Fonseca's Fury. Эбби Грин

      He looked at her for a long moment, clearly incredulous, before tipping his head back and laughing so abruptly that Serena flinched.

      When his eyes met hers again they still sparkled with cold mirth, and that sensual mouth was curved in an equally cold smile.

      ‘I have to hand it to you—you’ve got some balls to come in here and protest your innocence after all this time.’

      Serena’s nails scored her palms, but she didn’t notice. ‘It’s true. I know what you must think...’

      She stopped, and had to push down the insidious reminder that it was what everyone had thought. Erroneously.

      ‘I didn’t do those kinds of drugs.’

      Any hint of mirth, cold or otherwise, vanished from Luca Fonseca’s visage. ‘Enough with protesting your innocence. You had Class A drugs in that pretty purse and you conveniently slipped them into my pocket as soon as it became apparent that the club was being raided.’

      Feeling sick now, Serena said, ‘It must have been someone else in the crush and panic.’

      Fonseca moved even closer to Serena then, and she gulped and looked up. She felt hot, clammy.

      His voice was low, seductive. ‘Do I need to remind you of how close we were that night, Serena? How easy it must have been for you to divest yourself of incriminating evidence?’

      Serena could recall all too clearly that his arms had been like steel bands around her, with hers twined around his neck. Her mouth had been sensitive and swollen, her breathing rapid. Someone had rushed over to them on the dance floor—some acquaintance of Serena’s who had hissed, ‘There’s a raid.’

      And Luca Fonseca thought... He thought that during those few seconds before chaos had struck she’d had the presence of mind to somehow slip drugs onto his person?

      He said now, ‘I’m sure it was a move you’d perfected over the years, which was why I felt nothing.’

      He stepped back and Serena could take a breath again. But then he walked around her, and her skin prickled. She was acutely aware of his regard and wanted to adjust her suit, which felt constrictive.

      She closed her eyes and then opened them again, turning around to face him. ‘Mr Fonseca, I’m just looking for a chance—’

      He held up his hand and Serena stopped. His expression was worse than cold now: it was completely indecipherable.

      He clicked his fingers, as if something just occurred to him, and his lip curled. ‘Of course—it’s your family, isn’t it? They’ve clipped your wings. Andreas Xenakis and Rocco De Marco would never tolerate a return to your debauched ways, and you’re still persona non grata in the social circles who fêted you before. You and your sister certainly landed on your feet, in spite of your father’s fall from grace.’

      Disgust was etched on his hard features.

      ‘Lorenzo DePiero will never be able to show his face again after the things he did.’

      Serena felt nauseous. She of all people didn’t need to be reminded of her father’s corruption and many crimes.

      But Luca wasn’t finished. ‘I think you’re doing this under some sort of sufferance, to prove to your new-found family that you’ve changed... In return for what? An allowance? A palatial home back in Italy, your old stomping ground? Or perhaps you’ll stay in Athens, where the stench of your tarnished reputation is a little less...pungent? After all, it’s where you’ll have the protection of your younger sister who, if I recall correctly, was the one who regularly cleaned up your messes.’

      Fire raced up Serena’s spine at hearing him mention her family—and especially her sister. A sense of protectiveness overwhelmed her. They were everything to her and she would never, ever let them down. They had saved her. Something this cold, judgmental man would never understand.

      Serena was jet-lagged, gritty-eyed, and in shock at seeing this man again, and it was evident in her voice now, as she lashed back heatedly, ‘My family have nothing to do with this. And nothing to do with you.’

      Luca Fonseca looked at Serena incredulously. ‘I’m sure your family have everything to do with this. Did you drop a tantalising promise of generous donations from them in return for a move up the career ladder?’

      Serena flushed and got out a strangled-sounding, ‘No, of course not.’

      But the way she avoided his eyes told Luca otherwise. She wouldn’t have had to drop anything but the most subtle of hints. The patronage of either her half-brother, Rocco De Marco, or her brother-in-law, Andreas Xenakis, could secure a charity’s fortunes for years to come. And, as wealthy as he was in his own right, the foundation would always need to raise money. Disgusted that his own staff might have been so easily manipulated, and suddenly aware of how heated his blood was, Luca stepped back.

      He was grim. ‘I am not going to be a convenient conduit through which you try to fool everyone into thinking you’ve changed.’

      Serena just looked at him, and he saw her long, graceful throat work, as if she couldn’t quite get out what she wanted to say. He felt no pity for her.

      She couldn’t be more removed from the woman of his memory of seven years ago, when she’d been golden and sinuous and provocative. The woman in front of him now looked pale, and as if she was going for an interview in an insurance office. Her abundantly sexy white-blonde hair had been tamed into a staid chignon. And yet even that, and the sober dark suit, couldn’t dim her incredible natural beauty or those piercing bright blue eyes.

      Those eyes had hit him right in the solar plexus as soon as she’d walked into his office, when he’d been able to watch her unobserved for a few seconds. And the straight trousers couldn’t hide those famously long legs. The generous swell of her breasts pushed against the silk of her shirt.

      Disgust curled through him to notice her like this. Had he learnt nothing? She should be prostrating herself at his feet in abject apology for turning his life upside down, but instead she had the temerity to defend herself: ‘My family have nothing to do with this.’

      His clear-headed focus was being eroded in this woman’s presence. Why was he even wondering anything about her? He didn’t care what her nefarious motivations were. He’d satisfied whatever curiosity he’d had.

      He clenched his jaw. ‘Your time is up. The car will be waiting outside for your return to the airport. And I do sincerely hope to never lay eyes on you again.’

      So why was it so hard to rip his gaze off her?

      Anger and self-recrimination coursed through Luca as he stepped around Serena and stalked back to his desk, expecting to hear the door open and close.

      When he didn’t, he spun round and spat out tersely, ‘We have nothing more to discuss.’

      The fact that she had gone paler was something that Luca didn’t like to acknowledge that he’d noticed. Or his very bizarre dart of concern. No woman evoked concern in him. He could see her swallow again, that long, graceful throat moving, and then her soft, husky voice, with that slightest hint of an Italian accent, crossed the space between them.

      ‘I’m just asking for a chance. Please.’

      Luca’s mouth opened and closed. He was stunned. Once he declared what he wanted no one questioned him. Until now. And this woman, of all people? Serena DePiero had a less than zero chance of Luca reconsidering his decision. The fact that she was still in his office set his nerves sizzling just under his skin. Irritating him.

      But instead of admitting defeat and turning round, the woman stepped closer. Further away from the door.

      Luca had an urge to snarl and stalk over to her, to put her over his shoulder, physically remove her from his presence. But right then, with perfect timing, the memory of her lush body pressed against his, her soft mouth yielding to