a fool of herself over him again? She shook her head, having been down that rocky road before, having trusted him before. Never again.
“Forget it. I’ll never agree to that.”
“Don’t make vows you can’t keep,” he said.
“Trust me, I can keep this one!”
He glared at her, a stone pillar of a man who had once been turgid hot flesh and blazing passion in her arms. Ancient history.
They had been a bright nova. They’d come together in a cataclysmic crash of passion only to fade into cold darkness when it ended. He’d hurt her more than she’d thought possible. Was still hurting her, she thought sourly.
“I never knew you, Marco, but then that’s how you wanted it,” she said, letting him see the pain and anguish that must be evident in her eyes. “You put up walls and shared very little about your past or your fears, and the dreams you wove for our future were hazy.”
“Yet you were willing to marry me.”
She bit her lip, wanting to deny it. But she couldn’t. “I was young. Naive. I trusted you.” Loved him.
Marco’s brow snapped into a V as he jerked his gaze from her and mouthed a curse. Then he presented a broad rigid back to her, fists clenched at his sides.
She hadn’t expected a like confession from him. That wouldn’t be Marco. So why were tears stinging her eyes?
Dammit, she’d held her poise and dignity throughout the funeral. She certainly wouldn’t give Marco the satisfaction of knowing how much he’d crushed her again. How close she was to crumbling into a heap.
Head high, she marched toward the door. There was no reason to stay, no use to try and negotiate with him. That would be up to Henry now.
No home. No job. Nothing but her pride.
“I am not finished with you,” he said.
“Tough,” she said, relieved her voice didn’t betray her heartache, that her knees didn’t buckle. “I’m finished with you.”
A few more feet and she was closing the door behind her with that same resounding click she’d heard as he’d entered. A sob caught in her throat but she managed to choke it back as she ran across the waiting room toward an uncertain future.
CHAPTER TWO
MARCO wrenched the door open with nearly enough force to pull the heavy oak panel off the bronze hinges. Amazing that just a few minutes in Delanie Tate’s infuriating company could fling him right back into that chaotic mix of emotions he’d tried to run from all his life.
His disposition was soured by the fact his body stirred at being near her again. That his heart thundered despite the anger cracking like sheet lightning along his nerves.
No woman but Delanie had ever brought those explosive emotions out in him, but with that intense desire came fear. A cold choking fear that he’d never understood until he’d returned to Italy ten years ago and yanked the dark shroud off his past.
He should let Delanie go. Cut his losses now and go home. But as his eyes locked on her trim backside running across the waiting room, he knew he couldn’t let her go. Not now. Not when he’d promised his sister that he would return to Italy with Delanie Tate.
He wouldn’t gain her compliance by crossing swords with her. But he damned sure wasn’t going to beg for her help either.
A smile flicked over his lips. He held what she wanted most. She would be the one begging.
“How much does Elite Affair mean to you?” he asked, just as she was a step away from sailing out the door.
She stopped, one hand pressed to the open doorjamb while the toe of one impossibly high black heel remained poised to push her out the door. Even in unrelieved black mourning, she was sexy as hell. And those damned shoes …
The strong, perfectly curved length of her leg and dainty foot in those take-me-now shoes brought back memories of her wearing similar footwear and nothing else. His body stirred, his blood heating to a most uncomfortable level. If not for the steely snap to her slender shoulders and the cool, almost hostile gaze she flung at him just then he would think the pose was staged to entice him.
“Well?” he prodded when she simply glared at him.
“You’re enjoying your victory at my expense.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said. “My goal was to take down your father’s empire.”
“Which you did. Don’t expect me to congratulate you.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorjamb, enjoying this side of her. When he’d met her she’d been a combination of playful and meek, leaning more to meek in her father’s shadow.
But in the ensuing years Delanie had acquired bite and verve. The way she held herself and her ability to closet her emotions intrigued him. Not that he wanted to be intrigued again by this woman.
She’d tricked him once. He would never be so foolish as to totally trust her again.
Remembering that betrayal zinged an old burning sensation across his heart. “Are you going to answer my question?”
“Elite Affair means a great deal to me and you know it,” she said, slender shoulders straight and back painfully stiff.
“Then use your head. If you walk out that door now you will toss away any chance of regaining total control of the business you built.”
She went pale, or perhaps it was a trick of the light. “After what you’ve done, how can you expect me to trust you?”
“I don’t,” he said. “This is strictly business. I’ve taken the initiative to draft a mutually beneficial contract. Are you willing to listen to terms or do I fire your employees and liquidate Elite Affair?”
“You’d do that to a profitable business?”
“In a heartbeat.”
Her small hands bunched at her sides and the mouth he’d dreamed of kissing into submission in the dead of night drew into a tight unyielding knot that slammed straight into his gut.
Dammit, he’d expected a tearful confession that she had worked with her father against him, followed by his magnanimous offer to hire her for his sister’s wedding, with Delanie’s reward being a fat check plus title to her company. But she was resisting him at every turn. Showing spunk and a stubborn bent that challenged him—aroused him.
Not that he would back off no matter what she said or did. He’d come this far and there was no retreat. No concession.
His gaze locked with hers and he caught that flicker of doubt. It was a battle of wills and in that he had the upper hand because he held what she wanted most. Elite Affair.
“Fine. We talk,” she snapped, not sparing him a glance.
She
