Over the last couple of weeks so much had changed between them that Rico wasn’t comfortable with his old plan of revenge and payback. Now he was more focused on Teresa herself and what they might have found together. Though the complication of the Corettis still stood between them.
He knew she was worried about her family. Anxious at the thought of her brothers and father going to prison. And yes, he knew that it was his threats that had brought them all to this point.
The difference was that now he hated to see her on edge. Hated knowing that it was because of him that she had to fear for her family. And he really hated that he was falling under her spell again.
He couldn’t trust her, but that didn’t seem to matter. Old feelings were back and they were growing into something even bigger than they’d once been.
Scrubbing one hand across his face and then shoving that hand through his hair, he tried to find a way through this mess of his own design. But there was nothing. He had backed himself into a corner.
Moving quietly through his darkened house, he headed unerringly for the bedroom where Teresa would be waiting for him. A sharp tug of pleasure dragged at the edges of his heart at the knowledge. Oh, he was in deep trouble.
His steps faltered as he heard low-pitched voices—one of them a man’s—coming from his bedroom. Rico went instantly still. Someone was in his bedroom, with Teresa. What the hell? She wasn’t screaming for help, which only fed the flames of suspicion burning inside. On alert now, he eased closer to the partially closed door and peered inside.
Everything in him urged Rico to charge into that room and find out who the mystery bastard was. But this time his mind won over his instincts. He had to know what was going on and if he slammed in, the hurried conversation would end. So instead he moved closer and listened.
“Bastien, you have to go,” Teresa said, her voice hurried, yet determined.
“Not without you.” The man’s voice was deep and adamant.
Rico’s blood rushed to his head and he curled his fists at his sides. But before he could give in to the jealousy pouring through him as though from a tap turned on full blast, Rico peered into the room and saw an older man, dressed all in black. His gray mustache covered half his face and his bushy gray brows were wiry.
So, not a romantic encounter.
“Your father sent me to get you away,” the man insisted, tossing a nervous glance over his shoulder at the open terrace doors. “He cannot find Gianni or the dagger.”
Teresa sighed. “My brother wasn’t in Paris, either?”
“No.” The old man lowered his voice even further, but his insistence was sharp. “We are still looking, but your father does not wish you to stay with this man—your husband—any longer. He worries for your safety.”
Rico scowled at the door. As if he was a danger to Teresa? Insult slammed into him but was buried deep as he waited for her reply.
“Tell my father I’m safe, Bastien. And I can’t leave the island.”
“Si, you can. I have a fishing boat waiting at the harbor.” The older man reached out and took her hand. “From the mainland, we board the plane your father has waiting. It will take us to him.”
Anger flared so bright and hot, Rico could hardly see. Teeth clenched, his jaw muscles felt tight enough to snap. He could already feel what would happen next. Teresa was going to do it again. She would run to save her family. She would break her word and disappear. Again.
He took a step forward, intending to stop her before she got one step outside his house, but he halted suddenly when Teresa spoke.
“You don’t understand, Bastien,” she said, words tumbling from her in a rush. “I won’t leave. I gave my word to Rico and I won’t break it. Not again. He’s my husband and I…care for him. I won’t hurt him by disappearing one more time, Bastien. I agreed to stay here for a month and I’m going to.”
Rico laid one hand on the doorjamb to steady himself. His world had just been rocked. Teresa had shocked him straight to the bone. She cared for him. Love? Did she still love him? While he stood there outside the room, something flickered to life in the center of his chest. Warmth filled him along with the territorial urge to go to her, hold her tightly to him and sweep her into bed, where he would damn well keep her for the rest of their time together.
He shifted position slightly so he could see Teresa better. Her long, thick hair was pulled back into a ponytail at the back of her neck. She was wearing the dark green nightgown he loved to strip from her, with a short white robe over it, loosely belted at her waist. Her long, tanned legs were bare and planted wide apart as if in a fighting stance. But it was the expression on her face that caught and held his attention. She looked…fierce. She was defying her father’s attempt at a rescue. In favor of Rico.
This time she had chosen him.
“Your father will not be happy.” The older man was speaking again.
“My father is the one who taught me that once your word is given, it is sacred,” Teresa told him. “I won’t cheat Rico. Tell my father to find Gianni. He still has two weeks to bring the dagger here.”
Through the anger at Dominick’s duplicity rose a new and unexpected feeling inside Rico. Trust. That warmth rushing through him was enveloping as he watched the woman who was his wife. And though he warned himself to be wary, he knew that something between them had shifted tonight.
Gathering together the threads of his anger, Rico pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Both Teresa and the older man whipped around to face him. She looked stunned and embarrassed. The man she’d called Bastien just looked worried. As he should.
“Get out,” Rico said, voice tight with the effort of holding on to the anger churning in his gut.
The man didn’t need to be told twice. He scuttled for the terrace doors and only stopped at the threshold when Rico spoke up again.
“Leave the island tonight,” he advised. “If I see you here tomorrow I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”
One bob of the man’s head told Rico he was understood. In another second, the man was gone and he and Teresa were alone in the room.
“I can explain,” she said quickly.
“You don’t have to.” Rico looked down at her and felt that rush of warmth again. She was beautiful. She was proud and defiant and she was his. For now, anyway. “I heard everything before I came in. Your father sent him.”
She blew out a breath before lifting her chin high enough that she met his gaze. “Yes. Bastien is a family friend. Sort of an honorary uncle, I guess.”