“Good evening, Mr. Vallone. I'm Monique, and I'll be your hostess tonight.” Her wavy, chestnut-colored hair cascaded over her perfect figure.
Normally, Cheryl would’ve sized the girl up as competition, but her mind was too crowded with how she would begin to explain why the cops had him pinned up against the wall and why she didn’t warn him. How after all he’d done for her she deceived him. Again.
Monique extracted the champagne from its ice bath and nudged the cork until it popped. She filled two fluted glasses and handed one to each of them, then faded off to blend into the sheer gauze separating each VIP section.
Jonny draped his arm over her shoulder as the icy liquid numbed her fingertips. He leaned in and lifted his glass. “To the best thing that ever happened to me.”
She sipped at the bubbly champagne and gazed at him over the rim of the glass. The setting and moment were perfect, but she couldn’t stand it any longer. “Jonny, I have to tell you . . .”
“Shush.” He put the tip of his index finger over her lips. “You don't have to say anything. Just you, here, being so true, is all I’ll ever need.”
The guilt swelled in her chest as she struggled for the words that could blow his trust to pieces.
“Hey, Jonny!”
An attractive couple approached their table, interrupting her thoughts. The man shared Jonny’s Mediterranean features and sense of style, while the woman at his side had an exotic mix of flawless ivory skin, almond shaped brown eyes, and a waterfall of straight, ebony hair. Her lithe figure was draped in a one-shoulder Valentino dress Cheryl admired in the Bal Harbour shops earlier.
The couple convinced her that South Beach exceeded its quota for good-looking people. They greeted Jonny affectionately in Spanish.
“Only English tonight,” Jonny said. “Isabelle, Raul, this is Cheryl.”
“Carlos told us you were here with a gorgeous woman.” Raul slid into the opposite side of the booth.
“You must be special to lock this one down.” Isabelle pointed to Jonny. “Many have tried, none succeeded.” She leaned into Cheryl. “I’ll fill you in on all the gory details later.”
“Don't believe a thing she says.” Jonny winked at her.
After more good-natured ribbing, Cheryl and Isabelle settled into casual conversation about shopping in South Beach.
“I’m so glad he took you to Bal Harbour. It has the best stores.” Isabelle’s soft, lilting accent fit her personality.
Raul leaned into Jonny with a serious expression. “I understand you saw Graciela today.”
“News travels fast.”
“Did you see the new fall line at Chanel?” Isabelle asked.
Cheryl tried to concentrate on both conversations. “No, I missed that.”
“You must have Jonny take you. They have some fabulous purses.”
“Bad news always does,” Raul said.
“Bad news?” Jonny’s voice was casual around his tightened jaw.
“And of course their shoes are the best.” Isabelle sipped her champagne.
“Probably nothing to worry about,” Raul offered. “Just Graciela with her usual shit and party girl drama.”
“Why don’t you tell me what you heard and . . .”
“Jonny, so glad you’re in Miami,” a voice boomed as another man approached the table. Jonny locked eyes with Raul for another second, then greeted the man standing to his left.
“Jared, good to see you.” The two men shook hands, as Jonny switched gears.
“Cheryl, this is Jared Klein. He manages the Delano.”
“Nice to meet the woman I’ve heard so much about,” Jared said.
She marveled at the grapevine in Miami. Jonny having a serious girlfriend aroused everyone’s scrutiny. Jared sat at the end of the table between the two men, his milk-white complexion and red hair in direct contrast to Jonny and Raul.
Jonny broke the seal on the bottle of Patron and poured each of them a shot.
“A toast.” Isabelle held her glass up, and they all followed. “Here’s to Cheryl, the only woman who could tame our Jonny.”
They shot the smoky liquor and chased it with lime slices.
“Now, if the beautiful ladies will excuse us for a minute, I have some business questions for Jonny.” Jared turned toward the men. “Tell me all about Simon Davis. Is he worth the investment?”
The men talked business, and they did more shots. The champagne and tequila swimming through her bloodstream made her feel weightless, lifting her anxiety and guilt, giving her an excuse for putting off the inevitable and enjoying this magical night. Jonny played the perfect host, but he passed on the last few shots, and his gaze continued to skitter past them to the first floor.
She leaned into his ear. “What are you looking for?”
“Nothing.” He forced a smile. “Are you having fun?”
“Yes, your friends are great.” She loved his exclusive attention, like no one else existed. Making her his priority squashed her gnawing insecurities, but amped up the guilt to a dizzying level.
He pressed his lips against her ear. “I'm so proud you’re mine.”
His words sent her back to their bedroom and the way he’d made her claim him. The memory brought a familiar tingling between her legs, and when she caressed his thigh under the table, he flashed her a wicked grin. But two minutes later when his gaze shifted again, her instincts ramped up, then ebbed away on a wave of tequila.
“I’ll be right back.” He brushed a kiss to her cheek, then bolted from the booth and bounded down the stairs to the main floor.
“He’s preoccupied when he’s here.” Isabelle rested her hand on her arm. “Hard to take his mind off the job.”
She’d seen the same tension mixed with a heavy dose of anger on Jonny’s face at the beach this afternoon, and again tonight when he talked with Carlos. Maybe he had secrets too, but the question floated away on a champagne cloud as Isabelle refilled her glass and recited the latest fashion news.
~ ~ ~
When Jonny hit the first floor, he let the people move and surge around him, so he could observe first and then act. Alejandro stood by the line of unisex restrooms, shielded by the sheer size of the water wall. As people moved past him, they either purchased his product or moved on. The cocky way he held himself made it clear they expected and accepted his presence.
His black hair slicked into a sleek ponytail at the nape of his neck accentuated his hollowed features, while the designer club clothes clung to his skeletal frame. He definitely used as much as he sold. He had to give the kid credit though. He’d figured out how to run a business within a business. Seeing enough, he moved in behind him.
“Alejandro?” Jonny shouted over the music.
Alejandro jumped, whipped around, and twitched. “Jonny? What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I run the place, remember?”
“Sure, I just didn’t expect to see you,” Alejandro shot back as he closed his right hand into a tight fist.
“You seem a little jumpy,” he deadpanned, then moved him off to the side, away from the line.
“Nah, everything’s great.” Alejandro kept smiling. “Couldn’t be better.”
Jonny grabbed his fist and pried it open. They stared down at five small glassine bags of white powder. “You got balls, I’ll give you that much.”
“C’mon.” Alejandro puffed up full of attitude. “You wouldn’t stop a guy from making a few bucks.”
“Not this way, and not in my club.”
“Maybe you’d like it better if I cut you in for some of the take.” Alejandro’s arrogance floored him.
“You dumb shit.” Jonny yanked him under the stairwell. “Your family didn’t come all the way from Cuba for you to be a dope dealer.”
Alejandro spun out of his hold. “My mother works her ass off in a hotel, and my uncle works for you, but I’m making real money.” He pounded his chest with his fist. “They call me the Prince of South Beach.”
“You’re gonna be the dead Prince of South Beach if you get in any deeper with this shit.” Jonny stepped forward, crowding his space.
“Who are you kidding?” Alejandro waved his hands around. “I’ve heard the stories about you and how you came up.”
“You don’t know shit.”
“Busting heads on the Brooklyn docks. Jacking cars and making collections for Frank Barnett. You did it the old-school way. I’m just putting a new spin on it.” Alejandro’s lips twisted into a sneer. “You’ve probably done worse than me.”
The kid had him there. The arrogant punk was right. He had done worse. Admitting it to himself didn’t make it any easier, but it sure did give him a great excuse for slamming him against the wall.
“You need some help, boss?” One of the bouncers appeared beside him.
In seconds, two other human blocks of cement were at his side. When the boss shoved people around on the main floor, others noticed.
Jonny leaned into Alejandro. “Just keep that shit outta my club.”
“You can’t protect what’s not yours.” Alejandro zeroed in on Jonny. “Word is, you can’t protect shit anymore.”
“What?” Jonny got in his face.
“So maybe you should be worrying about your own ass.”
“Shut the fuck up, punk,” one of the bouncers growled as he dragged Alejandro toward the back door.
Jonny stayed under the stairwell and sucked in some deep breaths. Was Alejandro’s warning wise guy bullshit or the real thing?
Chapter 30
A half-hour later, Jonny maneuvered Cheryl through the lobby of his building. After his encounter with Alejandro, he’d collected her from the VIP and said his goodbyes. He made it appear like he couldn’t wait to get his sexy woman home to bed, but that was only part of it. Jonny’s growing paranoia since coming to Miami, and his encounter with Alejandro, put him on edge and examining even the most casual of remarks.
She swayed in his arms. “I had the best time tonight.”
She attempted to wrap her arms around his neck, which caused her dress to hike up dangerously high. The doorman stared and winked until he realized Jonny’s scowl was meant for him. After tripping a few times, she kicked off her shoes, and now he carried them in one hand while trying to guide her onto the elevator with the other. For a drunk little thing, she was very wiry.
“I don’t know what’s the matter with me,” she slurred.
“You’re blasted, baby.” Jonny laughed. “Drunk off your ass.”
“I am not.” She giggled. “Well, maybe a little.”
The elevator doors whooshed closed, and the slight movement made her lose her balance.
“Easy now.” He righted her, but she whirled around and flung her arms around his neck.
“I don’t understand it. Isabelle drank as much as I did, and she was fine.”
“Isabelle’s Brazilian. She can drink me under the table.”
She shoved him against the mirrored elevator wall, pressed her lips against his, and sighed. “You are sooo hot. You were the hottest guy in the club.”
“You think so, huh?” She made him forget Alejandro, the club, and all the shit squirming around inside him.
“Absolutely.”
She tugged at the buttons of his linen shirt and then moved down to his belt. As drunk as she was, she unfastened the leather straps in two quick moves. Hanging on to the loosened buckle, she sank to her knees, and his dick twitched. The scraping sound of his zipper snapped him back to reality.
“Whoa.” He stilled her hands and tugged her up along with his zipper.
She dropped one of her hands to his crotch. “You are sooo big. Huge, immense, gigantic. And so hot, too.” She paused. “Did I already say that?”
“Yeah, you did.” He snatched her hand away again. “C’mon, baby. Not here.” With his luck, the doors would open, and the gay couple who shared the other condo on his floor would be standing there.
“You had sex on your desk all the time in New York.”
“This is different. You’re different.” Her sucking him off in the elevator seemed sleazy.
“I was trying to be nice.” She stuck out her bottom lip in a childlike pout, and he loved it.
“I got a big private bedroom waiting for us. You can be nice to me there.”
Bending down, he swooped her into his arms. She squealed and pretended to fight him, but then buried her head in his neck. Her warm tongue, nipping and nibbling, made him stagger off the elevator while he rummaged in his pocket for the key.
He eased her down, closed the door behind them, and held her for a second so she could steady herself. Throwing him a teasing smile, she swayed toward the bedroom. He followed her, caught her from behind, and whirled her around pressing his lips against her neck. A shiver slid up her spine when he yanked at the thin straps of her dress.
“Be careful. You’ll rip it.”
“Fuck the dress.” He moaned into her mouth. “I’ll buy you another.”
With the straps off her shoulders, the soft material skimmed over her hips and pooled around her heels. She stood before him naked except for the white lacy thong accentuating her tan and those sexy fuck-me stilettos.
“Exactly how I wanted to see those shoes when we bought them.”
She attempted to push them off, but he stopped her. “Leave them on.”
He shrugged off his shirt, coaxed her onto the bed, slid his hands down each leg, then settled her designer-clad feet around his waist. She rubbed the sculptured spikes against his bare back, and he groaned.
“Fuck me, baby, that’s sweet.”
She did it again, and he groaned louder.
A heat boiled in his chest while his dick pushed and pulsed against the zipper of his pants. Fuckin’ thing had a mind of its own, and it wanted out and into her wet, hot body.
“I need that hard dick of yours in me now.” She rocked against him and sank her hands into his hair. “Rubbing up against me and making me come.”
“I want you too, but this is more than sex. Do you get what I’m trying to say?”
Letting go of him, she sprawled herself across his king-size bed, her blond hair wild and disheveled against the sheets, her arms outstretched and welcoming. A sexy mix of innocence and raw need made her every man’s wettest dream.
“Sure.” She drew him closer. “Now will you please shut up and get busy here?”
“I feel different when I’m with you and . . .”
“I get it.” She wiggled her hips against him.
Great. He couldn’t believe it. For once in his life, he’d put it out there, bared his soul, and all she wanted was his dick. She wasn’t even listening to him. This had to be some kind of screwed up payback for all the women he’d fucked and forgotten, as Eddie so eloquently put it.
When she snaked her hand into his pants, his mind shut down. Blood rushed through his ears, while his heart pounded. He toed off his shoes and vowed to have this conversation with her tomorrow when she wasn’t rubbing against him in a way that made his eyes cross.
She squirmed under him, arching her back, her slick heat against his thigh. He nipped at the front of her throat, then soothed it with his tongue. When she dragged away his pants and boxers, he kicked them to the floor. The flat palm of his hand pressed under her thong, and she shimmied her hips enough for him to work them down her legs.
“I’m glad you didn’t rip those.” She cupped his chin. “They’re my favorites.”
He crooked his finger. “Mine too.” Then flung them to the floor.
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He slid higher, still working her, plunging his fingers into her, his thumb twisting and hitting her spot until she arched up, lips parted in a strangled cry. She kissed him hard and their tongues tangled with the taste of smoky tequila. He moaned into her mouth, then trailed wet kisses down her stomach, and when he got to her thighs he smiled.
“Please, Jonny,” she pleaded.
He replaced his fingers with the tip of his tongue. Her hips bucked, and he spread her thighs wider hooking one leg over his shoulder, the heel of her stiletto digging into his back. He growled against her sensitive flesh and she pressed harder. His tongue found her swollen clit and he sucked it in while he squeezed her ass. When her breathing turned sharp and short, he changed direction and latched onto the soft skin of her inner thigh.
“Don’t stop,” she moaned.
“My greedy girl wants more?”
“Yes.”
He sucked the delicate skin of her thigh hard enough to leave a mark. To remind her that she was his. She wiggled and moaned again as he broke free, admired his work, then laved the tender skin with his tongue.
“Marking your territory?” Her breathy voice teased while a fuck-me smile curled her lips.
“Yeah. You. Are. Mine.”
He pressed his lips against her mouth, hard and possessive. He took his fill, then pulled back. “You like the way you taste on my lips?”
“Oh, yeah.” She moaned as he hovered over her and captured her hands above her head. Sinking inside her, he let her soft, sweet body set him free. She moved with him and let him go hard, pushing it to the edge until her teeth grazed his shoulder and bit down. When her spasms hit and she clenched around his dick, he couldn’t stop the smile of satisfaction from knowing he’d brought her to that place.
“You’re so tight, so wet, so fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispered into her hair.
Each thrust punctuated his desire. She stripped him bare and tripped off a primal sensation deep within him. Intense and unforgiving, he drove harder. Needing all of her. Giving her what she wanted and taking what he needed. He bottomed out and his balls filled to the point of sweet pain. He swiveled his hips, and the tension built for a brief eternity before he broke apart and shattered into pieces. Their bodies slick and breathless, still entwined and sated. Boneless and unable to move, he collapsed at her side. All his emotions of the last few weeks bubbled up and collided together.
Beyond Paradise Page 16
