After a moment, she groaned.
“That’s it, cara. Come on. Look at me. Open your eyes and look at me.”
Her lashes fluttered but her lids stayed down. Nicolo drew her closer. Held her against him, eased her silky curls from the back of her neck and ran the ice pack lightly over the nape.
She moaned softly, her breath warm against his throat.
He closed his eyes.
He had forgotten what it was like to hold her. The delicacy of her bones. The floral scent of her hair. The unblemished softness of her skin.
His arms tightened around her. “Aimee,” he whispered.
Suddenly he held a wildcat in his arms. She pulled back, curled her hands into fists and pounded them against his shoulders.
“Get away from me!”
“Aimee! Stop it!”
“What are you doing here?” Her voice shook. “Get out. Do you hear me? Get out!”
Nicolo grabbed her wrists in one hand. “Damn it, you fainted! Would you rather I’d left you lying on the floor?”
“I’d rather never see your face again!”
His mouth thinned. He let go of her and rose to his feet.
“My sentiments, exactly, Ms. Black. Where is your telephone?”
“What do you want with the telephone?”
“I’m going to phone for an ambulance. Then it will be my pleasure to walk out that door and not look back.”
“No!” Aimee sat up quickly. Too quickly; the room seemed to give a sickening lurch and the all-too-familiar nausea sent a rush of bile up her throat. “I don’t—I don’t need an—”
“Dio, look at you! You’re white as a ghost.”
“I am fine,” she said carefully, as she rose to her feet. The room tilted again. She took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. “Thank you for your help, Prince Barbieri. Now, get the hell out of my apartment.”
“Not until I know you’re all right.”
“Why would you give a damn?”
“Why? Well, let’s see. I rang the bell. You opened the door, saw me and did an excellent imitation of a Victorian swoon.” His smile was lupine and all teeth. “I’m sure you’ll forgive me if I tell you I can envision a scenario in which you end up accusing me of somehow causing that swoon.”
He meant it as an insult, she knew, but Aimee could only think how close to the truth he’d come.
“I just thanked you for your help, didn’t I?”
“You’re a superb liar,” Nicolo said coldly. “Or did you think I’d forget that?”
“We’ve been all through this.”
“Yes. We have. And you lied.” His eyes narrowed as they met hers. “You told your grandfather I seduced you when we both know that what happened in that club, and in my hotel room, was by mutual consent.”
Aimee stared up at him. His face might have been the stone face of a Roman emperor, his eyes unseeing and unfeeling. It was impossible to imagine she’d slept with this man.
He was, indeed, a stranger.