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‘Isn’t that your modus operandi?’ he continued in a low silky tone. ‘Using members of my staff to lay your hands on property that’s not yours? Who gave you my grandmother’s itinerary? Or mine, for that matter? It’s not my driver or my pilot. They’ve both been with me for years. I trust them both implicitly.’
Pain stung through her body. After what he’d put her through, she’d never dreamed she’d see Rocco again. Yet here he was, tall, dark, lethal, in her home, spouting the same accusations, intent on exacting more retribution.
Three years ago, she’d foolishly believed nothing could be worse than having all your wishes granted, only to have them snatched away in the cruellest way possible.
But nothing had compared with what he’d done after he’d ordered her out of his life. When he’d discovered she was daring to contact him, daring to make him change his mind about her, to hear her out. Then, the real retribution had been exacted. Then, she’d experienced the full might of Rocco Vitelli.
‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’ The words slipped past lips frozen with renewed pain at how this gorgeous, heartless man had caused her life to implode.
A grim smile curved his lips. ‘Still wasting your breath on lies? Why am I surprised? After all, a leopard doesn’t change its spots, does it, cara? Or are you more of a snake? Either way, a word of advice: next time you try to entice a man, dress appropriately for the occasion. Baggy jeans and a threadbare top aren’t a turn-on.’
Hot, sharp anger shot through her. ‘How dare you—’
‘Save your protests and tell me why I’m really here.’
Tears prickled her eyes and she blinked furiously. ‘No, I will not save them. I told you then and I’m telling you now, I never stole from you!’
His lips curled. ‘Then explain to me how the blueprints, locked in my safe on an encrypted flash drive, ended up in your possession? Or how the same firm who’d bid against Vitelli Construction ended up with copies of it right after your meeting with them?’
She angled her chin. ‘I told you before, I’ve no idea.’
‘And like I told you then, you are a liar.’ Heavy scorn laced his words.
She’d imagined herself immune against this intense, searing ache. She was wrong. Renewed pain clenched her heart, squeezed until her breath cracked in her lungs. But damn it, she’d suffered enough. He’d humiliated her, dragged her name and reputation through court, and, worst of all, denied his unborn child. And now he’d turned up for what reason? To rub even more of his twisted brand of justice in her face?
Anger welled higher. ‘I don’t care what you think. What I want is for you to leave my house.’ Thankfully, her voice emerged cold, steady. ‘Now.’
Before Gianni woke up. Rocco might not care about his child, but Mia intended to keep the brutal truth of what his father had done to them from her son.
She shot a glance towards the stairs and prayed Gianni hadn’t heard the raised voices. Sensing Rocco’s incisive gaze on her, she quickly averted her eyes.
‘Are you saying you didn’t arrange this meeting?’ Only his lips moved. The rest of him remained carved in stone.
The question was so ludicrous she would’ve laughed, had anxiety and the deep shame of unwanted, erotic heat not continued to surge like a rising tide inside her.
‘I most certainly did not. If this is some sort of game, I don’t appreciate it.’ And if she received another intimidating letter from his lawyers, she’d fight it. There had to be grounds against this sort of behaviour. A claim for harassment at the very least.
His gaze narrowed. ‘Game? You think I would choose to be anywhere near you?’
The stark disbelief in his tone grated. Loath to let him see the devastation his words caused, she whirled and headed for the farthest seat, which in the small space was only a handful of steps away.
She longed to sink into the armchair that’d been her grandmother’s favourite seat, seek comfort from its familiar smell, but that would show weakness.
Instead, she sought refuge behind the chair, her hands gripping the headrest. She was glad for its sturdiness when her eyes settled more firmly on him.
Raw, devastating masculinity. Three years had only added to the gravity of power that surrounded him like an invisible cloak, made all the more distinguished by the faintest sprinkle of grey in his otherwise jet-black hair. His handmade Italian designer suit sat on broad shoulders in perfect symmetry to his well-honed physique.
From stinging, unbidden memory, she knew his six-foot-four frame carried not an ounce of spare flesh. Its sleek, toned muscle, hard planes and smooth contours had once held her fascination for embarrassingly long periods of time.
But it was his face—the arrogant jut of nose, chiselled cheekbones and square jaw sporting a day’s stubble—that repeatedly took her breath away. Deep-set blue eyes the colour of a stormy summer night could capture a rapt audience, burn with ferocious passion or freeze with heart-stopping cruelty.
Her gaze dropped to the curved sensuality of his lips and an electrifying sizzle ignited deep in her belly. Dear Lord, what those lips had done to her!
Lifting her gaze, she found him studying her as intensely as she studied him. She needed to get rid of him. Now!
‘What you choose to do isn’t my concern, Rocco. What I care about is that you’re in my house, without my permission.’
Her grip tightened on the chair when his head cocked slightly. Laser-sharp eyes bored into her and, even from the across the room, their white-hot heat consumed her.
