She felt great, even confident in the exquisite dress as she walked across the deck towards Luca. That was weird in itself, as she’d never worn such a provocative outfit in her life. Flimsy, transparent emerald-green silk chiffon, every inch beaded with tiny shimmering crystals and lined with a nude underskirt to give the illusion that she was naked underneath, was hardly her everyday wear.
She heated beneath his glance. Then he glanced at her again and this time his stare lasted longer. Her gown was split to the waist back and front, with only proper corseting holding it together. Her cheeks were burning red under his scrutiny, but she was determined not to falter. ‘Good evening,’ she said evenly, relieved she didn’t have high-heeled shoes to contend with as well as the figure-hugging dress.
‘A very good evening,’ Luca agreed, though in a disappointingly cold tone, she thought. How could he be less than enthusiastic about a night like this?
Unless something had happened since she’d last seen him.
‘I feel as if I’ve walked through a cloud of fairy dust,’ she said, smiling as she glanced around at their opulent surroundings. The dining table laid out on deck sparkled with crystal and silver, and glowed invitingly beneath the light of flickering candles. If Luca was in a grim mood, it was up to her to bring him around. Being positive and upbeat was the best way to do that. ‘What a beautiful evening,’ she enthused. ‘A velvet sky peppered with stars, and here I am on board a fabulous black yacht slicing through the ocean.’
‘Like a steel knife through butter?’ he growled.
‘Exactly.’ She refused to be put off. ‘The creak of the sails and the snap of the ropes is the only music anyone would need to make tonight perfect.’
‘You think?’
Swallowing deep, she asked, ‘May I sit down?’
He made a careless gesture. ‘As you please.’
But he did stand politely and hold her chair to see her settled before he sat down again. Then she realised they were alone. Where was the rest of the crew? Were they to serve themselves? That would be nice...
They sat in silence for a while, which gave her the chance to mull over another puzzle. Having told her to dress for dinner, Luca was wearing banged-up jeans with his feet thrust into a pair of simple sandals. But this was the Pirate Prince, she reminded herself, and with forearms like steel girders and his wild hair tossed this way and that, what did she have to complain about? But why didn’t he say something? Was she supposed to make all the chat? At least he wasn’t pacing the deck. And for once, she wasn’t late.Look on the bright side, she chided herself.Stop looking for trouble.But she had hoped for more.
She picked distractedly at a freshly baked roll. It was hard to maintain her optimism in the face of such obvious disapproval. Why didn’t he just tell her he’d changed his mind—didn’t want to have dinner with her, didn’t want to talk, eat, or even be remotely civil? It was such a comedown after the laugh she’d had in her stateroom, strutting around in the fancy gown, playing the role of supersiren. The only good thing now was the banquet of delicious food laid out on the table that she couldn’t face.Let’s hope he lightens up soon, she reflected, lifting her chin, as determined as ever to make this, her first evening on board theBlack Diamond, a good one.
Did she have to look quite so beautiful? It was like salt in a wound. He didn’t trust himself to react yet. What he’d discovered in her file kept on playing through his mind on a loop.
She was what?
Who?
With a vicious curse, he’d flung the file down on the desk. He’d brought Samia on board with the best of intentions—to make her his bride, a princess, and to lavish her with gifts and a lifestyle she could only dream about. She’d been welcomed with nothing but warmth and friendship, by him and by his crew, and had made the best of impressions within minutes of being on board. Now he felt he’d betrayed his crew, his people and himself, for falling for the oldest trick in the world, which was to be made to believe that everything was exactly as it seemed. Turned out nothing was as it seemed where Samia was concerned. Her wide-eyed, apparently guileless enthusiasm was just an act.
Her file had detailed every significant event in the life of Samia Smith, newly divorced investigative journalist. No wonder his team hadn’t sent that news by text. Even worse, she’d been cruelly treated by her ex-husband, her column used by that sorry excuse for a man for his own ends, but what Luca had to ask was, did a leopard ever change its spots?
An investigative journalist?
After his brother’s death, he’d tried not to feel anything. There was only space in his heart for grief and guilt. Then Samia had come along, loosening him up, and bringing him back with her zany humour. That humour had lost its appeal now he knew why she’d acted as she had. Having wheedled herself onto his yacht, she had lied by omission. He got that she needed to escape a vindictive ex. He would have helped her, anyway, if she’d explained the situation. But why hadn’t she told him she was a journalist? There could only be one reason, and that was to profit from it. She’d seized the main chance like everyone else. Maybe she was not a career courtesan, but she was certainly an opportunist who believed she could take him for a ride. If she imagined she was going to get away with it, she was wrong.
‘Luca...?’
The conflict inside him only increased when he drew back to stare into Samia’s beautiful, lying face. How dare she look so appealing with that embarrassed expression on her face and a half shrug in her shoulders as she waited for his approval? It was dangerous to like someone as much as he liked Samia. Loving his brother, only to have him ripped away so cruelly, was the only proof he needed of that. It was better to feel nothing. Then there was nothing to lose.
‘I look a mess, don’t I?’ she exclaimed, mouth pressing down in an apologetic smile. To make her point, she ran her hands over the figure-hugging fabric of her gown. ‘Go on—you can say it,’ she prompted. ‘I can take it.’ She pulled a comic face. ‘This isn’t exactly my style, is it?’
Samia thought his only problem with her was her appearance? She looked ravishing. Beyond beautiful, she was either the best actress he’d ever met, or she was seriously damaged, and he feared that the latter was the case, which meant he must protect her. The second part of the report had detailed her abuse at the hands of her husband, which angered him far more than Samia covering up her occupation ever could. But she had deceived him, and he could never forget that, though it was hard to reconcile this ingénue in her party dress with someone who would lie and cheat her way into his affection in order to get a scoop.
Don’t the facts speak for themselves?Why else would she seek me out at the bar?
‘I disagree,’ he said curtly. ‘You look beautiful.’
‘Do I?’ She blushed. ‘Don’t lie to me.’
Who was lying to whom? He prided himself on his straightforwardness. No matter what she’d done, he would not indulge in a cheap game of tit for tat.
‘The gown is beautiful, as are you,’ he insisted, though his tone was still clipped.
‘The gown is outrageous,’ she argued, laughing as her shoulders relaxed at his words. ‘I’ll probably fall over the fishtail train the moment I stand up.’
