‘Coming across me by accident in that particular bar seems unlikely. I think you were tipped off.’
‘By whom?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘I didn’t know anyone in the bar until I met you.’
‘So you say.’
‘Because it’s true.’ Firming her jaw, she fired back, ‘Next question?’
‘You wheedled your way onto my yacht with your story about wanting a job.’
‘First off, I didn’twheedle,’ she told him with a steely look. ‘You invited me onto your yacht. And I don’twanta job. Ineeda job,’ she corrected him firmly. ‘Which is something you seem reluctant to give me, though I noticed no reluctance on your part when you first invited me to join you on board.’
Not expecting this level of defiance from someone who was so clearly guilty, he leaned in. ‘So you won’t benefit from your voyage on board theBlack Diamond? Is that what you want me to believe?’
‘Believe what you like. I can’t change your mind, but I’d like to know why you’re so mistrustful.’ Angling her chin, she waited for him to reply, as if he was being grilled now.
‘Nice try,’ he rapped crisply, ‘but don’t try and turn this on me.’
Rising, she planted her tiny fists on the table, and, lowering her head, she stared him straight in the eyes. ‘I know your brother died, leaving you to pick up the pieces, but I’m not responsible for that tragedy.’
She might as well have slapped him across the face. He recoiled as if she had. No one dared to mention his brother’s death to his face. No one intruded on his grief.
‘I don’t know who’s responsible for the tragedy,’ she continued grimly, apparently unaware of his mounting fury. ‘Since we’ve met, I’ve looked back over the old reports about his death on the Internet. There was an embargo on the facts in the press, as I’m sure you know. I strongly suspect you lost your brother the same way I lost my mother, although I don’t expect you to admit it. But whatever you’ve been through—and I know you’ve been through a lot—you’re not the only one. I also know what it’s like to lose a loved one—’
She broke off and her mouth worked. She said nothing for quite a while. Samia would be remembering her mother’s death, and fighting down her feelings. He remained silent in respect for her grief, even as anger for her deception continued to seethe inside him.
‘Whatever you went through doesn’t give you the right to hold me to account for your feelings now,’ she maintained.
Standing, he slammed his own fists down on the table. ‘Enough! We end this now.’
‘That would be too easy,’ she countered fiercely. Craning her chin, she glared into his eyes. ‘How about we both come clean?’ she challenged.
Passion couldn’t have been higher. The atmosphere they had created between them was thick with unresolved anger. Even the sea breeze that had stiffened into a gusting wind and lashed them remorselessly didn’t stand a chance of cooling things down.
‘You’re hiding something too,’ she insisted tightly.
‘And you want to write the story,’ he derided. One emotion crowned the other, until it was like a lava plug ready to blow.
‘How shockingly mistrustful you are,’ she accused angrily.
‘Do you blame me?’
The tragedy of his brother’s death had been shocking enough, but to discover Pietro had taken his own life, and that Luca had not been there to talk him down and help him, was a wound he would endure for the rest of his life. It had ripped the emotional rug from under his feet, leaving him shipwrecked with nothing to cling to but raw passion. And he was done with slamming fists down on a table. Samia had known enough violence in her life. She might rile him like no one else, but whatever else he was, or was not, he was no bully. What he’d learned about Samia and her ex wasn’t bland, it wasn’t regular, and it had forced him to balance his relief that she had escaped an abusive relationship intact with the very real threat that an investigative journalist presented to the throne. No royal house could afford to take a cuckoo into its nest, especially when that cuckoo had direct links to the media.
‘What else did you hope to gain, apart from your story?’ he demanded.
‘What are you getting at?’ she bit back.
The wind whipped them mercilessly as they stood glaring at each other. ‘Money from your story?’ he suggested. ‘Or perhaps it was even simpler than that.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Your ex was rich, but I am richer.’
Shaking her head, she made an incredulous sound. ‘That isn’t worthy of you, Luca. I’ll freely admit my ex-husband wasn’t in your league, but who is? There’s extreme wealth and then there’s...’ She glanced around at all the accoutrements that went into making a billion-euro yacht. ‘Plus, you have the weight of history on your side,’ she added as she speared him with a furious look. ‘As well as a duty to care for your people.’
