With the knowledge of what Fernando is capable of making me feel, I have even greater reason to push away. I went to him to warn him (and forgot!), fully anticipating a good dicking, something to disembody me and calm my disquiet over what’s to come.
But he peeled away my skin and snuck into my soul. He kissed me with passion and filled my brain with stuff of fairytales.
I can’t afford to have any loyalty to him just because he made me orgasm. Four times. How stupid would that be?
He said he loves me, my heart whines in defiance.
Love doesn’t exist, my brain reminds that foolish organ.
But if it did … that’s what it would feel like.
A two-edged sword points at my chest, with one side my father, a broken, grief-stricken man who needs closure and probably revenge, and the other side being Fernando, the man who seals the fractals in my shattered heart. Both pull me in opposite directions.
Eli Montague and my father reunited in prison and stayed in touch after. When my father revealed they’d hatched a plan to force a confession from the Capulets and Navarres, I was all in. I’d do whatever it took. For my father. For my mother. For our broken family who’d suffered years after the initial shock of losing Mira Prospero rippled through our lives. Those ripples transformed into tidal waves of their own.
My brother fell into a life of crime after escaping our father’s unhealthy means of coping with his grief. He spent the entirety of his late twenties in jail after getting caught up. Now, as an ex-convict, finding gainful employment is impossible, pushing him back into the same cycle he’s had difficulty escaping.
The abuse I endured at the hands of our neighbor after my brother left also directly led to the choices I made and what I put myself through. All directly the result of what Alfonso Navarre had done to my mother.
Our life is like a macabre version of the old lady who swallowed a fly.
I can’t begrudge the entire thing, because somehow those very mistakes landed me in Fernando’s hands. It’s shocking to realize that even if we’d never met when I fake seduced him for Jewel's benefit, we still would have met under this current scenario.
The difference would have been my resolve. I would have done near anything to make sure the entire Navarre family pays for the crimes of the father, but now … Now, I’ve allowed Alfonso Navarre’s son inside my body. We merged, our souls blended and breath synced.
I love you, he’d said.
I may betray my own to benefit the son of my enemy. If I don’t, then Fernando will hate me forever. Too much hangs in the balance, and by sleeping with Fernando, I’ve completely skewed my resolve.
A knock sounds on my door before it’s shoved open, thudding against the wall.
“Aida,” my father barks. “What the hell, girl? It’s 7:45.”
With a muttered curse, I throw off my blankets then dart into the bathroom. My night of sex and subsequent crying made me sleep through my alarm. I need to be at my job by eight. Quickly, I use the toilet, wincing at the unfamiliar tenderness as I wipe, and then wash my face and brush my teeth. After leaving the bathroom, I rummage through the closet, pulling a dress off the hanger.
My father waits in the doorway, arms crossed in dissatisfaction as he watches me scramble around like a cat lit on fire.
I shoot him a glare as I return to the bathroom, then hastily change into the dress. It’s a blush pink with a cut more suited for a date night than massage. It resembles a wraparound, but the anchoring piece ruches around my waist and ends at the back. The jersey material drapes in a V exposing the deep line of my braless cleavage. At the bottom, the wrap creates a slit revealing an expansive swath of one tanned thigh.
The dress is designed to seduce and discombobulate enemy husbands who have roving eyes.
I gape at myself in the mirror. My hair looks an utter mess, like I’d rolled in sheets half the night with a sexy as hell Mexican who happens to have the same last name as our enemy. Lifting my chin, I groan as I see burn marks on my neck from Fernando’s chin stubble and a definite hickey. I hope to God my father didn’t see.
After applying concealer to the incriminating marks, I rapidly twine my hair into a long, diagonal French braid starting at the top of my left ear and traverse to the right side of my head to end in a long plait hanging over my shoulder. As much as I’d planned to have my hair in long sensual waves down my back, the fact that I’d fallen asleep with wet hair and slept through my alarm won’t allow that to happen now.
With minutes to spare, I slip into a delicate pair of high heels then rush out of the bathroom.
My father braces a hand on my shoulder to stop me from leaving the room and looks me over before giving an approving nod of his chin. “We gather in the foyer at eleven to greet our guests. Be perfect.”
A short sigh of relief escapes me as I lower my gaze and move around him.
“Aida,” he calls to my back.
I turn, waiting expectantly.
“You think I don’t notice the way you look at Navarre’s son. Understand that is something I will not tolerate, and even if I did, it wouldn’t last. Men with Navarre blood aren’t faithful creatures.”
I press my lips together and curl my hands into fists. “That it?”
“For now.”
With a huff of breath, I turn and leave the room. After dashing through the dining room, I pass Abram at the concierge who chuckles low as he watches me run along the marble floor, clutching my forearm against my breasts.
“Get a harness for them things, girl. Jeez.”
“Shush,” I say with a laugh as I take the steps in twos.
I pass into the sliding glass doors of the spa at the strike of eight.
Grace stands. “Hey, you have that sexy guy again in room two.”
I hiss out a curse. “Where’s the other massage therapist?”
“Deirdre? She’s about to start with a client in room one.”
“Maybe she’ll switch with me.”
Grace gives me a curious look. “He asked for you by name. Is he a creep or something?”
“Ugh, you have no idea.” Wrinkling my nose, I embellish. “He kinda smells like onion and dirty ass.”
Her eyes widen. “He looks sexy in that suit though.”
“Come on, Gracie.” I entreat her with begging prayer hands. “I did my time with him. Let her have at it. And maybe it was just an off day for him. Perhaps he’s showered by now.”
Grace chuckles and shakes her head. “Fine, I’ll let Deirdre know. You owe me. Go ahead to room one.”
With a wink, I sashay into the employee room across from the bathroom and slip out of my heels, briefly stretching and reaching on tiptoe to loosen my feet. Massaging without shoes is my thing, but I pull on a pair of low-cut socks. Once I clip on my belt, I head down the hallway to massage room one.
I pull the clipboard from the door pocket and scan over the information.
Beatriss Capulet. Fernando’s cousin. My shoulders relax. Much better.
After my warning knock and hearing her answer, I open the door. I get to work and relax into the massage, my hands becoming tools covered in skin. When I massage, it’s like the body sends out signals, and my hands receive and interpret the message.
“That feels so good,” Bea says with a sigh. “I’ll be here every day for this, FYI.”
“My pleasure.”
“Do you know my cousin, Fernando? He’s an investor here.”
“Yeah, I know him.”
“He convinced me to get here before my family, simply with the promise of a massage.”
A terrified shriek comes from the other room. My hands pause their work as Grace’s footsteps patter from reception down the hall to investigate.
Bea laughs dryly. “Sounds like his massage is going really well.”
Grace knocks on their door. “Everything okay?”
“Um, yeah,” Deirdre calls back. “He touched my leg and said he thought he saw a spider. Everything’s okay.”<
br />
I hear a low, mumbled apology from Fernando, and the simple sound of his voice causes my lower abdomen to ripple with need. Memories of his insistent mouth on me as orgasm after orgasm tore through me has my knees nearly buckling.
Breathing out a sigh, I return my attention to Bea. “I think you and I met a few years ago. My name is Aida.”
Bea lifts her head and squints up at me. “Oh yeah! Small world. You and Fernando were a thing, right?”
I shake my head. “Just friends.”
She chuckles as she sets her face in the pillow. “Yeah, sure.”
“He’s married.”
Bea hums. “Not for much longer.”
I say nothing in return.
“He’s a good guy, Aida. When the time comes, give him a chance.”
Stubbornly, I keep my lips sealed as I roll my thumbs over her back. She gets the hint and stops talking for a bit. After I finish her entire back, I put the sleep mask over her eyes, and she flips to the front.
“Hey, what’s the concierge’s name? Dude is fine as hell.”
My lips tilt in a smile. “That’s Abram.”
“You know if he’s dating anyone?”
“No, he’s single. But he’s almost fifteen years older than you.”
Bea sniffs. “Good, he’s experienced, then. I just broke up with my boyfriend. Need a distraction.”
With a grin, I massage her hands. “Well, his shift ends at six. I’ll put in a word for you.”
“Would you really? Thanks.”
Once the hour passes, I say goodbye to Bea after explaining she needs to call me Ana during her stay, and then leave the room. I run into the other massage therapist, a tall redhead, in the employee lounge across the hall.
She fans herself. “This is so unprofessional to say, but that guy was hot.”
“What was the screaming about?”
Deirdre blushes and pitches her voice low. “Well I got started and at a certain point he reached for my leg and sorta moved his hand up.”
A spark of irritation flashes through me at the thought of Fernando’s hand on another woman.
“I was like, ‘Um, sir?’ And his hand kinda froze then jerked away. He said he saw a spider crawling up my leg and I flipped out. It’s a phobia of mine. He looked up and apologized, but I almost died after seeing how handsome he is.”
I laugh softly at her story, but it confirms I was right to switch rooms. He thought she was me, and I already know if he started touching me, I would have let him. We would have broken that massage table.
Deirdre leans in. “You think it’s inappropriate to ask for his number?”
I raise an eyebrow. “As long as he’s not married.”
“Shit.” She grimaces. “I think he had a tan line on his ring finger.”
I lift my shoulders in a shrug. “Good ones are always taken.”
After she leaves, I sit in the employee lounge twiddling my thumbs, waiting for enough time to pass so I don’t run into Fernando.
The door cracks open and Deirdre peeks her head in. “Your client wants to speak with you.”
With a brief grimace of a smile, I stand and leave the room, hoping to God Fernando isn’t waiting with Bea.
But, of course, he is. His brows soar high as he sees me in the not-exactly-work-appropriate sheath dress. My heart stutters as I take him in. He’s physically breathtaking in dark charcoal suit pants and a white button up, holding his jacket over his arm.
Bea greets me with a hug. “Couldn’t hug you properly in the room. So good to see you again.”
“You too,” I say with a genuine smile.
Fernando quietly bores into me with his eyeballs. Without my permission, my eyes pull in his direction and heat fills my chest as our gazes connect and clash. I look away first and cross my arms to cover my pebbling nipples.
Bea gives me a little swat with the back of her hand. “Do you have a massage right now? You should join us for breakfast.”
“Sorry, I can’t.” I lie through my teeth. “I have to stay here.”
Fernando lifts his chin to Deirdre, who’s lurking around the corner. “You think you could cover for her?”
Bea slips an arm through mine. “She’s an old friend. We’d love to catch up. Just shoot her a text if you need her back.”
“Oh sure!” Deirdre gushes. “Guests aren’t arriving till 10:30 or 11 anyway. We don’t need you.”
My face cracks a tight smile. “Oh, okay. Thanks.”
As we walk down the stairs, Fernando behind us, Bea prattles on about the last three and a half years of her life. She just turned twenty, and a few months ago broke up with her longtime boyfriend.
“He’s the one who supplied a lot of intel for this whole thing,” Bea says. “We ended on good terms though, so it’s no biggie.”
I turn and arch an eyebrow at Fernando. I didn’t think the family was aware of what was happening here. He only reaches one hand out and strokes his knuckles down my spine, sending a current of energy rocketing up to my head and down to my toes.
As we reach the lobby, I can feel Abram’s heavy gaze on us. I flash him a quick smile, then with a tap on Bea’s arm and a jerk of my head, motion her to follow me.
“Abram, this is an old friend, Bea.”
His eyes roam over her with interest as he extends an arm over the counter for a handshake. I’m not a short woman, but even with heels on my feet, Bea and I are pretty much eye level. Dark, small coiled curls trail down her back, and her curves are just as defined as mine. She’s truly stunning, with thick lashed hazel eyes like Fernando, and full, smiling lips.
Abram raises her knuckles to his lips and presses a light kiss on top. “Pleasure to meet you, Bea.”
“Oh, man,” she murmurs.
I clear my throat. “Bea’s family is staying here in the C suite.”
A slight grimace crosses Abram’s features, and he nods tersely as he drops her hand. Comprehension fills my eyes. He knows more about this operation than I do, and was hired for his ability to follow through. His quick shift in demeanor, from interest in Bea as a beautiful woman to dropping her hand with chagrin when he learned where she’s staying, clearly indicates what’s coming will not be nice.
I lean an elbow on the counter. “Abram is a black belt in judo. I bet he’d be willing to teach you some things. He’s been trying to get me on the mat.”
Fernando makes a low rumbling sound that ends in a cough.
“I’m game.” Bea’s eyes sparkle. “How about tonight?”
“Abram you get off at six, right?”
He shoots me a terse look. “Yeah, I do.”
“Great, we’ll meet you upstairs.”
Bea and I walk arm in arm to the dining room, and she tosses a backward glance at Abram. Once we sit, a waiter hands us menus. Fernando doesn’t pick up his and only leans against the back of his chair with his arm draped over the empty chair next to him. As I browse the menu, my eyes flick up, meet his heated stare, then return to the words I can’t concentrate on. The menu might as well be written in glyphs.
A sudden memory assails me, the thick steam of the shower coating my skin, Fernando moving deep between my spread thighs, his lips and nose against my neck and our moans echoing in tandem. Gooseflesh ripples over me as I tighten my jaw and try to form words out of the letters scattered on the menu.
“You cold, Aida?” Fernando asks.
Through my thin jersey knit dress, my nipples have tightened into agitated nubs. I draw in a quick breath and nod my head. He stands and pulls his suit jacket from the back of his seat before draping it over my shoulders. The backs of his fingers glide around the nape of my neck as he reaches into the collar of the jacket to lift my braid and bring it to rest on the outside. I shudder under the tender touch.
A low snort of laughter comes from Bea, who raises her menu to cover her face. Fernando sits and picks up his menu again. I breathe out a shaky exhale. This is not going to work. I can’t function while near him.
I relax slightly, relieved I no longer have to pretend I can bear being in his presence. It’s just too much to breathe the same oxygen as he does, without having the freedom to touch him.
He stands, then pauses and looks at me. Right, the jacket. My shoulders bunch as I shrug the warmth and his scent from my back.
“No, keep it,” he says.
I drape the jacket over my arm and extend it. “I’ll be okay.”
He scowls. “Wear a sweater or something, then.”
“Why? Then she’d be covering them perfect tits.” Bea grins at her cousin as she sets down her glass of water.
Fernando exhales through his nose like an angry bull, and with thinned lips, strides away toward the kitchen.
She laughs as she watches him leave, then her eyes move to me. “Just friends, eh?”
“Sorta moved beyond that last night.”
“Ah.” Her eyes sparkle in merriment. “Knew it. He’s wound up tight.”
I bury my face in my hands. “I don’t want to be the other woman. And I know their marriage is unconventional, but I just can’t.”
“You did though.”
“I got weak.” My eyes move wistfully to the swinging door where he exited. “He’s difficult to ignore, but I’m trying.”
“That dress isn’t helping,” she says pointedly.
I groan and wring the napkin on my lap. This dress definitely has the purpose to attract male attention, but it’s aimed at Don and Alfonso. Supposedly both men engage in repeated affairs.
Leaning in toward Bea, I pitch my voice low. “How much do you know about everything going on here?”
She shrugs and sets down her menu. “Not much. I’m here to ensure my dad complies, but of course, I’m not sure what that’s gonna look like.”
“Me either. My dad is Frank Prospero, one of the original founding families of this business. That’s why I’m here. Yes, I do massage, but we need the men to sign a release form just in case they try to press charges after this. They’ll come get a massage from me, but the form they sign will be switched.
Bad Sons Page 8
