Kate Hardy - From Paris With Love

Emma blinked at his implication. “You can’t think—”

“If she’d divorced him, he would have gotten nothing. A few hundred thousand dollars. Instead he got her entire fortune. He used that money to turn his shabby little hotel in New York into a multibillion-dollar international hotel conglomerate. You know he’s ruthless.”

“But not ruthless like that,” she whispered. She reminded herself that Alain’s words were spoken in anger, that he was a grief-stricken brother. Going toward him, she put her hand gently on his shoulder. “I’m sorry about Angélique. I truly, truly am. But you have to stop blaming Cesare. Her death wasn’t his fault. He loved her. He never would have hurt her.”

Alain slowly put his hand over her own. “Someday you’ll see the man he really is. And you’ll come back to me. I’ll give you your old job back...or better yet...” His eyes met hers. “I’ll give you exactly what Falconeri is offering you now.”

Marriage. He meant marriage. Emma swallowed, then pulled her hand away. “I’m sorry, Alain. I care about you deeply, but not in that way.” She stepped back from him and said with her heart in her throat, “I wish you all the best. Please take care of yourself.” She turned away. “Goodbye.”

“Wait.”

She turned back at the door. Alain’s jaw was tight as he looked at her.

“My sister shone like a star,” he said. “She was so beautiful, the life of every party. But even Angélique couldn’t keep his attention for long. Don’t think you will, either.” He faced her across the shadows. “Loving him destroyed her, Emma. Don’t let it destroy you.”

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