She wanted to bolt but she remained seated.
His speculative gaze rested on her. ‘My son is taken with you. More than he has been with any other woman.’
Her insides clenched hard. ‘You’re wrong—’
‘I’m right.’ He leaned forward suddenly. ‘I want you to end your relationship with him.’
Her mouth dried. ‘There is no relationship.’
‘End it. Sever all ties with him and I’ll make sure your parents’ livelihood remains intact. I’ll even become your benefactor with your restaurant.’
Frantically she shook her head. ‘I don’t want your charity.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Do you really want to risk crossing me? I urge you to remember where my son inherited his thirst for revenge from.’
Feeling numb, she rose. This time he didn’t stop her.
Her thin sweater did nothing to hold the April chill at bay as she blindly struck through the evening crowd. She only realised where she was headed when the subway train pulled into the familiar station.
Her apartment was soothingly quiet. Dropping her bag, she went to the small bar she’d installed when she moved in.
Blanking her thoughts, she went to work, mixing liqueurs with juices, spirits with the bottle of champagne she’d been gifted on her birthday. Carefully she lined up the mixtures that worked and discarded the rest. She was on her last set when she heard the pounding on the door.
Breath catching, she went to the door and glanced into the peeper.
Narciso loomed large and imposing outside her door. Jumping back, she toyed with not answering.
‘Let me in, Ruby. Or so help me, I’ll break this door down.’
With shaking hands, she released the latch.
He took a single, lunging step in and slammed the door behind him. ‘You said you’d be an hour, tops.’ Silver eyes bore into her, intense and frighteningly invasive.
She forced a shrug. ‘I lost track of time.’
‘If you wanted to return here all you needed was to say.’ There was concern in his voice, coupled with the vulnerability he’d been unable to hide on the yacht.
Knowing what had put that vulnerability there, knowing what his father’s lack of love had done to him, made her chest tighten. She so desperately wanted to reach for him, to soothe his pain away.
But in light of what she faced, there was only one recourse where Narciso was concerned. ‘I didn’t realise I had to answer to you for my movements.’
He frowned and speared a hand through his hair. The way it fell made her guess he’d been doing it for a while. Swallowing hard, she forced her gaze away and walked into the small living room.
He followed. ‘You don’t,’ he answered. ‘But you said you’d come back. And you didn’t.’
‘It’s no big deal, Narciso. I wanted to return home for a bit.’
‘Are you ready to return now?’ he shot back, his gaze probing.
The need to say yes sliced through her. ‘No. I think I’ll spend the night here.’
He started to speak. Stopped, and looked around. She didn’t even bother to look at her apartment through his eyes. Annie had used the term shabby chic when they’d picked up knick-knacks from flea markets and second-hand shops to furnish their apartment. The plump sofas were mismatched, as were the lamps and cushions. The pictures that hung on the walls were from sidewalk artists whose talent had caught Ruby’s eye.
‘Why are you here, Narciso?’
Narciso walked over to a lampshade and touched the bohemian fringe. ‘I tried to tell you earlier. I’ve called off the vendetta with my father.’
Shock rocked through her, followed swiftly by sharp regret. ‘Why?’
He shoved his hand into his pockets and inhaled. ‘In a word? You. You’re the reason.’ Again that vulnerability blazed from his eyes. Along with a wariness as she remained frozen.
‘I shouldn’t be the reason, Narciso. You should do it for yourself.’
He shrugged. ‘I’m working my way to that, amante. But I need your help. You set me on this road. You can’t walk away now.’
Oh, God!
She choked back a sob and fled to the bar. He followed and saw the drinks lined up on the counter.
‘You were working?’
‘I never stop.’
‘What have you come up with?’ There was a genuine interest in his tone. For whatever reason, he wanted to know more about her passion.
His softening attitude towards her sent her emotions into panicked freefall. Belize had warned her she was at serious risk of developing feelings for Narciso Valentino. Seeing him in her home, touching her things, making monumental confessions, made her want to rush to him and burrow into his chest, hear his heart pounding against her own. But she couldn’t. Not now.