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But he didn’t look shocked, she realised as his gaze bored into hers. In fact, he was displaying none of the reactions she had prepared herself for—shock, disbelief, confusion or, worse, hurt. Temper flashed once more in his eyes, and then his gaze raked over her. And all she saw was disgust.
‘So that’s his name. Leonardo De Rossi. Thanks,’ he said, contempt dripping from every syllable. ‘I’ve always wondered who my mother screwed.’
Eva drew in a shaky breath. Not sure she’d heard him right. But how could she mistake the bitterness in his tone, or the look of derision now levelled at her?
‘And you’re on some kind of commission,’ he asked, but it didn’t sound like a question, ‘to locate me, right?’
She shook her head. ‘I receive a salary, but the company does get a commission from our client, once he’s satisfied that you’re the baby mentioned in his son’s journal. Leonardo wrote a…’
He flipped up a palm and she stopped in mid-sentence, the explanation dying on her lips. ‘Spar
e me the details. I’m not interested in the duca, or his son.’ He folded his arms over his chest, propped his butt against the countertop. ‘But I am interested in you.’ He flicked his gaze back over her figure. ‘You’re quite the little operator, aren’t you? I’ve got to admit, the virginity was a nice touch. It threw me off for a while.’ He huffed out a contemptuous laugh. ‘What were you doing? Saving it up for the perfect mark?’
The lump of emotion swelled in her throat as the heat soared into her cheeks. He couldn’t mean what she thought he meant? That wasn’t possible. This wasn’t the man who had held her last night, whose arms she had slept in. Who had treated her with a care and consideration she knew now she probably hadn’t deserved. She opened her mouth, to explain. Then closed it again. He was looking at her as if she were scum. Worse than scum.
‘I don’t…’ She pushed the words out, nerves and guilt and horror writhing in her stomach like venomous snakes. ‘I don’t know what you’re trying to imply.’
‘Really?’ He laughed again, the harsh sound echoing against the room’s hard surfaces. He strolled easily round the counter. She stepped back as he approached, rubbed her hands over her upper arms, the heat of his temper searing her skin.
‘You can stop the innocent act now. I’m wise to it.’
‘I don’t understand.’
He cupped her cheek, his rough palm cool against her burning skin. ‘Damn, but you’re good.’
‘I’m not…’ The denial caught in her throat. ‘Whatever you’re thinking, it isn’t true.’
He wrapped his arm round her waist, jerked her against him. ‘You know what’s ironic?’ he murmured as his scent filled her senses, the outline of his arousal shocking her almost as much as the melting response at her core.
She pressed her palms against his chest, tried to push away from him, but he only tugged her closer, buried his head against her neck.
‘You played your ace for nothing,’ he whispered against her ear, his lips brushing the pulse point hammering her throat.
She braced her arms, horrified by the sizzle of response shimmering down to her core, the moisture flooding from her thighs. The man thought she was some kind of con artist. How could she still be so susceptible to him?
He nipped at her ear lobe. ‘What a shame you didn’t do a better job with your research. If you had you’d know I’m not the noble type.’ His hand cupped her breast. And she gasped, the nipple puckering through the velvet as he rubbed his thumb across the tip. He chuckled, the sound hollow and smug. ‘You were saving it up for nothing, sweetheart. But let’s not let it go to waste. Right?’
‘Please don’t do this.’ The tears stinging her eyes only added to her humiliation. She bit into her lip, desperate to get out, to get away, before he saw her cry.
He lifted his head at the blare of a car horn from outside. ‘Well, what do you know? Saved by your cab bell.’
He let her go, and she scrambled back.
‘Go on, get lost,’ he said, the mocking twist of his lips brutal in its contempt. He swept a hand towards her stuff. ‘And take your research with you.’
She lifted her bag from the counter, shoved the contents back into it, her hands shaking but her back ramrod straight. The tears scoured her throat as she gulped them back.
You have to hold it together, long enough to get out of here.
She slung the bag over her shoulder, made herself face him. ‘I’m sorry. I thought you knew who I was. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,’ she said, politeness the only shield she had.
‘Then I guess we’re both sorry. Aren’t we?’ he said, his voice as flat and expressionless as his eyes.
Somehow even his anger was better than his contempt. She rushed through the terrace doors. Her bare feet slapped against the wooden decking as she fled, not just from him, but from her own stupidity and inadequacy.
She clenched her teeth, pressed the heel of her palm against her breastbone as the cab whisked away from the kerb. The pain and confusion felt fresh and raw and jagged as the romance of her one wild night shattered inside her like the fragile illusion it was.
How could she ever have believed, even for one night, that she could be anything other than what she was? A cowardly academic who’d spent her whole life day-dreaming about being reckless and adventurous and then doing exactly what she was told.
