Trying to make sense of it and failing, she could do nothing but watch as the drama unfolded in front of her. The two men appeared to have forgotten her existence. They faced each other down like two bulls fighting for territory, but there was no doubt in her mind who was the superior, both in strength and intellect.
While Carlos blustered and bumbled, Rio’s anger was cold and a thousand times more frightening.
‘If you have lost me this deal—’
‘Me?’ His voice contradicting the look in his eyes, Carlos sounded shocked. ‘You think I had anything to do with this? You seriously think—? Rio, I know you don’t need this sort of publicity right now—I know you’re at a delicate stage of negotiations. This could ruin everything for you.’
Evie looked on in disbelief, trying to follow the thread of the conversation. This was all about some stupid deal? That was why Ruthless Rio was so angry? What had happened to everyone’s priorities? All they thought about was money, money, money.
It was only because she had her eyes fixed on his taut profile that Evie saw the flash of raw emotion cross Rio Zaccarelli’s face. For a moment she thought he was going to reach out and grab Carlos by the throat.
Instead, he released him.
‘Vai al diavolo. Get out of my sight.’ His voice was strangely robotic, his features a mask of contempt. ‘From this moment on, I don’t know you. You don’t work for me and I don’t want to hear from you or see you again. Step into one of my hotels and I’ll have you removed. My lawyers will sort out the details with you. And if this causes me trouble—if I lose—’ He broke off, apparently unable to finish the sentence, his voice thickened with an emotion so much deeper than anger that Evie felt real fear.
How could he be so angry about one stupid deal?
She waited for Carlos to defend himself but the other man shot through the door without looking backwards.
Which, basically, left her alone with a madman.
Evie tightened her grip on the throw. She loathed Carlos, but at least he was a familiar face. If murder was about to be committed, then it might have been useful to have a witness. Or even an alternative victim.
The burly man, who she assumed was a bodyguard, flexed his fingers threateningly. ‘Do you want me to deal with him, boss? I reckon I could get the information you want out of him in less than a minute. He’s a wimp.’
Another wimp, Evie thought numbly. The world was populated by wimps. Wimps and bullies.
‘Don’t waste your time.’ Rio’s tone was ice-cold. ‘I know a quicker way of extracting information.’
Realising that she was the ‘quicker way’, Evie took a step backwards, seriously scared.
‘Calm down,’ she stammered. ‘Take a deep breath—count to ten—or maybe a hundred—’ She had absolutely no idea what was going on, but it was obvious that she was in enormous trouble for sleeping in the Penthouse. ‘I don’t suppose there is any point in saying sorry or trying to explain, but honestly, I don’t see that it’s that big a deal. I know I did wrong, but I think you’re overreacting—’ She gulped as Rio Zaccarelli strode towards her.
He stripped off his jacket and threw it over the back of the nearest chair. His white silk shirt moulded to his wide, muscular shoulders, hinting at the power concealed beneath and Evie found herself staring in fascinated horror as he rolled the sleeves back in a deliberate movement. He looked like a boxer preparing for a fight. And she was obviously earmarked as the opponent. She wondered whether he’d removed his screamingly expensive jacket so that he didn’t end up with her blood spattered on it.
His eyes dark with fury, he came to a halt right in front of her. ‘Not a big deal? Either you are the most insensitive, selfish, greedy woman I’ve ever met or you have no idea of the magnitude of the trouble you’ve just caused.’
Up close, she could see the rough shadow that framed his hard jaw. She saw that his eyelashes were thick and dark and that underneath his fierce gaze there were dangerous shadows. Other women talked about his monumental sex appeal, but Evie was too scared to feel anything other than fear. ‘I’m not selfish or greedy,’ she defended herself in a shaky voice, ‘and I honestly don’t see that spending a night in that bed is such a big deal. I shouldn’t have done it, but I thought the Penthouse was empty overnight. And I didn’t even dirty the sheets. I slept on top of the covers.’
‘Of course you slept on top of the covers,’ he gritted. ‘How else could the photographer have taken his picture?’ He fisted his hand in the front of the throw and pulled her hard against him. Breathing heavily, the backs of his fingers pressed into her cleavage as he held her trapped.
Evie, who rarely felt intimidated by men because of her height, was definitely intimidated now.
For once she felt dwarfed, his superior height making her feel small and insignificant and she swiftly re-evaluated her belief that it would be nice to meet a man taller than her.
Through the mist of panic, her brain finally latched on to something he’d said.
‘Photographer?’ Trying to breathe, she stared up at him blankly. ‘What photographer?’
His eyes dropped to her mouth and that single look weakened her knees. For a moment she saw what other women saw. Raw sex appeal. She might have been attracted to him herself if she hadn’t been so terrified. Wondering if she was the only one who was feeling suffocated, she gasped as he suddenly released her. Her hands shot out to balance herself and the silk throw slid to the ground.
With a squeak of embarrassment, Evie made a grab for it but not before she’d seen the sudden darkening in his eyes and heard the burly security man gulp. ‘I need to get dressed!’ She’d hung her wet clothes on the heated towel rail in the bathroom, but they ought to be dry by now.
With a contemptuous sound, Rio Zaccarelli turned away from her. ‘It’s a little late for modesty, don’t you think? By tomorrow, that photograph will be all over the world.’
‘What photograph?’ She wrapped the throw around her as tightly as she could. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
Rio gave a growl of anger. ‘The photograph of us kissing. I want the name of the photographer and the name of the person who put you up to this. Start giving me facts.’
Evie glanced back towards the bedroom, retracing the events of the past few minutes. ‘I…someone took a picture of me?’
A muscle flickered in his jaw. ‘Generally, I pride myself on my control but today I seem to be falling short of my usual high standards. If you don’t want to see a first-hand demonstration of the meaning of the word angry, then don’t play stupid.’
‘I’m not playing stupid! I didn’t see a photographer. You were in my line of vision, remember? All I saw was you.’
Deep colour highlighted his cheekbones and his eyes burned. ‘Are you seriously expecting me to believe that you didn’t see the light or the man running out of the room?’
Evie thought back, but all she could think about was how amazing it had felt to be kissed by him. She remembered warmth, the most incredible excitement, flashing lights—flashing lights?
Appalled, she stared at him and his mouth twisted in cynical derision.
‘Memory returning?’ He was so arrogantly sure of himself that Evie bristled and decided that there was no way she was confessing she’d thought the lights were part of the firework display set off in her body by his incredible kiss. His monumentally overinflated ego obviously didn’t need any help from her.
‘I didn’t see him. As I said, you were blocking my view of the room.’
‘Unfortunately, I wasn’t blocking his view of you. He now has a picture of us—’ his expression was grim as he watched her ‘—together.’