He intended to burrow until he found the truth.
Nice choice of words, Narciso, he thought as arousal spiked higher in his blood. Lowering his hand, he turned abruptly.
‘I’m returning to the bedroom. If you’re not there within the next minute, I’ll take it that our business is concluded,’ he said over his shoulder.
‘Wait! You can’t do that...’
Narciso smiled with satisfaction at her frustration. Whether she followed him or not, there was no way he was letting her out of his suite tonight. Not until he’d had her checked out thoroughly and satisfied himself what sort of threat she posed.
He recalled the circumstances of their meeting. Of all the tables she could’ve been hostessing, she’d been at Giacomo’s table.
This time he didn’t ignore the churning in his gut. Giacomo had played that game before...
He turned and found her two steps behind him but any satisfaction was marred by the new set of questions clamouring for answers.
‘Why are you really here, Ruby? Did the old man send you?’
Fresh trepidation flared in her eyes at his harsh tone. ‘Who... Oh, that guy you were playing with? No, I have no idea who he is and I’d never met him before tonight.’
He tried to read her. Surely, even seasoned liars couldn’t look him straight in the eye as she was without flinching?
‘Be warned, if I find that to be untrue, there’ll be hell to pay.’
‘I’m telling you, I don’t know him.’ Her fingers meshed together and she began to fidget. But not once did her stare waver from his.
Narciso decided to be satisfied. For now. He entered the bedroom and crossed to the en suite.
‘So I’m here. Now what?’ she asked.
‘I’m going to take a shower. You do whatever you want. As long as you don’t leave this room.’
‘God, this is nuts,’ he heard her mutter as he entered the bathroom. Despite the volatile emotions churning through him, he smiled. From the corner of his eye, he watched her head once more to the stunning view of Macau City.
Silhouetted against the view, her body was so perfectly stunning, his mouth dried. Disappointment welled in his chest but he suppressed it as he undressed.
The cold shower was bracing enough to calm his arousal but not enough to wash away the bitterness as he replayed his evening.
Giacomo was bent on trying to take Narciso down.
Well, that suited Narciso fine. Although Narciso could’ve destroyed him with that last move, the notion of leaving him dangling a little bit longer had been irresistible.
The opportunity would present itself again soon enough. Giacomo was predictable in his hatred for him, if for nothing else.
And at thirty, exactly ten years after his father’s most cutting betrayal, the need for vengeance burned just as brightly in Narciso’s veins.
For as long as he’d been old enough to retain his memories, Narciso had known that Giacomo bore him a deep, abiding hatred. As a child he’d been bewildered as to why nothing he did pleased or satisfied the man he once called Papa.