Harlequin Presents January 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Sheikh's Desert Duty\Nine Months to Redeem Him\Fonseca's Fury\The Russian's Ultimatum (48 page)

She hadn't been the only woman ogling his spectacular form. By the time he'd finished, a gaggle of women and girls had been giggling and blushing. But a trickle of foreboding had skated over her skin... That had been the moment when he'd caught her eye and she'd seen something indecipherable cross his face. By the time he'd caught up with her again there had been something different about him. He'd shut down.

He'd brought her back here, to this apartment, and even though he'd stayed the night and made love to her, something had been off. When she'd woken he'd been gone, and she hadn't seen him again until late that evening, when he'd arrived and, with an almost feral look on his face, had kissed her so passionately that all tendrils of concern had fled, to be replaced with heat, distracting her from the fact that he clearly hadn't been interested in anything else.

The truth was that every moment she spent with Luca was ripping her apart internally. Especially when he looked at her as if she were some kind of unexploded device, yet kissed her as if his life depended on it. Clearly he was conflicted about her. He'd admitted that it was hard for him to come to terms with the fact that she wasn't what he'd believed her to be. And Serena had the gut-wrenching feeling that Luca would have almost preferred it if she
had
been the debauched, spoilt princess he'd expected.

She had to face the fact that her confession, while liberating for her, had not proved to be so cataclysmic for Luca.

And of
course
it wouldn't have been, Serena chided herself. For Luca this was just...an affair. A slaking of desire. The fact that it had brought about her own personal epiphany was all Serena would have to comfort her when it was over, and that would have to be enough.

* * *

When Luca walked into the apartment it was after midnight. He felt guilty. He knew Serena had been making dinner because she'd told him earlier, when he'd seen her on a visit to the charity offices. It was a visit that had had his employees looking at him in surprise, because he usually conducted meetings in his own office and had little cause to visit them.

The apartment was silent, but he could smell the faint scent of something delicious in the air. When he went into the kitchen it was pristine, but he opened the fridge and saw the earthenware bowl containing dinner. The thought that perhaps she hadn't eaten because he hadn't been there made him feel guiltier. He hadn't even known that Serena could cook until she'd told him she'd taken lessons in Athens.

And he hadn't known how deeply enmeshed he was becoming with her until he'd looked at her in the
favela
and the enormity of it all had hit him. It had taken seeing her against that dusty backdrop—Serena DePiero, ex-socialite and wild child, looking as comfortable in the incongruous surroundings as if she'd been born into them like a native. In spite of the white-blonde beauty that had set her apart. He'd certainly been aware of the men looking at her, and the same black emotion that had gripped him at the beach had caught him again.

Jealousy
. For the first time.

It was in that moment that a very belated sense of exposure had come over him and made him pull back from a dangerous brink. Luca knew better than anyone how fickle people were—how you couldn't trust that they wouldn't just pull your world out from under your feet within seconds.

His own parents had done it to him and his brother—setting them on different paths of fate almost as idly as if they were Greek gods, playing with hapless mortals. For years he'd had nightmares about his parents pulling them limb from limb, until their body parts were so mixed up that they didn't even know who was who any more.

Serena was getting too close—under his skin. Everything kept coming back to how badly he'd misjudged her—and never more so than now. He'd just had a conversation with his brother, who was in Rio on business.

And yet as he stood in the doorway of her bedroom now and saw the shape of her under the covers, the bright splash of white-blonde hair, he was taking off his clothes before he even realised what he was doing, sliding in behind her, wrapping himself around her and trying desperately to ignore the way his soul felt inexplicably soothed.

Even as she woke and turned towards him, her seeking sleepy mouth finding his, Luca was steeling himself inside—because this would all be over as soon as she knew what his brother had just told him. Because then everything that had bound them from the past would be gone.

But just...not yet.

* * *

When Serena woke in the dawn light, the bed was empty. But the hum in her body and the pleasurable ache between her legs told her she hadn't dreamt that Luca had come into her bed last night. Or dreamt the mindless passion he'd driven her to, taking her over the edge again and again, until she'd been spent, exhausted, begging for mercy.

It was as if Luca had been driven by something desperate.

She blinked, slowly coming awake. And even though her body was sated and lethargic from passion, her heart was heavy. She loved Luca, and she knew with cold certainty that he didn't love her. But he wanted her.

His love was his commitment to the environment, to making the world a better place in whatever small way he could, born from his zeal not to be like his predecessors—a zeal she could empathise with.

And Serena knew that she wouldn't be able to continue falling deeper and deeper without recognising that the heartbreak would be so much worse when she walked away.

It was only when she sighed deeply and moved her head that she felt something, and looked to see a note on the pillow beside her.

She reached for the thick paper and opened it to read:

Please meet me in my office when you wake. L.

A definite shiver of foreboding tightened Serena's skin. No wonder there had been something desperate in Luca's lovemaking last night. This was it. He was going to tell her it was over. The signs had been there for the last few days, since the
favela
.

Anger lanced her. To think that he would just send her away so summarily after sating his desire, which was obviously on the wane, and after she'd enjoyed working in the charity office so much. But, as much as she'd come to love Rio de Janeiro, she didn't relish the thought of being in such close proximity to him in the future—seeing him get on with his life, take another lover.

She wasn't going to let him discard her completely, though; no matter what had happened between them personally he owed her a job. In any event, she knew now that she had to go home. So, while Luca might be preparing to let her go, Serena told herself stoutly that she was ready.

It was only when she noticed her hands trembling in the shower that she had to admit her anger was stemming from a place of deep fear that she was about to feel pain such as she'd never felt before—not even when she'd been at her lowest ebb, trapped by her addictions. Before, she'd anaesthetised herself against the pain. Now she would have nothing to cling on to, and she wasn't sure how ready she was to cope with that.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

W
HEN
S
ERENA
KNOCKED
on Luca's office door about an hour later she felt composed, dressed in plain trousers and a silk shirt. Hair tied back. It had been a mere two weeks since she'd come here for the first time, but she was a different person.

Damn him
.

His assistant opened the door and ushered her in, and it took a second after the girl had left for Serena to realise that there was another man in the room. He was standing on the other side of Luca's desk, and Luca stood up now from his high-backed chair.

‘Serena—come in.'

Her heart lurched. So formal. For a crazy moment Serena wondered if the other man was a solicitor, so that Luca could get out of the contract?

When she came closer, though, she saw a resemblance between the two men, even though this man had tawny eyes and dark blond messy hair. They were almost identical in size and build. The stranger was as arrestingly gorgeous as Luca, but in a more traditional way—in spite of the scar she could see running from his temple to his jaw. He oozed danger, even though he looked as if he might have stepped from the pages of Italian
Vogue
in an immaculate dark suit.

She sensed a subtle tension in the air, and had just realised herself who he was when Luca said, ‘This is my brother—Max Fonseca Roselli.'

She came forward and took the hand offered to her, suffering none of the physical reaction Luca caused within her with only a look. Even so, she saw the unmistakably appreciative gleam in his unusual golden-green eyes and could well imagine that he must leave a trail of bleeding hearts wherever he went. He had that same indomitable arrogance that Luca wore so well.

‘Nice to meet you.'

His hand squeezed hers. ‘You too.'

Serena pulled away, getting hot, sensing Luca's intense focus on them and Max's desire to needle his brother. When she looked at Luca, though, he gave nothing away and she cursed herself. Of
course
he wouldn't be proprietorial or jealous.

Luca indicated for them to sit down and said heavily, ‘Max has some news for you...and me. I thought I owed it to you to let him tell you face to face.'

Now Serena was nervous, and she looked from him to Max and back. ‘What is it?'

Luca explained. ‘I asked Max to look into what happened at the club that night—to do some digging.'

Before she could properly assimilate that information, Max drawled in a deep voice, ‘My brother knows I have some...less than legitimate connections.'

Serena looked at him and her heart went out to both of them for what they'd been through as children. The way their parents had all but rolled the dice to decide their fate.

Huskily she admitted, ‘I... Luca told me what happened.'

Max's eyes flared and he shot his brother a scowl.

Luca said warningly, ‘This isn't about
us
.'

For a second Serena could have laughed. They might not be identical, but right then she could see how similar they were—and they probably didn't even know it themselves.

Max looked back to her. ‘I did some digging and discovered who did plant the drugs on Luca that night. He was a small-time dealer and in the crush he spotted you together. He knew that if he could plant the drugs on you or Luca no one would ever dispute that you had been involved.'

Shame lanced Serena to be reminded that everyone knew of her exploits and how tarnished her reputation was, even as her heart beat fast and she wondered why Luca had asked his brother to do this.

Max continued. ‘He's actually in jail at the moment on another charge, and he's been bragging to anyone who will listen about how he set you and Luca up—it would appear that he couldn't bear to keep such a coup to himself. He's been charged with the offence and hasn't a leg to stand on because he's confessed to so many witnesses.'

For a moment the relief was so enormous that Serena felt dizzy, even though she was sitting down. She looked at Luca, whose face was stern. ‘You can clear your name.'

He nodded, but he didn't look happy about it. He looked grim.

Max stood up, rising with athletic grace. ‘My flight leaves in a couple of hours. I have to go.'

Serena stood up too. ‘Thank you so much. This means...a lot.'

Max inclined his head before sending an enigmatic look to his brother. ‘I'll be in touch.'

Luca nodded. They didn't embrace or shake hands before Max left, striding out with that same confident grace as his brother.

When he was gone, Serena sank down onto the chair, her head in a spin. She looked at Luca, barely taking in that he looked a little pale, his face all lean lines. ‘How...? Why did you ask him to do this?'

He sighed heavily. ‘Because I owed it to you to find out the truth. After all, you've been nothing but honest with me. The fact is that I think I suspected you were innocent in the jungle. This just proves that you were as much a victim as I was. You deserve to have your life back, Serena. And you deserve to have the slate cleared too. My lawyers and my PR team will make sure this is in all the papers.'

Serena felt an almost overwhelming surge of emotion to think that Luca was going out of his way to clear her name too. Perhaps now people wouldn't always associate her with feckless debauchery.

Treacherously, this made her hope for too much, even when
The End
was written into every tense line of Luca's body. Clearly he just wanted to move on now.

It made her want to push him away again, for making her feel too much. For making her fall in love.
Damn him
.

‘And if Max hadn't found the culprit so easily? Would you have believed me anyway?'

Luca stood up and paced behind his desk, his white shirt pulled across his chest, trousers hugging slim hips. Just like that, heat flared in Serena's solar plexus.

He stopped and looked at her. ‘Yes.'

Serena cursed herself for pushing him. She hated herself for the doubt, for thinking that he was lying. And then she had to concede that Luca
didn't
lie. He was too moral. Too damn good.

She stood up again, her legs wobbly. ‘Well, thank you for finding out.'

Luca looked at her for a long moment, and then he said, ‘Serena—'

She put up her hand, because she couldn't bear for him to say it. ‘Wait. I have something I need to tell you first.'

His mouth closed and he folded his arms across his chest. Serena knew she couldn't be anything else other than completely honest. She had been through too much soul-searching to ever want to hide away from pain again. She might never see him again. The urge to tell him how she felt was rising like an unstoppable wave.

‘I've fallen in love with you, Luca.'

He looked at her, and as she watched, the colour leached from his face. She broke apart inside, but was determined not to show it.

‘I know it's the last thing you want to hear. We were only ever about...' she stalled ‘...not
that
...and I know it's over.'

She gestured with a hand to where Max had been sitting.

‘After this...we owe each other nothing. And I'm sorry again that your association with me made things bad for you.'

Luca unfolded his arms and slashed a hand in the air, looking angry. ‘You don't have to apologise—if I hadn't been so caught up in blaming you, I would have ensured a proper investigation was carried out years ago. You had to suffer the stigma of those accusations too.'

Serena smiled bitterly. ‘I was used to it, though. I had no reputation to defend.'

‘No—your father took care of that.'

Responsibility weighed heavily on her shoulders. ‘I have to go home... I have to tell people about my father—see that he's brought to justice finally.'

‘If there's anything you need help with, please let me know.'

Her heart twisted. So polite. So courteous. A million miles from their first meeting in this office. And even though she knew her own family would be there to back her up, she felt an awful quiver of vulnerability—because, really, the only person she wanted by her side the day she faced her father again was Luca.

But that scenario was not to be part of her future.

She hitched up her chin and tried to block out the fact that she'd told Luca she loved him and had received no similar declaration in return. That fantasy belonged deep where she harboured dreams of the kind of fulfilment and happiness she saw her sister experiencing with her family. But at least she could take one good thing with her.

‘Are you still going to give me a job?'

‘Of course—wherever you want,' Luca said quickly, making another piece of Serena's heart shatter. He was obviously
that
eager to see her go.

‘I'd like to go back to Athens today.'

Luca said tightly, ‘Laura will arrange it for you.'

‘Thank you.'

So clipped, so polite.

Before anger could rise at Luca's non-reaction to her baring her soul to him, she turned to leave.

She was at the door before she heard a broken-sounding, ‘Serena...'

Heart thumping, hope spiralling, Serena turned around. Luca looked tortured.

But he said only two words. ‘I'm sorry.'

Her heart sank like a stone. She knew he didn't love her, but she marvelled that the human spirit was such an irrepressibly optimistic thing even in the face of certain disappointment.

She forced a smile. ‘Don't be. You've given me the gift of discovering how strong I am.'

* * *

You've given me the gift of discovering how strong I am.

Luca was stuck in a state of paralysis for so long after Serena left that he had to blink and focus to realise that Laura was in his office and speaking to him, looking worried.

‘Senhor Fonseca? Are you all right?'

And as if he'd been holding something at bay, it ripped through him then, stunning and painful in its intensity, like warmth seeping into frozen limbs. Burning.

‘No,' he issued curtly, going over to his drinks cabinet and helping himself to a shot of whisky.

When he turned around, Laura's eyes were huge and she was pale. And Luca knew he was coming apart at the seams.

He forced himself not to snarl at the girl, but the pain inside him was almost crippling. ‘What is it?'

Laura stuttered, making him feel even worse. ‘It's—it's Miss DePiero. I just thought you'd want to know she's on her way to the airport. She's booked first class on a flight to Athens this afternoon.'

‘Thank you,' Luca bit out. ‘I'm going to be unavailable for the rest of the day. Please cancel all my appointments. Go home early if you want.'

Laura blinked and said faintly, ‘Yes, sir.' And then backed away as if he might explode.

He waited until Laura had left and then left himself, knowing nothing more than that he needed to get out—get away. Because he felt like a wounded animal that might lash out and cause serious harm.

He was aware of one or two people approaching him as he walked out of the building, but they quickly diverted when they saw his face. He walked and walked without even knowing where he was going until he realised he was at Ipanema Beach. Where he'd taken Serena just a few days ago.

The scene was the same, even during the week. The beautiful bodies. The amorous couples. The crashing waves. But it mocked him now, for feeling so carefree that day. For believing for a moment that he could be like those people. That he could
feel
like them.

Anger rose up as he ripped off his tie and jacket, dropping them on a bench and sitting down. That was the problem. He knew he couldn't feel. The ability had been cut out of him the day he and his brother had been torn apart.

As young boys they'd been close enough to have a special language that only they understood. It had used to drive their father crazy. And Luca could remember that they'd sensed something was happening that day when their parents had brought them into their father's study.

Luca's mother had bent down to his level and said, with the scent of alcohol on her breath, ‘Luca, darling, I love you so much I want to take you to Italy with me. Will you come?'

He'd looked at Max, standing near his father. Luca had known that Max loved their mother—he had too—but he didn't like it when she came home drunk and falling down. He and Max would fight about it—Max hating it if Luca said anything critical, which he was more liable to do.

He'd looked back at his mother, confused. ‘But what about Max? Don't you love him too?'

She'd been impatient. ‘Of course I do. But Max will stay here with your father.'

Panic had clutched at his insides, making him feel for a moment as if his bowels might drop out of his body. ‘For ever?'

She'd nodded and said, slurring slightly, ‘Yes,
caro,
for ever. We don't need them, do we?'

Luca had heard a noise and looked to see Max, ashen, eyes glimmering with tears. ‘Mamma...?'

She'd made an irritated sound and said something in rapid Italian, taking Luca by the hand forcibly, as if to drag him out. Luca had felt as if he was in some kind of nightmare. Max had started crying in earnest and had run to their mother, clutching at her waist. That was when Luca had felt some kind of icy calm come over him—as if Max was acting out how he felt deep inside, but he couldn't let it out. It was too huge.

His mother had issued another stream of Italian and let Luca go, shoving him towards his father, prising Max off her and saying angrily, ‘
Bastante!
Stop snivelling. I'll take you with me instead. After all,' she'd said snidely over Max's hiccups, ‘your father doesn't care
who
he gets...'

The black memory faded. His mother had told him she loved him and then minutes later she'd demonstrated how empty her words were. Swapping one brother for the other as if choosing objects in a shop.