“Hoped I wouldn’t, you mean.”
“I thought we had pretty much covered all the bases with our last conversation. I don’t believe I have anything further to add. Except”—he took a deep breath—“that I overreacted, and I’m sorry.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You’re only saying that because you’re ashamed.”
His gaze drifted over her. “Ashamed?” He pursed his lips. “Maybe. But if it makes you feel any better, I’ve had a hell of a two days.”
She looked at him questioningly.
“I’ve had a hard-on the whole time. Damn thing won’t budge. Want to help?” Lia gave him a narrow-eyed stare. “No, I guess not,” he said.
Lia hadn’t meant to bring up the subject, had decided that the whole episode was better off forgotten, but now she found she couldn’t leave it alone. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Just which ‘that’ are we talking about?”
She stared at him, and he smiled. “You mean, get you all excited and then walk away.” He watched her pensively, as though she were some insect under a microscope. “You’re right,” he said finally. “I shouldn’t have.”
Lia felt a wave of disbelief. “What?”
“No, in retrospect, I should have taken you against that wall and made love to you until neither of us could stand, then taken you on the carpet and anywhere else available.” He studied her through heavy lidded eyes, and Lia’s traitorous heartbeat increased, her whole body coming to life. “Perhaps we could rectify that,” he said quietly.
It took her a moment to understand him. “Go to hell!” she said but even to her ears it sounded ineffectual.
Luc laughed softly. “I probably will,” he said. “Now, if it’s not concerning the fulfillment of every one of my sexual fantasies from the last two days, what could we possibly have to talk about?”
“I want you to let me go.”
“Let you go where?”
“You know what I mean. I want to go back to my home and my job. I don’t want to stay here any longer.”
“Really, and I thought we were having so much fun.”
Lia glared. It was obvious he wasn’t taking her seriously. “I’m going anyway.”
“I think you’re forgetting something.”
“What? You mean those pictures? I don’t think you’ll do anything with them.”
“Maybe you think I won’t do anything, but you don’t know. Are you really willing to risk it? You made it pretty clear the other night that you don’t trust me.”
Suddenly, she felt angry with him. She stood up and stalked over to where he sat, coming to a halt out of reach, just in case.
“Why the hell would I trust you?” she snarled. “What have you ever done to gain my trust? You slept with me, then you blackmailed me into staying here. You want me to help you find my father, but you won’t tell me why. I find out you’ve been in prison, but you refuse to talk about it. You…” she paused then forced herself to go on, “…you make me want you, and then you walk away as if I don’t matter at all.” To her dismay, she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. Luc was staring at her with something unidentifiable in his eyes. He reached out a hand toward her, and she stepped back quickly.
“Cara,” he murmured, “don’t cry. I’m not worth it.”
“I know,” she snapped. “And I’m not crying over you. I just want to go home. Get on with my life.” She wiped her hand across her face and went back to her seat. She sat down and pulled her knees to her chest, put her head on her knee.
Luc got up and went to the bar, pouring them both a drink without asking if she wanted one. He handed a glass to her, and she put it on the table next to her without drinking.
He stood over her, sipping his own drink, obviously thinking through what to do next. She realized she had unnerved him somehow. Then it came to her: Mr. Big Tough Ex-con couldn’t stand seeing a woman cry. She almost smiled. She wasn’t the sort of person to take advantage of such a thing—well, not yet, anyway.
“Stay another week. Then you can go.”
“What?”
“One week,” he said. “If this is going to work, your father will probably show up sooner rather than later. You must have seen the papers after the party. Our engagement is common knowledge.”
She sat for a moment, nibbling her lower lip, then reached out and picked up her glass, sipping on the smoky liquid.
“Why can’t you tell me why you want to find him?”
“It’s personal, cara. But I can promise you that whatever happens between me and your father will be within the law.”
“It will?”
He put his hand to his chest. “I promise.”
The strange thing was she believed him. He might go on about how she didn’t trust him, but he was wrong. Whatever he had done and however little she actually knew about his past, she believed Luc Severino was a man of honor. Except where she was concerned, but then he presumably had his reasons. And presumably, those reasons related to her father.
“I lied,” she said.
He stared at her, a frown forming on his lean, handsome features. “About what?”
“When I told you I loved my father. I lied. I hate him.”
“Why, cara?” His voice was almost gentle.
She thought for a moment, not sure how to explain. She’d still been a child when her father had left, and she had spent much of her time away at boarding school, a fact she was beginning to believe had been her mother’s way of protecting her. Her father had never wanted to send her away, but it was the one thing her mother had insisted on. She had told Lia’s father that attending a prestigious school would allow Lia to mix with a better class of people. Her father had been such a snob—he’d come from a poor background himself—and he’d been so proud of his well-bred wife and daughter. It had been the one argument that had worked. Her mother had obviously known her father well. But even away for most of the time, Lia had still been aware of the sort of man her father was.
“My father was a violent man.”
Luc went still. “He abused you?”
“No. He never touched me.” She smiled. “He probably knew I’d punch him right back, but he used to hit my mother. But that wasn’t the worst. My mother loved him, and he used that against her. He did what he liked, he had other women, he’d leave her for months on end and then come back as if nothing had happened. And my mother would take him back and treat him like a hero. He was a bastard.”