Page 35 of Playing the Sicilian's Game of Revenge

He meant it to be insulting. Too bad he failed at that. “I’ve been thinking about my rules. I set them up to protect myself.”

“You would be smart to do so. Always.”

She nodded along. “It made sense when I was heartbroken and embarrassed,” she said. Then gave an insouciant shrug. “But I’m not anymore.”

His eyes narrowed, temper flashing in their dark depths. It really was hard not to laugh in his face when he was so easy to rile up. When she knew he would only care about that statement if he wanted her to be heartbroken. Which would likely mean his heart was a little more involved than he wanted.

“Seven thirty work for you?” she asked sweetly.

A silence stretched out, his dark and vibrating with portent. Her smile never faltered. His dark-as-night act didn’t faze her now, and what a gift that was.

“Very well,” he agreed eventually.

She skirted his desk, watched the little war in his expression. She had the feeling he wanted to lean away from her—which was a victory indeed when it came to a man like him. Even if he ended up holding his ground.

She leaned down, brushed a kiss across his cheek. “See you soon.” Then she walked out of his office, feeling lighter than she had in weeks.

Teo was too smart not to see this was a trap. He just couldn’t quite fathom what trap Saverina was laying for him. Yet.

Not heartbroken anymore. What rot. If she’d gotten over it that quickly, her heart had never been involved in the first place.

Not that it mattered, because his heart did not exist and was certainly not involved and never would be. He rubbed at the odd pain in his chest as he walked up to Saverina’s door.

Too much stress. Not enough sleep. Perhaps he should see a doctor. Revenge was inching closer, and it was a delicate business. That’s what kept his mind going in circles at night, certainly not memories of Saverina in his apartment and the frustration of her not being there anymore. Not missing their lunches even though it had only been two days.

No. He was not so weak and childish. Wouldn’t allow himself to be.

When the door opened, it was indeed the woman who’d served them drinks the other night. Teo forced himself to smile. He was in control of his face, his feelings, all of it. And if he’d had to remind himself of that more the past few days than he had in years, well, again.

Stress.

“Saverina said to send you on up to her bedroom.” The woman led him down a hall and pointed at some stairs. “She’s the first door on the right.”

He did not trust this letting go of her rules. The soliciting his opinion on her outfit. The inviting him to her bedroom. Alone. He took the stairs and braced himself for some kind of...attack. But a man only fell for a trap if he didn’t see it coming, and Teo saw this coming a mile away.

Whatever it was.

The first door on the right was open, and as Teo stepped over the threshold, he came up short.

The room was an explosion of color...and mess. He looked at it all in shock. She’d always been very neat at his apartment, never leaving a thing out of place. Her office at Parisi was always elegant and tidy. She herself was always well put together.

What was this? Clothes everywhere. Plants in every corner, hanging from the ceiling in some places. Piles and piles of notebooks, jewelry, makeup.

A door deeper in the room opened, and out she came, her hair piled on top of her head in curling spirals. She was dressed, but barefoot. When she saw him standing there, her smile bloomed.

“Oh, good, you’re here. Zip me up, will you?”

She turned her back to him, the zipper of the dress gaping open. The band of her bra was a bright, vibrant pink against the demure black of the dress. His gut tightened.

He studied her back, the elegant curve of her neck left naked by the updo of her hair. Was this some game of...seduction?

She looked over her shoulder at him. “We don’t have time to waste, Teo. I still have to decide what shoes to wear. If you like this dress.”

It wasn’t anything like the red one she’d worn at the gala. This one was not meant to hit a man over the head with her raw sex appeal. No, this little black number was meant to be a demure display of all the exquisite beauty she possessed. A tease, all in all.

Particularly now that he knew she wore a bright pink bra underneath. But he was no fool. He would not fall prey to her little game. He crossed the room to her and found the zipper there at the small of her back.

He did not resist touching her. She could put on this little act, she could claim lack of heartbreak, but chemistry did not lie, and she felt it just as much—if not more—than he did. He skimmed his finger along her soft skin as he pulled the zipper up.

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