CHAPTER FOUR

      RAVENNA STARED AT the mellow wood of the floor, wishing the old boards would part in a yawning void and suck her away into nothingness. Anything to escape the sarcastic lash of Jonas Deveson’s contempt.

      As if she should be so fortunate! This past year there’d been no good luck in her life. Except the unexpected gift of the rest cure in Switzerland. But now it turned out that had an awful catch. An enormous debt to be paid.

      And a big, ruthless debt collector to make sure she paid in blood.

      She shivered, cold to the bone, yet her skin crawled with a clammy heat that matched the nausea twisting her insides. She fought it, refusing to be ill in front of him.

      Could anything be more humiliating than this?

      She felt sullied by him. It was far worse than facing a dressing-down by the head chef at work, whose explosive tirades were legend. As for the torments of her school years—they’d been nothing to this excruciating shame.

      For this time every word was deserved. She’d behaved like some slut, eager for the touch of a man who despised her. For the first time she hadn’t behaved like the sensible, careful, self-contained woman she was.

      She’d acted like a hormone-riddled stranger with no scruples or self-respect.

      The doorbell rang again and she dragged herself into the foyer, propping herself against the wall with a shaking hand as she pressed the intercom.

      ‘Monsieur Giscard?’ The words were so faint she cleared her throat to try again. The response from below was garbled in ears that still thrummed with the pulse of arousal.

      Nevertheless, she pressed the button to let the visitor in downstairs. Whoever it was, he couldn’t be more devastating than Jonas Deveson.

      She felt his eyes on her. Her skin prickled and heat drilled her spine. She could pinpoint the exact place between her shoulder blades where that penetrating gaze scored her. If she found later that his laser-sharp gaze had scorched a hole in her jacket she wouldn’t be surprised.

      Ravenna struggled to swallow the hard knot of emotion blocking her throat.

      What had got into her to behave so utterly out of character?

      Taking a deep breath, she tried to centre herself but instead inhaled the remnants of his tangy, hot citrus scent. It had impregnated her very pores.

      Never in her life had attraction been like that—instantaneous and absolute. Consciously, to her thinking mind, there’d been no attraction—just fear and shock at his revelations, and a determination to divert his thunderous anger from her mother.

      But something had happened when he’d touched her. Something unheralded.

      She’d heard of animal attraction. She had some experience of desire.

      But this... This had been a tsunami obliterating reason and doubt and anything like resistance. She’d stood like a rabbit spotlighted by a hunter, watching his eyes cloud with desire as he touched her. Excitement had stormed through her.

      Part of her brain had screamed for her to move, to slap his hand away, but she’d stood, rooted to the spot, eager for more. When he’d bitten her neck in that delicate tasting, she’d gone up in flames.

      How was it possible?

      Brushing off male attention had never been hard. Yet she’d practically begged for more from him as carnal heat melted her insides and left her a quivering, pathetic wreck.

      Where was her backbone? Her sense of self-preservation?

      The doorbell rang and she stumbled forward. Her legs felt like melted wax and she fumbled at the door with shaking hands.

      On the threshold stood a man of middle years, exquisitely dressed and sporting a rosebud in his lapel.

      ‘Mademoiselle Ruggiero?’ He pronounced her name with the softened consonants of the French.

      ‘Monsieur Giscard.’ She held out her hand. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you. I appreciate you coming so quickly.’ She led him into the apartment, carefully keeping her gaze from the far side of the salon and Jonas’ watchful presence.

      If she could she’d eject him from the premises, but he wouldn’t leave till he was good and ready. They had too much to discuss.

      At least having the antiques expert here gave her something else to concentrate on, and a chance to regroup after that devastating embrace.

      Despite her best intentions her gaze slid across the room to lock with eyes the colour of impenetrable mist. Jonas’ face was blank but his words echoed in her ears, making heat scorch her throat and cheeks.

      Beside her the dapper Frenchman started forward eagerly, his arm outstretched as he introduced himself to Jonas Deveson. For a moment Ravenna thought the two must have met before but it appeared Monsieur Giscard simply recognised him from press reports.

      Ravenna spun away on the ball of her foot. Jonas Deveson even managed to usurp the position of authority now, without trying. Her visitor was fawning over him like a long-lost son. Or a wealthy potential client.

      ‘I have an inventory of furnishings here, Monsieur Giscard.’ Reluctantly he turned towards her, and then nodded.

      ‘Perhaps, Mr Deveson, we could meet later today to conclude our discussion?’ She had a snowball’s chance in hell of fobbing him off but she had to try. The idea of him watching them trail around the apartment, sizing up her mamma’s possessions, made her skin crawl.

      ‘I think not, Ravenna.’ He deliberately dropped his voice to a pseudo caress on her name. To her consternation and shame she felt her skin tingle and her nipples harden.

      It was as if she were programmed to respond sexually even to the cadence of his voice!

      ‘I’m afraid Monsieur Giscard and I will be busy for some time—’

      ‘Don’t let me disturb you.’ His open wave of the arm, as if graciously giving them permission to continue, made her grit her teeth. ‘I’m happy to wait.’

      As if to emphasise his point he sank onto a gilded chair and nonchalantly crossed his legs, his hands palm down on the arms in a pose that screamed authority. His tall frame in that delicate chair should have looked ridiculous. Instead he looked...regal.

      For a second Ravenna toyed with the idea of calling for the police to eject him as an unwanted intruder. Until she realised the police were the last people she wanted. Her mother’s crime loomed over her like a leaden storm cloud.

      Fear sank talons deep into her vitals. This impossible situation could only get worse, given this man’s implacable thirst for vengeance. Her body stiffened, adrenalin surging and heart pounding in an unstoppable fight-or-flight response. Chaotic thoughts of disappearing out of the front door and not coming back raced through her brain.

      But she couldn’t do it.

      Ravenna was hardworking, dutiful, responsible. It was the way she was made, reinforced no doubt by watching her mother slave so long and hard to support them both.

      Besides, if she disappeared, Jonas would go after Mamma.

      Drawing a slow breath, she squared her shoulders. If there was one thing the last months had taught her it was that she had the power to endure more than she’d ever thought possible. She’d pay the debt somehow, save her mother from his destructive fury, then get on with her life.

      ‘As you wish. Feel free to make yourself comfortable.’ She shot him a dazzling smile and had the momentary pleasure of seeing him disconcerted. Then she turned to Monsieur Giscard, gesturing for him to precede her from the room. ‘I thought we might start in the study.’

      * * *

      Why Piers had needed a study was beyond Jonas. The old man