The edges were razor-sharp, cutting her, pain seeping through her. She wanted to turn away and leave the room, run away and hide. She’d thought that what had happened between them had been special, had been precious, and now he was looking at her as if it had meant nothing. As if she’d meant nothing.
He’d told her that she was worth savouring, but...had he not meant it?
Are you worth it, though? After what your mother sacrificed for you? You were where you shouldn’t have been and that’s all your fault.
The thought ran like acid through her. No, she wasn’t going to think about that. Yet she couldn’t pretend to herself that his opinion didn’t matter to her, either. Pretending wouldn’t change the emotion sitting in her heart. It did matter, because the night with him had been special and it had meant something. And maybe she was assuming that because it had been that way for her, it had been that way for him, too. But clearly she was wrong. While she’d felt changed on some fundamental level, he simply felt angry.
That hurt, she couldn’t deny it. She didn’t expect anything from him—an emotional attachment was the last thing she wanted—but she wasn’t going to act as if it meant nothing either.
He’d told her to be honest and so she would, both with herself and with him, and if he didn’t like that then too bad.
‘Yet it’s me you’re apparently angry with.’ She pushed her glasses up her nose. ‘Shouldn’t you be yelling at yourself in that case?’
He gave a short laugh that held no amusement. ‘I should, yes.’
‘You might regret what happened last night, Vincenzo, but I don’t.’ She lifted her chin, holding his ferocious gaze. ‘I don’t regret any second of it. In fact, that’s why I came to find you. I wanted to know why you left and whether you wanted to—’
‘No,’ he cut her off harshly. ‘I will not sleep with you again.’
But she didn’t let his tone get to her. ‘I wasn’t going to ask if you would, only if you wanted to.’
The tension gathered tighter around him, like a fist closing, and all of a sudden it was clear to her what that tension was and where his anger was coming from: he did want to. He wanted to badly, because she knew that fierce look in his eyes. She’d seen it the night before as he’d moved inside her. It was hunger, fierce desire, and denial.
He was at war with himself and what he wanted.
The raw feeling inside her eased; she’d been hoping he might feel the same way she had about the night before, but she hadn’t been sure. Now it seemed clear that, despite himself, it had been good for him. And that he wanted more.
Except she didn’t know what to do, whether to let him put her at a distance or to close it.
‘I do not want to,’ he bit out, his whole posture rigid with tension.
‘You told me honesty was precious,’ she said quietly. ‘And yet you’re lying.’
There were black flames in his eyes, his temper a cold fire. ‘Don’t presume to know me, civetta. You have no idea—’
‘You want me, Vincenzo. I can see it in your eyes.’
The muscle in the side of his jaw leapt again. ‘It won’t happen, Lucy. I’ve already told you that.’
‘Then why are you still so angry?’ She came closer, the width of his desk all that separated them. ‘If it’s not going to happen again, then why should what’s already happened matter?’
He said nothing, staring at her, the panther starving for his prey.
She swallowed, the sound of her heartbeat getting louder in her head.
Perhaps she should leave after all. Perhaps it was selfish of her to force this issue with him. He was a man of strict principles and she was essentially asking him to go against everything he believed in. Then again, he was also a man of strong passions, passions that he hadn’t given in to and yet clearly needed release from.
Would it be wrong to encourage him to release them with her? He’d already done so the night before after all, and a second time couldn’t hurt. And anyway, when was the last time anyone had made him feel good? Did he even have anyone?
Lucy put her fingertips on the desk, steadying herself. ‘Do you want to know why I’m here, Vincenzo?’
‘No.’
She ignored him. ‘I came to tell you that last night was special to me. That you made me feel...so very good. And so very safe. I’ve been afraid for so long, but I wasn’t last night. I wasn’t afraid at all, not for one second. And I...want that again.’
The flames in his eyes burned like cold wildfire. ‘You are my prisoner.’
‘So you keep saying. And I know you care about that, but I don’t.’
‘You should care. I’m going to hand you over to the police and they’re going to put you in a cell, and there will be no one to ease your fear then, civetta. No one to hold you or calm you.’
Something vulnerable inside her shivered, but she ignored it.
You won’t be able to change his mind. He’ll never release you.
She ignored that too.
‘I know that,’ she said and didn’t look away.
‘You will get no gentleness from me. No mercy.’
Lucy arched a brow, her own temper stirring. ‘Did I ask for any?’
He muttered something low and vicious in Italian, then continued in English, ‘You don’t know what you’re asking for.’
She lifted her chin even higher. ‘Then show me.’
There was only the desk between them. Only a paltry length of wood that he could have reached across and dragged her over the top of at any time. It was all he could do to stop himself from doing just that.
She looked so beautiful this morning in a green silk dress that made her skin look creamy and deepened the chestnut of her hair, making her eyes seem greener too. The fabric was sheer and he could see the curvaceous shape of her through it, and it made him so hard he could barely think.
Then again, he’d been trying to think all morning and been unable to, his mind full of her. He’d thought going to his study and burying himself in work would be the answer, but it wasn’t. Even the news he’d just received, about how Armstrong wanted to do a deal for her return, hadn’t distracted him.
The whole night had been a mistake and he knew it. That moment of clarity, of purity, when pleasure had annihilated all thought and he’d lost himself in the darkness of her eyes, had been the turning point. If it had only been sex between them, if she’d been just another in the long line of women he’d had before, then it wouldn’t have mattered. He’d have taken his pleasure as often as he could with her and the rest of the world be damned.