The Italian's Passionate Revenge

A month later she’d left Rome, had left the young man, had never seen either of them again.

‘And like all visitors you tossed a coin in and wished to return to Rome?’ Vincente said now. ‘It is now the time to make that wish come true. Come with me and see if it’s still the city of your memories.’

She shook her head. ‘Memories are never the same. You can’t go back.’

‘Are the memories so terrible that you’re afraid to confront them?’

‘Perhaps they are.’

‘Maybe the truth will be better than your fears?’

She shook her head. ‘That never happens,’ she said with soft violence. ‘Never!’

‘So you’ve discovered that, have you?’ he asked sombrely.

‘Doesn’t everyone, sooner or later?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I suppose you’re right.’

The heaviness in his voice made her look up quickly and for a moment she caught an unguarded expression in his eyes. It vanished at once, but it showed her something he was trying to keep hidden. Her interest grew.

‘Why are you here?’ she murmured.

‘I came to a funeral.’

‘But why? You’re here for a purpose.’

‘To pay my respects.’

‘I don’t believe you. I don’t think you “do” sweetness and light. You wouldn’t head that corporation if you did.’

‘Even in business some of us manage to behave like civilized human beings,’ Vincente observed with a slight edge to his voice.

‘But why?’ she asked, apparently wide-eyed with wonder. ‘There’s no money in it.’

‘There can be,’ he said incautiously and was startled by the glint of mischief in her eyes.

‘Now there’s an admission!’ she said with wicked delight.

‘No admission at all. We’ve already agreed that I don’t “do” sweetness and light; we should add-unless it suits me.’

‘One should always add that,’ she agreed solemnly.

‘You think you’ve got me sussed,’ he asked, amused.

‘You and all men. I go by a simple rule. Just think the worst. I’m never wrong.’

‘You might be wrong about me,’ he suggested.

Elise leaned back in her chair and considered him. The lights in the clubs were low, constantly changing from green to blue to red. By chance it was red that bathed him now, giving him the look of a handsome devil.

Elise shook her head. ‘No, I’m not wrong. What brought you here? Revenge?’

It was a word she ventured to choose and it made him eye her sharply.

‘What did you say?’

‘Revenge. Did Ben put one over on you in a deal? Was that why you wanted him in Rome?’

‘Him?’ Vincente gave a bark of harsh laughter. ‘He never put one over on anyone. The man was a fool. Didn’t you know that?’

‘I’m surprised you knew it since you hired him. What use could a fool be to you? This gets curiouser and curiouser.’

‘Not at all.’ He gave a sardonic grin. ‘For “fool” read “donkey”. I can always find a use for a donkey.’

‘There must be plenty of donkeys in Rome. Why Ben?’

The sound of music gave him an excuse not to answer. The musicians were in place, a young woman glided on to the stage and began to sing in a soft, throaty voice. Suddenly the floor was alive with gently swaying dancers.

‘Haven’t we talked enough?’ he asked.

Elise nodded and dismissed the argument, which didn’t really interest her anyway. She took the hand he held out to her, letting him lead her on to the floor. It would have been wiser to stay in her seat, but she was beyond wisdom. She wanted to dance with him because she wanted to be held by him, held against him. That was the plain truth. And tonight she was going to please herself for the first time in years.

She braced herself for the feel of his hand in the small of her back, but it was still a shock through the thin material. He drew her close so that she could feel his body, his legs moving powerfully against hers, and there was no protection against that.

Had she been crazy to agree to this? Four years ago she’d thrown Ben out of her bed, and even before that her body had slept. She’d thought it was the sleep of the dead, forgetting that the dead could awaken. Now every part of her was becoming alive and the pleasure was almost painful.

She resisted it, knowing that this was one man she had to confront on equal terms. But she also sensed that she had the power to catch him off guard, which could be the best way to face him down.

The singer was crooning smoochy words of passion and pleasure.

‘Remembering-all the things we’ve done together-wanting you-wanting everything-’

She felt his arm tighten, silently insisting that she look up, and when she did so she found his mouth so dangerously close that for a moment they were exchanging breath. The hot whisper across her lips strained her control so that she almost reached up and kissed him.

In the event, he made the first move. Or did he? His lips brushed hers so lightly that she couldn’t be sure what was dream and what was reality.

Wanting everything. It was almost indecent to want everything with this stranger, but it was happening, despite her denials. His mouth was on hers, pressing lightly, then more urgently. She closed her eyes, yielding to the pure sensation, wanting more and more of it, shutting out the world.

His hand moved slowly-upwards to caress the bare skin of her back, sideways to feel the flare of her hips, lower to enjoy the soft swell of her behind moving in the dance.

For too long she’d lived like a nun, knowing there was no place in her life for desire. But now it came dancing out of the darkness, dazzling and overwhelming her with the lure of the strange and almost unknown. Inside, she was aching to be returned to life after the long sleep that had been more like a coma.

Why now? she wondered. With him?

Because he was made for seduction, her senses replied. His body was designed for sex-long, lean, hard, pared down, subtly powerful. With every touch it whispered what it could do for her, what they could do together. His movements blended with hers so that they seemed to be making love right there on the dance floor.

‘What are you doing?’ she whispered.

‘Surely you mean what are we doing?’ Vincente murmured almost against her lips. ‘There’s no mystery about it.’

‘But-no-we ought to stop this now.’

‘Are you sure that’s what you want?’ He spoke softly and his warm breath whispered against her face.

‘Yes…yes, it’s…what I want.’

She was lying and they both knew it. She didn’t want him to stop. She wanted him.

Elise didn’t even like Vincente Farnese particularly. What little she knew of his mind stimulated her and they had formed an alliance of convenience, but she’d also sensed a watchfulness in him, a carefully preserved distance that precluded any warmth. There was no tenderness, no meeting of the emotions.

Despite this, or perhaps because of it, she felt a desire that was liberated from all feelings-raw, basic, uncomplicated. She ached to be in his arms, in his bed. She wanted to undress before his hungry gaze, making a delicious performance of it. But she also wanted him to remove her clothes slowly-so slowly-heightening her excitement with every leisurely movement.

She longed to join her nakedness to his, feeling his fingers explore her gently, then urgently, with passionate desire ever mounting until at last his control was destroyed and he claimed her with fierce abandon.

Yes, she thought with sudden understanding, that was what she wanted most: to see this man, so sure of himself and his powers of command, lose all control because of her. That would be satisfying as nothing else would be.

Everything was there in her head, tingling along her nerves, the anticipation of what he would do and what she would do. She tried to shut off the thought, fearful lest he sense it. But, of course, he’d already sensed it. That was