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For all that she promised him fidelity and devotion and a fresh start, she still didn’t trust him. And he hated it with every breath in him.
Now, as he jumped off the chopper and walked the corridors through the main level of the yacht, curiosity began to overtake the exhaustion he’d felt on arrival. Soft jazz, from one of his favorite low-key artists, crooned through the speakers, instantly loosening the tension he felt in his shoulders. That she’d remembered the artist’s name from when he’d played it in their suite in Vegas…put a smile on his lips.
And this was a record he didn’t even own.
Grabbing a champagne from a passing waiter, he drank it in one gulp and grimaced. Before the staff could throw a second glance in his direction, he climbed the stairs to the upper deck.
Among the guests crowding the sky lounge, he noted his parents, on opposite ends.
HIs mother, as usual, was flirting with his father’s oldest colleague, and his father, on the other end, was entertaining a very eager, very young wannabe actress Adriano recognized from her various colorful media scandals. Then there were his sister and brother and friends…and colleagues he barely tolerated in work.
His gaze drifted through the crowd, considering and discarding people until it landed on…her. He’d initially whizzed past the figure in red. Something about the nervous way the woman pushed her hair behind her ear caught his attention instead.
It was his wife, with her thick curls straightened into wispy layers that barely touched her shoulders.
She had cut her hair.
Christo, why did the loss hit him as if he were a boy whose favorite toy had been donated to the shelter?
It is only hair, he told himself, fighting rising frustration.
The red silk dipped so low in the back—barely held together—that if one had the interest, one could simply catch a glimpse of her delicious bottom. Given the man she was dancing with was a scoundrel who thought making promises and debauching women, married or single alike, a sport, it would be no surprise if he pawed her.
Whatever it was the rogue said, leaning his mouth quite close to her ear, she laughed. It was a genuine sound, full of that huskiness that Adriano loved. Like the world’s richest miser, he wanted to hoard it all for himself.
The man grinned, pulled back and turned her in his arms.
Adriano got a glimpse of her front. And cursed low.
The dress dipped just as low in the front, almost baring her skin to her stomach. Then the fabric gathered and fell in thick folds, all the way to her ankles, with a thigh-high slit on the side.
Diamonds, large and flashy, winked from her throat, wrists and ears. Even her makeup was different, with subtle gold eyeshadow making her eyes pop like jewels, even viewed from this distance.
Finally, with a gracious smile, she pulled away from the man.
Adriano’s breath came just a little easier.
She flitted through the rest of the crowd, the red making her glitter among boring blacks and navy blues, laughing and entertaining whoever accosted her. And a lot of men did accost her. Some out of curiosity—this was after all their only chance to get a close eyeful of the scandal Adriano Cavalieri had willingly courted. Some because this Nyra, with flirty smiles and smart quips and subtle arm touches, was too stunning to resist.
Some because they wanted to test her, and him, through her.
She looked beautiful, sophisticated, like one of the numerous socialites and heiresses his mother had picked for him through the years.
I’ll be a perfect wife to you, Adriano.
She was perfect. This was what his parents had wanted for him. This was what his own lifestyle demanded. This was what society expected from him and his wife.
And it was all wrong.
This was not the Nyra he wanted, the Nyra he’d secretly married, away from the eyes of the world.
* * *
Nyra became aware of Adriano’s presence minutes before he made his actual appearance.
Every inch of her bare skin, and there was a lot on tasteful display tonight, prickled with warning and pleasure. The small hairs on her neck stood to attention, and a sweet hum thrummed through her, pooling low in her core.
The last time she and her husband had talked had been on the phone two nights ago, and it was to indulge in phone sex. Because she’d admitted that she was restless and horny, and Adriano was a man who viewed it as a challenge to his title, if he didn’t see to her satisfaction.