Читать книгу Sleeping With The Enemy - Annie West - Страница 11

NICO’S stomach felt strangely hollow. He was standing here, looking at this woman who he could hardly believe was the grown-up little sister of his old friend and archrival, and he knew what she was saying even though she did not actually speak the words.

She was telling him she was pregnant. With his child.

But he knew it was a lie. No matter what she said about Venice and the masks, she was not that woman. It was a trick, a ruse cooked up by her brother in order to settle old scores. Oddly, it disappointed him to think she could be as ruthless as Renzo when she’d once been so shy.

He didn’t know how they knew, but he would not fall for it.

His gaze raked her body as he tried to recall the woman he’d shared that night with. He’d found her on the docks outside the palazzo, gulping air and shivering. He’d feared something bad had happened to her initially, but that had not been the case at all.

He remembered how sweetly innocent she’d been, and how he’d been drawn to her in spite of his usual preference for more experienced bed partners. He had not thought she would be a virgin, but she’d surprised him on that score, as well.

How could this be the same woman?

It couldn’t be. Somehow, Valentina D’Angeli knew the woman he’d been with and she and her brother were using the situation to their advantage. It was too outrageous otherwise.

“You are lying,” he said.

Her eyes widened with hurt. “Why would I do that? What could I possibly gain from something like this?”

Fury roared through him in giant waves. She played the innocent so well. “I can imagine a few things,” he grated. “I am wealthy. Titled. And my company is a thorn in D’Angeli Motors’ side.”

Her brows drew down in a dark frown. Unwelcome heat flared inside him as she stood.

It hit him like a blow that she was very beautiful, with strong features and smooth skin and a mouth that needed kissing. Her chestnut hair tumbled over her shoulders in an insane riot of curls. He would have remembered hair like that, hair that twisted and curled and caught the light like it had been dusted with gold. He cast his mind back to that night, saw long dark hair that was thick and shiny … and straight.

Violet eyes flashed fire as she put her hands on her hips and faced him squarely. “Six weeks ago, you did not have a title. And my brother has as much money as you do, if not more. As for the companies, I could give a damn about either of them for all the good it would do me.”

Nico tried not to be distracted by the way her waist curved in over the flare of her hips or the way her posture emphasized the full thrust of her breasts against her silk shirt. His body was hyperaware of her, but he could handle that. He simply refused to give in to the attraction.

“Her hair was straight,” he said coldly.

She blinked, and triumph surged within him. He had her there. What a pretty liar she was.

Then she laughed at him as she twisted a finger into a curl and pulled it straight. “It’s called a blow out, you idiot. Give me twenty minutes with a hair dryer, and I’ll show you hair as straight as a file.”

He stiffened. “That hardly proves it was you.”

She took a step closer to him, and he had the distinct impression she was stalking him. It turned him on more than it ought. For a moment he wanted to close the distance between them, wanted to fit his mouth to hers and see if the sparks he felt in the air also extended to the physical. He had enough self-control not to do so, however.

She tilted her chin up, those eyes still flashing fire at him. She had a temper. He didn’t remember that about her, but then she’d only been a teenager when he’d last known her. All he remembered about her then was a girl who hid behind her hair and went mute whenever he spoke to her.

Now she jabbed a manicured finger at him. “Shall I tell you everything about that night, starting with the moment you asked me if I was okay on the dock? Or should I describe your room at the Hotel Daniele? The way you turned off all the lights and told me no names and no faces? The way you peeled off my gown and kissed my skin while I—” here she swallowed “—I gasped?”

She broke off then, her face red, and Nico felt a jolt of need coiling at the base of his spine. He’d bedded a lot of women over the years, but none so fascinating as the one he’d taken that night. It had been a true one-night stand, and in the morning he’d awakened to find her gone. He’d been rather amused with the way it had made him feel, as if she’d used him and discarded him, and yet he’d been wistful, too.

Because, no matter what he’d said to his mystery woman about remaining anonymous, he’d wanted to see her again after that night. There’d been something between them that he’d wanted to explore further. It had only been sex, he knew that, but when he found a woman he enjoyed, he usually spent more than one night with her.

He’d asked the hotel staff if they remembered her or if they had seen which direction she’d gone in when she’d left.

The lone man on duty that night had said she’d left around two in the morning, silk-and-feather mask intact and pale green dress clutched in her fists as she ran through the lobby. He had not noted which direction she’d gone after she’d taken the gondola, and he didn’t remember which gondolier had taken her.

A general inquiry of the gondoliers plying that part of the city had turned up nothing.

And that had been the end of that. Nico had been disappointed, but he’d gotten over it soon enough. It was sex, not love—and he could find plenty of sexual partners when the need arose. One sexy, inexperienced woman was not necessary to his life any more than a fine brandy was. They were both enjoyable, but completely dispensable.

“You could have learned those details from someone else. They prove nothing,” he told her. And yet his blood hummed at her nearness, almost the way it had that night.

Her head dipped then, her eyes dropping away from his. “This is ridiculous,” she breathed. And then she turned and sank onto the couch again, her eyes closing as her skin whitened.

Guilt pricked him. “Do you need another biscuit? More tea?”

“No. I just need to sit a moment.” She looked up at him, her mouth turning down in a frown. “You’re right, of course. I’m making the whole thing up. Renzo put me up to it so we could embarrass you. Because of course you would be embarrassed, wouldn’t you? You, the man who has at least a dozen scantily clad paddock girls clinging to you after your races, the man who appears in the tabloids on a regular basis with some new woman on his arm, the man who famously stood in the middle of a party one evening and kissed every woman who asked to be kissed—yes, that man would be so embarrassed by me and my baby, though we would probably only burnish his bad-boy reputation.”

Anger flared inside him. She was making fun of him—and the worst part was that what she said made a perverse sort of sense.

“How do I know what you and Renzo have in mind?” he snapped. “Perhaps you see this as a way to infuse the D’Angeli blood with legitimacy and credibility. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to deal with title hunters, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

He didn’t think it was possible she could grow any paler, but she did.

“You are vile,” she said. “So full of yourself and your inflated sense of self-importance. I don’t know why I wanted to tell you about the baby, but I thought you had a right to know. And I certainly don’t want anything from you. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to just sit here quietly. I’d show you out, but I’m certain you can find the door.”

Nico stared down at her for several heartbeats. She seemed distressed, and his natural instinct was to stay and help her. But he couldn’t forgive what she was trying to do to him.

“You’ve forgotten one very important detail about that night, cara. Perhaps your informant failed to mention it, or perhaps she did and you were hoping I’d forgotten, but we used protection. I may enjoy a variety of bed partners, but I am not stupid or careless.”

“I’m well aware of it, but the box does say ninety-nine percent effective, does it not? We seem to be the one percent for whom it was not.”

His jaw clenched together so hard he thought his teeth might crack. “Nice try, bella, but it’s not working. Tell Renzo to think up something else.”

And then he walked out the door and shut it firmly behind him.

Tina wanted to throw something, but the effort wouldn’t be worth the slim satisfaction she would feel, so she continued to sit on the couch, sip tea and nibble biscuits until her stomach calmed down.

She should feel satisfied that she’d done the right thing and told him, but all she felt was anger and frustration. Whatever had happened between her brother and Nico, it had certainly created a lingering animosity.

She had come to a realization, though. She would not tell Renzo who had fathered her baby. He would demand to know, but it wasn’t his right to know. She was twenty-four and capable of making her own decisions. She’d gotten herself into this, and she would deal with the consequences. Perhaps it was for the best that Nico refused to believe her. Now it wasn’t necessary that she tell anyone.

Her mother, at least, would support her decision. How could she not, when she’d spent years denying Tina the right to know who her own father was?

Tina frowned. Poor Mama. Her mother had been in and out of love dozens of times that Tina could recall. Even now, she was off to Bora-Bora with her current lover, a man who Tina hoped was finally the right one. If anyone deserved love, it was Mama. She’d worked hard and sacrificed a lot until Renzo had started building his motorcycles and making money at it.

Tina sighed. At least she had a reprieve for a while. Mama was away, and Renzo, Faith and their baby were on their private yacht somewhere in the Caribbean, enjoying their first vacation in months. Not only that, but Renzo was also recuperating from surgery to repair his damaged leg. The last thing she wanted was to disrupt his recovery with her news.

No, as much as she might like to talk to her sister-in-law about being pregnant, Tina knew it was best if she was alone for now. By the time everyone returned, she would be further along and more confident in her ability to deal with them all.

As the afternoon wore on, she started to feel immensely better. She decided to leave Rome early the next morning and head for the family vacation home on Capri. She felt jittery after her meeting with Nico and she wanted to get far away from the city. From him. Not that she expected him to come back, but knowing he was in the same city—sleeping, eating, having sex with other women—was too much just now.

A few days in the lemon-scented breezes of Capri would do her good. But first she would call Lucia and see if her friend wanted to get together for dinner. She hadn’t yet told anyone she was pregnant; she would start with Lucia, see how that went. If nothing else, it would be good practice for that moment when she had to tell her family.

Tina had not told Lucia who her mystery lover had been, though she’d admitted to spending the night with a man when Lucia had pressed her about it. Her friend had been so happy to hear it, as if she’d never quite believed that Tina would go through with it.

Tina wasn’t sure Lucia would be happy about the consequences, however.

She left a message on Lucia’s mobile phone and then decided to go to the Via dei Condotti for some shopping. But first she would walk from the Piazza Navona to the Pantheon in order to clear her head a bit. The walk wasn’t long, but it wound through some of the most picturesque of Rome’s neighborhoods. She changed into jeans and sandals and added a scarf around her neck.

When she was done, she left the hotel and headed for the Pantheon. She passed gelato shops, antiques shops with paintings and elegant inlaid furniture in the windows, trattorias with chairs and tables lining the pedestrian way, and finally came out on the square where the Pantheon sat, ancient and silent against a bright blue sky.

It was her favorite monument in Rome. She passed inside, beneath the forest of tall columns and into the cavernous chamber with the huge circle cut out in the center of the ceiling high above. Ignoring the tourists with their cameras, she skirted the roped off area in the center and took a seat on one of the benches facing the altar that had been added much later when the structure had been turned into a church.

And then she tilted her head back and watched a wisp of a cloud float over the opening above. For some reason, this building made her feel peaceful. It always had. Once, when she had been home on break from school and didn’t want to go back again, she’d snuck out of Renzo’s apartment and come here. She’d sat for hours just like this until one of her brother’s security team had found her and made her return home and, ultimately, back to the private school that had terrified her until she’d met Lucia and made a friend.

“She had a scar.” The voice in her ear was startling. The noise in the Pantheon was always a dull murmur, but this voice pierced her solitude and made her gasp.

Tina whipped around to look at the dark, brooding male now sitting beside her on the bench. Her heart flipped, as it always did, whenever she looked at him. It was very annoying.

“An appendix scar,” he continued. “Just here.” He made a slashing motion over his abdomen, to the right of his belly button and above his hip bone.

“I had my appendix out four years ago,” she said coolly.

His silver eyes looked troubled. “I don’t suppose you would show me this scar?”

“I would, in fact. But not at this very moment, if you don’t mind. And even if you do,” she added irritably. She would not jump to his tune just because he wished it.

The intensity of his gaze did not relent. “Assuming you have this scar, and you are the woman from that night, how did you know it was me?”

She looked up at the perfectly round slice of sky overhead. A bird sailed high over the opening, wings outstretched as it rode the currents. “I slid your mask off. And when I realized who you were, I ran away.”

“How do I know that’s the truth? That you didn’t wait for me that night and set the whole thing up?”

She turned her head to meet his hot gaze, and her belly clenched. It was a different sensation than the one where the baby played havoc with her body. This tightening was a feeling that happened whenever she looked at this man. Only at this man. It was startling and disturbing all at once.

“Don’t you suppose that if I’d been waiting for you, I’d have gone about the whole thing differently? I’m pretty sure that hiding on the dock like a frightened, nearly sick child isn’t exactly the way to attract a man.”

“And yet it worked,” he said coldly.

Tina sat up straight, fury vibrating through her. “Look, if you want to believe this is all a ruse, that I’m lying or that I set you up, then fine, believe it. But don’t sit here and bother me with your theories, okay? I told you what I thought you should know, and now I’m done. I don’t want anything from you, Nico. I don’t expect anything. I just thought you might like to know your child.”

She started to rise, but he clamped a hand around her wrist and kept her on the bench. His fingers were long and strong, and his touch sent a jolt of energy radiating through her body. She jerked her wrist away and folded her arms over her midsection.

He bent closer to her until only she could hear the hard words coming from his lips. “If you are carrying my child, Valentina, I will be involved in his life. I refuse to pay child support and only see him whenever you allow it, or whenever the courts dictate. If you are carrying my child, then you are mine, as well.”

His eyes were stormy gray pools that slid deep into her soul and tore at her facade of calm. Her instinct was to recoil, but she didn’t. She hadn’t lived through boarding school, and the blue-blooded girls—girls from families like his—who’d thought they were far better than she was, to cave in whenever a man glared at her and told her how he believed things were going to be done.

When met with icy disdain, she returned icy disdain.

She shouldered her purse and stood. This time he did not try to stop her. It was a comfort to be able to gaze down at him, but she realized it was a false comfort. He was as dangerous as always, as tightly leashed and volatile as a stick of dynamite.

And she was about to light the fuse.

“You don’t own me, Nico. If you want to be involved, we’ll work something out. I want our baby to know his—or her—father. You both deserve that. And I want you to be in our baby’s life. But I won’t be part of the game between you and Renzo. I refuse to be.”

The fuse sparked and caught. His smile was cold and lethal, and she shivered deep inside. He lived for this, she thought. Lived for mayhem and challenge. It was why he rode the motorcycles at death-defying speeds, why he slept his way through the phone book without remorse, and why he was not about to back down now.

She’d lit the fuse, but the explosion would be a long time coming. And it frightened her.

“Too late, cara,” he said silkily. “You already are.”