She felt that look as surely as she would have a touch. Heat washed through her and her breath came in short, sharp gasps. Oh, she was in very deep trouble here. And she couldn’t even really regret that he had ensured she stay with him. How could she? She’d missed him for five years. Now that she was with him again, how could she not enjoy it?
“You’re ready. Good. We’re leaving.” He straightened up, turned and walked out of the room, clearly expecting her to follow.
She glanced into the mirror and gave herself a quick look. She was wearing a lemon-yellow dress, with narrow straps over her shoulders, a deeply cut back and a full skirt that ended just above her knees. Her long black hair was drawn back into a tumble of curls that fell down between her shoulder blades and the gold hoops at her ears winked in the light. She looked good and she knew it.
Yet Rico had almost looked through her. As if he hadn’t seen her at all. As if she was no more important to him than any of the other furnishings in his lovely home.
She was nothing to him now.
And so the pain began.
* * *
Once they were at his hotel, Rico stalked across the main dining room. He kept one hand at Teresa’s back as if to assure himself she wouldn’t bolt. But the feel of her bare skin beneath his palm was a fire that wouldn’t be denied. Heat spilled up his arm and through his chest to spread lower until simply walking was an agony. The low back of her dress showcased the pale honey tone of her smooth skin and made a man’s gaze dip lower, to the curve of her behind. Then Rico’s mind took over, just to drive him completely around the bend.
Nice job, he told himself silently. You’re supposed to be punishing her and instead, you’re torturing yourself. Yeah. This month was going to be a piece of cake.
While the maître d’ hustled to escort them to his private table, Rico’s gaze slipped around the room. Black tablecloths, candles on every table, the flames flickering in the soft wind drifting in through the opened windows that allowed the scent of flowers to wash over the room. Muted conversations, the clink of crystal and classical music being pumped through the stereo system all came together to make King’s Castle on Tesoro’s dining room the elegant sanctuary it was. Waiters moved swiftly, silently through the maze of tables. Champagne corks popped, wine was poured and the finest food in the world was served. He had built this, following the vision he’d had to create a lush, sensual retreat. A place where reality took a backseat and dreams came to life. Where sensual pleasures were enhanced and fantasies sprang to life.
Now he himself was caught up in one of those fantasies.
He noticed the furtive glances of other men as they passed and he knew they were admiring Teresa. Well, hell, who could blame them? She was beautiful, but more, there was an inherent pride in the way she held herself. The tilt of her chin, the flash in her eyes. He knew they saw all of that, because he had seen the same the first time he met her—when he had known he had to have her.
That need was as fresh tonight as it had been so long ago.
The booth at the back of the restaurant had a view of the entire room, yet remained set apart. Private. His. He felt her shiver as they stepped into the shadows and he hid a smile. He liked knowing that she was off balance. Rico had the power here and he wasn’t going to give it up. Sensing Teresa’s nerves smoothed the jagged surfaces of the simmering anger and raw need clawing at Rico’s insides.
She gave the maître d’ a smile and then slid across the burgundy leather seat. Rico’s heartbeat skittered wildly, but he buried the reaction to her smile and told the tuxedoed man beside him, “Champagne.”
“Right away.” He scurried off and Rico slid into the booth beside Teresa.
“Champagne?” she asked.
“We’re celebrating, aren’t we?” He leaned back and laid one arm across the back of the bench seat. “After all, it’s been five years. A reunion deserves champagne, don’t you think?”
“Reunion.” She laughed a little under her breath, but the sound didn’t mask her anxiety. “Is that what this is?”
“You have been in the wind for five years, Teresa,” he said, his voice low enough that only she could possibly hear him. “I think we both deserve to mark this…occasion.”
In seconds, a waiter appeared tableside and uncorked the champagne. After pouring some for Rico and getting a nod of approval, he poured two glasses and then disappeared, leaving them alone again.
Teresa took a long sip, then sat back, closed her eyes and sighed.
That soft, breathy sound shot through Rico like a bullet. His body was hard as stone and his mind was struggling to keep the memory of her betrayal sharp and clear so that his body and heart couldn’t surrender again. He’d already lived through that once. He wouldn’t do it again.
“I’m surprised your father agreed to the deal I offered him.”
Her eyes opened and brown eyes met blue. “Did you think he wouldn’t?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea how a thief thinks.”
She sucked in a breath. “Are you going to be throwing that word around for the whole month?”
“It’s appropriate, don’t you think?” He paused for a sip of his champagne and let the bubbles slide down his throat. In the flickering candlelight, her golden-brown eyes glittered. “If not for your family’s occupation, we wouldn’t be here.”
Her eyes never left his face. “And you’ll never let me forget it.”
“Why would I?” He set the crystal flute down and stared at her, meeting her accusing glare with one of his own. He was the one who had been cheated, lied to, stolen from. How she had the nerve to act like the injured party was beyond him. But he wasn’t going to let her get away with it. “You don’t like the word thief? Which would you prefer? Criminal? Burglar? Or perhaps cat burglar would be more specific.”
Her fingers swept up and down the slender stem of her champagne flute. His gaze caught the motion and fixated on it. He imagined that small, dainty hand sliding across his body and it took everything he had not to reach out and grab her. Drag her to him across the bench seat and haul her across his lap where she could feel what she was doing to his body. He wanted his hands on her again. He needed to feel the flash and heat of her body against his.
This month was either going to satisfy his need for payback—or kill him.
“The Coretti family has been doing what they do for generations.”