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So, he didn’t really know the situation I was facing, the why or the how of it. Yes, it was clear that he knew something was wrong. With his finely tuned instincts, that wasn’t surprising. But he didn’t know what it was. He had no idea of the forces working against him. In some ways, he was as innocent as a lamb.
“We cannot meet like this again.”
“Not like this,” he said, his dark eyes moving over my face like he was trying to memorize me. “But we will meet.”
“Vince . . .” I said, more than a hint of exasperation in my voice. He was giving too much away. He wanted me, I realized. It was written all over his face. “You know I am not your friend.”
“You’re not?” he said, a hint of a smile dancing around his mouth. But his eyes were smiling. His beautiful dark eyes were so expressive, if you knew how to look. Serious and solemn one moment, and the next, crinkling in an absurdly handsome way. “Are you sure about that?”
I sighed in exasperation, which only made him smile wider. And then he stepped closer. Too close. The fit of his Italian wool overcoat emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, the supple fabric moving over his muscles with fluid ease. Everything about him screamed expensive. Noble. Classic. Princely.
But he wasn’t a prince anymore. He had been, when I knew him before. Now he was a king, ruling over his own dominion. And I was a queen.
We were on opposite sides of a breech that could never be overcome. There was no bridge. No white dove. No chance of redemption. He might not like it, but we were at war. A secret war that would be over before he even began to understand it.
“Francesca,” he breathed, his hands reaching for me. I knew my men would be here in an instant, so I held a hand out to the side, signaling to them that they should stop. Then I turned my finger in a circle, telling them to turn their backs. Vincent’s smile widened as he did the same.
But I wanted him to continue. I wanted his touch. I wanted his kiss.
“This is a dangerous game,” I breathed as his smiled faded and his eyes dropped to my lips.
“Dangerous, yes,” he answered, his body moving in even closer as his head started to dip toward mine. His lips were inches away. “But this is no game.”
I had an answer for that. I did. A clever rejoinder that would made him laugh or frown. Maybe both. But I forgot the words as his lips met mine, softly at first, but firmly, with purpose.
Oh, yes, Vincent knew exactly what he was doing.
I gasped for air as he angled his mouth over mine, molding our lips and bodies together then urging my lips apart so he could plunge his tongue inside and explore me, tasting, touching and stroking me in a shockingly intimate way. I whimpered. It was a weak, feminine sound that I hated. He grunted in answer, sounding frustrated and satisfied, all at once.
His hands wandered as he moved his mouth to my ear.
“I have to get you alone, Francesca. Come with me. Now. I’ll be good to you. I will make it worth your while. I promise.”
“I can’t.” I sighed, my head falling back in momentary surrender as he kissed my neck and gently bit my earlobe. “I can’t.”
“Let’s settle this the old-fashioned way. I don’t even care if I win. I just want you. You’re an amazing woman. Let me worship you.”
I closed my eyes as his words crashed over me, washing away the lust with a wave of regret. He didn’t understand. And if I succeeded, if I won, he never would.
The knowledge washed over me like an icy cold wave on a winter beach.
I stepped back, my eyes chilled and hard. I was lying with every bit of control I had. I wanted to melt into him, go with him, let him make love to me in the back of his limousine, a hotel, anywhere. At that moment, I was tempted to let him take me then and there, against a tree or on a park bench.
At that moment, I wanted him to lay me down on the grass and take me, again and again, not caring who could see, who would know.
It was shameful. Foolish. Insane.
He stood there, hard and eager for me, his eyes blazing with lust. A lust that I mirrored, that every fiber of my being felt in return. For a second, I was lost in those dark, dangerous eyes of his.
So I did the only thing I could do.
I slapped him.
He stared at me in shock, but only for a moment. Then his eyes changed. The heat turned to ice. The smile that came a second later wasn’t teasing or seductive.
