Sleeping With The Enemy. Annie WestЧитать онлайн книгу.
he’d always made her feel funny, though when she’d been younger it had only been a hot, hollow feeling right beneath her breastbone. She’d crept into the garage to feel it, to gaze upon him and daydream.
How deluded she’d been about him. How very, very naive. He was not her dream man, not the husband or lover she could have wished for. He was arrogant, cold and very determined to get his way, no matter the consequences to anyone else.
She despised him. And her body wasn’t getting the message. Her body was zinging with sparks, melting, aching. Wanting.
Tina sucked in a sharp breath, reminding herself why she couldn’t allow that to happen.
She could never allow it to happen again. He’d consumed her the last time, and she’d willingly let it happen. She’d only panicked when she’d known who he was, not because of what had transpired between them. No, she’d been half-ready to do it again, but she’d let her curiosity get the best of her.
If only she’d never removed his mask!
Tina’s first instinct was to drop her gaze from the intensity of his, but she forced herself to look him in the eye. Unflinchingly.
His gaze sparked. Heat spread through her body.
“I won’t marry a man who threatens my family,” she said firmly.
One eyebrow arched. She had the impression he was mocking her. “Oh, yes? Originally, you said you wouldn’t marry a man who didn’t love you. Which is it, Tina? Love or duty?”
Tina stiffened. “I won’t be compelled against my will.”
His expression was doubtful. His gaze dipped, lingered on the scoop neck of her tank top before drifting back up to meet her eyes. “I think you shall, cara. If you value the things you claim to.”
“You are very certain of yourself,” she said, her breath hitching in her throat.
“Indeed.”
“Renzo is not an easy mark, and you know it.” It made her feel confident to say so, but the truth was she had no idea.
Nico’s smile was lethally smug. “Do I? And what if I don’t care, bella mia? What if I am willing to do anything it takes to win?”
“Even immolate yourself in the process?”
He looked thoughtful for a brief moment. “Perhaps. Are you willing to risk it?”
“Are you?”
He laughed at her. “Allora, we shall get nowhere if we talk in circles. Come.”
He put his hand on her back then and ushered her inside, through hallways and rooms she hadn’t seen earlier. The castle had been modernized, but the rooms were still magnificent. Huge vaulted ceilings soared above her head, painted with frescoes that gleamed with bright blues, deep greens, vibrant reds and creamy flesh tones. The floors were inlaid marble mosaic, punctuated with intricate patterns of lapis and gold, porphyry and malachite.
The old wooden panels lining the walls gleamed with oil and care, and lush sheets of silk damask hung over the floor-to-ceiling windows that she knew would look out on the cool blue beauty of the lake when it was daylight.
She didn’t realize he was leading her to her room until he stopped in front of her door. Tina dropped her gaze from his, cursing the timid side of her nature for kicking in when she wanted to face him down like a lioness protecting her brood. Her heart kicked up again at his proximity, at the intimacy of standing in front of her bedroom door with the only man she’d ever shared a bed with.
“Defy me if you wish, but you will realize there is only one choice in the end. You will do the right thing for Renzo and his lovely Faith.”
“One choice is not a choice,” she replied, her jaw aching with the effort it took not to scream at him.
He shrugged, arrogant and unfeeling to the last. “You can choose what is right, or you can choose to let me compel you into it. Either way, you will do what I wish in the end.”
“How very generous of you,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I wonder that you even pretend this is a choice.”
He laughed, startling her with the rich sound in the dark and quiet hallway. “You amuse me, cara—defiant to the last. I can hardly reconcile this with the girl who couldn’t speak to me without turning red.”
“I was a child then. I’ve grown up now.”
His gaze slipped over her. “You have indeed. Quite delightfully, I might add.” Before she knew what he was planning, his long fingers came up and gripped her chin, holding her head up high for his inspection. “There is a connecting door between our suites. Should you desire a repeat of Venice, you have only to open the door and come inside.”
Her heart throbbed in her ears, her neck. Surely he could see her pulse beating. Tina swallowed hard. “I don’t,” she said. “Never again.”
She could see his teeth flash white in the dim hallway. His handsome face was so close, the hard angles touchable. Kissable. No.
“Never say never, sweetheart,” he told her. “You will lose if you do.”
“I hardly think so,” she said haughtily.
His head dipped swiftly, and she closed her eyes in reaction. She could feel his breath on her lips, and she shivered with anticipation even while her brain struggled to catch up.
“I think you lie to yourself,” Nico said, and then he laughed softly as he pulled away.
Tina’s eyes snapped open as her brain finally engaged. She took a step backward, thudded into her still closed door. She’d thought he was going to kiss her. And she’d wanted it.
Fire burned her from the inside out—but was it the fire of shame, or of desire? “I don’t want you,” she said firmly. “I don’t.”
His smile mocked her. “Tell yourself that if it makes you feel better. But we both know it’s a lie.”
Nico sat in the dark with his laptop and went over the figures again. Then he sprawled back in his chair, raking a hand through his hair in frustration.
Even in death, Alessio Gavretti had the power to irritate him. More than irritate him, apparently.
Nico swore softly. He’d spent years trying to impress the man who wasn’t impressed with anything—unless it wore a very short skirt and had very large breasts—but his father had always treated him with a cool indifference that had been the hallmark of his personality.
Nothing Nico ever did made a dent in his father’s reserve, though the man had come to his races a few times. Nico had been the impetus behind Gavretti Manufacturing in the first place, though it hadn’t been his original plan when he’d first gone to his father to ask for support. No, he’d wanted to back Renzo—but his father wouldn’t hear of it.
“Why should I invest in this man’s business when you are perfectly capable of starting your own business, Niccolo? No, build the motorcycles yourself, but do not ask me for money for another.”
Nico frowned. That had been a pivotal moment in his life, though he’d not realized it at the time. He’d built the motorcycles, when he’d realized he had no other choice, and he’d lost the only friend he’d ever truly had. It still hurt in places he didn’t like to examine, and for that he blamed the woman in his guest room. Without her, he wouldn’t be thinking about this so much tonight.
He’d spent so many years not having a conscience that to be reminded it had not always been the case was more unsettling than he would have liked.
He shoved himself upright and went through the open door onto the balcony. It was quiet outside, dark. He welcomed the solitude. The scents of bougainvillea and lavender filled the air, and far below him the waters of the lake lapped