“You’re ready. Good. We’re leaving.” He straightened up, turned and walked out of the room, clearly expecting her to follow.
She glanced into the mirror and gave herself a quick look. She was wearing a lemon-yellow dress, with narrow straps over her shoulders, a deeply cut back and a full skirt that ended just above her knees. Her long black hair was drawn back into a tumble of curls that fell down between her shoulder blades and the gold hoops at her ears winked in the light. She looked good and she knew it.
Yet Rico had almost looked through her. As if he hadn’t seen her at all. As if she was no more important to him than any of the other furnishings in his lovely home.
She was nothing to him now.
And so the pain began.
* * *
Once they were at his hotel, Rico stalked across the main dining room. He kept one hand at Teresa’s back as if to assure himself she wouldn’t bolt. But the feel of her bare skin beneath his palm was a fire that wouldn’t be denied. Heat spilled up his arm and through his chest to spread lower until simply walking was an agony. The low back of her dress showcased the pale honey tone of her smooth skin and made a man’s gaze dip lower, to the curve of her behind. Then Rico’s mind took over, just to drive him completely around the bend.
Nice job, he told himself silently. You’re supposed to be punishing her and instead, you’re torturing yourself. Yeah. This month was going to be a piece of cake.
While the maître d’ hustled to escort them to his private table, Rico’s gaze slipped around the room. Black tablecloths, candles on every table, the flames flickering in the soft wind drifting in through the opened windows that allowed the scent of flowers to wash over the room. Muted conversations, the clink of crystal and classical music being pumped through the stereo system all came together to make King’s Castle on Tesoro’s dining room the elegant sanctuary it was. Waiters moved swiftly, silently through the maze of tables. Champagne corks popped, wine was poured and the finest food in the world was served. He had built this, following the vision he’d had to create a lush, sensual retreat. A place where reality took a backseat and dreams came to life. Where sensual pleasures were enhanced and fantasies sprang to life.
Now he himself was caught up in one of those fantasies.
He noticed the furtive glances of other men as they passed and he knew they were admiring Teresa. Well, hell, who could blame them? She was beautiful, but more, there was an inherent pride in the way she held herself. The tilt of her chin, the flash in her eyes. He knew they saw all of that, because he had seen the same the first time he met her—when he had known he had to have her.
That need was as fresh tonight as it had been so long ago.
The booth at the back of the restaurant had a view of the entire room, yet remained set apart. Private. His. He felt her shiver as they stepped into the shadows and he hid a smile. He liked knowing that she was off balance. Rico had the power here and he wasn’t going to give it up. Sensing Teresa’s nerves smoothed the jagged surfaces of the simmering anger and raw need clawing at Rico’s insides.
She gave the maître d’ a smile and then slid across the burgundy leather seat. Rico’s heartbeat skittered wildly, but he buried the reaction to her smile and told the tuxedoed man beside him, “Champagne.”
“Right away.” He scurried off and Rico slid into the booth beside Teresa.
“Champagne?” she asked.
“We’re celebrating, aren’t we?” He leaned back and laid one arm across the back of the bench seat. “After all, it’s been five years. A reunion deserves champagne, don’t you think?”