There was a long pause and Rico knew his cousin was as dumbstruck as he’d been just a couple of hours ago. Idly, he picked up a pen off the desktop and flipped it between his fingers.
“Are you kidding me?” Sean’s voice ratcheted up a notch or two before he stopped and talked to Melinda. “Rico’s wife showed up. Yeah, I’m finding out.” When he came back, he asked, “She just showed up at the hotel?”
“Not alone. She was with her father and brother—who were doing what they do best.”
“Oh, crap. They were pulling jobs on your guests?”
“Yeah. Serenity James lost a necklace and there were a few others hit, as well.” Just thinking about it infuriated Rico all over again. Of course he’d made sure the Corettis turned over the stolen property before they left the island, but the fact that thefts had occurred at all seriously pissed him off. “They returned the jewels before they left.”
“Before you tossed ’em off the island, you mean.”
“That’s about it.”
“And you didn’t alert the police because…”
“Because I made a deal with Teresa.”
“Oh, man, do I want to know what it is?”
Rico tossed the pen to the desktop and watched it roll off the far edge. Leaning back in his chair, he outlined his plan for revenge and waited for Sean’s reaction. It didn’t take long.
“So basically you took her prisoner?” A yelp from Melinda in the background caused Sean to say, “I know, Mel. I’m finding out.” Then he asked, “Okay, so where’s Teresa now?”
“In my bedroom.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Rico—”
“She’s still my wife, Sean.” He prepared for a battle. He’d talked to his cousin many times about the frustration he’d felt over the years. Now that his revenge was at hand, though, Rico almost felt…guilty about wielding it. So he’d called his cousin for some backup. Which, it appeared, he wasn’t going to get.
“She’s your wife but you haven’t seen her in five years.”
“You don’t have to remind me,” Rico said, flipping the pen between his fingers.
“So what’re you planning to do? Lock her up?” Sean asked. “Chain her to the bed?”
“I hadn’t considered it, but…” Now that erotic image seared itself on his brain as he considered it.
Fine. He was kidding. Probably. Although the thought of Teresa chained to his bed awakened a mental image that suddenly made him completely uncomfortable. Pushing out of his chair, Rico paced the perimeter of the room. Even the air of home seemed different now, with Teresa here. She was just up the stairs and it was taking everything he had to keep from storming up there. He knew she would see his hunger for her, but it would only mirror what she was feeling and push her closer to coming to him.
Sean sighed. “What’s the plan?”
“Just what I said.” Rico stopped at the wide front window overlooking the meticulously landscaped front yard. “She stays with me for one month. Then her family returns the dagger and I divorce her.”
“Uh-huh.” Sean blew out a breath. “Until that happens, what’re you gonna do with her?”
He knew what he wanted to do with her. His body was rock hard and just knowing Teresa was upstairs, in a room with a wide, comfortable bed, made even breathing difficult. But he had time. His wife would be here, with him, for a solid month and in that time he would find a way to finally and completely get Teresa out of his mind for good.
But for now, “We’re going to dinner at the hotel.”
Sean snorted. “Sure. When your missing wife reappears after five years of running from you, you want to put off revenge long enough to have a dinner date.”
“It’s not a date.” Even the word had Rico scowling.
“Then what is it?”
“It’s dinner.” Rico slapped one hand to the wall beside the window and glared out at his yard. “I’m not romancing her. I’m not courting her. We both have to eat and I don’t want her out of my sight. Don’t make more of this than there is, Sean.”
“Sure, sure. Not a date. Just revenge foreplay. Got it all planned out, huh?” There was a distinctive smile in Sean’s voice that irritated Rico beyond measure.
“Is there something wrong with a plan?”
“Nope,” Sean said. “Just be prepared, cousin.”
“For what?”
“For when your plan blows up in your face.”
* * *
Teresa’s stomach was in knots. Just being with Rico was tearing her up. And waiting for whatever was going to happen next was making her a little crazy. Who knew what he would do? She never would have expected to be held hostage and since he’d surprised her once, she had to wonder what else was ticking through his mind.
Oh, she had known the minute she slipped from their suite at the Castello de King five years ago that she had made him her enemy. It had broken her heart at the time, but over the last five years, she had tried to heal. Tried to forget the fact that she had run away from a man who had loved her. And though her inner wounds had healed over, the scar tissue was still tender. Being here with him now, Teresa knew that even more pain was headed her way. There was no chance to avoid it. When this month with him was over, that was it. All dreams would be dead. All hope gone.
So should she treat this month as the punishment Rico considered it—or should she embrace it and pack in as many memories as she could? Enough to last her a lifetime?
“If I turn this around,” she whispered into the quiet room, “and look at this month as a gift from the fates…” What? She wouldn’t be in pain later? She’d get the happy ending to her fairy tale?
“No,” she told herself, refusing to even begin to blow a bubble of hope that was doomed to burst. “But at least this time with him will be easier. For both of us.”
She almost laughed. Nothing about this was going to be easy, no matter how she colored it. The man she had loved so desperately wanted her—but only for the revenge she could provide. There was no happily ever after in her future. But she still had the choice to either accept this coming month as he’d described it—a punishment—or to look at it as one last thing she could share with Rico.
The door to the bedroom opened on a hush of sound and she turned to look at the man standing in the doorway. He took her breath away. In this palace of tropical pastel colors and varying shades of white, he stood apart. Dressed entirely in black—slacks, long-sleeved shirt, shoes—he looked…dangerous. And she knew he was. At least, to her own sensibility. His black hair was too long, curling around the collar of his shirt. His blue eyes shone against his tan. His mouth was a grim slash. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his slacks, leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb and fixed his gaze on her.