An Enticing Debt to Pay

More so. He remembered Silvia as having a blatant sensuality that made her stand out like a Mediterranean sex goddess with her flashing eyes, swinging hips and earthy laugh. But her daughter... He narrowed his eyes as he watched the woman so easily manipulating the Frenchman. She had an arresting face, the sort of eyes that a less pragmatic man could lose himself in, and a body that, though slim, made him want to haul her close and discover its secrets.

But there was more. An aura of banked passion and quick intelligence that melded into something that drew him at the most primitive, male level.

He wanted her.

The realisation hit him a solid blow to the belly.

He didn’t like or admire her. She was the sort of woman he’d learnt to despise.

And still he wanted her.

He dragged in a deep breath, ignoring the anticipation fizzing his blood at the thought of bedding Ravenna Ruggiero.

It wasn’t going to happen. His standards were higher than that.

Instead he would make her pay for what she’d done. He’d make sure she learned the value of the money she’d taken, and when he’d finished with her she’d understand the value of hard work too. She’d repay her debt in full. There’d be no easy escape if she tried batting those long eyelashes at him.

There’d be no police, no trial. He’d looked forward to branding his father’s mistress publicly as a thief. But for reasons he didn’t want to investigate, that didn’t seem appropriate now Ravenna had revealed herself as the culprit.

Yes, he could throw her to the mercy of the courts. But having seen her, touched her, he wanted a much more personal recompense.

She’d stolen his money but the insult carved deeper than the loss of mere money, which, after all, was easily replaced.

Jonas told himself his decision had nothing to do with the heat haze of desire still drenching his skin as he watched her flirt with another man.

Or the feeling she’d somehow bested him in their first confrontation even though he held all the winning cards in this contest.

For there was a contest. Of wills. Of strength and, above all, of pride.

Somehow she’d breached the fortress he’d long ago built around his emotions. He was disappointed to discover she’d gone the way of her mother, intent on easy money rather than working for it like any decent woman. He’d expected better of her. It was as if she’d betrayed his memory of her.

His lips twisted as he reviewed his decision to give her a chance to avoid a criminal record. It was almost altruistic of him. Facing the consequences of her crime in the form of hard work might be the making of her.

Jonas’ eyes narrowed as she batted those lush lashes at the besotted Frenchman. Something cold and sharp solidified in his belly.

No matter what the outcome, he looked forward to collecting on his debt.

* * *

‘Now these,’ purred Monsieur Giscard, ‘are in a different class altogether.’ He stood in front of a cabinet displaying a collection of old glassware.

‘Really?’ Ravenna stepped closer, her hopes rising. So far they’d come across little that could be sold to pay off Mamma’s debts, let alone set her up with a nest egg for the future. ‘You think they may be valuable?’

She had little expectation of finding anything to cover the money her mother had taken from Jonas Deveson’s account but scraping together enough to pay Mamma’s immediate bills would be an enormous relief.

‘I need to examine them properly, but this appears to be a fine collection of early glassware.’ He paused, excitement lighting his face. ‘Really, a very fine collection...’ His voice trailed as he bent to view a goblet with a long, thick stem of twisted glass.

Ravenna held her breath as he opened the cabinet and reached for the goblet.

‘I’m afraid those pieces aren’t for sale.’ The deep voice came from just behind her and she jumped. She hadn’t heard Jonas Deveson approach.

‘Do you have to sneak up like that?’ As soon as the words snapped out she regretted them, seeing his raised brows and knowing smirk. Maybe it was petty given the enormity of what lay between them, but she’d rather not reveal how thoroughly he unsettled her.

He didn’t answer, instead turning to Monsieur Giscard, who held the glass cradled reverentially in his hands.

‘C’est magnifique!’

‘It is, isn’t it?’ Before Ravenna could stop him Jonas reached out and took it from the Frenchman, holding it up to the light for a moment, before putting it back in the cabinet and shutting the door. ‘But it’s not for sale.’

‘Now look here—!’

He cut her off as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘It seems this inventory of yours is flawed.’ He took the clipboard from her and glanced down at it. Before Ravenna had the presence of mind to snatch it back he’d taken a gold pen from a pocket and begun slashing lines through her list.