Thinking about it, she always strove to remain on an even keel—her temper having been verbally beaten out of her years ago, when her father’s patience had fizzled out and Pia had recognised her snippy tongue for what it was: fear that he wouldn’t keep her. But even before that she’d never felt like this. So mad she was flushed with red-hot heat as if she were burning up. Even her clothes felt too tight, compressing her chest like a steel band that suffocated her from the inside.
So by the time the car rolled out of the hotel grounds she was raring to go, her body slamming her temper into fifth gear.
Breathe—for pity’s sake, breathe.
‘Boa tarde, Pia. Where are we headed on this beautiful afternoon?’
One roll of her name around his mouth, one perfectly innocuous question in that deep luscious voice that seemed to brush dark velvet across her nerve-endings, and just like that she lost it.
Pia whipped around to face him. ‘How...how dare you?’
His dark brows came together in a deep frown but he said nothing, just glanced around the leather interior as if the answer to her fury lay in the cup-holders or the magazine pouch.
‘Have I missed something?’
‘Only your integrity, your decency and your brain—and that’s just the beginning!’
After a pensive scratch of his jaw, he settled his sharp gaze on her laptop and she could just imagine what he was thinking. That she’d found some proof of his villainy to stick on him. Oh, she wished she had!
‘I think this conversation would go much better if you told me the precise problem, querida.’
‘The problem, Nicandro, is you belittling me in front of my staff! The problem is you making me feel three inches tall. How dare you bring up last night—a kiss that I didn’t want or reciprocate in any way—in front of the very people I have worked hard to gain respect from? You know fine well that sharing body fluids could imply far more than a kiss and, considering you’d just broken into my private suite, how did that look? It made me look like a worthless whore with no self-respect, that’s what!’
His eyebrows shot skyward. Then the mouth that had invaded her dreams curved in devilish amusement and he flicked those whisky-coloured eyes sparkling with striations of gold her way.
‘You are not serious?’
He thought she was joking?
After she’d glared at him for a few seconds he finally got the message. ‘You are perfectly serious. A whore?’
That was what her father would have said, wouldn’t he? ‘Yes, a whore. Why? Why would you do that to me?’
Glancing away, he flushed hotly, distinctly uncomfortable, and she wished to God she knew why.
‘Did I dent your ego so badly it was payback?’ she jeered.
‘No. Absolutely not,’ he said with the force of a gale.
His sincerity almost blew her away.
‘I didn’t think it would affect you in that way. I was...’
‘What?’
He wouldn’t say, but his embarrassment was acute and...well, those carved, tanned cheekbones slashed with red made her insides go a bit gooey. Whatever it was, it obviously bothered him.
In the awkward silence that followed she shifted around in her seat, not sure of her next move. Because from his point of view he didn’t know who she really was.
This was why her temper was the enemy.
So in the end she let it go. The reason being, she assured herself, to get back on her even keel and wrestle back some control. Because honestly she was starting to act a little crazy. Unravelling like a tatty jumper wasn’t like her at all.
‘Just don’t do that to me again. All right? The deal between you and I is private. I’ve worked too hard for my respect and it’s important to me, okay?’
Shrewd—that was surely the only word to describe his expression.
‘So you do work for your father, then?’
No, I damn well don’t!
‘Yes. Women are capable of such things, Nic. What are you? Primordial? Anti-feminist? Or just plain chauvinist? I dress well, I live well, and so you assume I freeload off my father by shuffling his papers?’
He had the good grace to look abashed. ‘I think I’ve found one of your hot buttons.’
‘How astute you are.’
‘And not the one I was looking for.’
Pia threw up her arms with exasperated flair. ‘And there you go again! Must you look at me and think sex?’
‘I think I must. But come on! Give me a break. Look at you!’ He gestured at her with his hands, as if that helped his argument. ‘And, to be fair, I seem to remember thinking you radiated power. It was clear you held some. So there—see? You really must stop thinking the worst of me.’
She coughed out an incredulous laugh. ‘Like that is ever going to happen.’
Now he threw his arms in the air, but his were longer, and far stronger, and the loud smack of his hand bashing off the window reverberated through the car.
‘I can’t win!’ he growled, and followed it up with a blue streak of unintelligible curses as he flung himself back against the seat.
‘As soon as you realise that, the better!’ she sneered.
As for Pia—she actually felt much better. Sort of cleansed. Who knew that having an argument and not keeping everything bottled up inside her could feel so good? It was a revelation.
When Romeo seemed to find his calming centre again—which didn’t take long, so she figured he shared her quick hot temper—he twisted to face her, and ended up doing a double-take at her small smile.
‘I suppose you could say I’ve known many “pampered princesses” very well, but you are right, I’m sorry. I was stereotyping and didn’t think it through and that was very bad of me. Forgiven?’
He sounded like a little boy right then. Pia would bet he’d been loved beyond reason, despite his family’s lack of fortune, and the remnants of her ugly mood dissolved, morphing into a puddle of envy.
‘Forgiven.’
‘Good,’ he said, looking back out of the window at the tropical white sandy beach as opposed to the lush plantations on her side of the car.
He seemed miles away, pensive, so when he reached over and lightly brushed Pia’s knee with the very tips of his fingers she wondered if he realised he was doing it. Back and forth he went, the tickling sensation on her sheer stocking making her tremble.
‘Please move your hand. Are you always so liberal with your touch?’
Just as she’d thought, he glanced at his hand quizzically as he slipped it from her leg. Heaven help her—she wanted it back.
He shrugged, flexing his wide shoulders. ‘Brazilians are very affectionate people, querida. We think nothing of gushing about what is beautiful, or lindo maravilhoso, or expressing fondness with a hug or a kiss. Aren’t you Greeks used to lavish displays of affection? Or did you grow up in France with your mother?’
Pia kept quiet. There were always exceptions to the rule, and the very idea of thinking about her mother made horror swarm through her veins.
Seconds later she found herself tapping away at her laptop.
‘What is so fascinating that you’d rather do that than talk to me?’
She shook her head at him. ‘My, my—you have an exceedingly high opinion of yourself.’
He gave her an insolent shrug that said his ego was well founded and she was telling him nothing he hadn’t heard before.
‘I’m working. Don’t you have work to do? A real estate empire to run?’
‘Not right now. I’m one of those people who can’t read as a passenger—the headaches and sickness linger for hours.’
Her fingers paused on the keypad at that statement—the first honest words to pass his mouth and a tiny insight into the real Nicandro Carvalho that gave her a ridiculous little thrill. How pathetic was that? Then again, she’d always been intrigued by him. Much to her dismay.
‘You can get pills for things like that. Anti-sickness. I’m exactly the same.’
; He murmured in agreement, sounding distracted, and Pia glanced up, hopelessly drawn to the tanned column of his throat, the pulse she could see flickering as he undid the top buttons of his shirt. He must be hot, she thought, because she could feel the heat rolling off him. Hot and ripped enough to make her stomach flip-flop and her lower abdomen clench.
He was just so horridly handsome. So many angles made up his beautiful face, from the prominent bones of his cheeks to the slash of his jaw. Even his mouth was chiselled, almost carved, with that exaggerated cupid’s bow punctuating his frown as he read.
‘Is that Merpia?’ he asked, tilting his head farther to one side for a better look at her screen.
Pia snapped out of her drooling stasis, thoroughly disgusted in herself, and threw him a baleful look. ‘You have a filthy habit of snooping, Nicandro.’
He cocked one dark brow. ‘Right now, I promise you I’m not being nosy—I am genuinely interested. You have an obsessive compulsion to get back to that...whatever you are doing and I’m itching to know why.’
‘God, you’re insufferable.’
Truly, she didn’t like talking about work, and it had nothing to do with secrecy or her need for privacy. It was the turmoil she felt. Like living on a knife-edge. Sometimes she woke in a cold sweat, thinking that her father had been wrong and she really couldn’t do it all—would somehow fail to juggle the million balls that were thrown at her what seemed like every minute of every day. That one of these days she’d be exposed as the illiterate nobody she was—not the mathematical prodigy and business whiz her father had excitably claimed her to be not eight months after she’d landed at his door.
I devote my entire life to a thousand jobs I never really wanted...would never have chosen if I’d been free.
The sudden vehemence of her thoughts shocked her to the core and made her feel ashamed. Every time she thought that way she felt hideously selfish. She’d been given a new life—a second chance—something many people would sell their soul for. She should be more grateful. She was insanely grateful. Yet sometimes she just wished the merry-go-round would stop, so she could breathe if only for a little while.
Nicandro was watching her with a quiet intensity that made her uneasy—as well as grateful that he couldn’t read minds. Still, thinking about it, he’d already seen the Merpia files on her desk. It was unrealistic to think he wouldn’t see things, hear things and discover things about the Merisi business during their time together. She should draft some kind of non-disclosure agreement asap.
With a drawn-out sigh she spun the laptop around so he could see the full screen.
‘Merpia. Pia. Dios, com certeza! Of course. He named it after you. You run it for him?’
She gritted her teeth together and prayed for poise and some semblance of self-control. Merpia was her baby. Her pride and joy. Her first true personal accomplishment, started when she’d been twenty-six years old. The one thing she was truly proud of.
‘You could say that,’ she bit out.
Those gorgeous eyes grew wide as he whistled in awe. And, though it wasn’t directed at her per se, pleasure flooded through her in a warm rush. It had been four years since Antonio Merisi had been lowered into the ground, and she still hadn’t managed to outgrow her need for approval. That she was basking in it now from the wolf sniffing around her life was disturbing to say the least.
‘Rumour has it—’
She snatched at the opening like a life-preserver. ‘You shouldn’t believe or partake in rumours, Nicandro,’ she said irritably. ‘Very dangerous business. Are you a propaganda man?’
The look he gave her held a hefty amount of lethal softness and it was a timely reminder of what he was capable of.
‘There is an element of truth behind every rumour, querida. Of that I am certain.’
There they were once again, dancing around the subject of Zeus and Q Virtus and rumours and lies. Neither of them giving anything away; they just stared at one another, locked in some kind of battle of wills, the stifling air between them as high-octane as always.
What was he saying? That every rumour that had been spread was partly true? That Merisi was Greek mafia? That Zeus was a dirty dealer? A crook not to be trusted? If Nicandro was the source he couldn’t possibly have proof of any of that.
‘Case in point,’ he continued, his voice still sharp as a blade. ‘Merpia. Rumour has it the man currently behind the commodity mask is a genius, with the work ethic of a machine.’
‘Really?’ she said, as if that particular flash was news to her. ‘I would argue it was more a combination of hard work, a dash of good luck and superb instincts. My instincts rarely let me down, Nic. May I call you Nic?’
For some reason the familiarity of him calling her Pia had left her feeling strangely unbalanced in the power stakes, and it wouldn’t do any harm to unleash her charm and knock him off his stilts a time or two.
His ruthless dominance instantly mellowed. ‘Of course, bonita,’ he said as he reached up and brushed a lock of hair from her brow. The gesture was so tender it made her ache.
Careful, Pia, he’s playing you.
‘So what do your instincts tell you about me, Pia?’
‘That you’re an extremely dangerous man and I would do well to barricade my bedroom door at night.’
While he leaned closer she edged farther back, until she found herself plastered to the leather seat, his weight crushing against her side, making it hard to take a breath.
‘One day you’ll leave it open and unlocked, just for me. One day you’ll beg for my mouth on yours. One day you’ll melt...only for me.’
Considering the heat pouring off him, she wouldn’t be surprised. Please don’t kiss me again. I have nowhere to run this time and I’m not sure I’ll be able to resist.
He sank one hand into her hair and the graze of his fingertips against her scalp made her tremble.
Pia scrambled around her fuzzy brain for something curt to say. ‘You’re going to mess up my hair, Nic.’ What? That was the best she could do?
A little closer and he nuzzled up to her jawline until her eyes felt heavy and fluttery and her heart leapt to her throat.
With one tiny kiss at the sensitive skin beneath her ear, he whispered, ‘One day. Very soon.’
Then he was gone. Taking away his heat and that delicious scent she could practically taste. Lounging back in his seat with all the debauched lethargy of a satisfied wolf.
‘So where are we headed? You mentioned Northern Europe? England?’
Considering she was in the same spot he’d left her in, mentally and physically, the abrupt change in topic threw her sideways.
‘Headed?’
He grinned evilly, flashing his teeth as if he knew exactly what he was doing to her. ‘Sim, querida. Where are we going, this fine and beautiful day? Where are you taking me? Where will I have the pleasure of spending time with you?’
Oh, he was good. She’d thought Ethan was supremely adroit, with the most artful tongue on the planet, but he had nothing on this guy.
Worse still, for a minuscule moment some secret place inside her longed for every seductive murmur to be the truth. Hopelessly wished he wanted to spend time with her for no other reason than that she was a woman he genuinely admired and liked—wanted to get to know. Foolish, foolish Pia.
She’d do well to remember that every word he spoke, every move he made, had a dubious agenda. That she was protecting not only Q Virtus but her entire life.
‘Not England, no,’ she said, pulling herself together, mentally re-erecting her shields. ‘Finnmark. Norway. The northernmost part of continental Europe.’
‘What?’ His head jerked upright, eyes wide, horrified. ‘Why the devil would anyone choose to go that far north this time of year?’
She didn’t tell him it was the most beautiful place on earth, where the air was so crisp and clean it cleansed the filth of a multitude of cities and a dirty past. Nor did she tell him that she hoped it would numb the sensations
he wrought in her, turn down the heat that continually flared between them.
All she said was, ‘You’ll see.’
CHAPTER FIVE
‘WELCOME TO THE Ice Castle.’
Nic opened his bleary eyes at the first words Pia had spoken since they’d left Zanzibar and focused on a staggering feat of architecture, auroral beneath the bluish twilight. A hotel made of ice.
He shivered just looking at it.
‘Why would anyone in their right mind wish to vacation in extreme Norway?’ he said, his tone one of utter disbelief.
Truth be told, there was a part of him still amazed that he’d followed her here and not whisked her away to some tropical desert island where privacy was gratis and he had a cornucopia of heat at his disposal.
Now look where they were. Ice, snow, ice and more ice. As far as the eye could see. Then again, didn’t they have sensual thick furs and warm cabins with blazing, crackling fires in these places? Perfect for seduction.
‘Why not vacation here?’
‘Isn’t the persecution of minus fifteen degrees enough?’
Dios, he loathed the cold. It reminded him of being close to dead. Those long, endless minutes when he’d watched the life drain out of his parents. Waiting, praying for the pain to stop.
‘It’s Finnmark, not Antarctica. It’s slightly warmer—even more so inside.’
Nic noticed she said this while pulling a thick cream wool hat over her head and shoving her fingers into mitts. By rights she should look like a twenty-year-old snow bunny, off to the Alps for a jaunt—but, oh, no, with a deft grip she kept a tight hold on the leash of her stylish sophistication.
The doors of the rough-terrain four-by-four opened and she swung her legs around gracefully and flowed from the car. Nic followed seconds later, the chill pervading his bones and numbing his blood. A violent shudder made his breath puff in front of his face in a voluminous white cloud.
‘Warmer, you say? For polar bears maybe.’
‘I think you’ll find polar bears prefer the Arctic Circle.’
The Ultimate Revenge Page 6
