Two

      “What’s the meaning of this?” the older man in the room demanded, striding in from the terrace to face Rico. “Who are you? What are you doing in my suite?”

      “Papa,” Teresa said, rising from her chair, “this is Rico King.”

      “Ah,” Nick mused with a half smile. “Our host. Still, this doesn’t give you the right to intrude uninvited.”

      Rico steamed silently and hated the fact that he had to force his gaze away from Teresa’s to meet her father’s. The glint in the other man’s eyes told Rico the older Coretti had known exactly who Rico was. This was all part of the game. “The fact that you’re a thief on my property gives me all of the rights I need.”

      “Thief?” The older man bristled and puffed up until his chest was so full of air, Rico wouldn’t have been surprised to see him lift off the floor and float about the room.

      “Papa, please.” Teresa stepped in between the two men like a referee interrupting a prizefight. Facing Rico, she said, “We’ll leave. Right away.”

      “You’re not going anywhere,” he told her and felt that bubble of righteous anger fuel him again.

      Five years, he told himself. Five long years wondering where the hell she was. If she was dead or injured. If she was laughing at him from some other man’s bed. No. She wasn’t leaving. Not until he was good and ready for her to be gone. And at the moment, he didn’t know just when that might be.

      She went pale and her brown eyes shone with too many banked emotions to identify. If he had cared to try. Which he didn’t, he assured himself. Instead, Rico dismissed her and focused his gaze on the other man in the room.

      Dominick Coretti was stylish, confident and even now Rico could see the gleam of exhilaration in his eyes. He was already trying to think of a way out. A way to salvage a situation that had turned on him unexpectedly. Well, there was no way out for him—unless he did exactly as Rico wanted.

      “I am insulted that you would think me a thief,” Nick began, clearly sticking to his routine of outraged guest. “And I will not stay where I am clearly unwelcome. My family and I will book passage off the island by this evening.”

      “Your family will not be allowed to leave until the jewelry you’ve taken has been returned.”

      “I beg your pardon—”

      “There is no pardon here,” Rico told him flatly. Oh, he had to hand it to the man. He was pulling off the insulted-guest routine so well that if Rico hadn’t been sure of his facts, he might have believed him. Problem was, there was no doubt in Rico’s mind just who the Coretti family really was.

      “Once the jewelry is returned,” he said with a knowing smile, “you and your son can leave. My wife will remain with me.”

      “Wife?” Nick echoed.

      “Wife?” Teresa yelped.

      Finally, Rico looked to her again and was pleased to see stunned shock on her beautiful features. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open and color had rushed in to fill her pale, honey-toned cheeks.

      “That’s crazy.”

      “It’s true.”

      “You said nothing to me of marrying this man,” her father accused.

      “It wasn’t important,” she argued without even glancing at the other man.

      Those three words slapped at Rico and only served to fan the flames of his anger. Not important. Their marriage. Her running out on him. Her family stealing what was his. Not important. Anger was rife inside him and he struggled to keep his tone and his expression from revealing his feelings. “That’s not what you said at the time.”

      “How is it I was not told of this marriage?” The accusatory tone in her father’s voice singed the air.

      “Papa—”

      Rico didn’t believe the other man’s outrage for a second. He knew all about the Corettis. He’d done his research over the last several years. And though the private investigators he’d hired hadn’t been able to locate Teresa, they’d come up with quite a bit of very interesting information. Enough to see the whole damn family locked away, if he wished.

      So, no, he didn’t believe Nick’s performance. He knew that thieving had been a way of life for the family for generations. Lying was their stock in trade.

      “I’m not playing this game,” he said simply, quietly.

      “Game?”

      He glanced at the older man, then shifted his gaze back to the woman who haunted him. “As I said, return the jewelry you stole and you and your son can leave the island. Teresa will stay here. With me, until you bring me the gold dagger that was taken from me five years ago.”

      “You cannot hold my daughter here against her will,” Nick said, the steel in his voice telling Rico this was a man accustomed to being obeyed.

      “It’s that,” Rico said, staring at the other man now, “or I go to Interpol.”

      Nick waved that threat away with a negligent, well-manicured hand. “Interpol doesn’t worry me.”

      “Once I hand over the information I have gathered on your family over the years, I think you’ll feel differently.”

      Dark brown eyes narrowed. “What information?”

      “Enough to end you,” Rico promised, ignoring Teresa’s soft gasp.

      “Impossible,” Nick blustered, but concern glinted in his eyes. “There has never been evidence found against my family.”

      “Until now.” Rico gave him a smile. “Private investigators can go where the police can’t. And if the law should receive this information from an anonymous source...”

      Nick Coretti—or Candello, as he was registered here—looked as if he’d been cornered. And he had.

      Now the years of hiring the best private investigators in the world and collecting data and evidence were finally paying off—just as he’d known it would one day. Rico had been methodical as only a King could be when faced with an enemy. Add to that heritage the Latin blood that swam in his veins and revenge tasted sweeter than he had even imagined.

      “Your sons are not always as careful as their father,” he said, watching suspicion and then a cautious wariness shine in Dominick Coretti’s eyes.

      “You’re bluffing.”

      Rico smiled slightly and, without taking his gaze from Nick’s, said, “Teresa, tell your father I don’t bluff.”

      “He doesn’t, Papa,” she whispered and the sound seemed to echo in the plush suite.