“He was ten years her junior, but it didn’t matter,” Angelo went on, his voice flat now. “She was so grief stricken, she was easy prey for him and all the while I thought he was being a good friend to her while I was away at school.”
“You blame yourself.”
“Not as much as I blame him.”
“So, he just walked away from her after he got his hands on your company?”
“Not before destroying my mother. He mocked her for believing a man a decade younger would want to marry her. He ruined her sense of honor and womanhood.” His fist hit the floor. “I thought he was my friend, but when I found out he’d been screwing my mother, I wanted to kill him.”
“You didn’t.”
“I might have. I was angry enough and there are a lot of primitive urges passed down by my Sicilian ancestors, but I was too busy dealing with her suicide.”
Horror clawed through her heart and she felt nausea well up inside. “She killed herself. Over him?”
“She still loved my dad when this monster came into her life. He used her loneliness against her and when it was over, she felt she’d betrayed Dad’s memory. She came from a very traditional Sicilian home and she couldn’t face what she’d done.”
“Did she tell you this?”
“She left a note…wanted to explain to me so I wouldn’t hate her. God knows I never hated her, but she couldn’t live with herself…with the memories, the humiliation and hell, probably the loneliness.”
“So she gave up?” At least her mom had kept fighting. No matter how many mistakes in judgment she made about men, she’d never given up and abandoned Tara.
“He killed her.” The words came out like bullets and she knew Angelo believed them implicitly.
Tara didn’t say anything. In a sense he was right, but in her opinion, his mother had let him down, too. Women got hurt all the time by men they trusted. Just look at her own mom…and her own past. His mom’s choice had been cruelly selfish toward her son, but Tara couldn’t condemn her…had no interest in doing so.
She saw immediately that Angelo’s belief he wasn’t wired for the more tender emotions came from a bone deep determination never to be at risk to them like his mother had been. His steely determination was palpable.
“Thank you for telling me.”
He looked at her coldly. “No more questions? You don’t want to know how she died or what happened to the bastard who used her so mercilessly?”
“Only if you want to tell me.”
“She took pills. They’d been prescribed by her doctor to help with the grief after Dad’s death. She went to sleep curled around his pillow and never woke up again.”
“I’m so sorry.” It was inadequate, but she didn’t know what else to say.
Some things were just too big for mere words.
“It’s been ten years.”
“And it still eats at you.”
“But not for much longer.”
“You plan on getting revenge against the guy who did it?”
His gaze became shuttered. “You know me well. Yes.”
Somehow, she wasn’t surprised he’d waited so many years to get the guy back. Angelo was a heck of a businessman and that meant he left nothing undone. Any revenge plot he devised would have every angle covered.
“You’re Sicilian. It’s in your nature,” she tried to say lightly, but it came off flat and she sighed. “I hope it gives you the satisfaction and closure you need.”
Angelo’s jaw could have been hewn from granite. “It will.”
She bit back an argument. Vengeance wasn’t going to bring his mother back or restore his family company to him, but maybe it would allow Angelo to move on. She was surprisingly unconcerned by the fact the man who wanted to marry her was caught up in a revenge plot.
A dedicated businessman, she was sure he’d choose that avenue for retribution. His empire was built on saving failing companies and she didn’t see him destroying an empire and all of its employees to crush a single man. More likely, he’d take it over. And considering what kind of man Angelo would be taking it from, she had no trouble thinking the unscrupulous toad deserved it.
Then Angelo turned toward her and the sensual predator was back gleaming at her from those indigo eyes.
She sucked in a breath at the swift change. “Angelo?”
“Old grief has no place in our present, stellina.”
She would have replied but he was pressing her back to the carpet, his lips applying pressure to hers, while sexual intensity rolled off of him in palpable waves. It was so overwhelming, she was shocked by the gentle way his mouth explored hers.
She could not imagine what kind of training he had gone through to learn this kind of self-control, but it awed her.
So did his sexual expertise. She thought she’d known all there was to know from a man experienced in the art of seduction, but Baron didn’t have a patch on Angelo.
He built her desire with caresses that touched everywhere and lingered nowhere. The fire crackled in the hearth beside them, the wind blew in the scent of the ocean to wash over their heated bodies and every nerve ending she possessed came to life with stunning power. Surge after surge of electric desire rushed through her until she panted and shook with need.
He palmed her breast, his big hand engulfing the swollen flesh. Her nipple, already beaded, now ached with the need for more stimulation. Only, the careful pressure of his hand muted by the layers of her top and bra was not enough. She arched up into his hand anyway, striving to increase the friction.
He rotated his palm. Sensation shot from her nipple straight to the core of her and she pressed upward, moaning.
“I want to touch your skin,” he whispered in an erotic growl.
“Yes.”
He unbuttoned her bodice, one small button at a time. He paused between each one to place a baby kiss on the skin revealed.
“Oh, Angelo…” Her fingers scrabbled in the carpet beneath, vainly trying to find purchase—something to anchor herself to with the storm of emotions raging through.
“This is a very sexy dress, sweetheart.” He spoke against her chest, the hot air from his mouth making her shiver in a response as far removed from being cold as possible.
“Thank you.”
“You may wear it again.”
She laughed at the sheer arrogance of his statement, the sound strangled.
Finally, he peeled the front of her bodice away from her body to reveal her white lace bra that conveniently hooked in the front. Had she worn this particular bra and panty set on purpose? Had she subconsciously hoped he would do exactly what he was doing, which was unlatching the bra with one-handed dexterity she couldn’t hope to emulate?
He took his time peeling back the bra cups, using each movement of the fabric to increase her arousal, while teasing her with what was to come.
Oh, gosh…this man knew exactly how to touch her.
He looked down at her naked torso framed by the white fabric of her dress with blatant male appreciation burning his gaze. “Bellisima, cara.”
“You sound so sexy when you speak Italian,” she said on a sigh. “What are you saying?”
“Most beautiful. And you are that, Tara.”
He hadn’t translated the cara, but even she knew what that