Ice.
Mortification prickled over her skin and she wrenched away from him.
‘You are ice and fire, Pia,’ he breathed, that wide chest heaving.
Ice. Ice. Huskies whimpering. Ice cracking. Freezing water seeping into her skin.
‘You...you...’ It was worrying that that was all the eloquence she had. But, honestly, she was turning into a vacuous bimbo without a lick of sense. He was playing with her!
‘Are a good kisser?’ he suggested, still breathless, still too suave and sinful for his own good. ‘Sim, I know. You aren’t too bad yourself. Come back here and we’ll practise some more.’
The way he was looking at her was scary. As if he had voodoo powers—whether for evil or for good she still didn’t know. But it was the kind that made her think he would keep her drugged on sex for weeks if she let him.
Never in a month of Sundays!
‘You, Lobisomem, are the lowest of the low.’
Face flushed, he cocked an arrogant brow. ‘You weren’t saying that when you had your tongue down my throat, querida.’
‘That was before I remembered the snowstorm. When was that? Yesterday? What happened? How did I get back here?’
He raked a palm across the high ridges of his abdomen as if his chest ached. ‘I found you.’
Nic had come looking for her? ‘Did you find Danel, too?’
‘Yes. He fared a little better than you and came to visit earlier. And, before you ask, the huskies are also fine. They ran for cover in the forest.’
‘Good. That’s...good.’ It hurt even to think, and when she tentatively rubbed the sore mound on the side of her head she winced at the deep throb of pain.
Okay. So he’d rescued them. But—
‘How did I end up in your bed?’ And on the verge on surrendering! ‘Clearly you would’ve slept with me, taken advantage, just to win a bet,’ she said scathingly. ‘You would’ve let me believe it was too late!’
A dimple popped in his cheek as he clenched his jaw and those eyes grew dark with shadows. ‘No. Instead I would’ve stopped before we’d gone too far. Told you you’d been sick with hypothermia and frightened of the needles, and that if I hadn’t climbed into bed with you to warm you up death would’ve been mere hours away.’
Pia swayed where she stood, clinging to hostile suspicion as if it were a life raft. A raft that bobbed and tipped precariously as she recalled waking time and again, wrapped in a cashmere mist: Nic holding her tight, as if she were something precious.
He’d saved her life. First by searching for her and then holding her throughout the night and well into the day. Never moving from her side. And his touch hadn’t been grudging or just necessary, because he wanted something in return. It had felt cherishing, gentle, almost covetous. A touch she’d never felt before but wanted to again. Desperately.
Tears stung the backs of her eyes. Not because she was hurting or upset or distressed but because the torrent of strange contrary sensations was close to overload. She was fighting this thing between them with everything she had, and right now it was breaking her.
It had to be the close call with death making her so emotional. Had to be.
Nic’s sudden launch off the wall made her flinch, and she panicked in case she’d been staring with no filter on.
‘I did what I had to do,’ he said, brisk and decisive.
Pia could literally see him gathering up the tattered remnants of his control.
‘Had to?’ she repeated stupidly, commanding her body to stand tall, chin up, projecting nonchalance.
Bending at the waist, he swiped a T-shirt from the floor. One that looked as if it had been tossed away haphazardly in haste.
Smoothing the crumpled material down his chest, he finally met her eyes—and the sardonic smile he tipped her way wasn’t quite right. It was sort of forced into hardness, and it made her stomach dive to the rug.
‘Oh, I get it,’ she said, imposing upon her tone its usual sass. ‘How can you win our bet if I’m six feet under, right?’
He didn’t bother denying it, just shoved his limbs into clothes as if he wanted nothing more than to run from the room.
All the happiness and wonder and joy from that life-shattering kiss drained out of her and in the void—as if clearing the toxic mess of emotions had given her the space to think clearly again—she picked over his words.
‘Frightened? I was frightened of the needles?’ Good God, what had she said?
‘Petrified, Pia.’
He was looking at her so oddly she couldn’t catch her breath. A humourless laugh was trapped in her throat, fluttering, as if she’d swallowed a moth. A choking, frantic tickle.
‘Did I talk much? Say anything...interesting?’
A surge of shame hit her with the stunning force of a tidal wave as her filthy past crashed over her, coating her in anguish and dread. The possibility that Nicandro Carvalho might know where she’d come from, who she’d been. The damage he could cause her with that kind of information at his disposal. But he doesn’t know that you’re Zeus. Just keep it together.
‘You made little sense, Pia, and said nothing of interest to anyone, I assure you.’ All this talking was while he avoided her gaze, and she was positive he wasn’t telling her the entire story.
Was he saying her secrets were safe with him? Could she trust that? Maybe she could, because otherwise he would have pushed for more, just as he always did. Poked and prodded until he uncovered a rotting bed of grime.
‘Pia!’
It wasn’t until Nic shouted her name from across the room that she realised she was about to keel over.
‘Dios! I’m such an idiot. You shouldn’t even be out of bed. You’ll be weak for days.’
‘Your concern is so touching,’ she jeered, covering her embarrassment with sweet sarcasm.
He swept her up into his arms as if she weighed no more than a child and walked across the floor, his bare soles slapping on the hardwood, before gently lowering her to the bed.
Pulling the blankets over her, he tucked her in. She shouldn’t adore the extraordinary contentment of being fussed over, and nor should she consider going to the bathroom so he’d do it all over again.
‘You are still sick, Pia. No more cold. No more ice. Tonight you sleep in my bed and tomorrow morning, when the sun rises, I’m taking you somewhere warm.’
Not a chance. ‘If I’m sleeping in this bed, you are on the couch—and what’s more I’m not going anywhere warm. I have a stay-over in Munich and then—’
‘I don’t care if you have a meeting with the Queen of England at Buckingham Palace. We made a deal. I came here—now it’s your turn to go where I wish. I have business in Barcelona, so to Barcelona we shall go.’
She didn’t like that look. That arrogance and audacity and command. It was a powerful combination of traits that had made him a dominant force in real estate and one of the most sought-after men in the world.
‘And if I say no?’
‘You’ll be breaking the terms of our deal and I’ll take that as forfeit,’ he said, with lethal softness.
‘What terms?’ She pulled the sheets higher over her body, practically up to her nose. A bit late, of course, but her pride was on the floor in tatters and she needed all the help she could get.
‘To spend time with me.’
Pia filled in what he wasn’t saying. To prove I am not so bad. To let me gain your trust.
Yeah, right.
Collapsing back onto the pillows, she closed her eyes. He had a point. Fact was, she had little choice but to follow him. She still needed answers, needed to know if Nic was behind the propaganda, and she’d given her word. So she’d just have to play nice with the other children and compromise.
‘Fair’s fair, I suppose. I’ll have to cancel my meeting in Munich.’ She’d swear she could feel hives pop from her skin. Skin that begged for the scrape of her nails.
‘You say that as if it’s the end of the world. You’ve never
cancelled a meeting before? Ever?’
‘No.’
He paused with his arm halfway into the sleeve of his jacket and looked up. His hair was a tousled mess from her fingers. So gorgeous. ‘Do you ever stop? Even for a moment?’
No. ‘Why would I?’
‘To live. Have fun. See friends. Be happy.’
‘I do live.’ She had no idea what fun was. As for friends—she didn’t have the time. ‘I am happy.’ Liar. Pia and happiness were barely on speaking terms. And since when was she bothered?
She wished she could hit him right now.
‘You keep telling yourself that while I head over to the lodge. I need to make the travel arrangements to Spain.’
Barcelona.
It was a horrible mistake. It had all the hallmarks of a tragic ending. In fact she was starting to feel like the lead in a Shakespearean comedy.
So why was she sitting here, handing over control, waiting for him to turn the next page?
CHAPTER NINE
NIC SLAMMED THE Bugatti into fifth gear, pushed his foot to the floor and spun down the B-10 coast road heading into the heart of Barcelona town. On his right, the long sun-drenched waterfront skimmed the blue crystalline waters of the Balearic and on his left reclining in her seat, was the woman who was turning him inside out.
With a need for speed that echoed the years that had passed he drove himself harder, farther, faster. Running from his mournful memories or towards his predestined future, he wasn’t sure.
This was all getting a bit close to home, he thought wryly, his accusation to Pia still fresh in his mind. ‘Do you ever stop? Live. See friends. Be happy.’
The hypocrisy of his words didn’t escape him. Avô was rather fond of telling him he needed to slow down, play harder, be happier.
Happy? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt the sweet tendrils of joy curl around his heart and lift the cumbersome weight of rage. Before yesterday, that was. His relief at seeing Pia up and about had floored him and he didn’t want to over-analyse that. It certainly didn’t mean he was developing any sort of...feelings for her. That would take the crowning glory for stupid moves on his part.
But, if he was being totally honest with himself, for the first time in years his purposeful stride had faltered. Nic would never forget the look on Pia’s face—the fear that he knew of her past, the shame that had eviscerated the beautiful pink flush after his kisses.
Yes, okay, he’d wanted to push—to ask why, to dig, to find something he could use to demolish her father. Instead he’d stood there and looked into those exquisite violet-blue eyes, with the sultry taste of her lingering in his mouth and hadn’t been able to do it. Couldn’t make her relive it. Only wanted to soothe her, help her forget, make it all disappear. Not cause more pain while he was rocking her world, shaking the foundations she’d built her pride upon.
She’d never forgive him, but there was little likelihood they’d meet again after his meeting with her father. Nic would go back to New York and likely marry Goldsmith’s daughter, place Santos Diamonds back in Avô’s hand. As for Pia, she was strong. The strongest woman he’d ever met. She would close this chapter in her life, stand up and move on, doubtless ruing the day they’d met.
Hands white on the steering wheel, he breathed through the tightness in his chest.
It wasn’t as if Pia would be left with nothing, he assured himself. Merisi seemed like an octopus, with tentacles that reached far and wide, so Nic doubted he’d ever know the full extent of his business interests. But one thing he would never falter on—Q Virtus must fall. The coliseum that had held the gladiatorial battle of Santos versus Merisi and witnessed his family’s demise. And Zeus must be exposed for the crook he was.
Then he could crawl beneath a rock, as far as Nic cared. Maybe he’d leave Pia to manage what Nic had left alone. He hoped so, because he didn’t want Pia starting again from nothing. Not after what she’d been through.
Nic was more anxious than ever to meet the man. Q Virtus was finally cracking under his strain, and by the time they reached Paris the vast majority of members would have disowned it, never to return. Nic had given them enough doubt to disease their minds and ensure they jumped ship while their reputations and businesses were still intact. He couldn’t wait to see the look in the other man’s eyes when faced with his nemesis. Couldn’t wait to tell him his club and the Merisi legacy were dying.
Dammit, he needed that meeting. He just had to bed Pia to get there.
The thought was a mighty hand at his throat that gripped without remorse. Why was he suddenly uncomfortable with the idea? It wasn’t as if he was seducing her under duress—she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. Mutual pleasure was theirs for the taking, and if the attraction between them had been strong before, now it was off the charts. As if they’d tasted nirvana and craved another shot.
Barcelona town came into view—all grandiose architecture and Gothic flair—and he sneaked a sideways glance at his temptress.
With the top down in his ferocious little supercar, the wind had whipped at that perfect film noir up-do as if taunting her to cut loose and gave her cheeks a healthy lustrous glow of pink. The hypothermia had taken its toll, and she’d slept for most of the flight, but out in the warm air, with huge sunglasses covering half her face, a small smile teasing her mouth, head tipped back as she looked up at the children waving from the bridge, he thought she’d never looked more beautiful. Or so young.
‘You know...take away the laptop and the phones and the bodyguards and you look twenty years old, querida.’
Pia rolled her head on the cushioned pad to face him and her eyebrows shot skyward. ‘How old do I look with them?’
‘All serious and scowling? Forty at least.’ Hideous exaggeration, but he was all for inflation to make his point and get a rise.
‘Oh, charming! I thought you were aiming for my bed—not to get pushed off the roof!’
Nic threw his head back and laughed. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had made him laugh, made him lie in wait for the next outrageous thing to come out of her mouth, made him want to find the nearest bed and touch that sinuous, sultry body again. Ice and fire personified.
‘So, unless you want me to think the worst you’ll have to tell me how old you are.’
‘Didn’t anyone ever tell you never to ask a woman her age?’
Blame it on the sunshine. Blame it on the town he’d always loved and the opportunity to show it to Pia since she’d confessed she was a virgin to these parts and he suspected her travels were devised for oppressive boardroom play. Hell, blame it on the laughter in his heart, but the words just tumbled out.
‘Sim, my mother. She used to pay me to tell my friends she was ten years younger. Said she would rather carry the stigma of teenage pregnancy than be seen as old. Mamãe was a great lamenter that you’re only as young as you feel.’
Sabrina Santos would have liked Pia, he decided—very much. Talk about irony.
‘You speak of her in the past tense. Did you lose her?’
Nic could feel her scrutiny burning into his cheek and found swallowing past the emotional grenade in his throat was harder than he’d expected. ‘Yes. A long time ago. Both of my parents are dead.’
Gripping the gearstick, he downshifted as pedestrian traffic became dense and he could see children lining the streets. Distracted as he was, when he felt the startling yet unbearably sweet stroke of the back of Pia’s finger down his ear and jaw he flinched.
‘I’m sorry, Nic. Your mother sounds like she was a hoot. You must miss her. Miss them both.’
More than you could ever know—and I have your father to thank for it.
The violent need for vengeance flared back to life and it took everything he had to keep his emotions in check. The air grew taut with an uncomfortable silence and from nowhere he wished she would touch him again, so he could feed off a comfort he really didn’t deserve.
Instead she filled the quiet. �
�Well, if she was right, some days I feel one hundred.’
‘But not today.’
‘No,’ she said softly. ‘Not today. This place is just...so stunning. Amazing.’
She raised her arms in the air and he imagined she could feel the cool breeze kiss her palms, whistle through her fingers.
‘If I tell you how old I am, will you answer me a question honestly?’
‘I’ll try my very best,’ he hedged.
‘I’m twenty-eight.’
Dios, very young. He hadn’t expected that. It wasn’t that she looked older; it was the way she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders almost effortlessly at times. Then again, with her past, he imagined she’d had to grow up quickly—much as he had.
‘So...’ she began, threading her fingers into a prayer-hold, knuckles white.
Her pregnant pause made his stomach pitch.
‘Have you ever had any business dealings with Antonio Merisi, my father?’
Personally? ‘No.’
‘I’ll never have sex with you, Nic.’
He didn’t miss the hard core of determination or the frayed edges of remorse. She desired him, but with this damn bet between them... He was beginning to see the error of his arrogant ways there. One look and all he’d been able to think of was taking her, having her body beneath him, cocksure she’d tumble into his arms within hours. The woman screamed sex and he hadn’t seen past that femme fatale persona. But beneath the façade was a vulnerability that made him ache.
‘Why don’t you just tell me why you want to meet him, tell me what the problem is, and I’ll try and fix it. I’ll find a way. It’s the least I can do after you...’
‘Saved your life, Pia? Held you in my arms for hours on end?’
Nic waited until he’d pulled to a stop at a crossing before glancing over at her—she was staring at the Barcelonians cluttering the pavement, the back of her hand pressed against her mouth. He’d give his eye teeth to know what she was thinking.
‘You can’t help or fix it,’ he said, wishing she could with all his heart. ‘I don’t want to discuss him, Pia. Not today or tomorrow. Not until Paris. This time is for you and I. You almost died two days ago and it makes me want to remind you how to live. Forget the bet, querida. For the next two days, here in this town, we’ll be the best of friends. Without benefits. You want to see this city—I can see it in your eyes. So we’ll go out. Eat delicious Catalan food that will make your mouth water. Enjoy the sun. See the sights and have some well-deserved fun.’
The Ultimate Revenge Page 10
