"That's about it."

"And you didn't alert the police because..."

"Because I made a deal with Teresa."

"Oh, man, do I want to know what it is?"

Rico tossed the pen to the desktop and watched it roll off the far edge. Leaning back in his chair, he outlined his plan for revenge and waited for Sean's reaction. It didn't take long.

"So basically you took her prisoner?" A yelp from Melinda in the background caused Sean to say, "I know, Mel. I'm finding out." Then he asked, "Okay, so where's Teresa now?"

"In my bedroom."

"Oh, for G.o.d's sake, Rico-"

"She's still my wife, Sean." He prepared for a battle. He'd talked to his cousin many times about the frustration he'd felt over the years. Now that his revenge was at hand, though, Rico almost felt...guilty about wielding it. So he'd called his cousin for some backup. Which, it appeared, he wasn't going to get.

"She's your wife but you haven't seen her in five years."

"You don't have to remind me," Rico said, flipping the pen between his fingers.

"So what're you planning to do? Lock her up?" Sean asked. "Chain her to the bed?"

"I hadn't considered it, but..." Now that erotic image seared itself on his brain as he considered it.

Fine. He was kidding. Probably. Although the thought of Teresa chained to his bed awakened a mental image that suddenly made him completely uncomfortable. Pushing out of his chair, Rico paced the perimeter of the room. Even the air of home seemed different now, with Teresa here. She was just up the stairs and it was taking everything he had to keep from storming up there. He knew she would see his hunger for her, but it would only mirror what she was feeling and push her closer to coming to him.

Sean sighed. "What's the plan?"

"Just what I said." Rico stopped at the wide front window overlooking the meticulously landscaped front yard. "She stays with me for one month. Then her family returns the dagger and I divorce her."

"Uh-huh." Sean blew out a breath. "Until that happens, what're you gonna do with her?"

He knew what he wanted to do with her. His body was rock hard and just knowing Teresa was upstairs, in a room with a wide, comfortable bed, made even breathing difficult. But he had time. His wife would be here, with him, for a solid month and in that time he would find a way to finally and completely get Teresa out of his mind for good.

But for now, "We're going to dinner at the hotel."

Sean snorted. "Sure. When your missing wife reappears after five years of running from you, you want to put off revenge long enough to have a dinner date."

"It's not a date." Even the word had Rico scowling.

"Then what is it?"

"It's dinner." Rico slapped one hand to the wall beside the window and glared out at his yard. "I'm not romancing her. I'm not courting her. We both have to eat and I don't want her out of my sight. Don't make more of this than there is, Sean."

"Sure, sure. Not a date. Just revenge foreplay. Got it all planned out, huh?" There was a distinctive smile in Sean's voice that irritated Rico beyond measure.

"Is there something wrong with a plan?"

"Nope," Sean said. "Just be prepared, cousin."

"For what?"

"For when your plan blows up in your face."

Teresa's stomach was in knots. Just being with Rico was tearing her up. And waiting for whatever was going to happen next was making her a little crazy. Who knew what he would do? She never would have expected to be held hostage and since he'd surprised her once, she had to wonder what else was ticking through his mind.

Oh, she had known the minute she slipped from their suite at the Castello de King five years ago that she had made him her enemy. It had broken her heart at the time, but over the last five years, she had tried to heal. Tried to forget the fact that she had run away from a man who had loved her. And though her inner wounds had healed over, the scar tissue was still tender. Being here with him now, Teresa knew that even more pain was headed her way. There was no chance to avoid it. When this month with him was over, that was it. All dreams would be dead. All hope gone.

So should she treat this month as the punishment Rico considered it-or should she embrace it and pack in as many memories as she could? Enough to last her a lifetime?

"If I turn this around," she whispered into the quiet room, "and look at this month as a gift from the fates..." What? She wouldn't be in pain later? She'd get the happy ending to her fairy tale?

"No," she told herself, refusing to even begin to blow a bubble of hope that was doomed to burst. "But at least this time with him will be easier. For both of us."

She almost laughed. Nothing about this was going to be easy, no matter how she colored it. The man she had loved so desperately wanted her-but only for the revenge she could provide. There was no happily ever after in her future. But she still had the choice to either accept this coming month as he'd described it-a punishment-or to look at it as one last thing she could share with Rico.

The door to the bedroom opened on a hush of sound and she turned to look at the man standing in the doorway. He took her breath away. In this palace of tropical pastel colors and varying shades of white, he stood apart. Dressed entirely in black-slacks, long-sleeved shirt, shoes-he looked...dangerous. And she knew he was. At least, to her own sensibility. His black hair was too long, curling around the collar of his shirt. His blue eyes shone against his tan. His mouth was a grim slash. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his slacks, leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb and fixed his gaze on her.

She felt that look as surely as she would have a touch. Heat washed through her and her breath came in short, sharp gasps. Oh, she was in very deep trouble here. And she couldn't even really regret that he had ensured she stay with him. How could she? She'd missed him for five years. Now that she was with him again, how could she not enjoy it?

"You're ready. Good. We're leaving." He straightened up, turned and walked out of the room, clearly expecting her to follow.

She glanced into the mirror and gave herself a quick look. She was wearing a lemon-yellow dress, with narrow straps over her shoulders, a deeply cut back and a full skirt that ended just above her knees. Her long black hair was drawn back into a tumble of curls that fell down between her shoulder blades and the gold hoops at her ears winked in the light. She looked good and she knew it.

Yet Rico had almost looked through her. As if he hadn't seen her at all. As if she was no more important to him than any of the other furnishings in his lovely home.

She was nothing to him now.

And so the pain began.

Once they were at his hotel, Rico stalked across the main dining room. He kept one hand at Teresa's back as if to a.s.sure himself she wouldn't bolt. But the feel of her bare skin beneath his palm was a fire that wouldn't be denied. Heat spilled up his arm and through his chest to spread lower until simply walking was an agony. The low back of her dress showcased the pale honey tone of her smooth skin and made a man's gaze dip lower, to the curve of her behind. Then Rico's mind took over, just to drive him completely around the bend.

Nice job, he told himself silently. You're supposed to be punishing her and instead, you're torturing yourself. Yeah. This month was going to be a piece of cake.

While the matre d' hustled to escort them to his private table, Rico's gaze slipped around the room. Black tablecloths, candles on every table, the flames flickering in the soft wind drifting in through the opened windows that allowed the scent of flowers to wash over the room. Muted conversations, the clink of crystal and cla.s.sical music being pumped through the stereo system all came together to make King's Castle on Tesoro's dining room the elegant sanctuary it was. Waiters moved swiftly, silently through the maze of tables. Champagne corks popped, wine was poured and the finest food in the world was served. He had built this, following the vision he'd had to create a lush, sensual retreat. A place where reality took a backseat and dreams came to life. Where sensual pleasures were enhanced and fantasies sprang to life.

Now he himself was caught up in one of those fantasies.

He noticed the furtive glances of other men as they pa.s.sed and he knew they were admiring Teresa. Well, h.e.l.l, who could blame them? She was beautiful, but more, there was an inherent pride in the way she held herself. The tilt of her chin, the flash in her eyes. He knew they saw all of that, because he had seen the same the first time he met her-when he had known he had to have her.

That need was as fresh tonight as it had been so long ago.

The booth at the back of the restaurant had a view of the entire room, yet remained set apart. Private. His. He felt her shiver as they stepped into the shadows and he hid a smile. He liked knowing that she was off balance. Rico had the power here and he wasn't going to give it up. Sensing Teresa's nerves smoothed the jagged surfaces of the simmering anger and raw need clawing at Rico's insides.

She gave the matre d' a smile and then slid across the burgundy leather seat. Rico's heartbeat skittered wildly, but he buried the reaction to her smile and told the tuxedoed man beside him, "Champagne."

"Right away." He scurried off and Rico slid into the booth beside Teresa.

"Champagne?" she asked.

"We're celebrating, aren't we?" He leaned back and laid one arm across the back of the bench seat. "After all, it's been five years. A reunion deserves champagne, don't you think?"

"Reunion." She laughed a little under her breath, but the sound didn't mask her anxiety. "Is that what this is?"

"You have been in the wind for five years, Teresa," he said, his voice low enough that only she could possibly hear him. "I think we both deserve to mark this...occasion."

In seconds, a waiter appeared tableside and uncorked the champagne. After pouring some for Rico and getting a nod of approval, he poured two gla.s.ses and then disappeared, leaving them alone again.

Teresa took a long sip, then sat back, closed her eyes and sighed.

That soft, breathy sound shot through Rico like a bullet. His body was hard as stone and his mind was struggling to keep the memory of her betrayal sharp and clear so that his body and heart couldn't surrender again. He'd already lived through that once. He wouldn't do it again.

"I'm surprised your father agreed to the deal I offered him."

Her eyes opened and brown eyes met blue. "Did you think he wouldn't?"

He shrugged. "I have no idea how a thief thinks."

She sucked in a breath. "Are you going to be throwing that word around for the whole month?"

"It's appropriate, don't you think?" He paused for a sip of his champagne and let the bubbles slide down his throat. In the flickering candlelight, her golden-brown eyes glittered. "If not for your family's occupation, we wouldn't be here."

Her eyes never left his face. "And you'll never let me forget it."

"Why would I?" He set the crystal flute down and stared at her, meeting her accusing glare with one of his own. He was the one who had been cheated, lied to, stolen from. How she had the nerve to act like the injured party was beyond him. But he wasn't going to let her get away with it. "You don't like the word thief? Which would you prefer? Criminal? Burglar? Or perhaps cat burglar would be more specific."

Her fingers swept up and down the slender stem of her champagne flute. His gaze caught the motion and fixated on it. He imagined that small, dainty hand sliding across his body and it took everything he had not to reach out and grab her. Drag her to him across the bench seat and haul her across his lap where she could feel what she was doing to his body. He wanted his hands on her again. He needed to feel the flash and heat of her body against his.

This month was either going to satisfy his need for payback-or kill him.

"The Coretti family has been doing what they do for generations."

Just like that, it was as if ice water had been poured in his lap.

"And that makes it all right?"

"I didn't say that."

"You used me for your family's sake and then left when the job was finished."

Her eyes went soft and then hard again in a blink. As if she'd deliberately shut out whatever it was that had caused that momentary weakness. "I've told you. I didn't know they were going to take the dagger until the job was done."

"Very convenient."

"Nothing convenient about it," she muttered, then lifted her chin and met his gaze squarely. "If you think it was easy for me to leave you, you're crazy."

"Easy or not, you did it," he said and as memory and anger roared into life inside him, his accent became more p.r.o.nounced. He heard it in his whispered words, but couldn't seem to tame it. "I have never been used before or since. That makes you special, Teresa. And I won't rest until you've returned my property and paid for what you did."

"I have paid," she told him and her voice sounded unbelievably weary. "For five years, I've paid for what I did, Rico. But it doesn't matter what I say, does it? You won't believe me."

"No," he agreed. "I won't. That's the downside of being a liar. Even when you claim to be telling the truth, no one will listen."

How the h.e.l.l could he? She'd ripped him in two when she disappeared. Never before or since had he allowed a woman to slip into his life as Teresa Coretti had. She'd crept past his defensive shields and burrowed her way into his heart. His soul. In the short time they were together, she'd given him more than he had ever hoped to find.

Then she'd been gone.

And the cold that had filled him once he'd learned that she and her family had used him had never really ebbed. Being beside her now, he felt s.e.xual heat, but even that wasn't enough to burn off the stinging chill of the memory of her betrayal.

All around them, couples leaned across tables, laughing and talking in soft murmurs that added to the romance of the room. But here at his table, there was a distance between him and Teresa that might as well have been a brick wall.

"Then why are we here?" she asked after several long moments of silence. "If you don't want to talk to me or hear my side of things, why didn't you just lock me in your bedroom?"

Good question. But the answer wasn't one he was ready to give her. How could he admit to her that having her standing there in his room had pushed every one of his b.u.t.tons? She'd been too close, the situation too intimate. He'd needed time. Time to think about exactly how he wanted this to go. Time to get his own raging need under control. Because he wouldn't be led around by his s.e.xual desire. This time, where Teresa was concerned, he wouldn't allow his brain to be clouded by desire.

"Have to eat." His tone was dismissive and the sentence short and sharp. He wanted her to know that it didn't matter to him that she was sitting beside him smelling like hot summer nights.

"Fine. We'll eat." She took another long drink of her champagne, then sighed heavily. "Then maybe you can tell me exactly what you expect of me for the next month."

His body stirred. Oh, he expected plenty. "I think you already know."

She closed her eyes briefly. "I suppose I do. Not getting enough action from the models and actresses you squire around?"

One eyebrow arched. "Been keeping track of me? Flattering."

"Not really," she said with a sniff. "It's hard not to know what you're up to when you're splashed across magazines and newspapers-complete with pictures of you and the bimbo of the week."

"My life is none of your business." He scowled at her and left it at that. He didn't care for the disapproval in her voice. She was the one who had walked out. Who was she to pa.s.s judgment on anything he did? Let her think what she would. Her opinion of him meant less than nothing, didn't it?

"You're right. It's not my business. But answer one question for me. Why didn't you just let me go five years ago? Why stop the divorce and go to the trouble of sending me a forged decree?"

His fingers clenched around the delicate crystal stem and Rico had to force his grip to relax before the gla.s.s simply shattered in his hand. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and even, despite the anger churning within.

"You ran. From me." His gaze caught hers and he noticed the flicker of...was it shame shining in her light brown eyes? If so, he was glad to see it. "I'm a King, Teresa. We don't lose. Ever."

She pulled in a long, shuddering breath. "So this is a game? A compet.i.tion? I can leave but only when you say so?"

"If this is a game, it is one you devised," he reminded her. "But it is one I will win."

"You're wrong," Teresa said softly, with a slow shake of her head. "No one's going to win."

His heart fisted in his chest and that tight knot of pain told him she was probably right. By the time they were through, there would be no winners.

Only survivors.