It was snowing again outside and Evie sat quietly in the limousine as it moved silently through the white streets. Normally snow soothed her, but tonight nothing could ease the tension in the car.
She wanted to know what was going on in his head, but she also knew that he wouldn’t want to tell her.
After a moment’s hesitation, she reached across and took his hand in hers, oddly pleased when he didn’t immediately withdraw his.
Once, during the silent journey, she sneaked a glance at his taut profile but he stared sightlessly into the winter night, apparently oblivious to everything except his own thoughts.
After a silent ride in the elevator, they stepped into the Penthouse and immediately the phone calls started.
So that was it?
Whatever menace lurked beneath the surface had apparently been ruthlessly repressed once more.
Evie stood awkwardly, hovering, while he took one phone call and then another before eventually deciding that she might as well go to bed and wait for him there. She had no expectation that he’d join her this time, but he did—at three in the morning, long after she’d ended her silent vigil.
This time there was no gentle seduction, no talking—just wild, out of control sex that blew her mind.
It was only afterwards, when his side of the bed had long grown cold, that she wondered what he’d been trying to escape. Because he had been trying to escape, of that she was sure. The raw, ruthless passion they’d shared hadn’t been energizing sex, it had been oblivion sex.
She had to talk to him.
No one who felt that bad should suffer alone.
Feeling distinctly strange, Evie moved quietly into the living room. How did you approach a man you had wild, crazy sex with but no relationship? What were you supposed to say? Technically, were they friends now?
He had his back to her and he was talking in a low voice, his long fingers toying with a sleek, expensive pen.
She was so busy working out what she was going to say when he finished on the phone that it was a moment or two before she actually paid attention to his conversation.
It was his tone that made her listen. The hardness was tempered by something she hadn’t heard in his voice before. There was no hint of the ruthless businessman, or the primitive lover. He was infinitely gentle and it was obvious that the person on the other end of the phone meant a lot to him.
More than a lot.
‘Sì tesoro—ti amo.’ Evie froze. Ti amo. She didn’t speak much Italian but she knew that meant I love you. Unable to help herself, she listened to the rest of the conversation and picked up a few more words. This man, who claimed not to believe in happy endings, was telling someone that he loved her. That he hoped to see her soon.
The scent of him still clung to her skin, as did hers to him, no doubt, and yet he was already making plans to see another woman.
Her skin felt icy-cold.
She’d slept with another woman’s man.
Was this the secret that simmered beneath the surface? Was this the reason for his pain?
Nausea rose in her stomach and her legs felt as though they’d been turned to water.
She’d had sex with a man who was deeply involved with someone else.
Angry with him but even more angry with herself, Evie was about to move when he turned his head and saw her.
‘Evie?’ His voice was deep and male, surprisingly normal after the emotional tightrope they’d walked the previous night. ‘You’re awake early. I didn’t see you there.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ She stood stiff, shivering slightly, feeling slightly detached from her surroundings. ‘I’m going to get dressed. Then I’m going.’
He frowned. ‘Going where?’
‘I don’t know.’ Her shocked mind was paralysed. It refused to provide her with the words and the thoughts she needed to move forward. ‘Anywhere but here.’
His eyes hardened. ‘We made a deal. It would be catastrophic if you left now. I need you to stay.’