Rich Man's Revenge

by Tessa Radley

  “You try doing anything with your father breathing down your neck, staff reporting your every movement.”

  “It didn’t seem to inhibit Kimberly.”

  “Kim’s an exhibitionist, she didn’t mind everyone know exactly what she was up to. I wanted privacy.” And something more.

  “But what about all those university boys?”

  Boys. That was exactly what they’d been. “They were too young.”

  “What about the men at work? They’re not young.”

  “You’ve seen them. Most are married—or too old.”

  “Too young, too old.” Rico looked nonplussed.

  He made her sound fussy, like she’d been waiting for Mr. Right. She shifted, uncomfortable with where this was going. Rico’s gaze dropped and she realised that the sheet had slipped another inch.

  She refused to hike it up like…like some outraged virgin. He could look as much as he wanted. Defiantly she let it slide another inch.

  Swiftly his eyes jerked back to hers, his cheekbones awash with colour, his heavy-lidded gaze holding a shocked question.

  At least she knew he still wanted her. Satisfaction curled through her. But the uncertainty clouding his features astonished her. Rico obviously thought she wouldn’t want to repeat the experience. Surely it couldn’t have been that bad? In fact, she’d thought it pretty marvellous, until it had ended so abruptly.

  She drew in a deep breath, searching for words that might make him understand. “There comes a time when it’s hard to admit you’re…inexperienced. What was I supposed to do? Walk up to some stranger and say, ‘Please help me. I want to get laid, but I’ve never done it before, so you’ll need to go real slow and show me what to do’?”

  His dark-chocolate eyes turned black, the fleeting vulnerability gone. “Don’t be stupid!” he snarled in a voice as sharp as a whip.

  “I’m not. I’m trying to make you understand my dilemma.”

  “Except I didn’t go real slow, I rushed you.” Rico groaned, and raked his hands through his hair. “Hell. Did you have to choose me to solve your dilemma?”

  That hurt. “If you remember, I didn’t have much choice at all,” she pointed out. “You threatened to break up my sister’s marriage, if I didn’t do what you wanted.”

  He looked shaken. “I didn’t think you’d be a—”

  “You didn’t think!” Danielle sat up, uncaring that the sheet dropped away as she jabbed a finger at his chest. “That’s your problem, you plotted this elaborate scheme, but you never thought about it. Not really. Not about who you might hurt, what the consequences might be.”

  He flinched. “I didn’t expect you to be an innocent.” His gaze slipped down, before he wrenched it back to her face, the flush restaining his cheekbones.

  She straightened her back, her breasts full and pert, and watched with satisfaction as Rico sneaked another look. “Well, I am. I’m innocent of everything—except being a Sinclair.”

  “Danielle—”

  She interrupted him. “I don’t understand why you’re making such a big thing of this, anyway. My virginity won’t stand in the way of what you want.”

  “Not anymore.” He sounded strange. “You accomplished that much. But don’t underplay its importance.” At last his annoyance seemed to be receding. If she didn’t know better she would’ve pegged his expression as a little smug. “I don’t think I’ve ever made love to a virgin in my life. That’s what blew me away. It’s something you should’ve kept for your husband, seeing that you’ve abstained for so long.”

  “You are my husband,” she pointed out, irritated that she needed to remind him. Then she thought about what she’d revealed and backtracked, in case he started to put it together, in case he realised that he’d been the only man she’d ever desired. “And that’s such an old-fashioned view to take, it makes you sound like a dinosaur.”

  “A dinosaur?”

  “Yes, one of those monstrous creatures that lived millions of years ago.”

  “Are you comparing me to Tyrannosaurus Rex?” He raised a brow, and a ghost of laughter gleamed in his eyes. “I’m no dinosaur—I’m simply Italian.”

  Oh, Rico. She started to laugh, even as she turned to mush. With his dishevelled hair, and the inky lock that had fallen over his forehead again, she wanted to throw herself into his arms, kiss him and start all over again. Which made her wonder…

  “I hope that this…peculiar…reaction of yours to my untouched state doesn’t mean that you’ve been overcome with scruples?”

  At her words his brows drew into a thick black line. “Meaning?”

  “We will do this again, won’t we?”

  He hesitated, glancing away. When he looked back the laughter had gone, and his eyes were sombre, unfathomable. “We shouldn’t. If I had a grain of honour, we wouldn’t. But somehow, I don’t think I could stop myself if I tried.”

  “Good,” she said with simple complacency and leaned towards him. “Now can we try it again? Perhaps a little slower this time?”

  “Satisfied?” Rico propped himself up on an elbow and smiled at the woman curled against him.

  “Oh, yes!” Her emphatic reply made him laugh. A hectic flush lay across her cheeks, and her awed gaze made him feel like a man who could conquer mountains of gigantic proportions. His discomfort at his rather inadequate earlier performance had vanished, leaving him feeling rather pleased with himself. Rico suspected somewhere down the line his conscience was going to kick in, and he was going feel shame. At taking her innocence, at involving her—

  No! He would deal with his conscience and the consequences of his actions when it was all over. When he held his son in his arms.

  “At least now I know that I’m not…cold.”

  Abandoning his concerns about his conscience, he paid attention to what she was saying and frowned. “You’re not cold. You’re one of the warmest, happiest people I know.”

  “I’m not talking about that.”

  “Then what are you talking about?”

  “Sex,” she replied succinctly.

  “Sex?” Then the penny dropped, and he added in disbelief, “You thought you were sexually cold?” Rico started to laugh again. “You thought you were frigid?”

  “It’s not funny!”

  He stopped grinning. The truculence in her face told him she was serious. “Sorry. Perhaps your odd sense of humour is starting to rub off on me.”

  “Please, don’t laugh about this. I’m sensitive about it.”

  Her lake-calm eyes held that vulnerable expression that always caused a constriction in his chest. “So I see. But why? Where did you get such an incredibly ridiculous notion?”

  A thought struck him. One that he found he didn’t care for. Not a bit. Even though he suspected it was unreasonable. “Did you have a relationship with someone who told you were frigid? Or, perhaps, you shared a little…intimacy…and he made you believe you were cold?”

  “No! Nothing like that.” She stared ahead.

  The relief that filled him was out of proportion. He shouldn’t be feeling like this. The thought of Danielle with some other man should be of no interest to him. But he was interested.

  Because she was his.

  The surge of possessiveness astounded him. Not sure whether he liked it, or what it might signify, he shoved it out of sight to analyse later.

  “I overheard some guys talking about me at university. One said I was a frigid little witch.”

  Anger rose in Rico. Jerk. “Had he tried to score with you?”

  “No, he’d asked me out. But I refused because I didn’t date boys in my class. I didn’t want to deal with the post-breakup fallout every day.”

  “That’s your answer. He was a scorned man.”

  “But the others round him all agreed. They barely knew me.”

  “So why let yourself be affected by a judgement made by a group of stupid jerks whose sole interest was in getting laid? Especially when it’s so patently untrue?”
/>   “I thought…” She coloured.

  “You thought…?” He urged her on, intrigued by this complex, wholly feminine woman.

  She turned her head. “I thought maybe it was obvious to anyone who cared to look.”

  Rico admired the straight nose, the revealing up-tilted chin. “Evident that you were frigid?” he asked in disbelief.

  The rosy colour on her cheeks deepened. “It sounds ridiculous.”

  “Frigidity isn’t a label you wear any more than virginity. Hell, I didn’t even spot that, even though there were clues. Nor, I bet, did all your wannabe swains.”

  She gave a giggle and met his eyes. “Rico. A label. How absurd! Do I look like the type to walk around wearing a T-shirt proclaiming I Am a Virgin?”

  “No. You don’t look like anyone’s idea of a virgin. Whatever that may look like.” He splayed his fingers. “Nor would anyone believe a T-shirt that stated I’m Frigid.” Rico stretched out a hand and gently traced her lips. “These full, soft lips promise passion and belie coldness.” He reached the corner of her mouth. “The curve here shows humour, a zest for life, which aren’t qualities that I’d associate with someone with a low sex drive.”

  His hand lingered.

  “There’s more. At work they call me the Ice Queen.” She spoke through his fingers, her lashes lowered. “You even call me ‘Princess.’”

  He stroked his hand tenderly up the side of her face. “Yeah, but that’s a joke between you and me. I say it when I’m trying to provoke a reaction out of you, ruffle your perfect feathers when you’re at your most disdainful. Nothing more. And who cares about the rest of them? You’re sweet and kind and generous…and frankly nothing else matters.”

  “Thank you, Rico.” She rested her head on his chest and snuggled closer into the curve of his body.

  Rico wrapped his arms around her, brushed a kiss over the top of her head and closed his eyes against the pain that tightened around his heart like an iron fist.

  After taking her innocence, how could she thank him? When his eyes opened again, he stared blindly over her head, into a future that made his eyes grow dark.

  The first month of marriage to Rico passed in a flash.

  Danielle readily admitted that she couldn’t keep her hands off Rico—and he seemed to have no compunction touching her, either. She’d been a little concerned after the first night that he would impose that awesome control and restrain himself, but he’d seemed to have decided that the damage was done.

  She had no cause for complaint. Now that she’d finally discovered what all the fuss surrounding the topic of sex was about, Danielle decided that waiting for years had not detracted from the pleasure. In fact, it had made her curious, eager to learn more.

  Apart from a few occasions when he became quiet and withdrawn, it had been easier than she’d ever expected to live with Rico. Much of the tough-guy machismo he presented to the world muted into warm protectiveness when he was alone with her. If it hadn’t been for his constant reminders that she should remain watchful, that she was not yet safe because the stalker had not yet been apprehended, her life would’ve been idyllic.

  And, if she was honest, the other thing that got to her was the dark place Rico escaped to when he went all silent. A place she couldn’t follow because at those times he thought of her, his real wife—the reason for his crazy desire for revenge.

  And then there was the discomfort of confessing to Rico that she wasn’t pregnant. She felt even worse when a week later Rico had hugged her.

  “Don’t fret. The baby will come to us when it’s meant to.”

  Baldly she’d asked him, “What if it’s not meant and I don’t get pregnant?”

  He’d shrugged, seemingly unperturbed. “Give it time. It will happen soon enough.”

  Her fingers had twisted his shirt front. “You sound so certain.”

  The squeeze he gave her was intended to comfort. Danielle felt nothing but shame.

  “I am,” he said. “It’ll take time for your body to recover from the cycle of the pill.”

  “I’ve never taken the pill,” she pointed out. “I never needed it.”

  “Oh!” His eyes darkened to a shade that she recognised instantly and her pulse speeded up. His arms swept her up. “How could I ever forget.”

  His smile melted away her unease and his kiss heated her. “We’ll simply have to try harder, practise more.” Rico carried her back to the bedroom, and that had been the end of the discussion for the rest of the afternoon.

  But the doubt-devils came back to plague her at odd moments, in the middle of a meal shared with Rico, during an interview she’d conducted for a Sinco post with a radiantly pregnant woman. When she and Rico got home that night her lovemaking was frenzied and intense, because Danielle knew her happiness was so ephemeral it was only a matter of time before the joy slipped from her grasp, however despairingly she clutched it to her heart.

  And then she’d have only memories.

  Three weeks later Danielle shut down her laptop and then glanced through Cynthia’s office to where Rico sat in Martin’s office and called, “All done for the day!”

  He glanced up, and gave her one of those slow smiles that made her heart soften and turn to liquid. “Ready to roll, Princess?”

  She nodded, her throat suddenly tight. How quickly she’d grown accustomed to his presence in her life. Soon Martin would be back from the three months paternity leave he’d taken, and Rico would be gone, shifted to the tenth floor, and the space across the room that he’d filled in the next office would be empty. The stalker was no longer enough of a reason for his presence. There’d been no sign of the man since their marriage. Rico’s scare tactics had worked.

  Danielle shifted on her chair, her lower back aching. She knew what event the ache signified, and she quailed at the news she’d have to break to Rico.

  No baby. Not this month.

  How much longer would he give her?

  A movement caught her eye. Rico leaned against the doorjamb. The dark Italian suit accentuated his height, the male solidness of his body. She said the first thing that came into her head, “Have the police made any further headway identifying my crazy?”

  The eyes that met hers were dark with frustration. “Nothing.”

  “So he’s no longer a threat?”

  “A stalker is always a threat.” Rico rubbed his the dark stubble on his chin. “And this one is no fool. The longer he stays out of sight, the less priority the police assign to him.”

  Frustration boiled up inside her. She’d been so sure that the man had vanished, she’d started to relax. “Darn. So you don’t think it’s safe out there yet?”

  Rico pushed away from the door and came round her desk to stand behind her. “Growing tired of me, Princess?”

  Thankful that he couldn’t see her face, the yearning for him to stay, she murmured, “Of course not.”

  The hard warmth of his hands on her shoulders steadied her. “Princess, I’ll get him, if he tries anything, I promise you.” His fingers stroked through her hair, rested on her nape and started to massage the tense knots there.

  “Mmm.” She sighed appreciatively and dropped her head forward. “What if it takes years and years?”

  “You’re too tense.” His fingers found another knot. “Relax now, I’ve made you a promise.”

  “You’ll grow tired of minding me.”

  “Well, there won’t only be you, there’ll be some bambinos, too.”

  “No, there won’t.” She knew she should let it go. But she couldn’t. “One child—then you’ll be gone.”

  The massaging hand paused. “Is that what’s worrying you? I’d never leave you vulnerable. Even when you hand my son over, I’ll protect you from harm.”

  Danielle’s heart plummeted. Never had she been more aware of the sword of Damocles that hung constantly over her head. One slip and she was done for. Absently she shifted.

  “Back ache?” Rico started to rub lower.

&nb
sp; She nodded, loath to tell him why her back ached at this time of the month, hoping he’d figure it out for himself.

  “Lean forward.”

  She folded her arms on the desk and lay forward, squeezing her eyes shut as his fingers tugged her blouse out of the waistband of her skirt. He slid his hands beneath the blouse and started to massage the muscles straddling her spine. Slowly the ache eased. If only all her problems could vanish beneath his touch. Flexing her shoulders, she straightened.

  “Better?”

  “Thank you.” She barely heard him cross the room, his footfalls as silent as a large cat on the carpet as he left her office. A series of whirrs and clicks alerted her to the fact that he was shutting down his laptop. With a sigh she shrugged into her jacket and started to pack her bag, then she stopped, pulled her laptop back out and placed it back in the centre of her desk.

  “Let’s cut loose and go out to dinner tonight,” she suggested rashly. She needed Rico’s smile to rid her of the blue feeling that had plagued her all day. Telling herself that it was past that time of month, hadn’t helped. She needed a lift. A night out with Rico would give her that. “I’ve had enough. All work and no play…will make Jill a very dull girl.” She tossed him what she hoped looked like a careless grin.

  “You could never be dull.” He paused in the act of buttoning his jacket.

  “Thanks, kind sir. But some days I sit here and think I’ll be as grey as ditchwater.”

  Giving her a curious glance, he asked, “So why are you doing this?” His hand moved in an arc, embracing her workstation, the computer and the four corners of the office.

  “Because I needed to finish my report.”

  Straightening his collar, he came into her office. “I mean why are you working here, at Sinco?” He perched himself on the edge of her desk. “Why do a business degree at all? I remember when you were a teenager you wanted to be a kindergarten teacher.”

  She glanced away and Rico knew her well enough now to know that she was avoiding his gaze. Then, her lips barely moving, she said, “What do goody-goody fifteen-year-olds know about careers?”

  “Your mother thought it would suit you. I seem to remember her getting you some babysitting jobs with her friends.”