Read Online Revelations of the Night Before by Lynn Raye Harris - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lynn Raye Harris
Ads: Link
a child then. I’ve grown up now.”
His gaze slipped over her. “You have indeed. Quite delightfully, I might add.” Before she knew what he was planning, his long fingers came up and gripped her chin, holding her head up high for his inspection. “There is a connecting door between our suites. Should you desire a repeat of Venice, you have only to open the door and come inside.”
Her heart throbbed in her ears, her neck. Surely he could see her pulse beating. Tina swallowed hard. “I don’t,” she said. “Never again.”
She could see his teeth flash white in the dim hallway. His handsome face was so close, the hard angles touchable. Kissable.
No
.
“Never say never, sweetheart,” he told her. “You will lose if you do.”
“I hardly think so,” she said haughtily.
His head dipped swiftly, and she closed her eyes in reaction. She could feel his breath on her lips, and she shivered with anticipation even while her brain struggled to catch up.
“I think you lie to yourself,” Nico said, and then he laughed softly as he pulled away.
Tina’s eyes snapped open as her brain finally engaged. She took a step backward, thudded into her stillclosed door. She’d thought he was going to kiss her. And she’d wanted it.
Fire burned her from the inside out—but was it the fire of shame, or of desire? “I don’t want you,” she said firmly. “I
don’t
.”
His smile mocked her. “Tell yourself that if it makes you feel better. But we both know it’s a lie.”
Nico sat in the dark with his laptop and went over the figures again. Then he sprawled back in his chair, raking a hand through his hair in frustration.
Even in death, Alessio Gavretti had the power to irritate him. More than irritate him, apparently.
Nico swore softly. He’d spent years trying to impress the man who wasn’t impressed with anything—unless it wore a very short skirt and had very large breasts—but his father had always treated him with a cool indifference that had been the hallmark of his personality.
Nothing Nico ever did made a dent in his father’s reserve, though the man
had
come to his races a few times. Nico had been the impetus behind Gavretti Manufacturing in the first place, though it hadn’t been his original plan when he’d first gone to his father to ask for support. No, he’d wanted to back Renzo—but his father wouldn’t hear of it.
“Why should I invest in this man’s business when you are perfectly capable of starting your own business, Niccolo? No, build the motorcycles yourself, but do not ask me for money for another.”
Nico frowned. That had been a pivotal moment in his life, though he’d not realized it at the time. He’d built the motorcycles, when he’d realized he had no other choice, and he’d lost the only friend he’d ever truly had. It still hurt in places he didn’t like to examine, and for that heblamed the woman in his guest room. Without her, he wouldn’t be thinking about this so much tonight.
He’d spent so many years not having a conscience that to be reminded it had not always been the case was more unsettling than he would have liked.
He shoved himself upright and went through the open door onto the balcony. It was quiet outside, dark. He welcomed the solitude. The scents of bougainvillea and lavender filled the air, and far below him the waters of the lake lapped at the rock upon which the castle stood.
It was peaceful. And it made him desperate, as well. He could lose it all if he didn’t figure this out.
He’d had no idea, until his father had died and the estate had fallen into his hands, just how much of a tangle it was in. Alessio Gavretti had spent money like he had a printing press in the basement—and so had Nico’s mother.
They’d separated years ago, but never divorced. His father spent money on women, and his mother spent it on clothing, jewels and homes. Over the years, they’d managed to rack up an impressive roster of loans and long-term debts.
His gaze slipped over her. “You have indeed. Quite delightfully, I might add.” Before she knew what he was planning, his long fingers came up and gripped her chin, holding her head up high for his inspection. “There is a connecting door between our suites. Should you desire a repeat of Venice, you have only to open the door and come inside.”
Her heart throbbed in her ears, her neck. Surely he could see her pulse beating. Tina swallowed hard. “I don’t,” she said. “Never again.”
She could see his teeth flash white in the dim hallway. His handsome face was so close, the hard angles touchable. Kissable.
No
.
“Never say never, sweetheart,” he told her. “You will lose if you do.”
“I hardly think so,” she said haughtily.
His head dipped swiftly, and she closed her eyes in reaction. She could feel his breath on her lips, and she shivered with anticipation even while her brain struggled to catch up.
“I think you lie to yourself,” Nico said, and then he laughed softly as he pulled away.
Tina’s eyes snapped open as her brain finally engaged. She took a step backward, thudded into her stillclosed door. She’d thought he was going to kiss her. And she’d wanted it.
Fire burned her from the inside out—but was it the fire of shame, or of desire? “I don’t want you,” she said firmly. “I
don’t
.”
His smile mocked her. “Tell yourself that if it makes you feel better. But we both know it’s a lie.”
Nico sat in the dark with his laptop and went over the figures again. Then he sprawled back in his chair, raking a hand through his hair in frustration.
Even in death, Alessio Gavretti had the power to irritate him. More than irritate him, apparently.
Nico swore softly. He’d spent years trying to impress the man who wasn’t impressed with anything—unless it wore a very short skirt and had very large breasts—but his father had always treated him with a cool indifference that had been the hallmark of his personality.
Nothing Nico ever did made a dent in his father’s reserve, though the man
had
come to his races a few times. Nico had been the impetus behind Gavretti Manufacturing in the first place, though it hadn’t been his original plan when he’d first gone to his father to ask for support. No, he’d wanted to back Renzo—but his father wouldn’t hear of it.
“Why should I invest in this man’s business when you are perfectly capable of starting your own business, Niccolo? No, build the motorcycles yourself, but do not ask me for money for another.”
Nico frowned. That had been a pivotal moment in his life, though he’d not realized it at the time. He’d built the motorcycles, when he’d realized he had no other choice, and he’d lost the only friend he’d ever truly had. It still hurt in places he didn’t like to examine, and for that heblamed the woman in his guest room. Without her, he wouldn’t be thinking about this so much tonight.
He’d spent so many years not having a conscience that to be reminded it had not always been the case was more unsettling than he would have liked.
He shoved himself upright and went through the open door onto the balcony. It was quiet outside, dark. He welcomed the solitude. The scents of bougainvillea and lavender filled the air, and far below him the waters of the lake lapped at the rock upon which the castle stood.
It was peaceful. And it made him desperate, as well. He could lose it all if he didn’t figure this out.
He’d had no idea, until his father had died and the estate had fallen into his hands, just how much of a tangle it was in. Alessio Gavretti had spent money like he had a printing press in the basement—and so had Nico’s mother.
They’d separated years ago, but never divorced. His father spent money on women, and his mother spent it on clothing, jewels and homes. Over the years, they’d managed to rack up an impressive roster of loans and long-term debts.
Similar Books
