By the time they'd reached the top of the stairs and turned toward the glimmering ballroom it was in her mouth.

You can do this. You've done this hundreds of times before.

Except Riccardo had been by her side then. A rock in a world that had never been hers. And tonight was the beginning of LAR—Life After Riccardo.

She paused at the entrance, taking in the glittering colors and jewels of the beautifully dressed crowd, set off by the muted glow of a dozen priceless antique chandeliers that dated back to the English Regency period. A jazz band played in the corner of the room, but the buzz of a hundred conversations rose above it.

Her back stiffened. She hated jazz. Was Riccardo trying to make a statement? To illustrate to her how he'd moved on?

Alex grabbed her arm and propelled her forward. "You need a drink."

Or ten, Lilly thought grimly as dozens of curious gazes turned on them and a buzz ran through the crowd. She switched herself on to autopilot—the only way she knew how to function in a situation like this—and started walking.

She lifted her chin when she saw Jay Kaiken and kept walking. As they moved toward the bar at the back of the room the strangest thing happened. Like the parting of the Red Sea, the crowd moved aside, dividing down the center of the room. On her left she recognized friends and acquaintances who had chosen to keep in touch with her rather than Riccardo after their separation. On her right she saw Riccardo's business associates, his brother, cousins and political contacts.

"It's like our wedding all over again," she breathed, remembering how she'd walked into that beautiful old Catholic cathedral on the Upper East Side to find her family and friends on one side—the neatly dressed, less-than-glamorous Iowa farm contingent alongside her girlfriends and schoolmates—and Riccardo's much larger, understatedly elegant clan on the other—all ancient bloodlines and aristocratic heritage.

As if their marriage was to be divided from the beginning.

Maybe that should have been her first clue.

She held her head high and kept walking. A tingle went down her spine. Her skin went cold. Riccardo was in the room. Watching her. She could feel it.

Turning her head, she found him—like a homing pigeon seeking its target. He looked furious. Seething. She swallowed hard, a flock of butterflies racing through her stomach. Riccardo spoke four languages—English, Spanish, German and his native Italian. But he did not have to utter a single word from those sensuous, dangerous lips for her to understand the emotion radiating from his eyes.

Hell. She touched her face in a nervous gesture that drew his gaze. Only Riccardo had ever been able to pull off that passionate intensity while still calling himself a twentieth-century man.

"Don't let him intimidate you," Alex murmured. "This is your divorce party, remember? Own it."

Easier in theory than in practice. Particularly so when Riccardo relieved a waiter of two glasses of champagne and strode toward them, with a look of intent on his face that shook her to her core. She absorbed this new Riccardo. He looked as indecently gorgeous as ever in a black tux that set off his dark good looks. But it was the hard edge to him that was different. The strongly carved lines of his face seemed to have deepened, harshened. He'd shaved off the thick, dark waves that had used to fall over his forehead in favor of a short buzz cut that made him look tougher, even more dangerously attractive if that was possible. And the ruthless expession on his face, the glitter in those dark eyes, had never been used on her quite like that before.

Her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth, her pulse picking up into a rapid, insistent rhythm that had her nails digging into her palms. Why, after everything they'd gone through, was he still the only man who could simply look at her and make her shake in her shoes?

Alex nudged her. "Dangerous controlled substance, remember?"

Lilly squared her shoulders and pulled in a deep breath as Riccardo stopped in front of them. He leaned down and brushed a kiss against her cheek. "Late and wearing pink. One would think you're deliberately trying to antagonize me, Lilly."

Her pulse sped into overdrive. "Maybe I'm celebrating my new-found freedom."

"Ah, but you don't have it yet," he countered, moving his lips to the other cheek. "And you aren't putting me in the kind of mood to grant it to you."

Lilly was aware of all the eyes on them as he pulled back and stung her face with a reprimanding look that made her feel like a fifth-grader. "Don't play games with me, Riccardo," she said quietly. "I will turn around and walk out of here so fast you won't know what hit you."

His dark eyes glinted. His mouth tipped up at the corners. "You've already done that, tesoro, and now you're back."

Something exploded in her head. She was about to tell him exactly what she thought of his ultimatum, but he was bending down and kissing Alex.