Her Return to King's Bed(13)

                “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?”