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Dio, her audacity astounded him!
He watched her unease mount and almost felt sorry for her. She’d made a gross error of judgement; a far greater error than her betrayal three years ago.
By tricking him into coming here, wasting his time when he should be searching for the child in the photograph, she’d just reignited the fire of retribution he’d banked down all this time.
He inhaled an anticipatory breath, absently noting he was no longer as disgruntled by the weather as he’d been minutes ago.
‘So, Mia, are you going to invite me in?’
In the tiny region of her mind not frozen in disbelief, Mia absorbed the deep smoothness of Rocco Vitelli’s voice, the way its low timbre slid over her senses like warm, sun-kissed honey. But her shock soon dissipated, forcefully wrenched aside by a different set of terrifying emotions.
‘You can’t be here!’
Throwing her weight behind the door, she fought to slam it shut. It barely moved a few inches before one strong hand held it open, ridiculing her efforts.
‘What’s the meaning of this?’
His voice, alternately heard in her dreams and nightmares, but always with that smoky, gravelly Italian inflection, caused tiny explosions along her nerve endings.
‘I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you’re not getting me into trouble by turning up on my doorstep.’
‘Getting you into trouble? Shouldn’t that be, “Ciao, Rocco. How have you been?” After all, you orchestrated this meeting.’ With lithe grace, he entered, forcing her to abandon the door or risk collision with his hard, lean body.
Her heart hammered as she watched his tall, dark form fill her living room, her sanctuary.
Dear heaven, Rocco was here, in her home.
Tension gripped her throat, but she forced herself to speak. ‘I’ve no idea what you mean. But I want you to get out, Rocco. Mrs Hart, my neighbour, will testify that you turned up on my doorstep unannounced.’ Through her window, she spotted his silver limo already attracting attention. Good. If, by some stroke of bad luck, Mrs Hart had vacated her normal window-seat vigil, she’d have other witnesses.
Twin brows the shade of raven’s wings shot up. ‘Testify? In trouble with the law again, cara? What on earth have you got yourself into this time?’ He advanced as he spoke, intense dark blue eyes holding her prisoner until he stood close, way too close.
She stood her ground, refusing to retreat. ‘What have I got myself into? Is that some sort of joke?’
He moved closer, the gleam in his eyes spiking her nervousness
.
‘You must be desperate if you’re relying on neighbours to bail you out of whatever predicament you’re in.’ He paused a beat, eyes narrowed. ‘Or is that why I’m here?’
His deeply masculine scent hit her nostrils, triggering memories she’d hoped never to recall. ‘What do you mean, is that why you’re here? This is my house. You’ve turned up unannounced. I want you to leave. Right now.’
He froze, as if captured in the frame of a lens.
No matter how many times she saw it happen, Rocco’s ability to remain completely motionless fascinated her. She stared, much the same way she’d stood behind her son’s door, staring, fascinated, less than ten minutes ago—
Gianni.
She closed her eyes. Breathe, just breathe.
This is just a nightmare. It’ll be over in a few minutes.
‘I detest games, cara.’ Dark menace tinged his voice. ‘You’ve lured me here, the least you can do is tell me why.’
Her eyes snapped open. ‘Lured you here? Are you mad?’
His face darkened. ‘On the contrary, my mind has never been clearer. Which member of my staff did you bribe this time to pull this stunt?’
She gasped. ‘I beg your pardon?’
