‘Lucy—I have been looking all over for you.’
For a second she thought she had conjured his voice up in her mind, then her eyes flew open. Lorenzo was standing a foot away, his dark gaze fixed on her face.
‘What are you doing out here?’
‘Nothing,’ she muttered. He was wearing a suit, but his jacket and tie were loose, his black hair dishevelled, and he was looking grimly at her, as if she had committed a cardinal sin. Even so she felt herself tense in instinctive awareness of the magnetic attraction of his big body. ‘I didn’t realise I had to ask permission,’ she said sarcastically, to hide her involuntary reaction to him.
‘You don’t. But I rang before lunch and spoke to my mother. She told me you were sick and you saw her doctor—are you all right?’
‘You are a day late. That was yesterday, and I am fine.’
His apparent concern was too little, too late, and she wasn’t fooled by it for a second. It was over. He had made that plain on Monday and they both recognised it—which was why she had not seen him since.
‘I guess she told you I think it was the wine and the food. Sorry about that. But, hey—look on the bright side, Lorenzo. She must think I am the guest from hell, accusing her of poisoning me. She will never invite me back.’
He didn’t so much as crack a smile. If anything, he looked even grimmer.
‘No, she hinted you might be pregnant. Very clever, Lucy, but no way will you catch me in that trap.’ His lips twisted in a sneer. ‘If you are pregnant try your last partner—because it has nothing to do with me. I was meticulous with contraception, as you well know, cara.’
Only Lorenzo could make an endearment sound like an insult, Lucy thought sourly. If she had ever had the slightest glimmer of hope that he might care for her it was snuffed out in that moment.
Flushed and angry now, she rose to her feet. Tilting back her head, she let her green eyes mock him. ‘I’m not pregnant, but thank you for that. It confirmed my sketch of you was spot-on.’
She turned to leave, but he caught her wrist.
His dark eyes flicked over her, from the striking mass of her hair to her pink lips and the curve of her breasts, making her wince at the mixture of contempt and desire she saw in his eyes as they finally met hers.
‘This changes nothing. You will behave yourself tonight, stay silent on your brother and the accident, and I will put you on the plane myself tomorrow—is that understood?’
‘Yes. Message well and truly received,’ she said bitterly, and all the anger and resentment she had bottled up for so long came pouring out. ‘For your information, I loved my brother, and I believe he did his best on that mountain—unlike you, who would believe the worst of anyone without a second thought. Antonio said you were a ruthless bastard admiringly, almost with pride, but I bet he never realised you actually are. You hate my brother because of the accident. But Damien did what the experts and the coroner all agreed was the correct thing to do in the circumstances. He cut the rope to go and get help for Antonio and he succeeded. The fact that rescue was too late was nobody’s fault—just fate.’
She paused for a moment, remembering. ‘But that was not good enough for you. With your arrogance and superior intellect you decided they were all wrong. And you couldn’t resist taking a bit of revenge out on me, because I’m Damien’s sister.’ She shook her head in disgust, her hair flying wildly around her shoulders. ‘The irony of it is, if I was the one hanging over a cliff tied to you I’d bet my last cent you would cut the rope without hesitation. You make me sick,’ she said contemptuously.
Lorenzo reached out and, catching her shoulders, jerked her forward, crushing her against him. Ruthlessly his mouth ground down on hers, and he kissed her with an angry passion that had nothing to do with love—only dominance. She struggled to push him away, but her hands were trapped between their bodies. And to her self-disgust even now she could sense herself weakening, responding. In a desperate effort of self-preservation she kicked out with her foot and caught his shinbone, and suddenly she was free.
If she had hurt him Lucy was glad. He deserved a hell of a lot more than a kick in the shin for what he had done to her.
‘You are coming with me,’ he said and, catching her wrist, pulled her forward. ‘As for cutting the rope—I would never tie myself to you in the first place,’ he said scathingly, his eyes deadly. ‘Cutting the rope is not why I despise your brother. It is because I have proof that he could have saved Antonio and chose not to.’
Lucy drew in a sharp breath. ‘That is a horrible thing to say and I don’t believe you,’ she lashed back at him. ‘Maybe it is your own guilty conscience looking for a scapegoat. According to Antonio you spent most of your time in America with a string of different women and he rarely saw you.’