by Croft, Nina
“I’ve been trying to talk to you all night.”
Lia turned as she heard a familiar voice behind her. She smiled absently at Pete. “I’m sorry, but it’s all been a bit mad. Is everything okay at the stables? Where’s Kelly?”
“Kelly’s fine. I wanted to talk about your boyfriend—or should I say your fiancé. There are things you need to know.”
“Luc?” Lia asked warily. “What about him?”
“I did a search on the Internet. It took a bit of digging, but there’s loads of stuff about his aristocratic Italian relatives. If you dig deep enough though…” He paused.
“Get on with it, Pete. What is it you think I need to know?”
“He’s been in prison, Lia.”
Lia went cold. She glanced over to where Luc still stood among a crowd of people. He caught her glance, and gave her a warm smile.
“That’s not possible,” Lia said.
“It’s true, Lia. He killed a man.”
A wave of nausea washed over her, and she put out a hand to balance herself on the nearby wall.
“Are you okay?” Pete asked. When she didn’t answer, he grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and handed it to her. “Drink this, Lia.”
She took it almost blindly and drank it down. Glancing back at Luc, she found he was watching her, brows drawn together, his eyes glancing from her to Pete with a hint of suspicion lurking in their depths.
“Lia—” Pete’s voice brought her attention back to him. “I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up tonight, but I felt you should know.”
“No, of course you needed to tell me. Look, Pete, I really need to talk to someone, okay? I’ll see you later.”
Pete obviously wanted to say more, but Lia was staring around the room searching for someone. She finally located him standing on the sidelines also watching Luc; she hurried over to him. “Mr. Watson?”
He turned to her and smiled. “Call me Harley. What is it, darling?”
“Harley, was Luc in prison?” There was no time for niceties. She had to get to the bottom of this.
Harley’s gaze shifted to somewhere over her shoulder. She peered around and was unsurprised to see Luc still watching her.
“It was a long time ago,” Harley said. “And this is something you should talk to Luc about.”
“Just tell me.”
Harley’s eyes widened at her vehemence.
“I need to know,” she said.
He looked back at Luc, but finally nodded. “Yes.”
Lia swallowed. “I didn’t want to believe it. I thought there must be some mistake. Oh, I know I had my doubts about what he was, what he did, but I really, really thought I’d been wrong.”
“Lia, darling, it’s not that bad, just ask Luc.”
Lia stared at him. “How can you say that? It is bad. It’s awful. He’s a criminal.”
A cold mask settled over Harley’s face. “If you want to know the truth, I suggest you talk to Luc.”
Lia watched him walk away, his shoulders stiff. She felt as though she were breaking up. The only thing that was solid and real was the cold, hard lump lodged in her stomach. She couldn’t bear it. What had she gotten herself into? All her childhood had been tainted with the shadow of what her father was, the way he’d lived. It had ruined her mother’s life, and Lia had sworn that she would never have anything to do with anybody involved in crime.
She pulled herself up short. Wait a minute, she thought. I don’t have anything to do with Luc. She stared at the ring on her finger. It was a sham, just like their whole relationship; it wasn’t real. Tonight, she had started to feel something for Luc Severino, started to believe that he was a good man. More sham.
Across the room, Luc seemed to sense that something was wrong and glanced across at her. He raised a hand and Lia quickly looked away, but out of the corner of her eye she saw him moving toward her. She forced herself to stand up straight.
“What is it, Lia?”
He put a hand to her shoulder, and she pulled away.
She stared him in the eye. “I just found out that you’ve been in prison.”
Luc went instantly still. She watched as he mentally withdrew from her, his eyes cooling until they held all the warmth of polar ice.
“So?”
“Aren’t you going to deny it?”
“Why would I deny it, it’s a matter of public record.”
“It’s true then?” She hated the desperation in her voice, but she needed him to tell her it was all a mistake.
“Isn’t that what I just said?”
He started to turn from her, and Lia realized that he was going to leave her, no explanation, nothing. Reaching out, she gripped his arm to stop him. He looked down at it through cold eyes, and shrugged her hand away.
“You can’t walk away,” Lia said.
“Watch me.”
And Lia did. She watched as he turned from her and walked away. For a moment, she stood, unsure what to do.
He scared her when he was in this mood. He was so cold. Or maybe it was finding out that she had spent the last week in the company of an ex-con that had her scared. Luc was capable of taking another man’s life. He had taken another man’s life, and he hadn’t denied it. He was rich, generous with his money, and she had no idea where that money had come from. From what she could gather, he’d been poor as a child. What had changed, where had his wealth come from? The questions nagged at her mind. Look at the people he knows. Obviously, he has some sort of shady past. Her whole being fought against the knowledge. She couldn’t be so wrong. If only he would talk to her. Trust her.
She followed him back into the small parlor where they had drunk coffee earlier.
“You can’t do this,” she said, slamming the door behind her.
Luc was already pouring himself a drink. “Do what?” He lifted the decanter toward her in question and she shook her head. “Scared you’ll do something you’ll regret?” he asked. “Lose some control? Give in and give us both what we want?”
Lia had a feeling that he was goading her, purposefully trying to steer her off the subject.
“Why won’t you talk about it?”
He swallowed the drink in one go and crashed the glass down on to the tray. Lia gave a little jump, but he just poured another measure, sipping it this time as he peered at her over the glass.
“What’s there to talk about? It’s past history. Nothing to do with you.” She stared at him and finally he shrugged. “What do you want to know?” He sounded disinterested.
“I know you wouldn’t have done anything bad—”
“Of course you don’t know,” he interrupted. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
He put down the glass, gently this time, and came toward her, coming to a halt only inches away. For the first time since she entered the room, Lia forced herself to look into his eyes. Suddenly she became aware that he was furious.
A sharp pang of alarm jabbed her in the gut. Why was he so angry? What had she done?
“Scared, Lia? All alone with a convicted killer.” Raising one hand, he slowly stroked the soft skin of her shoulder. His fingers drifted down until his open palm rested over the place where her heart thumped rapidly against her breast. “Your heart’s racing, cara.”
At the feel of his warm palm, a wave of desire washed over her. Taking a step back, she dislodged his hand. He allowed it to fall to his side and stood staring down at her. He was in control, but she could sense the rage still flickering behind his inscrutable gaze.
“Why are you so angry with me?”
She was bewildered by the turn this meeting had taken. She’d come in here ready to confront him, to make him tell her what had happened, willing to let him explain it all away, wanting him to explain it all away. Instead, he was staring at her with dislike as though she had done something wrong, committed some crime. All of a sudden, she felt uncertain. She went over the confrontation in her mind. Was she bei
ng unreasonable? Why couldn’t he just tell her it was all a mistake?
“Am I angry with you?” He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “What makes you think that?”
His voice was a smooth purr that shivered down her spine.
“Please Luc…”
“Please what, Lia?” He took a step toward her, and Lia couldn’t prevent herself from backing away. She came up against the wall. “I’m more than happy to try to please you.” He lifted a hand and stroked it down the side of her face.
“Stop it, Luc.”
“Why? It’s what we both want.”
He stepped back for a moment, and Lia sighed in relief, but then he shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it onto the back of the sofa. He loosened his tie, released his cufflinks, and shoved them in his trouser pocket, rolling up his shirtsleeves over strong, tanned forearms. Lia watched, unable to move. Luc came back to her, studied her for a moment, and placed a hand palm-down on the wall on either side of her.
“You know,” he whispered, bending in close so she could feel his warm breath against her cheek, “some women get a kick out of being with a man like me.”
“A man like you?” Lia asked weakly.
“An ex-con. A man they perceive as…dangerous.” He paused, his body bending even closer so she could smell the whiskey he had drunk mingled with the sharp exotic scent of his aftershave. “A killer.”
Lia flinched at the word. She pushed against him, and he gave easily. He straightened and stared down at her with hooded eyes. “No? The idea doesn’t turn you on?”
He turned away from her, walked over to where he had left his glass, and took a sip. Lia couldn’t seem to move. Her legs trembled. She was convinced that he had been going to kiss her and couldn’t believe how much she craved it. Even saying those awful things, she still wanted him.
“This is your chance to run away, Lia.”
She shook her head. “Why do you want to find my father?”
Luc laughed softly. “Now who’s trying to change the subject?”
“Why?”
Luc came back to her, moving with predatory grace, and she forced herself not to shift. His eyes did a leisurely perusal of her body, lingering on the push of her small breasts, the slender curve of her hips and waist. It felt almost like a caress, and her nipples responded, tightening, thrusting against the silk of her dress. He smiled, a smile not reflected in the bleakness of his cold green eyes.
“We agreed to forget your father tonight, remember,” he murmured, reaching out to stroke a long, elegant finger down the bodice. “Why don’t we just kiss and make up, huh?”
She shuddered under the caress and tried to concentrate. “Now it’s you trying to change the subject. You don’t want me—you just don’t want to answer my questions.”
He raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Lia, my darling, I’ve wanted you almost from the moment I saw you. And having you didn’t lessen that at all.” He contemplated her for a long moment. Lia thought she was going to scream as the tension rose between them.
“You want to know what you do to me?” he finally asked. Picking up her hand from where it hung limply at her side, he brought it toward him, pushing it against the front of his body, dragging it slowly down until Lia could feel the hardness of him pressed against the softness of his pants. Her fingers closed around him almost reflexively, and he groaned. She glanced involuntarily up at his face; his eyes were closed, the skin taut over his cheekbones, his mouth a savage slash.
He released his grip of her hand and moved toward her. Lia’s back was to the wall, and she could feel the scratchiness of the paper against her bare skin.
His face came closer. She knew he was going to kiss her, and allowed it to happen. She was expecting him to be harsh, but the kiss was surprisingly tender against her closed lips.
“Open for me, cara mia,” he said and then gently forced her lips apart and slipped into the moist heat of her mouth so she could taste the whiskey against her tongue. His every move was slow, controlled, orchestrated. His mouth on her own, his hands coming up between them, sliding over the silk that covered her sensitive breasts, pausing on her erect nipples then rubbing the tips so softly, over and over, until her knees went weak, and moist heat pooled at the juncture of her thighs. She thrust her hips forward, feeling the hard length of his erection against her belly, rubbed against him, pushing at his hands, desperate to increase the pressure. His mouth pulled back slightly, and he laughed softly.
“You are so responsive, cara.”
Lia knew there was something not right. He seemed so detached, but she couldn’t bring her body under control. She wanted this too much, realized she had been wanting it for days. His hand slid down between their bodies, his palm cupping between her thighs, bunching the material of her dress until she felt the warmth of his hand against her bare skin. She went instantly still like a trapped animal, her heart beating inside her chest, echoing the throbbing between her thighs. His finger slipped beneath the lace of her panties, flexed against her, stroking her, and she writhed against him.
He held her still with the weight of his body against her, and she felt herself reaching for that release she knew he could give her. Almost there. But then he removed his hand and pushed himself away. She reached for him, and he took a step back. He appeared unmoved, staring down at her.
“No,” he said in a soft, silky voice. “I find that after all I don’t care to do this.”
Lia stared at him, her mind blank. “Why?” she asked eventually when her brain slowly started to function again.
“You want it, Lia, but you don’t want me. I’m not good enough. You can’t bring yourself to trust me, and I find that under those circumstances I would rather pass on what you are so generously offering.”
He picked up his jacket, stuffed his tie into his pocket, and left the room without looking back.
Lia waited until she heard the soft click of the door shutting behind him, then relaxed the rigid control on her body. Her legs buckled, and she slid to the floor. Hugging her knees to her chest, she tried to make sense of what had just happened. She had been so convinced she was in the right. Why did she now feel as though she had done something bad, as though she had hurt Luc? Why did she have an almost overwhelming urge to run after him and apologize?
Her body ached for him. Was this how her mother had felt for her father, knowing it was wrong, but wanting it desperately? Craving his touch even after he had deliberately humiliated her?
She didn’t want to feel like this for a man, but most of all for one who she knew virtually nothing about, or nothing good anyway. A man who had been willing to blackmail her to get what he wanted. A man who wouldn’t deny he had killed another, but refused to tell her the circumstances. She had to get out before she got in any deeper, before she got to the point where she would be willing to do anything just to keep him close for a while longer.
Somehow, she had to convince him to let her go.
…
Luc didn’t go back to the party; he didn’t trust himself to behave in a civilized manner right now. Instead, he headed out into the warm night. The anger had drained from him as soon as he’d walked away, leaving him cold, empty, and curiously guilty.
Shit, he was a bastard.
He’d overreacted, and his only excuse was that Lia had hurt him. The emotion had taken him by surprise and he had responded instinctively, wanting to hurt her back, maybe even needing to know he had the power to hurt her in return.
He slammed his fist into the wall and winced. Since Serena’s betrayal all those years ago, he hadn’t let anyone close enough to hurt him. This was Serena all over again, the past repeating itself. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew that in reality the two scenarios were wildly different. Serena had had no reason not to trust him. Lia had every reason.
His relationship with Lia was so fragile, built on lies and the betrayals of the past. How could she be expected to trust him? Trust had to be earned.
He wanted to go back to apologize, but he’d never been very good at apologies. And he had a feeling that right now Lia wouldn’t be pleased to see him.
No, for tonight, he would go drown his sorrows. Then he needed to do some serious thinking and maybe even work himself up to that apology.
Chapter Thirteen
“I want to talk to you.”
It was two days since she had been driven back alone in the limousine. Two days since she had seen Luc. Or heard from him. Now, she watched through narrowed eyes as he came into the room, threw his jacket onto the back of a chair, and sank down opposite her. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, sighed, and closed his eyes. He appeared tired, but at least he didn’t seem angry anymore.
She’d done a lot of thinking over the past two days, and she had come to realize something important. It had come to her slowly. At first, she had been way too hurt to think clearly, but then she had analyzed the whole scene. Luc was a proud man, and she had hurt him by what he obviously perceived as her lack of trust. He’d lashed out at her in the one way he knew her to be vulnerable, and that was what scared her most—that Luc should realize how much she wanted him and use that against her. Her father had done the same thing to her mother, using her love for him until her mother had turned into a shadow of the woman she should have been.
Right now, Luc only knew that she wanted him. If he ever got the notion that her feelings might go beyond mere lust, she was sure he would have no compunction about using that against her as well. The thought had brought her up short; she knew her feelings had started to deepen. That day with her brother. And then the night at the party, before it all went wrong, she had seen another Luc, one she could easily care for. It wasn’t going to happen, not if she could help it. Lia hardened herself.
