Deceived Read online

She didn’t respond. Didn’t do anything but continue to breathe slow and steady as she drifted back into a deep sleep.

  “Merda.”

  My straining body screamed for me to pull the blanket back, to spread her steamy thighs, and thrust hard inside her. But there was just enough decency left inside my sex-addled brain to keep from giving in to the depraved urge.

  I rolled off her delectable body as carefully as I could and dropped to my back on the mattress beside her. As I stared up at the ceiling and tried to slow my raging pulse, I was achingly aware of the fact she likely wouldn’t remember a moment of what had just happened between us. If she’d been dreaming about me earlier, she now clearly wasn’t. And the fucked-up reality was…she probably never would.

  It took supreme effort, but I managed to push myself off the bed, tug the covers back up around her, and leave the room without touching her again. In the hall, I scrubbed my hand through my hair, hoping the sensation would be enough to kill the craving still burning in my veins.

  It didn’t even come close.

  Sela was at the stove when I stepped into the kitchen, seeking coffee. She turned when I entered and frowned before shifting back to whatever she was cooking.

  “You look like shit,” she muttered as I moved to the counter, grabbed a mug from the cupboard, and reached for the—thankfully—fresh-brewed coffeepot.

  I felt like shit too. Horny shit now, thanks to the last ten minutes. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

  I took my coffee to the table and sank into a chair, exhaustion tugging at me. Footsteps sounded across the wood floor as I sipped the hot brew, then a plate slid into my line of sight. The scent of Sela’s famous macadamia nut pancakes drifted to my nose.

  I glanced up as she let go of the plate. “Comfort food?”

  “I figured you probably had a rough night.”

  She didn’t know the half of it. As she moved back to the stove, I reached for the syrup from the middle of the table and doused my pancakes before taking a bite.

  She slid into the seat across from me with her own coffee while I ate. I knew Sela’s habits, so I knew she’d already eaten before she’d come over to the villa this morning. I also knew she was giving me time to refuel before hitting me with whatever was on her mind. As I expected, she waited until I was halfway through my breakfast before she wrapped both hands around her mug and leaned forward.

  “So, how is she?”

  I swallowed the bite in my mouth. “She’ll live.”

  “Is that good or bad news?”

  I pinned her with a look.

  “What?” She leaned back in her seat, still gripping the mug in both hands, her expression both entertained and innocuous. “It’s a legitimate question.”

  With a frown, I went back to my breakfast. Sela was smart enough not to interrupt me during the rest of my meal, but I’d lost my appetite. It was a good thing—the best thing—that Natalie was out of danger and on the mend. But since I hadn’t told Sela much of anything about Natalie yet, I knew I was about to be inundated with questions I didn’t want to answer.

  When the last of my pancakes were gone, I dropped my fork on the plate with a clink, reached for my coffee, and prepared myself for the inquisition. “Just ask what you want to ask so we can be done with this.”

  “That’s such a wonderful way to initiate a discussion.”

  I didn’t want to be having this conversation, but I didn’t tell her that. Aside from being smart and stable and more than capable at her job, Sela was easy to be around, and we had a comfortable working relationship when I was here and away. But more than that, we were friends, and I’d be stupid to do anything to jeopardize that friendship.

  “Sorry. I’m tired.” I leaned back in my seat and rubbed my hand over my face. “It’s been a long night.”

  “Looks like it.”

  Even without glancing at her, I could hear the compassion in her voice. It was enough to mellow me out. I sighed and dropped my hand against my thigh. “What would you like to know?”

  “Well”—she shifted in her seat—“for starters, judging by the way she booked out of here yesterday when she woke up, I’m guessing she’s not thrilled with your current situation.” The way Sela glanced at my left hand wrapped around my mug told me loud and clear she was zeroed in on my ring.

  “No, she’s not.” Since I hadn’t wanted to get into too many details with Sela and Haych, I’d only given them the basics: that Natalie and I had met in New York, that we’d had a whirlwind relationship, that we’d gotten married on a whim—a lie, but they didn’t need to know that part—and that we were here now because my family had found out about her. Sela knew first-hand how vengeful my House could be, so I was confident she wouldn’t question that part. But I hadn’t stopped to think how Natalie’s reaction to me might be interpreted by my staff.

  I waited for her to ask more. She studied me speculatively, but she didn’t ask the things I expected… What did you do to piss her off? Why does she hate you so much? Why is your House threatened by her? Instead, she asked the one thing I never predicted.

  “Why her? I know you’ve dated lots of women, but you’ve never brought one to the island. And you’ve never married one on a whim. In fact, you always swore you’d never get married.”

  The question threw me because even though I was ready to discuss the situation with regard to my family and Natalie, I wasn’t prepared to answer questions about us. I stared down at the coffee cooling in my mug and tried to come up with an answer that made sense. Nothing spinning in my head sounded good enough. The only thing I could come up with made me feel…exposed in a way I definitely didn’t like.

  My first instinct was to hedge, but I owed Sela something, so I forced myself to say, “Because she sees me. Really sees me, like no one else ever has. And she’s done that from the start.”

  Sela leaned back in her own chair and studied me with narrowed eyes. It wasn’t the romantic answer I knew she was looking for but I didn’t care. It was the truth. I’d never had to hide who I was inside from Natalie. I’d hid plenty of other shit about myself from her, but never that. She’d seen the real me that first day in my office in New York, and it hadn’t scared her. In fact, it had challenged her. Challenged her and sent us both spinning headfirst into something I don’t think either of us could have predicted or fathomed.

  “Does she know about us?”

  I reached for my mug and lifted it to my lips. “What about us?”

  “Why I’m here. How I came to be here.”

  “No.” I hadn’t had a chance to talk to Natalie about Sela yet.

  “I’m fairly certain she saw my tattoo yesterday when I was in her room. She did not look thrilled by my presence. In fact, she looked downright pissed. She knows what I am.”

  A familiar burst of rage gathered in my gut, but I tamped it down. “That’s not what you are.”

  “It’s what I was,” she said matter-of-factly. “You can’t change that.”

  My jaw clenched. No, I couldn’t. But I wouldn’t let her be identified by it either. Grabbing my plate and utensils, I rose from my seat and moved for the sink. “It’s a nonissue. I’ll make sure Natalie knows it’s a nonissue when she wakes.”

  I was ready to be done with this conversation. I was exhausted from no sleep, emotionally wrung out from the last week, and sexually frustrated now thanks to this morning’s stupid makeout session. I needed to check on Natalie, then crash for a few hours before heading out to help Haych clean up from the storm.

  After rinsing my plate, I put it and my utensils in the dishwasher then closed the door, intent on wrapping this little pow-wow up as quickly as possible. But when I turned, Sela was staring at me with a penetrating gaze I felt all the way in my bones, and I knew she wasn’t even close to being done yet.

  “Did you tell her about Vittoria?” she asked.

  My whole body tightened in anticipation of memories I did not want to relive. Even though I tried to keep m
y voice even and calm, I knew it dropped to a threatening level when I said, “She doesn’t need to know about Vittoria, and you’re not going to tell her about Vittoria.”

  Instead of backing down from, Sela tipped her head and frowned from her spot at the table. “You know, for a bright guy, you are really stupid when it comes to women, Luciano.”

  My patience reached a breaking point. I liked Sela. I respected her, especially after all she’d been through in her life. I even recognized now that the reason I felt a connection to her was because she was a lot like Natalie—a fighter, not easily intimidated, and tough as nails. And the more time she spent away from Italy and my House, the stronger and more independent she became. But I was officially done with this line of questioning. Vittoria was off-limits, and she knew that. The only reason I’d ever told her about Vittoria was so that she’d know I wasn’t interested in her sexually.

  I turned for the hall.

  “If you want to make things right with Natalie,” Sela said at my back, “then you need to tell her about Vittoria.”

  I scoffed. It might take a few more days, but I was confidant Natalie would eventually come to her senses. If I told her about Vittoria, she’d never let me get close to her again. “It’s not happening.”

  “You said she sees the real you,” Sela said as I reached the hall. “If that’s true, stop playing games and tell her the whole truth. It’s the only way she’s ever going to understand. And I guarantee it’s the only way you’re going to win her back.”

  I moved out of the kitchen without responding. But my spine tingled the whole way to Natalie’s door.

  She was still sleeping the way I’d left her—tucked under the covers and peacefully immobile. I checked her vitals, jotted everything down in my notebook, then felt her forehead. No fever. As quietly as I could, I slipped out of the room, not tempted this time to stay with her. I had too many things on my mind—too many doubts spinning in my brain thanks to my conversation with Sela. And I hated every one.

  In my room, I kicked off my boots and collapsed on my bed. I didn’t bother changing out of the dirty clothes I’d worn last night. Didn’t bother getting under the covers. I just stared up at the peaked, beamed ceiling and fought back memories of a dark night twelve years before that had changed me and my life for good.

  Sela was wrong. I could fix this fucked-up situation by sticking to the plan I’d come up with this morning. Natalie had fallen for me once, and I hadn’t even been all that charming then. If I actually put a little effort into spoiling her, I was confident I could make her fall for me all over again, even with all the shit that had happened between us.

  Exhaling a long breath, I closed my eyes and reassured myself this was the right thing to do—the only thing I could do.

  Then I fought like hell not to dream about Vittoria and what I’d done to her.

  Chapter Five

  Natalie

  I had the strangest sense of déjà vu. That I’d been here before. That something wasn’t right. That in a minute, I was going to wish I’d just stayed asleep.

  Dread swept through me as I struggled to open my eyes. Through hazy vision, I spotted a figure across the room turning toward me. Bright light shone at his back, shrouding his face in shadow, but I knew who it was. I could tell from the breadth of his shoulders and the familiar way he moved.

  I tensed as Luc stepped toward me, then shifted back on what I realized was a mattress—the same mattress I’d awoken on once before.

  “No, don’t try to get up.” He stopped at the foot of the bed and didn’t make any move to touch me, which I was thankful for. “I just changed the bandage on your leg. It’s better, but you should try to stay off it another day to give it time to heal.”

  I hated the way his familiar scent—a mixture of jasmine and rum and cedar—made me light-headed, made my stomach clench with a rush of memories I didn’t want to remember and a host of feelings I didn’t need to feel. But before I could tell him to back away so I could save my sanity, his words sank in, and my hand froze around the edge of the blanket.

  “My leg?” I threw the comforter back and stared at the large white bandage covering the outside of my left shin. “What did you do to me this time?”

  My voice sounded raspy and gravelly, not my own, but I was concerned only with what else he’d done when I’d been asleep.

  From the corner of my vision, I saw the way Luc’s shoulders stiffened, and a whisper of guilt rushed through me for immediately assuming the worst, but I pushed that aside. He’d drugged me, kidnapped me, and forced me into a marriage I didn’t want. It wasn’t a stretch to infer he’d injured me to make sure I couldn’t run—especially when I was clearly back where he wanted me to stay.

  “I didn’t do anything to you,” he said in a tone that was a lot calmer than I expected. “Though it is my fault you’re hurt. I should have noticed the cut on your leg before last night. If I had…”

  He paused, and the tiny bit of regret I heard in his voice forced my eyes from my bandaged leg up to his face. His—now that I could see him better—scruffy, as if he hadn’t shaved in several days, face.

  “If I had,” he said more strongly, straightening his spine and slipping his hands into the front pockets of worn, dirty jeans, “you wouldn’t have gotten sick.”

  I didn’t remember being sick. I remembered running from this room. Hiking in the jungle. Sitting down next to a palm tree and feeling weak—

  “It’s time for your meds.” Luc moved to the nightstand beside me, pulled the top drawer open, and extracted a plastic medicine bottle. “Hold out your hand.”

  Reflexively, I did as he said, staring at the two large, white pills as they dropped into my palm. “What is this?”

  “Penicillin.” He handed me a bottle of water I hadn’t noticed sitting on the nightstand, careful not to touch me. “Now that you’re awake, I won’t have to give it to you intramuscularly anymore. The wound on your leg was infected, but I caught it in time. You’ll need to take these twice a day for the next eight days.”

  I stared at the pills, trying to make sense of what he was saying. I didn’t remember being injured. I racked my brain, fighting to come up with a point in time when I’d been hurt, but all I could remember was that man attacking me in my house back in Boise.

  Was that when it had happened? I’d been hurt then, but I didn’t remember being cut. The only other time I’d been cut—

  My breath caught. The only other time I’d been cut was when I’d run from Luc in the woods after I’d seen that disgusting ritual in Italy. He’d slammed me to the ground to stop me. I’d hit the dirt hard. Something sharp had ripped through my pajama bottoms and stabbed into my leg. It had hurt, but I’d been so overwhelmed by everything else that I’d forgotten all about it. I hadn’t even cleaned the wound after he’d brought me back to the villa.

  “I promise it’s just an antibiotic.” Luc’s somber voice interrupted my memories, and I glanced up at him and blinked. “Contrary to what you think right now, Natalie, I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to help you.”

  My stomach tightened as our gazes held. My vision was still a little blurry from sleep, but in his one-of-a-kind eyes, I didn’t see confrontation or stubbornness as I’d seen the last time I’d awoken. I saw exhaustion, regret, and the tiniest bit of fear.

  I also saw heat. Or maybe I felt heat. My cheeks suddenly burned as images of his mouth moving against mine filled my head and made my lips tingle.

  I swallowed hard and looked back down at the pills in my hand.

  Confusion swirled inside me. Confusion laced with a good dose of warmth I didn’t want to be feeling.

  I tossed the pills into my mouth and reminded myself he’d drugged me. He’d kidnapped me. He’d imprisoned me, for fuck’s sake. And whatever sickness I’d just survived was his fault too, since I’d been injured trying to run from him. I shouldn’t feel anything for him except hate. He was the reason I was in this mess. If he’d left me alone i
n New York weeks ago and hadn’t tempted me with a trip to Italy…

  A knot formed in my belly as I swallowed the pills with a mouthful of water. Even before the medicine hit my throat, I knew I could blame Luc for a great many things but not for that. I’d jumped on the chance to go to Italy with him. He’d only asked me to join him as his assistant to keep me from investigating my friend’s death and delving too deeply into Salvatici family secrets. And I was the one who’d instigated our relationship when we’d been in Rome. He’d done his best to keep his distance from me, but I’d pushed until I’d gotten exactly what I’d wanted. I’d pushed until I’d gotten him.

  “Look, Natalie.” Luc’s voice tugged at my attention again, but it did little to ease the unease now swirling in my stomach. “I know we have a lot to discuss, and I promise we will discuss it all very soon, but first, I need you to talk to your mother.”

  “My mother?” My gaze shot back up to his.

  He took the water bottle from my hands. “She left several messages on your home machine while we were in Italy. I’m sure she’s worried about you. I just need you to tell her you’re fine, that you met someone, and that you’re taking a long vacation. That should keep her quiet for a while.”

  My pulse picked up speed. For the first time since I’d awoken on this blasted island, I saw a glimpse of freedom. Someone had to have found that dead body in my house. My elderly neighbor who’d been keeping an eye on the place had probably already contacted the police, who, realizing I was missing, had to have alerted the FBI. People were searching for me right this minute. They’d be able to track my phone call. I could let them know where I was. In a matter of hours, I could be free of this nightmare.

  I licked my lips and wrapped my fingers around the edge of the blanket, trying not to let my excitement show. “Okay. Where’s the phone?”

  Luc’s eyes narrowed. “Did I use the word phone? No phone.”

  My chest seized, and I sat up before I could stop myself. “But—”

  “No phone, Natalie. Do I look stupid?”