Her Return to King's Bed(10)

                Hunger roared to life inside him and smothered even the rage and frustration that had been Rico’s constant companions these last five years. She’d married him. Used him. And then left him looking like a damn fool. There was no forgiveness for that, Rico told himself.

                But damn, she looked even better now than she had when they were together. Clearly, the last five years hadn’t been difficult ones for Teresa Coretti.

                Coretti.

                When he’d married her, he’d had no idea that her last name was infamous throughout Europe. He’d discovered that much later, after she had gone. He’d been able to follow her trail as far as Italy, but after that, it was as if she’d gone up in a puff of smoke. She was as adept at protecting herself as the rest of her family was. The police had never been able to pin a crime on the Corettis and Rico hadn’t been able to find her, no matter how many P.I.s he’d hired in so many different countries he’d lost count.

                But all of that was over now. He had her. Here. At his place. And damned if she’d get away from him again.

                “Rico—”

                Her voice was low, breathless, sexy enough to jolt through him like a bolt of lightning. Damn, Rico hated to admit—even to himself—that he was still affected by her. Five years and he still wanted her more than his next breath.

                But this time that want, that need, would be assuaged on his terms.

                “Been a long time,” he finally said, keeping his gaze fixed with hers.

                “I know—”

                “What amazes me—” he spoke quickly, interrupting whatever she might have said “—is that you had the guts to show up here.”

                “If you’ll let me explain…”

                “Why? So you can spout whatever lies you’ve rehearsed for this occasion?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

                “Now, I think we can all discuss this in a civilized manner.”

                Rico’s gaze darted to Teresa’s father. Dominick Coretti. Head of a family of thieves and no doubt the man who had taught his daughter her precarious sense of honor. Studying him, Rico had to give the man credit. Caught red-handed, Nick Coretti looked unflappable. As if nothing more important had happened than his champagne had gone flat. This despite the fact that everyone in the room knew that he’d been outmaneuvered.

                “Civilized?” Rico repeated. “Is it civilized to steal from others? Is it civilized to use your daughter to keep a man busy so that you can steal from him?”

                Nick’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t use my children.”

                “Just train them, do you?” Rico sneered.

                “That’s enough.” Teresa took a breath and then, deliberately turning her back on Rico, she faced her father. “Papa, will you excuse us?”

                The older man looked from his daughter to Rico and back again. “Are you certain, Teresa?”

                “I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “Please.”

                “Very well.” Nick tugged at the lapels of his suit, lifted his chin and met Rico’s gaze. “I will not be far.”

                “That would be best,” Rico told him. “And I would advise that you not consider trying to leave the island.”