Her Return to King's Bed

He’d waited for this moment. To have her in front of him, telling him to his face that their marriage had been nothing but a lie. That it had been a ruse to allow her family access so they could steal from him.

And now that the moment was here? It was every bit as sweet as he’d dreamed it would be.

She turned her head slightly and glared at him. “You know as well as I that you can’t keep me prisoner, Rico.”

He shrugged and tucked his hands into the pockets of his black jeans. As his gaze locked with hers, he said, “I won’t have to. You’ll stay with me of your own accord.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I’ve already told you and your father that I have enough evidence to put the Coretti family in jail for centuries.”

“You would do that just to get even with me?”

“Don’t doubt it for a moment,” he said tightly. “You would be surprised what I might do to someone who deliberately used me. Cheated me.”

“I didn’t cheat you,” she started. “When I found out my brother had—”

“I’m not interested in your explanations,” Rico spoke up, cutting her off as he moved in close enough to lay both hands on her shoulders. The feel of her again after all this time was almost too much for him. He steeled himself against his body’s instinctive reaction to being with her and focused instead on that still-hot ball of rage in the pit of his stomach. “The time to explain was five years ago, Teresa.”

She flinched and he knew his words had been a direct hit. Oddly, that knowledge didn’t give him as much pleasure as it should have. “All I want from your family now is what’s rightfully mine.”

Her eyes widened and as if he could read her thoughts, he shook his head. “No, Teresa. I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about the Aztec dagger your brother took from me. I want it back. And until I get it, you’re not going anywhere.”

Three

Teresa could have sworn she actually felt a lock tumble on the box Rico had trapped her in. He was right. No matter what he wanted or asked or demanded of her, she’d give it, because she couldn’t risk her family going to prison.

She felt more vulnerable with Rico now than she had on the night she’d first met the staggeringly sexy man on a deserted Mexican beach. And back then, one look at Rico and her knees had gone weak. Now, though, she couldn’t risk showing any weakness at all. The man in front of her might still be her husband—but he was a stranger.

She’d tried to keep up with him, of course. She hadn’t been able to rid her mind or heart of his memory, so she’d fed the need to see him by reading tabloids and looking him up on Google. And though it had chewed at her heart to see him squiring some beautiful model or actress around, it had also met the need she had to see his face. He hadn’t exactly lived the life of a monk since the last time she’d been with him. But she couldn’t hold that against him, could she, since they were divorced.

Or so she’d thought.

“I can’t believe we’re still married.”

His mouth curved into a brief, sardonic smile. “Believe it, Teresa.”

She shook her head. “But I paid the attorney. He sent me the final decree.”

“Esteban came to me when you hired him,” Rico told her. “He owed me a debt.”

“And you used me as his payment?”

“You can actually accuse me of using you?” There was no smile now, only fire flashing in his blue eyes as if the anger churning inside was manifesting into actual flames. “I think we both know the real truth.”

She couldn’t blame him for believing what he did, but it just wasn’t accurate. “I didn’t use you, Rico. I wouldn’t.”

“I would find that easier to believe if you hadn’t vanished—along with a valuable antique.”

She pushed one hand through her hair, fingers tangling in the thick, black mass. Even now, she could kick her brother Gianni. Five years ago, she’d specifically asked her family to leave Rico alone, but Gianni hadn’t been able to help himself. Instead, he’d taken the gold Aztec dagger that Rico prized above everything else. And in doing that, Teresa’s brother had made Teresa’s decision for her.

“I didn’t know the dagger had been stolen until you told me that last morning.”

“And I should believe you?”

She sighed. “Believe me or don’t.”

“Your family took it.”

“One of my brothers, yes.” God, she was shaking. Seeing him again was so hard. Harder than she would have thought. Seeing him look at her with an angry distance in his eyes was even more difficult.

There had been a time when his eyes shone with passion and something more. Five years ago, she had been swept into a romance so wildly unexpected it had almost been a fairy tale.

And it had all ended with a shattering crash. Much like Cinderella finding herself facing midnight—unwilling to see the magic end.

“I can’t believe we’re still married. Or that you would go to so much trouble just to punish me.”

“You should have known that I wouldn’t let you go,” he told her.

“I suppose I should have.” Teresa looked into his eyes again, hoping to see...what? Love? Passion? Once, she’d seen everything she had ever dreamed of in his eyes. But those days were gone and she had no one to blame but herself. She never should have allowed herself to fall in love with him. And when she did, she never should have kept her identity a secret. Never should have run without at least trying to explain. But rewriting the past was a futile mental exercise. Nothing would change what had happened. Nothing would bring back the magic she had once found in Rico’s eyes. Because all she read in those blue depths now was a cool detachment that tore at her even as it forced her to adopt a defensive posture.

“What was the point of holding on, Rico? I would have thought you’d be happy to let me go after the way things ended.”

“You took what was mine,” he said simply, his features as stony and aloof as an exquisitely carved statue.

For one heart-stopping second, Teresa thought he might have been talking about her. That he had considered her important enough to him that he’d purposely kept them legally tied together. Then, as she continued to stare into blue eyes that refused to warm, she admitted the truth to herself. His holding on to her had nothing to do with her—it was all about the dagger that Gianni had stolen.

She closed her eyes briefly and wished herself anywhere but here. When she opened her eyes again, though, she was still looking at Rico, still feeling his icy stare dig right through her.

“I didn’t know my brother was going to steal the dagger.”

He laughed. “You think I believe you?”

“Probably not,” she admitted. “But I wanted you to know that.”

“Five years later, you decide to try honesty.” He shrugged her statement off. “You and your family. Very versatile. You’ll even make a wild attempt at the truth if you think it will serve better than a lie.”

“This isn’t about my family,” she argued. “This is about me. And I’m trying to tell you the truth of what happened.”

“Thank you,” he said, sarcasm dripping from the words. “Now I know. It changes nothing.” Rico moved past her, walking to the terrace that overlooked the hotel he’d built and the surrounding grounds.

When she followed him, he didn’t even look at her when she spoke. “How long do you plan on keeping me here?”

“Until your thieving family returns my property.”

She flushed and was grateful he hadn’t seen it. Hard to argue with the truth, no matter how much she’d like to. “This is only about the dagger then?”

“Oh,” he said, turning to face her. “It is about much more than that.”