LITMIR.BIZ

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happened to someone else. It had happened to someone else. Eighteen months in prison changed you. For ever.

      ‘May I come in?’ He took a step towards her and she drew her breath in sharply, one hand fluttering to her throat.

      ‘Don’t—’ she began, and he stilled. She almost looked afraid. Afraid of him.

      ‘Do you think I’m going to hurt you?’ he asked, wondering why he was surprised. Everyone else had believed the worst of him. Why shouldn’t she?

      Emma’s eyes widened, her hand still at her throat. ‘I don’t—I don’t know. Why are you here, Larenzo?’

      Her voice wavered; she really was afraid. She thought he was dangerous. It should have occurred to him before, of course. He’d thought all of his naive delusions about humanity had been stripped away, but clearly he’d clung to this last one. The memory of his one night with Emma had sustained him through prison. He didn’t like having it tarnished now.

      ‘I’m here,’ he finally said, his voice cool, ‘because I felt I owed you something.’

      ‘You don’t.’

      ‘Considering your employment with me ended so abruptly, I thought you deserved some recompense,’ he continued as if she hadn’t spoken.

      ‘Recompense...’

      He stepped past her and dropped the envelope with the bank draft onto the hall table. ‘Six months’ pay. I thought you should have it.’

      She stared at the envelope with something like revulsion. ‘I don’t want your money,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I don’t want anything from you.’

      ‘This money was honestly earned,’ Larenzo informed her coldly. ‘I can promise you that.’

      ‘Why should I believe anything you say?’ she shot back. ‘How are you even here? The judge gave you life in prison—’

      ‘I was released last week. Clearly you don’t read the papers.’

      ‘No, I...’ She licked her lips, her gaze still wide. ‘I haven’t had time.’

      ‘Well, if you’d read them,’ Larenzo said, his voice coming out in a cold drawl, ‘you would have known that all the charges against me were dropped.’

      ‘They were?’ She looked bewildered, her gaze darting between him and the stairs. Was she thinking of making a run for it, barricading herself in a bedroom? Did she really think he was going to hurt her? He was caught between fury and despair at the thought, and then he blanked out both emotions. He might have held onto the memory of Emma through prison, and their night together might have compelled him to find her now, but he didn’t actually feel anything for her. He couldn’t feel anything at all.

      ‘Yes, they were. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here. Obviously. Unless you thought I’d escaped?’ He arched an eyebrow, smiled as if this were all so very amusing. ‘Stage-managed some sort of breakout?’

      ‘I...I don’t know what I think.’ She walked slowly past him, to the small sitting room at the front of the house. Larenzo followed her, watched as she sank onto the sofa, her head in her hands.

      ‘How did you find me here?’ she asked after a long, silent moment, her head still bowed.

      ‘This was the address you gave on your employment application.’

      She glanced up at him, her eyes widening once more. ‘And you came all the way to America to give me six months’ pay? If you really possessed such a conscience to see me adequately recompensed, you could have just deposited it in my bank account. You should have my details from when I was in your employment.’

      Larenzo’s mouth tightened. ‘I was in America anyway.’ She shook her head slowly, still dazed. Larenzo let his gaze rove over her, remembering her golden skin, her laughing eyes that looked so serious and dark now. She looked different, he realised. More womanly. She must have gained a little weight, and yet it suited her. Her breasts were fuller under the soft pink sweater she wore, and her face was a bit rounder. Her skin was as golden as he’d remembered, her golden-brown hair wavy and tousled about her face. His golden girl. What a joke.

      ‘Why are you in America?’ she asked and Larenzo snapped his gaze away from her.

      ‘I’m relocating to New York.’

       ‘New York—’

      ‘Is that a problem?’ he enquired coolly. ‘I only came here to give you your pay.’

      ‘I know, but...’ She glanced up towards the stairs once more, and Larenzo’s gaze narrowed. That was the second time she’d done that. What was upstairs? Was Emma hiding something from him? God knew he’d learned to become suspicious of everyone and everything. Trust was a concept he no longer even remotely considered.

      ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said quickly, as if coming to a decision. She rose from the sofa. ‘Thank you for the six months’ pay. That was...kind of you, considering.’

      ‘Considering?’ he repeated, his gaze narrowing. ‘Considering what?’

      Colour washed Emma’s cheeks. ‘Just the situation...’

      ‘You mean considering I’m a criminal? Is that what you mean, Emma?’ He didn’t know why he was pushing her, only that he was. That he wanted her to say it, admit what she thought of him. Perhaps it would be like lancing a wound.

      Emma lifted her chin, her eyes flashing in challenge. ‘And what if it was?’

      ‘I thought you knew me better than that.’

      ‘I didn’t know you at all, Larenzo. You were my employer, and I saw you a few times. We never even had a proper conversation before—’ She stopped abruptly, the colour deepening in her cheeks as she looked away.

      ‘Before what?’ he demanded, his voice low and insistent. He was punishing himself as much as her by raking this all up, bringing the memories he’d tormented himself with to the fore. ‘Before I made love to you? Before you wrapped your legs around my waist and—’

      ‘Don’t.’ The single word came out in a suffocated whisper. ‘Don’t remind me.’

      Larenzo’s lip curled. ‘You don’t want to remember?’

      ‘Of course I don’t.’ She glared at him, her golden-green eyes full of misery. ‘I don’t know why you were released from prison, Larenzo, or why the charges against you were dropped, but I just want you out of my life.’ She pressed her lips together as she held his stare. ‘I trust that won’t be an issue.’

      ‘An issue?’ he repeated. Fury beat through his veins, fired his blood. ‘I came here as a matter of courtesy. Clearly the effort was wasted.’

      ‘I think it’s best if you go now.’

      ‘Fine.’ He nodded curtly and curled his hands into fists at his sides, not trusting himself not to grab her by the shoulders and demand to know what he’d ever done to make her think he was a mobster. A Mafioso. Mio Dio, how could everyone he’d ever known have judged him so harshly and completely?

      Because the evidence had been there, thanks to Bertrano. Because he’d confessed, even if he’d felt he had no choice.

      She held his gaze, her chin still lifted, her shoulders thrown back, standing proud and defiant even though he knew she was afraid. Of him.

      He opened his mouth to say something of his innocence, but then he closed it. Why claim something she would never believe? ‘Goodbye,’ he said instead, and turned towards the hallway.

      A child’s cry suddenly echoed from upstairs. From the corner of his eye he saw Emma freeze, her face drain of colour. He wouldn’t have thought anything of the cry, considering he knew Emma was living with her sister and her family. And yet...

      The

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