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Lucy had wanted him to vote with her on the Steadman’s deal. Well, this way she could have the shares outright and do what the hell she liked with them. The money was nothing to him, and he had wasted far too much of his time dwelling on Lucy Steadman as it was. Finally all connection with the despised family would be severed for good.
He flicked on his cell phone to dial Lucy’s number, having got it from the bank and entered it in his speed dial, and then stopped. She would certainly hang up on him. Better to catch her by surprise, even though it meant he would have to see her again. Definitely for the last time, he told himself, and ignored the stirring in his body at the thought.
Instead he rang his lawyer, and told him what he needed by morning.
‘Lucy! ‘ Elaine cried, and dashed into the small kitchen at the back of the gallery, where Lucy was standing with the teapot in her hand, about to pour out a couple of much needed cups of tea, after a very successful day’s trading, to enjoy while they closed up.
‘What’s the panic? A late influx of customers?’ Lucy queried.
‘No—just one. A man asking for you. I can see now why you were so upset over the Lorenzo guy. Scumbag he may be, but he is here—and what a hunk. I bet he is great in bed. Not that I’m suggesting you should make the same mistake again.’
Lucy paled, then blushed, then paled again, her stomach churning at the thought of seeing Lorenzo again.
‘Go,’ Elaine said, taking the teapot from her hand and pushing her towards the hall. ‘Get rid of him—and if you need help c
all me.’
She didn’t need help—not any more, not on any level. She was over him. But that didn’t stop the painful details of the last time they’d been together flashing through her mind. Why he was back she didn’t know—and didn’t want to know. He could not have made it plainer: he’d used her, paid her, and despised her simply for who she was.
Straightening her shoulders and flicking her hair back from her face, Lucy walked down the hall, determination in every step she took. She would not allow any man to use her and walk over her ever again.
Lorenzo appeared in the open doorway of the gallery and her heart lurched at the sight of him. She hesitated. He was casually dressed, in a white linen shirt open at the throat and washed denim jeans that hung low on his hips and clung to his muscular thighs like a second skin—designer, no doubt, she thought, and glanced up. Her green eyes clashed with deep brown, and it took every ounce of will-power she possessed to hold his gaze as her traitorous heart pounded like a drum in her chest.
‘Lucy.’ He said her name, and smiled the same slightly rueful but sensual smile that had seduced her before. But she was wiser now, and wasn’t fooled.
‘Mr Zanelli,’ she responded, walking forward. He was so confident she would fall into his arms—she could see it in his eyes, in the arrogant tilt of his head, and felt anger stir deep within her … along with a more basic emotion which she battled to ignore. ‘This is a surprise. I never expected to see you again. Come to buy a painting? ‘ she suggested facetiously.
‘No, I’ve come to see you. We need to talk.’
‘No, we don’t. I have no interest in anything you say.’
‘Not even if it means saving Steadman’s?’ Lorenzo prompted, sure that would tempt her. But he was sorely tempted himself, and the sudden tightening in his groin was a reminder of how much.
He had flown into Newquay Airport, barely an hour’s drive away, and he had every intention of returning to Italy tonight. The sooner the better. He hadn’t slept with a woman since Lucy, and the strain was getting to him.
Every time he saw her she was different—from bag lady to gowned elegance to young and sexy in a skimpy summer dress. Today she was an exotic vision in a plunging necked shimmering turquoise silk eastern thing, with a beaded band beneath her high firm breasts and a skirt that swirled around her feet. Some of her glorious hair was swept back in a clip on top of her head, and the rest fell in a silken mass down over her shoulders. In one ear she was wearing the most amazing huge silver spiderweb earring, with long white feathers attached that floated down against the curve of a breast. As for her mouth—her lips were painted a vibrant pink, and so full and sensually promising he ached to taste them and a whole lot more. Never, even as a teenager with rampant hormones, had he ever felt such a need to kiss a woman.
‘No, thank you.’ Lucy said bluntly.
Dragging his gaze from her lips, Lorenzo saw the anger in her eyes and realised what she had said. ‘A polite refusal, but not a very sensible one—or businesslike,’ he prompted, and moved closer. He could see the pulse beating in her slender neck. She was not as cool as she would have him believe.
‘You once told me I should stay out of business and you were right. The way you do business is despicable and the cost far too high for any self-respecting person. Now, I must ask you to leave—we are about to close.’ Lucy walked to the front door and flipping the sign to ‘Closed', held the door open. ‘This is the way out.’
She glanced back at Lorenzo. He stood where she had left him, his dark eyes narrowed angrily on her face, then in two lithe strides he was beside her. His hand reached out to circle her throat and he tipped her head back. Shocked, she grasped his wrist with her free hand to pull his hand away.
‘You didn’t find me despicable when you were naked beneath me on the bed, moaning my name.’ He brushed his lips lightly against hers and laid his other hand over her breast. To her shame, her lips stung and her nipple tightened beneath his palm. ‘And it wouldn’t take me five minutes to get you that way again, Lucy,’ he taunted her softly.
Lorenzo was so damned arrogant—and yet possessed of a vibrant sexuality that could heat up a room and every woman in it, Lucy thought helplessly. He was almost irresistible, but resist him she did, her pulse-rate rising with her anger at the insult. She dug her nails hard into his wrist and he let go of her throat. She let go of the door and did what she should have done weeks ago. Bringing her hand up, she struck him as hard as she could across the face, catching him unawares. Her hand cracked against his cheek and rocked him back on his heels. The heavy door caught his shoulder.
Lucy, chest heaving in outrage, stepped back into the hall and spun round to face him. ‘You have a mind like a sewer. Sex and money is all you think about! ‘ she yelled, her green eyes spitting with rage. ‘That is exactly what I would expect from you and you got exactly what you deserved.’
‘Hey, Lucy?’ Elaine called out as she appeared in the hall. ‘Is everything okay?’
Appalled by her loss of temper, Lucy stared at Lorenzo’s cheek, with the imprint of her fingers clearly visible, and then at Elaine. ‘Yes, it’s fine,’ she said, and took a deep steadying breath, forcing a smile to her lips. She did not want to involve Elaine. ‘Mr Zanelli and I had a discussion, that is all.’
‘We still are, Lucy,’ Lorenzo inserted, reining in the furious impulse to shake her till she rattled. What was it about this witch of a woman that made him lose his legendary control? He was here for one reason only, he reminded himself. He could fob his mother off for a while, but he was taking no chances—and he needed Lucy to agree to have nothing to do with his mother if she did call. Especially if she tried to commission a painting that would keep Lucy Steadman on the periphery of his life for heaven knew how long.
But holding her by the throat was no way to go about it.
