Riptide (18 page)

He got it. Hell, Nick was impressed by her candor and composure. “Fair enough.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

Before she got too cocky, he added, “But you can’t wander around alone. Not until we catch the men who killed Halkias, and get to the bottom of why you were targeted in the first place.”

“Fair enough,” she repeated, all too quickly. “I’ll take one of the crew, or whomever you can spare—”

Hell, no
. Nick shook his head. “Either you’re with me, or Jonah. Twenty-four/seven, Bria, ’round the clock. Until we prove otherwise, we’re the only ones I trust.”

She hesitated, clearly puzzled. “Is that paranoia,” she asked, “or do you have a reason?”

“Reason.”

He watched her processing his curt nonexplanation, her index finger grazing back and forth over the tines of her fork. “Will you tell me why?”

“No.”

“Will you at least arm me?” she demanded, setting the fork down with a chink on the edge of her plate.

Amused, and yes, impressed as hell that she could tamp down her curiosity and take the practical approach. He held back a grin at the frustration sharpening her tone.

She was … fiery, exotic—
tropical;
he was cool, boring, and
temperate
. Problem was, the princess’s fire was melting the ice inside him at an alarming rate.

Nick gave her a bland look. “Do you promise not to shoot me by accident?”

“I swear. I won’t shoot you…” She hesitated for half a beat before her succulent mouth curved into a wicked smile. “By accident.”

Nick caught a glimmer of simmering heat in Bria’s faux-innocent big brown eyes. Heat that could drop an unsuspecting man at fifty paces. His gaze dropped to her mouth. No shiny red lipstick now, just natural, sweetly curved pink. Kissable. Delectable—

Ah, shit.
The desire between them was tangible, but she’d made it clear that the teasing was one-sided. She’d drawn a line in the sand, and since the intense attraction he felt for her wasn’t in any way logical, Nick wasn’t going to cross it. A smart move. He had enough shit on his plate. More important, she was a guest on his ship.

She was in no danger from him unless she gave him the green light. His desire to leap across the table and screw her to the deck notwithstanding. He cupped the bowl of his wine glass, turning it idly between his fingers.

Who was the real Princess Gabriella Visconti? The genuinly concerned sister who’d do anything to get back her brother’s investment? Or the sophisticate who knew how to deflect passion like a pro? Either the princess wasn’t as experienced as her flirting led a man to believe, or she was playing a dangerous game.

It was fucking hard to stay on his toes when she’d had him off balance since they’d met.

Innocent or not, the image of Bria wielding a gun was erotic as hell. Picking up his glass, he leaned back. “I have a nine-millimeter Bersa in the safe. Know how to use it?”

“Yes,” she said sweetly, as if she hadn’t just finished telling him she could fire just about anything. “Thank you.”

“Your bodyguard must have his hands full with you.”

Bria let out a slow exhale, and the light dimmed in her far-too-expressive eyes. “Marvin died of a stroke four years ago. I miss him every day.”

“Tough to lose a parent. No matter how old we are.”

“He wasn’t— Thank you. Yes, I considered him that way.” She smiled. “Are you close to your parents?”

The loss of his own father hadn’t been as cut-and-dried. A lot of resentment there. A hell of a lot of unresolved issues that would never be addressed. “Both died. My mother when I was a kid, my father a couple of years ago. Close to her, not as close to him.” He drank some wine. “So, what do you do when you aren’t a princess?”

She laughed softly, the sound like a warm caress over his skin. “I’ve been unemployed since my last company folded a year ago, but I have a job lined up. Not starting the new job immediately has turned out to be a blessing in disguise, because I’m sure they wouldn’t like it if I went off for who knows
how
long to get Draven’s situation handled. I’m supposed to start next week. This is an amazing opportunity with an international public relations company in Sacramento. I hope it’ll be waiting for me when I get home.”

She’d risked a dream job to save the country her brother seemed intent on ruining. “Princesses can’t be that thick on the ground.”

“I omitted that little detail from my résumé,” she said ruefully. “Not much I can do about the situation from here; I’ll deal with it when I get back.” She nodded to the steaming hot tub. “When was the last time you sat in there and looked up at the stars?”

For a man who had no imagination, it was sure getting a workout tonight. Because the minute the words left her lips, Nick instantly got a Technicolor, 3D image of Bria floating naked in the water. He took a sip of icy wine. “A while.”

“Thought so. I can’t imagine you wasting your time star-gazing.”

True. “Want to go in?” And now he was back to imagining her naked. He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. Again.

“Do you mind if I put my feet in?”

Why didn’t she just offer to strap a dive tank to his ankles and toss him overboard? Trying to keep breathing normally in that situation would have been less difficult. She was wearing a strapless dress, a skimpy thong, and no bra.

He leaned over for the bottle and refilled his glass; hers was still full. Because all he could think of now was her peeling that scrap of a dress over her head … “Hmm.”

His self-control eroded blink by blink, smile by smile. His fingers flexed in memory of cupping the firm cheek of her ass; a memory he did
not
need to be savoring. He lifted a hand, wordlessly offering her the hot tub, deck, table—fuck, the whole ship. She was tying him into a Gordian knot without even trying.

Chapter 10

Bria jumped up from the table. Kicking off her shoes, she crossed the few feet to the hot tub, then sat down and dangled her legs in the hot water, humming a little as she made herself comfortable. She leaned back on her arms, which arched her back enough to showcase the delicate, feminine curves of her plump breasts.

Nick chugged half his wine. Didn’t do a damned thing to cool him off or dull his libido. Diving overboard might be the only solution. “What was it like going home to Marrezo after all those years?”

“Good … Weird,” she chuckled, which sent a vibration directly to his groin.

“Other than many of the buildings and the palace, nothing was the same. Pretty much everyone had fled when the terrorists arrived, with little more than the clothes on their backs. Homes had been abandoned.

“The men who took over the island weren’t farmers, or vintners; they didn’t do much of anything that we could see. For twenty years they drank to excess. When our people returned, they found literally thousands of booze bottles
everywhere
. And they partied, and shot the hell out of anything that stood still.”

“How were the terrorists ousted?”

“I wish I could say Draven rode in on a white horse and saved the day. But that wasn’t the case. They’d had squatters’ rights for twenty years, and they just gradually moved away over the years until none of them were left. Eventually the few people brave enough to venture back contacted family and friends, and tried to resume their interrupted lives.

“Not just the country had changed. I’d changed. Draven had changed. He was barely thirteen the last time I saw him. It was a complete and wonderful shock to learn he was alive and well and back home about to be crowned.”

“How did he find you?”

“Oh, he didn’t,” she looked over at him, and gave a little shoulder roll. “Nobody knew I was still alive either. Marvin made sure that I was hidden—safe. I heard about Draven’s triumphant return in the news, and called the palace right away.” She shot him a rueful look. “After a thorough fact-finding check, I was invited home for his coronation. It was … oh, just spectacular. The people were so happy to have the family back.”

He tried to focus on her words, not on her smooth, bare legs and feet splashing lazily through the water. “And your brother? Was he happy to have his family back?”

“Of course. We both were—are. Getting used to the adult version has been a little odd,” she confessed. “The last time I saw him he’d had a growth spurt, and he was taller than our father, but skinny.” She smiled. “His ears used to stick out like a baby elephant’s. I teased him unmercifully.”

“Siblings usually do,” he murmured. He found himself leaning forward, as if he wanted to get closer to her, and deliberately resettled in his chair.

Her breezy smile hinted at old sadness and it hit him like a punch in the chest. “Anyway, he’s grown up,” she said lightly, “and raised far from home. Being king after being gone so long must be incredibly difficult for him. He doesn’t have much time leftover for family. I’m worried about his health. He’s put on a dangerous amount of weight over the years. He’s an insulin-dependent diabetic, and his blood pressure is through the roof…” She shrugged unhappily. “He doesn’t take good care of himself, and Dafne—I’m afraid she’s going to love him to death.”

“You can’t lead someone else’s life.”

Not looking at him, her lips curved. “So true.”

Nick turned in his chair, the better to watch her as she stared up at the sky. He didn’t know what made him say it, but he found himself wanting to ease some of her obvious distress. “This salvage investment is going to pay off big, Bria. You don’t need to be concerned that your brother will lose his investment.”

“The money will be too late, I’m afraid. Unless Draven pays off the bank in thirty days, Marrezo reverts back to Italy.”

She hesitated, clearly chewing over her next words, and he tilted his head. “What?”

“Well, to be honest,” she mused, “I think he’s so busy trying to make everything right, he gives the impression that he doesn’t care. But I think that’s just because he’s so overwhelmed with everything he has to
fix
and change back to how it was. Before—”

Nick frowned. “Would it be a bad thing for the country to be absorbed back into Italy?”

She considered the concept for a moment, tilting her head back to look at the stars. It bared the line of her shoulders, glistening now as steam from the hot tub condensed across her olive skin. “Not precisely. It’s just that Draven is throwing away the family legacy so foolishly without so much as a whisper of effort. We earned that land in the Crusades, and it’s been held by a Visconti for twenty-five generations.”

He could respect that. Legacies weren’t always what they cracked up to be, but at least he and his brothers had inherited their father’s love of the ocean along with Cutter Cay. “Would you go back and live there? Help run the place?”

“That was Marvin’s dream for me,” she said, raising one bare, gleaming foot from the water. It dripped as she wiggled her red-painted toes, light glinting from her delicate toe ring. “He spent years making sure I was equipped to do just that. But, no. I could only be the heir presumptive. If Draven had died in the massacre, our cousin Antonio would’ve been crowned.”

“Good guy?”

“The best,” she said immediately, and only the fact that she was talking about family kept Nick from suffering a sudden, irrational spike of jealousy. He covered it by retrieving a towel for her from the small cupboard beside the hot tub and tossing it to her.

“But my life isn’t there anymore, anyway. I’m more American than Marrezan. Draven’s wife and I don’t exactly see eye to eye, either,” she added wryly. “I want to help him untangle this mess he seems to have gotten into, but I don’t see myself ever living there.”

The hot water had warmed the peach scent of her skin, making it drift on the wisps of steam swirling around her and driving him half insane. Even though having sex with Bria out here was not going to happen for a multitude of excellent reasons, Nick turned his head to glance at the dimly lit windows of the nearby sunroom. Anyone inside could see them out here quite clearly. Which had been exactly his reason for having his staff set the table where it was.

He looked back at her. “Is it as financially unstable as you think?”

“I think it’s worse,” Bria said soberly. She crossed her ankles and lifted them slowly, watching the water drip off her feet. “Antonio is Minister of State. He’s stayed in touch with me on the matter.” She hesitated again, then sighed as she admitted, “This isn’t the first crazy get-rich-quick scheme Draven’s tried. It’s about number five.

“The country was in dire straits when he took over two years ago, but Antonio swears that there was money secreted away, and that Draven should never have gone to the bank in the first place.” She raked her hair off her face, clearly frustrated. The dark silky strands fell about her back and shoulders like a shiny black cape.

Where had the five mil come from? If it was a bank loan, Draven couldn’t pay it back until his investment paid off. “So what’s the issue?”

“In the last twenty
months,
my brother has been chipping away at Marrezo’s funds at an alarming rate in an attempt to see his investments grow.”

Nick knew this story all too well. “Let me guess,” he interjected, hauling his chair closer to the tub. He sat again, leaning back and stretching his feet out, crossed at the ankle. A mere foot from where she perched on the edge.

She slanted him a wary glance.

“He’s lost everything,” Nick predicted.

“Investing with Cutter Salvage was a last-ditch effort. Just another scheme.”

Nick shook his head, not liking what he was hearing. No wonder she was so damned eager to get the money back. “If he could go the distance, he’d recoup his investment sixfold,” he told her. “Six hundred percent. This dive will pay out big.” As every Cutter salvage usually did. He, Logan, and Zane researched their wrecks well. They left very little to guesswork. All their risks were calculated.

“But you said it’d be a year,” she said softly.

Nick didn’t have anything to say to that. There was nothing to say; the truth was the truth, and she knew it already. He drummed his fingers against his wineglass. “Do you think that if he’s handed five million euro tomorrow, he’ll use it to pay off the loan?” And have enough leftover to run his country until what? The vines started producing in seven years?