Her Return to King's Bed

As if Nick wasn’t in the room with them, Teresa took a single step closer to him before stopping herself. Staring up into his eyes, she said, “I got a divorce five years ago. I hired an attorney in Cancún and he filed the papers. He sent me the final decree.”

“It was a fake,” he said sharply.

Rage escalated as he remembered her attorney, a good friend of Rico’s, coming to him, telling him about Teresa’s divorce plans. Because that attorney had owed Rico, he’d given his allegiance to him rather than his client. Together, they’d faked a divorce decree and let her believe the marriage had been dissolved. Of course, he had tried to use the address she gave the lawyer to find her. But she had disappeared again, losing herself somewhere in Europe.

There had been a few times over the last five years that Rico had regretted his decision. But at the time, he’d been too tormented by the way she’d left. Too furious at the way she’d used him only to vanish, to let her go. And still too...enamored of her to allow that disappearance to be final.

Now he was glad he’d done it. For the satisfaction of seeing her shock, if for nothing else. She had thought herself in charge. Assumed that she had left him behind in her tangle of lies.

Even now, he knew she was wondering how he’d found her here. How he’d managed to pluck her from the hundreds of guests currently staying at the Castle.

It hadn’t been hard.

As owner of the hotel, he had access to the guest registry and finding Teresa had been surprisingly easy. She’d signed in under the name Teresa Cucinare—Italian for “cook.” Once he suspected her of the thievery, he had zeroed in on her, then confirmed his suspicions with a quick talk with the front desk.

When his employee had described Teresa Cucinare as drop-dead gorgeous with wide brown eyes and a dimple in her right cheek, Rico knew he had her.

Five years, three months and ten days.

Not that Rico was counting or anything. But he knew down to the damn minute when this woman—his woman—had disappeared.

He’d spent a lot of time thinking about what he would say to her. What he would do when he finally found her. And now here she was and all he could do was stare at her.

He finally allowed himself the time to simply drink her in. From the top of her head down her incredibly lush and curvy body to the tips of her red-painted toes, displayed so nicely in her high-heeled sandals.

Hunger roared to life inside him and smothered even the rage and frustration that had been Rico’s constant companions these last five years. She’d married him. Used him. And then left him looking like a damn fool. There was no forgiveness for that, Rico told himself.

But damn, she looked even better now than she had when they were together. Clearly, the last five years hadn’t been difficult ones for Teresa Coretti.

Coretti.

When he’d married her, he’d had no idea that her last name was infamous throughout Europe. He’d discovered that much later, after she had gone. He’d been able to follow her trail as far as Italy, but after that, it was as if she’d gone up in a puff of smoke. She was as adept at protecting herself as the rest of her family was. The police had never been able to pin a crime on the Corettis and Rico hadn’t been able to find her, no matter how many P.I.s he’d hired in so many different countries he’d lost count.

But all of that was over now. He had her. Here. At his place. And damned if she’d get away from him again.

“Rico—”

Her voice was low, breathless, sexy enough to jolt through him like a bolt of lightning. Damn, Rico hated to admit—even to himself—that he was still affected by her. Five years and he still wanted her more than his next breath.

But this time that want, that need, would be assuaged on his terms.

“Been a long time,” he finally said, keeping his gaze fixed with hers.

“I know—”

“What amazes me—” he spoke quickly, interrupting whatever she might have said “—is that you had the guts to show up here.”

“If you’ll let me explain...”

“Why? So you can spout whatever lies you’ve rehearsed for this occasion?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Now, I think we can all discuss this in a civilized manner.”

Rico’s gaze darted to Teresa’s father. Dominick Coretti. Head of a family of thieves and no doubt the man who had taught his daughter her precarious sense of honor. Studying him, Rico had to give the man credit. Caught red-handed, Nick Coretti looked unflappable. As if nothing more important had happened than his champagne had gone flat. This despite the fact that everyone in the room knew that he’d been outmaneuvered.

“Civilized?” Rico repeated. “Is it civilized to steal from others? Is it civilized to use your daughter to keep a man busy so that you can steal from him?”

Nick’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t use my children.”

“Just train them, do you?” Rico sneered.

“That’s enough.” Teresa took a breath and then, deliberately turning her back on Rico, she faced her father. “Papa, will you excuse us?”

The older man looked from his daughter to Rico and back again. “Are you certain, Teresa?”

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “Please.”

“Very well.” Nick tugged at the lapels of his suit, lifted his chin and met Rico’s gaze. “I will not be far.”

“That would be best,” Rico told him. “And I would advise that you not consider trying to leave the island.”

Nick stiffened, clearly insulted. “I would not slink away like a coward, leaving my daughter behind.”

Rico wasn’t so sure, but since he was anxious to get the man out of the room, he didn’t say so aloud. Instead, he waited until Nick had left the suite before saying to Teresa, “The harbor’s closed. He won’t get out.”

“He wouldn’t leave me,” she said stiffly.

“Honor among thieves, you mean?” Rico snorted a laugh. “Hard to believe coming from the woman who used me just long enough for her family to steal what was mine.”

“I didn’t—” She stopped, shook her head and muttered something he couldn’t catch before she looked up at him. “What did you mean when you said we’re not divorced?”

“Just that. The decree your lawyer sent you was a forgery.”

She huffed out a breath and folded her arms across her chest. “A forgery.” Swinging her long fall of hair back behind her shoulder, she fired a glare at him. “And I’m guessing that was your idea.”

“It was.”

She sucked in a gulp of air. “You’ve got a lot of nerve calling my family cheats and liars. You’re no better.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he told her, moving in closer, pleased when she scurried back a step or two. “I never stole from you. I never lied to you. I didn’t use you.”

“Maybe not,” she countered, “but you tricked me. You let me believe we were finished. And why? So you could find me and what, keep me locked in a dungeon here on the island?”

He gave her a small smile. “Sadly, I have no dungeon here at the hotel. But I’m sure I can come up with something appropriate.”

“You can’t be serious.” Teresa gave a quick look to either side of her, as if expecting help to come riding to her rescue. But there was nothing. They were still alone in the luxury suite and the tension simmering between them grew thicker by the moment.

“I’ve never been more serious.” He leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “You’re still my wife.”