A hush fell.
She focused on the tiled floor, trying to get the energy to pull away. Yet the warmth of his body, the scent of his skin took away her will. How she wanted to lean into him and touch him. How she wanted him to take her in his arms and love her.
What a silly little fool she’d become.
His hand tightened on her arm. “I’m hungry.”
She forced herself to meet his gaze. His eyes were smoky with want. His mouth was no longer tense. Rather, a slight smile edged his lips.
A ripple of shock ran through her at his about-face. What had happened? Had her temper washed away his? Confusion made her frown at him. “The food’s ready,” she retorted, her words clipped. “Help yourself.”
He chuckled and his dimples flashed.
Her heart flipped over. Even as she despised herself, she still reacted to his magnetic pull.
“There are different kinds of hunger,” he murmured, the smile continuing to edge his mouth. “But I will be satisfied with feeding a particular one for now. Eat with me, carita.”
“It’s late.” The fear inside her forced her to rebel. “I’m not hungry.”
“No?” His hand glided up her arm. “Why is it I don’t believe you?”
A tremble of need quivered through her. She yanked herself from his hands before she succumbed and did something idiotic like throw herself at him. Nerves and temper and desire bundled and billowed inside her. She tried to move past him, but he stepped in her path. Forced her to press against the wall to keep from touching his hot, big body.
“Darcy.” One long finger slid along her jaw and pushed at her chin.
His gaze was deep, swirling grey. Misty and smoky and keen. “Tell me what is going on in that head of yours.”
Nothing was going on in her head.
Everything was going on in her heart.
The memories of her mum clashed with her driving need to be with Marc. To lean into his solid presence and trust.
Trust him.
Yet how could she trust this man who so clearly didn’t trust her?
She couldn’t do it. She was too full of fear and pain.
“Carita,” His voice rasped the nickname, rich with promise.
“No.” Darcy jerked herself from him and marched into the living room. She tried to pull back from the painful memories and hurting fears stemming from them. Tried to stuff them back into the box she’d labeled the past and not worth thinking about anymore. Pacing over to the windows, she stared at the lights of London. The snowflakes flitted down, white tapestry on a black sky.
His brooding presence behind her lifted the hair on the back of her neck.
“I had a chat with my mother today.” His tone had turned cold. Icy and cutting.
A strange sort of relief ran through her. She’d angered him and he’d drawn back.
“Did you hear me?” he snapped.
“Sure.” She forced herself to turn and meet his chilly scowl. “What’s it to me?”
His antagonism filled the room. It poured from him. The rigid stand he took. The biting hardness of his gaze. The beginning of a sneer on his mouth. “You will be interested, I think, in the news that your past lover is now supposedly in love with another woman.”
“Matt?” She was so focused on the man before her, what he made her feel and want and dread, it was hard to process the sudden subject of her buddy. But then his words caught up to her and the guilt she’d been fighting for days rushed back. She’d been so overwhelmed by one brother, she’d lost focus on the other.
“Si.” The sneer covered his face. “I am sorry to inform you that you’ve lost one admirer.”
Apparently, she’d lost this one, too. His words and tone and sarcasm ripped into her. She wanted to weep. Or feel profound relief. Instead, she let her temper go. “I don’t believe you,” she spat. “He doesn’t love Viola.”
“Really?” He sauntered over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself another shot. He might be trying for insouciance, still his tense shoulders told her a different story. “Yet the wedding is going to happen in eight short days. With Matteo’s full participation.”
“Because you’re forcing him to do it,” she cried.
Turning to face her, he gave her a ruthless smile. “I know it must hurt to lose a lover.”
“Why won’t you believe me? Matt and I were never lovers.”
His laugh filled the room with sardonic disbelief. “Tell me another tale.”
“Why can’t you believe what I say is true?” And why, why was she such a fool that she continued to batter herself again the walls of his disbelief?
Gimlet eyes met hers. “My experience with women in general and you in particular.”