in cardboard boxes.
Ava’s stomach clenched at the thought of how quickly things had changed. Marc had wasted no time in taking possession of the villa; how soon would he insist on the other more intimate terms of the deal? In the past she had shared his bed with love, or at least on her part. But how could she possibly share it with the hatred that bubbled like volcanic mud between them now?
Marc dismissed the man and turned as she came down the last of the stairs, his dark gaze running over her in hot-blooded appraisal. ‘Very nice,’ he said. ‘But then you have always had the amazing ability to look glamorous in whatever you are wearing—’ his eyes glinted as he added ‘—or not wearing.’
Ava hoisted her chin at a haughty height. ‘In case you are wondering, this dress is mine.’
‘Yes, I know,’ he said. ‘I recognise it from our first meeting.’
She tried to hide her reaction to his statement, but it was almost impossible to control the flip and flop and flutter of her pulse. That he remembered such a minor detail made her wonder if he had cared more for her back then than he had let on at the time. He had always seemed so aloof and non-committal when it came to his feelings. She on the other hand had been effusive with stating hers, which had made her feel gauche and immature. She wished she had been a little more sophisticated back then. If only she had been able to look upon their affair as a casual fling she might not have had her hopes crushed so badly. But from the moment their eyes had met across a crowded bar she had felt something fall into place deep inside her. No one else had had that effect on her and after all this time she had come to the conclusion no one else ever would.
Ava followed him out of the villa to a waiting car outside. The driver held the door open for her and waited while she took her seat, with Marc joining her, his long, strong thighs brushing against hers.
He took one of her hands in his, holding her lightly, but with an undercurrent of strength that silently warned her not to try and pull away.
Ava thought of all the times they had dined together in the past. The romantic candlelit dinners where she had gazed into his eyes, his fingers lazily stroking hers, making her heart thud in anticipation of returning to the apartment to make love into the early hours of the morning.
She wondered if he was thinking of those times now. It was so hard to tell what was going on behind the hard mask of his face. He was just as heart-stoppingly gorgeous as before. The faint shadow of regrowth on his jaw made her fingers itch to touch him, to feel that sexy stubble under the soft pads of her fingertips. Her body trembled at the memory of how it had felt to feel his unshaven skin against her inner thighs as he pleasured her with his lips and tongue.
She crossed her legs, trying to quell the pulse of her body, but with him sitting so close it was like trying to stop ice melting under the flare of a blowtorch.
Marc lifted her hand to his mouth, the point of his tongue dipping between the sensitive web between her index and thumb. It was the merest touch, a hot, moist hint of what was to come. Ava shivered and closed her eyes tightly, calling upon every bit of willpower she possessed not to turn in her seat and place her mouth greedily against his.
He kept her hand in his, idly toying with her fingers, outlining the smoothly manicured shape of her nails. Ava was intensely aware of her forearm resting on his muscular thigh, her hand so close to the hot, hard heat of him she ached to explore him, to see if he was responding to her as she was to him. Her eyes glanced sideways, her heart nearly stopping when she saw the tenting of his trousers. She gulped and quickly looked out of the opposite window, but she heard his low deep chuckle, and felt his fingers tighten as they brought hers to his growing erection.
Her heart thumped as she felt his turgid length, her inner muscles contracting and the dew of desire anointing her in spite of every effort to curb her response to him.
‘I can see—or rather, I can feel you haven’t lost your touch, cara,’ he said, keeping her hand against him. ‘Tell me, did you ever service Cole in the back of his limousine?’
His crude question was like a slap across the face with an icy hand. She wrenched her hand out of his, wincing as her wrist caught on the metal band of his watch. She glared at him from her corner of the car, holding her wrist with her other hand, her emotions in turmoil as she struggled to keep control.
‘Did you?’ he asked, his expression hard with bitterness.
‘Would you believe me if I said no?’ she asked with a challenging look.
His eyes bored into hers as if he was deciding whether to believe her or not. ‘You lived with him as his legal wife for five years,’ he said. ‘I can’t imagine there would be much you didn’t do with him, especially with the amount of money he spent on you. That’s probably why he ended up close to bankruptcy, trying to keep your gold-digging hands full of designer goods.’
‘I couldn’t give a damn what you think,’ she said, searching in her evening bag for a tissue. ‘It’s pointless discussing anything with you. You’ve made up your mind and you are never wrong, or so you like to believe.’
Marc frowned as he saw the scratch on the creamy skin of her blue-veined wrist. He took out his handkerchief from his inside pocket and, taking her arm, gently dabbed it. ‘It was not my intention to hurt you,’ he said.
Her grey-blue eyes glittered. ‘That’s the whole point of this, isn’t it? To hurt me until I finally break.’
He frowned and released her arm, stuffing the used handkerchief in his trouser pocket. ‘Perhaps there is a part of me that wants you to suffer the way I suffered,’ he said, looking her in the eye. ‘But I am not a violent man and you can be assured you will always be absolutely safe with me, Ava.’
Safe? Ava wondered if she could ever be safe from his effect on her. She had told herself over the years she no longer loved him. Denying what she felt for him had been a coping mechanism, a way of navigating herself through the heartbreak of having to leave him while she still could. But in the end it had blown up in her face, for men like Marc Castellano didn’t forgive—they got revenge.
She chanced a glance at his brooding expression. He was looking straight ahead, his dark eyes narrowed in fierce concentration, his sensual mouth pulled into an almost straight line. A nerve ticked at the corner of his mouth, like a miniature fist punching beneath the skin.
As if he sensed her eyes on him, he turned and locked gazes. ‘Tell me something,’ he said, his eyes like steel as they pinned hers. ‘Were you involved with Cole the whole time you were seeing me?’
‘Of course not.’ She bit down on her lip. ‘How can you think I would—’
‘A month,’ he bit out the words as if they were bullets, his black eyes flashing with fury. ‘Within a month you were married to that silver-tailed, silver-tongued creep.’
Ava closed her eyes, her head dropping into her hands. ‘I can’t do this…’ Her voice was muffled as she struggled to hold back tears. ‘Please take me back to the villa…’
‘We are going out to dinner as planned,’ he stated intractably.
She lifted her head and threw him a castigating glare. ‘You never used to be such an unfeeling bastard, Marc.’
His eyes brewed with resentment. ‘It’s a bit late to be lamenting my lack of feeling. After all, you were the one who showed me how foolish it is
