bother denying it, Joey. Your father told me about her.”
“The engagement, Rhea, was called off. I never married Sophia.”
His words hit her like a straight-line wind off the Gulf.
“You left Chicago because Frank told you I was getting married? Is that the story you’re selling?”
It was more complicated than that. Far more complicated. Rhea heard herself say, “Our baby’s health was the most important thing. If you remember, I had my hands full trying to keep my ex-husband from killing me. Sooner or later, Stud would have shown up again. In bandages and pregnant, what chance did I stand against him?”
“So good old Frank offered you money and a free ride out of town, and you jumped on.”
“It wasn’t exactly like that.”
“How exactly was it?”
“I hadn’t been able to work. Money was an issue, but that’s not what he offered. What he offered was something better than cash. He offered me a new life without pain, and a promise that Nicci would be safe.”
“At Santa Palazzo?”
“Yes. He guaranteed me that our child would be born in a safe environment. And he promised I would be able to raise him. You got Sophia, and…I got our baby. It seemed fair.”
Unexpectedly he moved, closing the distance between them so quickly that Rhea thought he was going to strike her. But instead, he curled his arm around her waist and jerked her up against his hard thighs. “Has Frank touched you?” he demanded. “Have you been in my father’s bed?”
“No.”
“The truth, Rhea!”
The question was absurd. Yes, she was close to Frank. He had become like a father to her.
“I’ll have the truth, damn you!”
“Frank hasn’t touched me, not in the way you mean. But he has been good to us. When he finds out what you’ve done, he’s not going to like it. He’ll come, and—”
“Rescue you again?” He shook his head, laughed bitterly. “No, darlin’, not this time. He’ll have to go through me first. And trust me, Frank’s not that stupid. He’ll come, that’s a given, but my son won’t be going back to Santa Palazzo. And if you want to see him anytime soon, you won’t be leaving, either.”
Chin high, Rhea promised, “I won’t abandon my son, Joey.”
“Then you’ve just limited your options, darlin’.”
What did he mean by that? The moment Rhea asked herself the question, he slid his hands down her back and curved them around her small backside. He had money to burn, as the saying goes. If he wanted it, or thought he needed it, he likely already had it. She had nothing of value to offer him. Nothing but…
He pressed himself against her, kept his eyes locked with hers. “Maybe some kind of an agreement can be made that will satisfy both parties.”
She knew what he was suggesting, and the idea of sleeping with Joey made Rhea’s knees weak. Three years ago the sex between them had been incredible. What would it be like now, bandage-free?
Bandage-free, but not scar-free.
Her voice half strength, shaky, Rhea said, “I’ll do anything, Joey. Anything but that. I won’t sleep with you.”
The idea of having her naked beneath him took Joey’s aroused state and pushed him over the edge. Stone hard and angry as hell, he shoved Rhea away from him, then turned his back on her.
He had every right to take his child, dammit. Every right to want to hurt her. He was justified, dammit!
Then, why did he feel so damn guilty?
Because if she was telling him the truth, it changed everything. She was right about Stud Williams. If he had learned she was pregnant, he would have been just that much more determined. And she was right about Sophia, too. He had planned to marry her—in the beginning.
Joey studied Rhea holding onto Niccolo’s bear. Her high-necked blue sweater matched her sapphire eyes. Her jacket was short and it sent his gaze down her long legs, then slowly back up. It was impossible to look at her lovely legs without remembering how damn good they had felt wrapped around his waist.
Lucky was right. Three years ago there was an unexplained beauty about Rhea. But today she wasn’t just beautiful, she was sexy as hell. And that, coupled with the fact that she was the mother of his child and the woman he had never been able to forget, was keeping his chest tight, and the constriction inside his jeans at a choke-hold level. He’d hoped that after their meeting he would be able to set her aside and concentrate solely on his son. But the fact remained that he still wanted her. More than ever.
“Where are your bags?” he demanded.
His question must have surprised her, because she floundered for an answer. “Uh…I have a room at the Fairmont.”
Joey strolled to his desk and pressed a button on his phone panel. “Gates, get someone over to the Fairmont to pick up her bags. Capiche?”
“Right away, Mr. Masado.”
From behind his desk, he went back to studying her heart-shaped face. She had always been too pale, but now her skin was a honey brown and the contrast with her white-blond hair was magnificent.
Her right eye had been patched shortly after he’d met her. The doctors had given her less than a fifty-fifty chance of saving it. Now, the only evidence that she’d experienced hell were two white lines that disappeared into the corner of her eye, and a thin scar on her lower lip.
He moved on to her lush mouth, remembering how the slowly healing cut had prevented him from kissing her with any amount of passion. But there was nothing stopping him from kissing her now.
Angry that she still owned a significant part of his body and his mind, that she likely always would, Joey said, “You’ll stay here at the Towers. But for now, you won’t go near Niccolo.”
He heard her suck in her breath, watched her lean over as if she was going to be sick. Her blue eyes were instantly liquid with tears.
“Joey, please. Let me have five minutes with him. Please.”
He turned his back on her, walked to the window and pulled open the blinds to let in the morning sun. Minutes passed before he turned to address her once more. “Stud was arrested four days ago. It seems he’s not only a wife beater but a murderer.”
She gasped. “He murdered someone?”
“Actually, three people. Remember when Tom Mallory was killed just before you left town? Stud was the one who shot him. Several weeks ago, he killed Milo Tandi and a dancer at the Shedd. I won’t bore you with the details. I just thought you’d feel better knowing that he’s locked up.”
“He killed Tom? Why?”
“Because he thought you were
