An Enticing Debt to Pay

On the threshold stood a man of middle years, exquisitely dressed and sporting a rosebud in his lapel.

‘Mademoiselle Ruggiero?’ He pronounced her name with the softened consonants of the French.

‘Monsieur Giscard.’ She held out her hand. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you. I appreciate you coming so quickly.’ She led him into the apartment, carefully keeping her gaze from the far side of the salon and Jonas’ watchful presence.

If she could she’d eject him from the premises, but he wouldn’t leave till he was good and ready. They had too much to discuss.

At least having the antiques expert here gave her something else to concentrate on, and a chance to regroup after that devastating embrace.

Despite her best intentions her gaze slid across the room to lock with eyes the colour of impenetrable mist. Jonas’ face was blank but his words echoed in her ears, making heat scorch her throat and cheeks.

Beside her the dapper Frenchman started forward eagerly, his arm outstretched as he introduced himself to Jonas Deveson. For a moment Ravenna thought the two must have met before but it appeared Monsieur Giscard simply recognised him from press reports.

Ravenna spun away on the ball of her foot. Jonas Deveson even managed to usurp the position of authority now, without trying. Her visitor was fawning over him like a long-lost son. Or a wealthy potential client.

‘I have an inventory of furnishings here, Monsieur Giscard.’ Reluctantly he turned towards her, and then nodded.

‘Perhaps, Mr Deveson, we could meet later today to conclude our discussion?’ She had a snowball’s chance in hell of fobbing him off but she had to try. The idea of him watching them trail around the apartment, sizing up her mamma’s possessions, made her skin crawl.

‘I think not, Ravenna.’ He deliberately dropped his voice to a pseudo caress on her name. To her consternation and shame she felt her skin tingle and her nipples harden.

It was as if she were programmed to respond sexually even to the cadence of his voice!

‘I’m afraid Monsieur Giscard and I will be busy for some time—’

‘Don’t let me disturb you.’ His open wave of the arm, as if graciously giving them permission to continue, made her grit her teeth. ‘I’m happy to wait.’

As if to emphasise his point he sank onto a gilded chair and nonchalantly crossed his legs, his hands palm down on the arms in a pose that screamed authority. His tall frame in that delicate chair should have looked ridiculous. Instead he looked...regal.

For a second Ravenna toyed with the idea of calling for the police to eject him as an unwanted intruder. Until she realised the police were the last people she wanted. Her mother’s crime loomed over her like a leaden storm cloud.

Fear sank talons deep into her vitals. This impossible situation could only get worse, given this man’s implacable thirst for vengeance. Her body stiffened, adrenalin surging and heart pounding in an unstoppable fight-or-flight response. Chaotic thoughts of disappearing out of the front door and not coming back raced through her brain.

But she couldn’t do it.

Ravenna was hardworking, dutiful, responsible. It was the way she was made, reinforced no doubt by watching her mother slave so long and hard to support them both.

Besides, if she disappeared, Jonas would go after Mamma.

Drawing a slow breath, she squared her shoulders. If there was one thing the last months had taught her it was that she had the power to endure more than she’d ever thought possible. She’d pay the debt somehow, save her mother from his destructive fury, then get on with her life.

‘As you wish. Feel free to make yourself comfortable.’ She shot him a dazzling smile and had the momentary pleasure of seeing him disconcerted. Then she turned to Monsieur Giscard, gesturing for him to precede her from the room. ‘I thought we might start in the study.’

* * *

Why Piers had needed a study was beyond Jonas. The old man hadn’t worked for years, merely living off what was left of his investments.

Jonas had been at the helm of what had begun as a Deveson family investment company. He’d cut the old man from his life and manoeuvred him from the business when he’d left and destroyed Jonas’ mother, never once expressing regret.

Shifting in the uncomfortable chair, he cast a scathing look around the room. It didn’t improve with familiarity. The few good pieces were overwhelmed by the clutter of showy ornamentation.

Piers had been a magpie, attracted by the bright and shiny, displaying his wealth in the most obvious way. That went especially for women.

Jonas raked his hand through his hair. Had Ravenna Ruggiero’s dismay been genuine when he’d suggested she should have used her feminine wiles to get money from Piers?

More important—what on earth had possessed him to touch her?

He was appalled by his reaction to her, but fascinated. He couldn’t remember being fascinated by anything other than an exciting investment opportunity in years.

Jonas shot to his feet, unwilling to sit on the sidelines.

He found them in a large room dominated by a massive desk. They were examining ornate snuffboxes.

‘This is a passably good piece. You might manage a hundred euros for it.’

The antique dealer, Giscard, had his back to the door so Jonas couldn’t see what he held. But Ravenna’s disappointment at the words was clear. Her shoulders slumped and her whole body sagged.

‘Really? I’d thought perhaps this at least might be worth more.’ Her voice had an edge of desperation.

Giscard turned and Jonas watched him hesitate, his brisk manner softening as he took in her barely concealed distress.

‘Well, perhaps a little more. I tend to err on the side of caution, Mademoiselle Ruggiero.’ He turned back to the item in his hands. ‘After a closer look I think it possible we could do better. If you like I can undertake the sale personally. I have some contacts who might be interested.’

‘Really?’ Ravenna’s eyes shone hopefully and she leaned towards him. ‘That would be wonderful, Monsieur Giscard.’ Her voice was soft with hope and Jonas felt his skin contract as if she’d brushed her fingertips over him.

He clenched his jaw, furious yet intrigued at the power of that throaty voice.

‘It is the least I can do in the sad circumstances.’ The dealer moved closer as if drawn by her tremulous smile. ‘Perhaps, in the circumstances, you should call me Etienne.’

Jonas’ grip tightened on the doorjamb as the pair continued their conversation, oblivious to his presence.

Distaste was a pungent note on his tongue as he watched the older man respond to Ravenna’s artful show of vulnerability. That was what it was, he realised, his lips thinning in a grim smile.

The woman who’d made such a point of confronting him with her crime was no innocent. She was brazen and unrepentant.

From the moment she’d revealed her identity, flouncing about the astronomically expensive apartment as if it were hers, he’d wondered why she’d dressed as she had. The dark trouser suit was tailored but it hung on her, making her look like a child dressing up, especially with the gamine haircut accentuating her exquisitely pared features and huge eyes.

There’d been nothing childlike about her when he’d caressed her. She’d been all needy woman. Yet with her navy jacket hanging loose around her neck, she exuded an air of fragility that intrigued him.

Now he knew why. That vulnerability, enhanced by the sedate cut of clothes that hinted at mourning, was a deliberate act to aid her dealings with the antique dealer.

Look at Giscard! He ate her up with his eyes, like a dog slavering after a bone.

She’d prepared carefully for the interview to play on the Frenchman’s sympathies.

And Jonas had doubted she was capable of thieving!

She was as conniving and dangerous as her mother.