She couldn’t blame him for believing what he did, but it just wasn’t accurate. “I didn’t use you, Rico. I wouldn’t.”
“I would find that easier to believe if you hadn’t vanished—along with a valuable antique.”
She pushed one hand through her hair, fingers tangling in the thick, black mass. Even now, she could kick her brother Gianni. Five years ago, she’d specifically asked her family to leave Rico alone, but Gianni hadn’t been able to help himself. Instead, he’d taken the gold Aztec dagger that Rico prized above everything else. And in doing that, Teresa’s brother had made Teresa’s decision for her.
“I didn’t know the dagger had been stolen until you told me that last morning.”
“And I should believe you?”
She sighed. “Believe me or don’t.”
“Your family took it.”
“One of my brothers, yes.” God, she was shaking. Seeing him again was so hard. Harder than she would have thought. Seeing him look at her with an angry distance in his eyes was even more difficult.
There had been a time when his eyes shone with passion and something more. Five years ago, she had been swept into a romance so wildly unexpected it had almost been a fairy tale.
And it had all ended with a shattering crash. Much like Cinderella finding herself facing midnight—unwilling to see the magic end.
“I can’t believe we’re still married. Or that you would go to so much trouble just to punish me.”
“You should have known that I wouldn’t let you go,” he told her.
“I suppose I should have.” Teresa looked into his eyes again, hoping to see…what? Love? Passion? Once, she’d seen everything she had ever dreamed of in his eyes. But those days were gone and she had no one to blame but herself. She never should have allowed herself to fall in love with him. And when she did, she never should have kept her identity a secret. Never should have run without at least trying to explain. But rewriting the past was a futile mental exercise. Nothing would change what had happened. Nothing would bring back the magic she had once found in Rico’s eyes. Because all she read in those blue depths now was a cool detachment that tore at her even as it forced her to adopt a defensive posture.
“What was the point of holding on, Rico? I would have thought you’d be happy to let me go after the way things ended.”
“You took what was mine,” he said simply, his features as stony and aloof as an exquisitely carved statue.
For one heart-stopping second, Teresa thought he might have been talking about her. That he had considered her important enough to him that he’d purposely kept them legally tied together. Then, as she continued to stare into blue eyes that refused to warm, she admitted the truth to herself. His holding on to her had nothing to do with her—it was all about the dagger that Gianni had stolen.
She closed her eyes briefly and wished herself anywhere but here. When she opened her eyes again, though, she was still looking at Rico, still feeling his icy stare dig right through her.
“I didn’t know my brother was going to steal the dagger.”
He laughed. “You think I believe you?”
“Probably not,” she admitted. “But I wanted you to know that.”
“Five years later, you decide to try honesty.” He shrugged her statement off. “You and your family. Very versatile. You’ll even make a wild attempt at the truth if you think it will serve better than a lie.”
“This isn’t about my family,” she argued. “This is about me. And I’m trying to tell you the truth of what happened.”
“Thank you,” he said, sarcasm dripping from the words. “Now I know. It changes nothing.” Rico moved past her, walking to the terrace that overlooked the hotel he’d built and the surrounding grounds.
When she followed him, he didn’t even look at her when she spoke. “How long do you plan on keeping me here?”
“Until your thieving family returns my property.”
She flushed and was grateful he hadn’t seen it. Hard to argue with the truth, no matter how much she’d like to. “This is only about the dagger then?”
“Oh,” he said, turning to face her. “It is about much more than that.”
The warm, soft trade winds blew across the terrace, ruffling Rico’s collar-length black hair. His eyes were shuttered, emotion carefully hidden beneath a veneer of contempt.
She shivered a little at the ice in his gaze and remembered a time when his eyes had held nothing but heat when he looked at her. A time when the two of them hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other. A time when passion had sizzled in the air and hunger was never sated. But the past was as ephemeral as the trade winds, blowing through her heart and mind and passing all too quickly.
“What exactly is it that you want from me, Rico?”
“I want you,” he said flatly.
The ice inside her melted in a flash, dwarfed by a rush of heat that boiled her blood and fried her bones. “You what?”
“I want you here,” he said, leaning casually against the railing. Feet crossed at the ankles, arms folded across his chest, he added plainly, “In my bed.”
“You do?” Had she read him completely wrong? Had he really kept their marriage alive because he still felt something for her? Was this his way of telling her that he wanted them to be together again?
“For one month,” he qualified, splintering whatever rainbow-and-unicorn thoughts that were still revolving through her mind.
“What?”
“You heard me,” he said. “And you’re lucky I’m not demanding the five years that you were gone.”
She blinked.
“You will stay here for one month. You will share my bed like a good wife.”
“You are not going to blackmail me into sex.”
“Of course not. But we will sleep in the same bed. And when we do have sex again, Teresa, it will be your idea,” he said, giving her a knowing smile. “You remember how good it was between us…”
Oh, she really did.
“So blackmail won’t be necessary.”
He was probably right, God help her.
“As I was saying,” Rico continued, “at the end of that month, your brother returns my property and I let you go—with a real divorce this time. More,” he added when she opened her mouth to speak, “I’ll give you the evidence I hold against the Coretti family. You can destroy it yourself.”