Her Return to King's Bed

“Thief?” The older man bristled and puffed up until his chest was so full of air, Rico wouldn’t have been surprised to see him lift off the floor and float about the room.

“Papa, please.” Teresa stepped in between the two men like a referee interrupting a prizefight. Facing Rico, she said, “We’ll leave. Right away.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” he told her and felt that bubble of righteous anger fuel him again.

Five years, he told himself. Five long years wondering where the hell she was. If she was dead or injured. If she was laughing at him from some other man’s bed. No. She wasn’t leaving. Not until he was good and ready for her to be gone. And at the moment, he didn’t know just when that might be.

She went pale and her brown eyes shone with too many banked emotions to identify. If he had cared to try. Which he didn’t, he assured himself. Instead, Rico dismissed her and focused his gaze on the other man in the room.

Dominick Coretti was stylish, confident and even now Rico could see the gleam of exhilaration in his eyes. He was already trying to think of a way out. A way to salvage a situation that had turned on him unexpectedly. Well, there was no way out for him—unless he did exactly as Rico wanted.

“I am insulted that you would think me a thief,” Nick began, clearly sticking to his routine of outraged guest. “And I will not stay where I am clearly unwelcome. My family and I will book passage off the island by this evening.”

“Your family will not be allowed to leave until the jewelry you’ve taken has been returned.”

“I beg your pardon—”

“There is no pardon here,” Rico told him flatly. Oh, he had to hand it to the man. He was pulling off the insulted-guest routine so well that if Rico hadn’t been sure of his facts, he might have believed him. Problem was, there was no doubt in Rico’s mind just who the Coretti family really was.

“Once the jewelry is returned,” he said with a knowing smile, “you and your son can leave. My wife will remain with me.”

“Wife?” Nick echoed.

“Wife?” Teresa yelped.

Finally, Rico looked to her again and was pleased to see stunned shock on her beautiful features. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open and color had rushed in to fill her pale, honey-toned cheeks.

“That’s crazy.”

“It’s true.”

“You said nothing to me of marrying this man,” her father accused.

“It wasn’t important,” she argued without even glancing at the other man.

Those three words slapped at Rico and only served to fan the flames of his anger. Not important. Their marriage. Her running out on him. Her family stealing what was his. Not important. Anger was rife inside him and he struggled to keep his tone and his expression from revealing his feelings. “That’s not what you said at the time.”

“How is it I was not told of this marriage?” The accusatory tone in her father’s voice singed the air.

“Papa—”

Rico didn’t believe the other man’s outrage for a second. He knew all about the Corettis. He’d done his research over the last several years. And though the private investigators he’d hired hadn’t been able to locate Teresa, they’d come up with quite a bit of very interesting information. Enough to see the whole damn family locked away, if he wished.

So, no, he didn’t believe Nick’s performance. He knew that thieving had been a way of life for the family for generations. Lying was their stock in trade.

“I’m not playing this game,” he said simply, quietly.

“Game?”

He glanced at the older man, then shifted his gaze back to the woman who haunted him. “As I said, return the jewelry you stole and you and your son can leave the island. Teresa will stay here. With me, until you bring me the gold dagger that was taken from me five years ago.”

“You cannot hold my daughter here against her will,” Nick said, the steel in his voice telling Rico this was a man accustomed to being obeyed.

“It’s that,” Rico said, staring at the other man now, “or I go to Interpol.”

Nick waved that threat away with a negligent, well-manicured hand. “Interpol doesn’t worry me.”

“Once I hand over the information I have gathered on your family over the years, I think you’ll feel differently.”

Dark brown eyes narrowed. “What information?”

“Enough to end you,” Rico promised, ignoring Teresa’s soft gasp.

“Impossible,” Nick blustered, but concern glinted in his eyes. “There has never been evidence found against my family.”

“Until now.” Rico gave him a smile. “Private investigators can go where the police can’t. And if the law should receive this information from an anonymous source...”

Nick Coretti—or Candello, as he was registered here—looked as if he’d been cornered. And he had.

Now the years of hiring the best private investigators in the world and collecting data and evidence were finally paying off—just as he’d known it would one day. Rico had been methodical as only a King could be when faced with an enemy. Add to that heritage the Latin blood that swam in his veins and revenge tasted sweeter than he had even imagined.

“Your sons are not always as careful as their father,” he said, watching suspicion and then a cautious wariness shine in Dominick Coretti’s eyes.

“You’re bluffing.”

Rico smiled slightly and, without taking his gaze from Nick’s, said, “Teresa, tell your father I don’t bluff.”

“He doesn’t, Papa,” she whispered and the sound seemed to echo in the plush suite. “If he says he has evidence, he does.”

A frown crossed Nick’s face then and Rico knew he had the man’s attention.

“What is it you want?”

“I’ve already told you. I want what your family stole from me five years ago.”

Nick shot a look at his daughter. “I think you stole something from me, as well.”

He hadn’t stolen Teresa, Rico thought. He’d let his heart rule his head for the first and last time in his life. And just look where that had gotten him.

“Fine, then,” he said. “Call it an exchange. You return my property and I will return yours.”

He knew he was being insulting and he just didn’t give a royal damn.

“Property?” Teresa hissed the word as her back went poker straight and her shoulders squared as if for battle. She lifted her chin and looked up at Rico. “I’m no one’s property. Least of all yours.”

He inclined his head in a nod. “Don’t bother being offended. I’m not interested in keeping you.”

She reacted as if she’d been slapped.

Rico ignored her. “You can go as soon as I have the Aztec dagger back in my possession.”

Not only had Teresa used him and then vanished, she’d done her disappearing act right after the centuries-old dagger had gone missing from Rico’s collection. He knew, thanks to information his P.I.s had gathered, that Teresa’s brother had stolen it from him. And he wanted that dagger. It was a ceremonial dagger, used in the Aztecs’ religious sacrifices, that Rico’s great-great-however-many-greats-grandfather had found in an archaeological dig more than two hundred years ago. Not only was it ancient and a piece of history—it had been handed down in his father’s family for longer than anyone could remember—and Rico would have it returned.

Once he had that—and his personal revenge on Teresa—he could be done with her and the past.

As if Nick wasn’t in the room with them, Teresa took a single step closer to him before stopping herself. Staring up into his eyes, she said, “I got a divorce five years ago. I hired an attorney in Cancún and he filed the papers. He sent me the final decree.”

“It was a fake,” he said sharply.

Rage escalated as he remembered her attorney, a good friend of Rico’s, coming to him, telling him about Teresa’s divorce plans. Because that attorney had owed Rico, he’d given his allegiance to him rather than his client. Together, they’d faked a divorce decree and let her believe the marriage had been dissolved. Of course, he had tried to use the address she gave the lawyer to find her. But she had disappeared again, losing herself somewhere in Europe.

There had been a few times over the last five years that Rico had regretted his decision. But at the time, he’d been too tormented by the way she’d left. Too furious at the way she’d used him only to vanish, to let her go. And still too...enamored of her to allow that disappearance to be final.

Now he was glad he’d done it. For the satisfaction of seeing her shock, if for nothing else. She had thought herself in charge. Assumed that she had left him behind in her tangle of lies.

Even now, he knew she was wondering how he’d found her here. How he’d managed to pluck her from the hundreds of guests currently staying at the Castle.

It hadn’t been hard.

As owner of the hotel, he had access to the guest registry and finding Teresa had been surprisingly easy. She’d signed in under the name Teresa Cucinare—Italian for “cook.” Once he suspected her of the thievery, he had zeroed in on her, then confirmed his suspicions with a quick talk with the front desk.

When his employee had described Teresa Cucinare as drop-dead gorgeous with wide brown eyes and a dimple in her right cheek, Rico knew he had her.

Five years, three months and ten days.

Not that Rico was counting or anything. But he knew down to the damn minute when this woman—his woman—had disappeared.

He’d spent a lot of time thinking about what he would say to her. What he would do when he finally found her. And now here she was and all he could do was stare at her.

He finally allowed himself the time to simply drink her in. From the top of her head down her incredibly lush and curvy body to the tips of her red-painted toes, displayed so nicely in her high-heeled sandals.

Hunger roared to life inside him and smothered even the rage and frustration that had been Rico’s constant companions these last five years. She’d married him. Used him. And then left him looking like a damn fool. There was no forgiveness for that, Rico told himself.

But damn, she looked even better now than she had when they were together. Clearly, the last five years hadn’t been difficult ones for Teresa Coretti.

Coretti.

When he’d married her, he’d had no idea that her last name was infamous throughout Europe. He’d discovered that much later, after she had gone. He’d been able to follow her trail as far as Italy, but after that, it was as if she’d gone up in a puff of smoke. She was as adept at protecting herself as the rest of her family was. The police had never been able to pin a crime on the Corettis and Rico hadn’t been able to find her, no matter how many P.I.s he’d hired in so many different countries he’d lost count.

But all of that was over now. He had her. Here. At his place. And damned if she’d get away from him again.

“Rico—”

Her voice was low, breathless, sexy enough to jolt through him like a bolt of lightning. Damn, Rico hated to admit—even to himself—that he was still affected by her. Five years and he still wanted her more than his next breath.

But this time that want, that need, would be assuaged on his terms.

“Been a long time,” he finally said, keeping his gaze fixed with hers.

“I know—”

“What amazes me—” he spoke quickly, interrupting whatever she might have said “—is that you had the guts to show up here.”

“If you’ll let me explain...”

“Why? So you can spout whatever lies you’ve rehearsed for this occasion?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Now, I think we can all discuss this in a civilized manner.”

Rico’s gaze darted to Teresa’s father. Dominick Coretti. Head of a family of thieves and no doubt the man who had taught his daughter her precarious sense of honor. Studying him, Rico had to give the man credit. Caught red-handed, Nick Coretti looked unflappable. As if nothing more important had happened than his champagne had gone flat. This despite the fact that everyone in the room knew that he’d been outmaneuvered.

“Civilized?” Rico repeated. “Is it civilized to steal from others? Is it civilized to use your daughter to keep a man busy so that you can steal from him?”

Nick’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t use my children.”

“Just train them, do you?” Rico sneered.

“That’s enough.” Teresa took a breath and then, deliberately turning her back on Rico, she faced her father. “Papa, will you excuse us?”

The older man looked from his daughter to Rico and back again. “Are you certain, Teresa?”

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “Please.”

“Very well.” Nick tugged at the lapels of his suit, lifted his chin and met Rico’s gaze. “I will not be far.”

“That would be best,” Rico told him. “And I would advise that you not consider trying to leave the island.”

Nick stiffened, clearly insulted. “I would not slink away like a coward, leaving my daughter behind.”

Rico wasn’t so sure, but since he was anxious to get the man out of the room, he didn’t say so aloud. Instead, he waited until Nick had left the suite before saying to Teresa, “The harbor’s closed. He won’t get out.”

“He wouldn’t leave me,” she said stiffly.

“Honor among thieves, you mean?” Rico snorted a laugh. “Hard to believe coming from the woman who used me just long enough for her family to steal what was mine.”

“I didn’t—” She stopped, shook her head and muttered something he couldn’t catch before she looked up at him. “What did you mean when you said we’re not divorced?”

“Just that. The decree your lawyer sent you was a forgery.”

She huffed out a breath and folded her arms across her chest. “A forgery.” Swinging her long fall of hair back behind her shoulder, she fired a glare at him. “And I’m guessing that was your idea.”

“It was.”

She sucked in a gulp of air. “You’ve got a lot of nerve calling my family cheats and liars. You’re no better.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he told her, moving in closer, pleased when she scurried back a step or two. “I never stole from you. I never lied to you. I didn’t use you.”

“Maybe not,” she countered, “but you tricked me. You let me believe we were finished. And why? So you could find me and what, keep me locked in a dungeon here on the island?”

He gave her a small smile. “Sadly, I have no dungeon here at the hotel. But I’m sure I can come up with something appropriate.”

“You can’t be serious.” Teresa gave a quick look to either side of her, as if expecting help to come riding to her rescue. But there was nothing. They were still alone in the luxury suite and the tension simmering between them grew thicker by the moment.

“I’ve never been more serious.” He leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “You’re still my wife.”

He’d waited for this moment. To have her in front of him, telling him to his face that their marriage had been nothing but a lie. That it had been a ruse to allow her family access so they could steal from him.

And now that the moment was here? It was every bit as sweet as he’d dreamed it would be.

She turned her head slightly and glared at him. “You know as well as I that you can’t keep me prisoner, Rico.”

He shrugged and tucked his hands into the pockets of his black jeans. As his gaze locked with hers, he said, “I won’t have to. You’ll stay with me of your own accord.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I’ve already told you and your father that I have enough evidence to put the Coretti family in jail for centuries.”

“You would do that just to get even with me?”

“Don’t doubt it for a moment,” he said tightly. “You would be surprised what I might do to someone who deliberately used me. Cheated me.”

“I didn’t cheat you,” she started. “When I found out my brother had—”

“I’m not interested in your explanations,” Rico spoke up, cutting her off as he moved in close enough to lay both hands on her shoulders. The feel of her again after all this time was almost too much for him. He steeled himself against his body’s instinctive reaction to being with her and focused instead on that still-hot ball of rage in the pit of his stomach. “The time to explain was five years ago, Teresa.”

She flinched and he knew his words had been a direct hit. Oddly, that knowledge didn’t give him as much pleasure as it should have. “All I want from your family now is what’s rightfully mine.”

Her eyes widened and as if he could read her thoughts, he shook his head. “No, Teresa. I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about the Aztec dagger your brother took from me. I want it back. And until I get it, you’re not going anywhere.”

Three

Teresa could have sworn she actually felt a lock tumble on the box Rico had trapped her in. He was right. No matter what he wanted or asked or demanded of her, she’d give it, because she couldn’t risk her family going to prison.

She felt more vulnerable with Rico now than she had on the night she’d first met the staggeringly sexy man on a deserted Mexican beach. And back then, one look at Rico and her knees had gone weak. Now, though, she couldn’t risk showing any weakness at all. The man in front of her might still be her husband—but he was a stranger.

She’d tried to keep up with him, of course. She hadn’t been able to rid her mind or heart of his memory, so she’d fed the need to see him by reading tabloids and looking him up on Google. And though it had chewed at her heart to see him squiring some beautiful model or actress around, it had also met the need she had to see his face. He hadn’t exactly lived the life of a monk since the last time she’d been with him. But she couldn’t hold that against him, could she, since they were divorced.

Or so she’d thought.

“I can’t believe we’re still married.”

His mouth curved into a brief, sardonic smile. “Believe it, Teresa.”

She shook her head. “But I paid the attorney. He sent me the final decree.”

“Esteban came to me when you hired him,” Rico told her. “He owed me a debt.”

“And you used me as his payment?”

“You can actually accuse me of using you?” There was no smile now, only fire flashing in his blue eyes as if the anger churning inside was manifesting into actual flames. “I think we both know the real truth.”

She couldn’t blame him for believing what he did, but it just wasn’t accurate. “I didn’t use you, Rico. I wouldn’t.”

“I would find that easier to believe if you hadn’t vanished—along with a valuable antique.”

She pushed one hand through her hair, fingers tangling in the thick, black mass. Even now, she could kick her brother Gianni. Five years ago, she’d specifically asked her family to leave Rico alone, but Gianni hadn’t been able to help himself. Instead, he’d taken the gold Aztec dagger that Rico prized above everything else. And in doing that, Teresa’s brother had made Teresa’s decision for her.

“I didn’t know the dagger had been stolen until you told me that last morning.”

“And I should believe you?”

She sighed. “Believe me or don’t.”

“Your family took it.”

“One of my brothers, yes.” God, she was shaking. Seeing him again was so hard. Harder than she would have thought. Seeing him look at her with an angry distance in his eyes was even more difficult.

There had been a time when his eyes shone with passion and something more. Five years ago, she had been swept into a romance so wildly unexpected it had almost been a fairy tale.

And it had all ended with a shattering crash. Much like Cinderella finding herself facing midnight—unwilling to see the magic end.

“I can’t believe we’re still married. Or that you would go to so much trouble just to punish me.”

“You should have known that I wouldn’t let you go,” he told her.

“I suppose I should have.” Teresa looked into his eyes again, hoping to see...what? Love? Passion? Once, she’d seen everything she had ever dreamed of in his eyes. But those days were gone and she had no one to blame but herself. She never should have allowed herself to fall in love with him. And when she did, she never should have kept her identity a secret. Never should have run without at least trying to explain. But rewriting the past was a futile mental exercise. Nothing would change what had happened. Nothing would bring back the magic she had once found in Rico’s eyes. Because all she read in those blue depths now was a cool detachment that tore at her even as it forced her to adopt a defensive posture.

“What was the point of holding on, Rico? I would have thought you’d be happy to let me go after the way things ended.”

“You took what was mine,” he said simply, his features as stony and aloof as an exquisitely carved statue.

For one heart-stopping second, Teresa thought he might have been talking about her. That he had considered her important enough to him that he’d purposely kept them legally tied together. Then, as she continued to stare into blue eyes that refused to warm, she admitted the truth to herself. His holding on to her had nothing to do with her—it was all about the dagger that Gianni had stolen.

She closed her eyes briefly and wished herself anywhere but here. When she opened her eyes again, though, she was still looking at Rico, still feeling his icy stare dig right through her.

“I didn’t know my brother was going to steal the dagger.”

He laughed. “You think I believe you?”

“Probably not,” she admitted. “But I wanted you to know that.”

“Five years later, you decide to try honesty.” He shrugged her statement off. “You and your family. Very versatile. You’ll even make a wild attempt at the truth if you think it will serve better than a lie.”

“This isn’t about my family,” she argued. “This is about me. And I’m trying to tell you the truth of what happened.”

“Thank you,” he said, sarcasm dripping from the words. “Now I know. It changes nothing.” Rico moved past her, walking to the terrace that overlooked the hotel he’d built and the surrounding grounds.

When she followed him, he didn’t even look at her when she spoke. “How long do you plan on keeping me here?”

“Until your thieving family returns my property.”

She flushed and was grateful he hadn’t seen it. Hard to argue with the truth, no matter how much she’d like to. “This is only about the dagger then?”

“Oh,” he said, turning to face her. “It is about much more than that.”

The warm, soft trade winds blew across the terrace, ruffling Rico’s collar-length black hair. His eyes were shuttered, emotion carefully hidden beneath a veneer of contempt.

She shivered a little at the ice in his gaze and remembered a time when his eyes had held nothing but heat when he looked at her. A time when the two of them hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other. A time when passion had sizzled in the air and hunger was never sated. But the past was as ephemeral as the trade winds, blowing through her heart and mind and passing all too quickly.

“What exactly is it that you want from me, Rico?”

“I want you,” he said flatly.

The ice inside her melted in a flash, dwarfed by a rush of heat that boiled her blood and fried her bones. “You what?”

“I want you here,” he said, leaning casually against the railing. Feet crossed at the ankles, arms folded across his chest, he added plainly, “In my bed.”

“You do?” Had she read him completely wrong? Had he really kept their marriage alive because he still felt something for her? Was this his way of telling her that he wanted them to be together again?

“For one month,” he qualified, splintering whatever rainbow-and-unicorn thoughts that were still revolving through her mind.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he said. “And you’re lucky I’m not demanding the five years that you were gone.”

She blinked.

“You will stay here for one month. You will share my bed like a good wife.”

“You are not going to blackmail me into sex.”

“Of course not. But we will sleep in the same bed. And when we do have sex again, Teresa, it will be your idea,” he said, giving her a knowing smile. “You remember how good it was between us...”