The Sicilian's Red-Hot Revenge

by Kate Walker

‘Vito, will you please explain—?’

  ‘Explain?’

  The harsh crack of laughter was so rough, so brutal that she brought her head up in shock, staring at him in disbelief and confusion.

  ‘I believe that you are the one who owes me the explanation.’

  ‘I do? But…’

  In the whirling haze that was her mind she couldn’t find anything that she thought she had done wrong. Anything that she needed to explain to him. He had been the one who had insisted that she came back here. He had suggested that she stayed. He had…

  The click of the big hand on the clock moving forward warned her that time was passing. Any minute now and Ruth would be ringing. She couldn’t afford to miss this call.

  ‘I’m sorry, Vito, but I don’t understand—and I don’t have the time to talk about this right now…

  Her hand was inside her bag, finding the phone, pulling it out.

  ‘And I have to take a call…’

  ‘No, you don’t.’

  He moved then, straightening up and coming to still her hand on the bag, and just the few inches of adjustment seemed to make him even taller than ever, towering over her in a way that made a shiver of apprehension run coldly down the length of her spine.

  ‘Vito—I do! I do…’ she tried again but the words died on her tongue as he shook his dark head in adamant refusal. And it was as she looked into his hard, implacable face that the first faint hints of suspicion began to dawn and with them came the cold, creeping fingers of fear of what might have happened.

  But how could it have happened?

  ‘You don’t need to take the call,’ he repeated with cruel emphasis, ‘because I already did. I spoke to—Ruth, I believe her name is.’

  Emily actually felt all the blood drain from her face. She felt her skin grow cold and clammy in the same moment that her head spun in shock.

  It couldn’t be true. He couldn’t be saying what she thought he was.

  ‘No.’

  She shook her head despairingly, knowing there was no hope when he reached out and caught hold of her chin, stilling the movement roughly. Hard fingers dug into her skin, making her wince as he forced her to meet the black intensity of his eyes that seemed to burn right into her skull with the power of a terrible laser.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, coldly emphatic. ‘Oh, yes, Emily, mia belleza…’

  His tone laced the terms of endearment with bitter poison that turned them into the exact opposite of their literal meaning.

  ‘Yes, I spoke to her, and what she told me means that I now know your real name. Your full name.’

  ‘My full—but I told you—Emily—’

  The violent gesture he made, bringing down his free hand in a savage, slashing moment, cut off what she had been about to say and she could only freeze, staring up at him in shock and horror as he spoke again.

  ‘Your full name, mia cara,’ he muttered savagely, flinging the words into her face like blows. ‘Because it’s not just Emily Lawton, is it? It’s Mrs Emily Lawton. You’re married!’

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘YOU’RE married!’

  The words had tasted so vile on his tongue that once they were out in the open Vito wished that he could pour himself a glass of water and swill out his mouth, washing away the foul taste.

  But Emily—Mrs Emily Lawton—was between him and the sink and to reach it he would have to move past her, which, in the confined space of the tiny kitchen, would mean that he would inevitably have to brush up against her. And right now he felt he would rather die than do that.

  But what mistake could there be? She was married, damn it. Married.

  ‘I never lied. The question wasn’t asked. You talk about honour!’ she spluttered. ‘You answered my phone—listened to a personal call. I wouldn’t describe invading my privacy like that as something honourable.’

  ‘Perdon?’

  So was there any hope that Vito might be different? That he might give her a chance to explain that the situation was not really what it seemed? It certainly didn’t look like it. He was too savagely angry to listen to reason. His face was set so hard that it might have been carved from granite, the beautiful mouth compressed into just a thin, cruel line. His eyes seared over her in an expression of such total contempt that she was frankly surprised that she hadn’t shrivelled into a pile of nothing but dust under the impact of his burning scorn. And the contrast between the way it was now and the way it had been last night clawed at her already raw heart, tearing it to pieces inside her.

  ‘And all I remember is that you were not exactly reluctant.’

  Emily shook her head hard so that her blonde hair flew wildly into her face, covering it for the couple of seconds it took her to collect herself, swallow down the tears that stung cruelly at the backs of her eyes. She wouldn’t let them fall. Couldn’t let them. She would rather die than let him see how much he had hurt her, the way that his words had slashed wounds on top of wounds that he’d already created.

  Walking back to his flat with his mind spinning from the impact of that appalling phone call, Vito had found it impossible to think straight about anything. His memory had kept throwing up flashes of scenes from the previous night, scenes in which Emily was kissing him, touching him. Scenes where she was in his arms, in his bed, with her gloriously sexy body underneath him, opening to him—scenes he could now no longer remember without the terrible sense of betrayal and disgust that ripped through him as he recalled them.

  And the one thing he had been sure of then, with no room for any possible doubt in his mind, had been the fact that he would never, ever want to touch Emily Lawton again. If he did, he felt that it would actually make him feel as if he could retch out his soul, so dark and deep was the disgust he felt for what she had done.

  But now, with just his hand on her chin, holding her face, her beautiful, lying, cheating face towards his, he could still feel the stinging sense of intense physical awareness race through him, no matter how much he wanted to deny it. His mind might be telling him one thing but every one of his senses was screaming something very different at him. Just the small contact with one hand was bad enough, but if he had to brush past her, his body making contact with hers, then the memories of the night they had shared might just make him go up in flames all over again.

  So why didn’t she say something in response to his accusation?

  Because she couldn’t. It was written all over her face. It was there in those stunning eyes. It was even, he was convinced, hardening the soft rose-pink temptation of her mouth. The mouth he had kissed so often and so passionately last night while all the time she had been lying…

  ‘You’re married!’

  ‘Yes.’

  Stark and simple, and flatly emotionless, it was the last thing he wanted to hear. Which was something that shocked him right to the core of his being. Was it possible that even now, even after all that he had heard from this Ruth in the phone call that had held him frozen as he listened to it, he had still hoped that she might say something else? Had he truly hoped that she might deny the accusation, declare it was all false—or that there had been some terrible mistake?

  Realising that he still held her chin, he released her abruptly, snatching back his hand as if he had foolishly plunged it right into the heart of a blazing fire. That was very much the way he felt mentally too. Badly burned by her deceit.

  It was only when he saw the way her head moved that he realised how in the same instant that he had released her she had pulled away too, so that their combined actions had an almost violent impact. One that had her taking a couple of involuntary steps backwards and away from him before she caught herself and regained her balance. But in that instant it was as if the small gap of flooring between them had opened up into a wide, dangerous chasm. One that would be impossible to bridge at any point now or in the future.

  Which was just how he wanted it. He’d been lied to by one woman; he wasn’t about to let it happen again.

 
‘You admit it?’ he demanded, voice harsh and rough as his feelings. ‘You admit that you lied?’

  But that brought her head up again sharply. Standing straight and tall, she turned wide, defiant eyes on his face, the fury that sparked in them making him feel as if electricity was actually fizzing through her and that if he had still been touching her he would have felt the shock of it running along his own nerves.

  ‘But you didn’t think it might be…honourable…to mention it?’

  ‘Honour!’

  The blue eyes opened even wider and the look she turned on him was a clever approximation to outraged virtue. So clever that it almost convinced.

  Almost.

  They said attack was the best form of defence, but Emily wasn’t at all sure that that really was the wisest move in this case. From the black scowl on Vito’s face, she was sure she was only stirring up more trouble for herself. But she wasn’t going to stand by and let Vito savage her when he didn’t know the truth.

  No one knew the truth about her so-called marriage. Except for herself and Mark—and now only herself.

  At least he had the grace to look shamefaced at the accusation.

  ‘I apologise for that,’ he returned stiffly, so stiffly that Emily rolled her eyes in exasperation and disbelief.

  ‘Oh, at least make it sound as if you mean it!’

  That earned her another savage glare from those molten black eyes.

  ‘I do mean it!’ he snapped, icy precision in every word, even the beautiful accent erased by the cold notes of fury that made his voice strangely crisp and curt. ‘I should not have listened to your phone message. But you are not going to claim that two wrongs make something right?’

  ‘No, of course I’m not going to claim that! But it isn’t how you think.’

  Emily made a move towards him, instinctively reaching out a hand to touch his arm, hoping that the contact might just make him pause, make him listen. But the flashing glare he turned on her made her snatch back the foolish gesture before her fingers had even made contact with his arm.

  ‘Oh, is it not? And are you now going to say that I should doubt the evidence of my own ears?’

  ‘No…’ It was low, miserable, but there was nothing else she could say.

  ‘I know what I heard. Or are you saying that your friend Ruth—?’

  ‘She’s my sister-in-law. And no friend of mine.’

  ‘Ah, so she is the one who lied when she said that you have a husband?’

  ‘No…’ It was even lower. Even more miserable.

  Vito angled his head to one side, being deliberately provocative, Emily was sure.

  ‘What did you say? I could not hear you.’

  Oh, I just bet you couldn’t, Emily muttered in the privacy of her thoughts. But she didn’t dare provoke him quite that much. She was suddenly painfully aware of the fact that she was standing here, in his kitchen, with his big, strong body between her and the door, and common sense or self-preservation at least dictated that she should not make any foolishly risky moves.

  ‘I said no, she didn’t lie about that.’

  ‘I thought not. She was determined that I should listen to what she had to say. She was adamant about it.’

  ‘Of course she was.’

  Ruth had never liked her, even from the start of her ill-fated marriage. Ruth would never hear a word said against Mark and so she had hidden from the truth about the man her brother was. No one had believed Emily’s claims. Mark had been too good at pretending in public for that.

  No, he had set himself against her just like everyone else. She would probably never convince him, but that didn’t mean she had to take everything he threw at her without fighting back.

  ‘None of this seemed to matter to you last night!’ she flung at him, the pain of remembering the beauty of the night, of the passion they had shared, making her voice break in bitterness. ‘I don’t recall you asking me if I was married or even showing any interest in it.’

  ‘I believed I didn’t need to.’

  He grabbed at her left hand, held it up in front of her eyes, deliberately lifting the ring finger up to isolate it.

  The empty ring finger. She’d taken off her ring months ago, when she had believed that the ending of her marriage was simply a formality.

  ‘You weren’t wearing a ring.’

  ‘But you didn’t check…’

  ‘Oh, so now I’m the one who should have said something?’

  ‘Well, if it mattered so much to you, yes!’

  Emily snatched back her hand, cradling it against her as if it had been burned.

  ‘All I remember is that you were determined to get me into your bed, no matter what.’

  Vito’s tone was low and deadly, striking at her like a cruel blade.

  ‘I gave you what you wanted.’

  ‘No…’

  In the darkness at the back of her mind she said goodbye to the tiny unformed hopes and dreams that only now was she admitting to herself had begun to seed in her thoughts. Hopes of something more; hopes of a future. Hopes of sharing something with this man that she had never known with anyone else before.

  Hopes that she had been a fool even to let slip into her mind. She wasn’t even going to let herself consider the effect on her heart.

  ‘No you didn’t! You took what you wanted and gave me what you thought I wanted! Those things just aren’t the same.’

  ‘You wanted me.’

  ‘I tried to get away from you, if you remember rightly. I fought against coming here—refused to do so.’

  ‘But only to add spice to things,’ Vito returned with such supreme arrogance that it literally took her breath away, leaving her gasping in incredulity. ‘You pretended you needed persuading—I went along with the game. It’s part of the way these things are played.’

  ‘Game…played…’

  Emily couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her head was spinning as if the words he’d tossed into her stunned face had actually been cruel blows, slaps that had knocked her physically off balance. Putting out a hand, she grabbed hold of the back of a nearby chair, clenching her fingers tight over it until the knuckles showed white under her skin.

  ‘I wasn’t playing at anything!’

  ‘Of course you were.’

  Vito dismissed her protest with total scorn.

  ‘You weren’t honest enough to admit that you wanted me from the start so you manipulated the situation so that I would have to persuade you.’

  ‘You were walking away from me!’

  ‘Only because I knew you would call me back. And you did, didn’t you? You barely let me get halfway up the beach before you were calling after me.’

  ‘And I suppose I started the storm as well.’

  The look he slanted her from those dark, brilliant eyes said without words that if he could believe she had the power to do just that, then he would accuse her of it. Emily didn’t know whether the sensations bubbling up inside her, pushing their way into her throat, were the need to laugh slightly hysterically at his effrontery or to scream out loud. And she frankly despaired of the way that even in this nightmare of a situation her crazy, out-of-control senses could still spark at the sound of his voice, the gleam of light on his skin, the way that those lush black lashes lay against his cheek.

  ‘You were lucky there. It saved you from actually having to admit that you wanted to stay.’

  This time the shock of his interpretation was so great that Emily actually sank down into the chair, her legs refusing to support her any more.

  ‘You arrogant pig!’ she gasped. ‘You’re just interpreting everything so that it fits the twisted way you want to believe things happened.’

  ‘As opposed to you, who simply didn’t bother to tell some inconvenient truths that might have got in the way of you getting what you wanted,’ Vito flung back. ‘What worries me is just how many other things you might have lied to me about.’

  Behind Vito, the tumble-drier suddenly rumbled
to a halt so that his coldly angry words fell into a sudden silence that was almost shocking after the way the machine had kept up a constant, rather ominously growling accompaniment to the angry, bitter words they had been flinging at each other, like distant thunder muttering and threatening on the horizon.

  ‘What…’

  Emily could only stare at him in disbelief and confusion, unable to imagine what he meant. But then a slow, shivering sense of suspicion crept over her skin and she forced herself to her feet, feeling far too vulnerable sitting down while he loomed over her with his face as dark as any of the storm clouds that had filled the skies yesterday.

  ‘You said you were on the Pill, for one.’

  ‘I am on the Pill!’

  Emily looked round frantically, hunting for her handbag so that she could find the packet of pills and throw them in his face. But then something in his tone, in his eyes, brought her to an abrupt halt as the truth of what he was saying dawned.

  Last night she’d let this pass. She’d been too crazy for this man, too caught up in the passion he had created in her to think straight, and so she’d let him get away with it. But not this time.

  ‘Why, you…!’

  Blind anger launched her straight at him, her hand swinging up and aiming for his cheek, the need to wipe that cold-eyed sneer from his face wiping out any consideration of the wisdom or otherwise of such an action.

  Whether she would actually have slapped him or not, she didn’t know—and she didn’t get a chance to find out. Vito had seen the change in her expression and interpreted it perfectly. His reactions were lightning-swift too as he reached out and caught her hand in mid-air, clamping hard fingers tightly round her wrist.

  ‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ he warned but Emily was beyond listening to the note of danger in his words.

  ‘Aren’t you afraid of touching me?’ she challenged, her blue-eyed gaze clashing sharply with his black. ‘I mean—you never know if you might catch something nasty from me after all!’

  Worryingly Vito’s punishing grip tightened and she held her breath in apprehension. But sheer stubbornness kept her from looking away, determination making her face out his black-eyed glare.