A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw. ‘Dinner will be here shortly.’
‘I’ve already told you I don’t want any.’
Gregorio’s eyes narrowed. ‘Did your father have a line over which it was not safe to cross?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she recalled, with a wistful curve of her lips.
‘And I am sure you knew to the nth degree how close to that line you might venture?’
‘Yes...’ She eyed him warily now.
‘I have now reached my own line,’ Gregorio informed her calmly.
‘Is that supposed to scare me?’
Her bravado was admirable. Unfortunately it was nullified by the rapidly beating pulse visible in her throat: Lia was well aware of exactly how close she was to crossing over his line. And to paying the consequences for that trespass.
Gregorio’s mouth thinned. ‘You are—’ He broke off as the doorbell rang. ‘That will be Silvio, delivering our dinner.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Wow, you must be a regular customer for the restaurant to have delivered so quickly.’
Their dinner had been prepared at and delivered by the staff at Mancini’s, one of the most exclusive and prestigious restaurants in London. If Lia thought they were going to dine on pizza or Chinese food she was mistaken.
‘Go and dress,’ he instructed harshly. ‘Unless you wish Silvio to see you wearing only a towel.’
Lia had a feeling the thought of that bothered Gregorio more than it bothered her. She was half inclined to remain exactly as she was—if only so that she could annoy Gregorio even more than he already was.
The fact that she knew she would feel more comfortable fully clothed was the deciding factor in her turning on her heel and walking down the hallway to her bedroom. But she was aware of Gregorio’s devouring black gaze following her every step of the way.
Once in her bedroom, Lia slumped back against the closed door and drew in several deep breaths. Exactly what was going on here? Because something most certainly was.
Gregorio had not only kept the promise he’d made two months ago, that the two of them would talk again, but now that he was here in her apartment he was making no secret of the fact he still desired her.
Her body’s traitorous response to him was harder for Lia to accept, let alone make sense of.
He was Gregorio de la Cruz, for goodness’ sake. The man who’d had a hand in driving her father to his death.
When did I stop holding him completely responsible?
She hadn’t. Had she...? No, of course she hadn’t.
Gregorio was hard, ruthless, and scary as hell. He was also at least ten years older than she was, with the added experience that came with those extra years.
Dear God, she must be more desperate for human warmth than she’d realised if she’d been physically aroused by a man she should hate!
* * *
‘Good?’
Lia’s only response was a throaty ‘mmm’ as she dipped another piece of asparagus into melted butter before eating it with obvious enjoyment.
Gregorio had removed his suit jacket and tie, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to just beneath his elbows by the time Lia had returned fully dressed from her bedroom. Her hair was loose about her shoulders, in the style he preferred—but if Lia had known that he was sure she would have scraped it back into a severe bun! She was wearing tight black jeans with a deep grey sweater that perfectly matched the colour of her eyes.
He had placed their food in the oven to keep warm, cleared the breakfast bar, found cutlery and laid two places so they were ready to eat as soon as Lia returned.
After stating that she wasn’t hungry she had devoured succulent prawns and avocado with obvious relish, and steak, asparagus and dauphinoise potatoes were now being enjoyed with the same enthusiasm. The fact that she had drunk two glasses of the red wine Gregorio had ordered to be delivered with the meal—he’d had the foresight not to order one of the vintages from the de la Cruz vineyard—would seem to indicate she approved of that too.
Gregorio had found the food to be as delicious as always, but most of his enjoyment had come from watching Lia as she placed the food delicately in her mouth before eating with relish.