Disconnecting the call was the happiest moment of Elena’s life.
It wasn’t her mother’s fault. Angela was lonely without anyone but her father to keep her company. Lorenzo and Natalie lived in Miami with their two girls, and Angela was not wrong when she said that Natalie did not like her in-laws. Natalie was a grade-A prima donna, the daughter of a predominant plastic surgeon to the stars. Natalie had been swept off her feet by Elena’s charismatic, suave brother, not knowing about his middle-class roots until it was far too late to ignore her overwhelming love for him
While she agreed to marry Lorenzo, she did not ever learn to love his family, especially the clingy, and sometimes overbearing Angela.
Frank Mancini’s deteriorating health and their aging status kept Angela home far more than she had ever been in her social life and it was a difficult transition for her. Angela’s pride kept her from asking the neighbors for help, but Elena tried to ensure they were well taken care of despite the distance between them.
Elena tried to be understanding of her mother’s plight, but every conversation Elena had with her left her exhausted. She missed her parents and was concerned about her father, but she was not looking forward to the impending visit.
Elena was only afforded every second weekend off, and while she was technically getting away, she knew she would return to Fisher’s Island more drained than she left.
She’s not wrong. They are going to be dead soon, and you will be drowning in regret for these thoughts, Elena reminded herself, swinging her legs off the bed and opening the sliding door to her small but private balcony.
To the right, she could see the sparkling blue-green waters of Norris Cut, but straight ahead she looked into a small ravine blocking the neighbor’s property.
She stared down into the courtyard directly below and stifled a sigh as she saw her boss hurrying across toward the front of the house, carrying a briefcase.
I thought that blowhard was “on vacation,” she thought contemptuously, noting his ridiculously expensive suit in the blazing Florida summer heat. She watched as he disappeared toward what she assumed was a waiting town car.
Elena exhaled slightly as if she had been holding her breath.
What is it about that guy who puts me on edge? She wondered.
She had been working on Fisher Island for almost seven years, and she knew nothing about Aaric Buckley except that he was arrogant and she hated him.
Elena was not precisely sure when the feelings of loathing had become full-fledged. From the moment, she had started working in the mansion, Aaric had made his effervescing presence known, flashing his bright smile and lecherous comments around indiscriminately.
At first, she had been sure that she was going to be forced to quit, waiting for him to lay a hand on her so she could slap a sexual harassment lawsuit on his smug face.
To her surprise, he never touched her but when his words pushed her slightly too far one day, Elena emasculated him in such an eloquent way, she wasn’t entirely sure he had understood.
Apparently, he had, and as quickly as he had turned on the charm, he replaced it with biting arrogance.
He did not make her job difficult per se, but his mere snarky presence put her on edge.
Regardless, the pay was better than anything she could hope for anywhere else, and she lived in the most exclusive area in Florida.
And I have a room with a view of the ocean, she thought, shaking her head. What else could I want?
It was only because of that job that her parents were able to take care of their medical bills, of that she was certain. With their meager pensions and social security checks, they would not even be able to afford their arthritis medication, let alone dialysis machine and doctor’s visits.
Angela swore that Lorenzo was helping, but Elena would have bet good money that Natalie would not allow one penny to be sent to Frank and Angela.
I really should call and give that woman a blast of shit one day, Elena thought, grinding her teeth. What kind of woman doesn’t encourage her husband to spend time with his ailing parents and bring them their grandchildren?
Another spark of shame fused through Elena as she tried to remember details of her niece’s faces. She already saw so little of them. Alienating Natalie would not benefit anyone.
I will call the vapid wench and beg her to bring Elsa and Ariel to mom and dad’s this weekend.
Elena stood on the balcony, unwilling to make the call, her mind shifting between Aaric Buckley and Natalie Mancini.
Now those two would be a match made in hell. Two wretched, selfish creatures united with the devil’s blessing.
Slowly, Elena turned back toward her room, reaching for her phone but before she could make the dreaded call to her sister-in-law, there was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” she called, and a second later, Wendell poked his shaggy blonde head inside the doorway.
“Hey, got a minute?” he asked, and Elena dropped the cell back onto the bed, nodding.
“Sure,” she replied. “What’s up?”
The resident handyman/driver sauntered inside, closing the door behind him.
“I think you know,” he replied, drawing close to her. He stopped before her, staring down into her inquisitive brown eyes and she tossed her long dark hair over her shoulder.
“Do I?” she asked in a bored tone. “Should I guess then?”
He laughed, swooping in to kiss her and Elena stepped back, surprised.
“What are you doing?” she demanded. “We can’t do it here!”
“Why not?” Wendell demanded, his hands reaching for her breasts. “Buckley’s gone to Miami for the day. Carter took him. We’re the only ones in the house.”
Wen pressed his lips back onto her slightly agape mouth, and Elena didn’t back away.
She and Wen had hooked up a few times but never on Fisher Island. In hindsight, Elena was not sure why.
She supposed that they had considered it a sign of disrespect but why should they respect a man who had no regard for his staff or his house.
He blatantly brings escorts home and then expects Wen to drive them back to the Beach. Why should we care about honoring the sanctity of his house?
She slipped her tongue into his eager mouth and allowed his hands to unbutton her work dress.
In seconds, it was on the floor, and Wen’s large, coarse hands were roaming against her smooth, olive skin, seeking out each crevice of her supple body.
Elena’s head fell back, her dark brown eyes filtering up toward the ceiling where she fixated on the fan.
I wonder where he went today, she thought very unexpectedly. She was surprised that Aaric Buckley had entered her thoughts at such a time.
Wen was a good lover, his breaths hot and arousing, his lips able and finding all the soft spots of her body.
As he made his way to the curves of her full B-cups, she sighed, relishing the feel of his teeth teasing her nipple. Stripping away the bra, Wen cupped both breasts in his hands, grinding his erect member against her leg.
Elena found herself falling backward, landing on the bed, her chestnut tresses trapped beneath her and Wen’s finger trailed up her thighs, to her core, his mouth still working on the taut skin of her chest.
Elena’s arms encircled his head, and she drew him up for another kiss, nibbling at his lower lip before flipping them.
As she straddled him, she rubbed her now naked crotch against his still clothed pants, savoring the look of desire in his eyes.
Slowly she began working her way down the front of his body, her teeth ripping away at the buttons of his shirt.
“Wait!” he protested, but she ignored him, reaching up to pinch at his hard nipples.
He squealed slightly, and lower went Elena’s head, tasting the salty sun-kissed skin of his lean, hard body.
Wen moaned with Elena pressing hot air against his crotch, her hands unzipping his pants simultaneously.
As his pants fell to his ankles, she
took him into her mouth, lapping quickly, each suck bringing him deeper into her throat.
“Oh my God!” he cried when he was fully inside her windpipe, and she held him there, massaging his full, ready sack.
Abruptly, she pulled him out, jumping atop him in one fluid movement, sliding his too ready member inside her damp, tight center.
Wen cried out at the unanticipated movement, but Elena silenced him, pressing her mouth to his whilst gently bouncing. Her hips became his gripping point as he bucked beneath her, jamming his pre-explosive unit high inside her.
Elena felt her calves begin to tense, a tingling sensation flowing through her and as they meshed together in a frenzied rhythm of rutting, she yelped, a searing gush of juice flowing from between her legs.
“Oh, yes, baby,” Wen purred. “Cum all over me. Are you ready for me?”
Elena could only moan as she continued to climax but instantly Wen seized her perfectly sculpted rear to jab himself fully inside, and she was filled with electrified streams of wetness.
Wen pushed once, twice and finally shuddered as he finished his orgasm, they two a panting mess of sweat and pleasure.
“Oh,” Wen said excitedly as she fell to the bed beside him. “We are so doing it here more often.”
Elena grunted, scouring the floor for her panties.
“It won’t be as fun next time,” she warned him, and he laughed.
“Always an optimist, huh?” he teased. “Are you going to the Beach this weekend?”
Elena shook her head.
“No, I’m going home.”
Wen raised his dark blonde eyebrow in shock.
“Wow. You haven’t been home in a while. What’s the occasion?”
Elena bit her lower lip and turned her head away so he would not see her face.
Should I tell him?
It was hardly shocking that she and Wen had become beneficial friends.
Aside from Carter, they were the only two full-time staff on the estate. Carter was in his late sixties and a recruit from Aaric Buckley’s hometown in England. Needless to say, he did not have much in common with the twenty-something workers and kept mostly to himself in his apartment atop the garage while Wen and Elena shared free reign of the mansion.
Wen and Elena did not spend much time together but given their work schedule and somewhat remote location, friendships were hard to maintain. Romances were impossible.
Both Wen and Elena had no illusions about their dynamic; they were a necessity to one another, nothing more. They were the companionship that the other required and the sex kept them both sane.
Elena was sure that if Wen were to marry the next day, she would buy him and the missus a lovely wedding present and be genuinely happy for them both.
Yet he was still the only friend she had on Fisher Island or Miami Beach, and she was sure he saw her the same way.
“My dad is going to die soon,” Elena announced with some detachment. Wen stared at her in disbelief.
“Still no word on a kidney transplant?” he asked, aghast and Elena shook her head.
“No. I doubt he’s very high on the list given his age anyway. He’s made peace with it. I am trying to do the same.”
“Your poor mom. What will she do when he’s gone?” Wen asked. He was fully dressed as was Elena, but he made no move to leave.
He's a good man, Elena thought suddenly, wondering why she wasn’t sincerely attracted to him. She reasoned that Aaric Buckley sucked the romance out of anything he touched. Falling for anyone with the CEO’s scent on everything seemed impossible.
That’s why Buckley is still single. He can’t bring out the best in anyone.
“Honestly, I don’t know. It’s kind of another reason I’m heading over to Naples. I want to make sure all their affairs are in order.”
Wen shook his head sympathetically.
“That can’t be an easy conversation,” he said gently. “And your parents are old-school Italian, right?”
Elena nodded and rolled her eyes.
“That is putting it mildly,” she replied dryly. Wen chuckled.
“Italians are the most stubborn people on the planet. I dated an Italian girl in high school. I was shocked I made it out of that relationship without being stabbed. Mama mia!”
They both laughed, and Wen looked at her tenderly.
“If there’s anything I can do to help, El, just let me know, okay?”
She offered him a weak smile and bobbed her head.
“I am sure that the next weekend we’re off, I am going to require boatloads of alcohol,” she suggested.
“Consider it done,” Wen replied winking. He sighed.
“I better get back to work. His anus – uh, I mean highness wants the landscaping done around the pool today.”
“Yeah, I need to make a phone call anyway,” Elena said begrudgingly, watching Wen head for the door.
He really is not a bad guy at all. It’s nice to know I have a friend here in this tropical morgue because God knows Aaric Buckley isn’t warm and friendly.
Elena picked up her phone again and as she scrolled through her contacts for Natalie’s number, she once more wondered where Aaric had gone dressed up so smartly on such a hot day.
He's probably off to meet one of his whores, she thought with annoyance, remembering the bleached blonde who had appeared the previous day.
But the more Elena thought about it, the more she was stunned to realize that she was more than a little bit interested in where Aaric had gone…and who he was with.
Chapter Three
His name was Agent Oliver Dane, and Aaric disliked him on sight.
Aaric was many unpleasant things; arrogant, rude, condescending, shady at times and often ruthless. Yet the one quality which he possessed was a sixth sense which could not be deterred.
Aaric attributed most of his wealth to his keen gut instinct. He put a lot of stock into his first impressions, impressions which had nothing to do with physical appearances.
For example, Agent Dane was a boyishly handsome man with bright hazel eyes and a dimple in his chin. He was unassuming by all accounts, extending his hand to Aaric cordially and seating him in a nicely furnished office but Aaric knew inherently that Agent Dane loathed him.
There was something about the way he spoke, an underlying anger or an almost palpable energy of indignation when he looked at Aaric.
Whatever it was, the CEO of the information technology company knew it well, and he could feel enshrouded in an unfamiliar danger.
“Thank you for coming in today, Mr. Buckley,” Agent Dane said pleasantly as they sat.
Vince Cornell glanced uneasily at his client and Aaric could see he, too, felt the strange vibration in the air.
“I don’t think I had much choice in the matter,” Aaric replied haughtily. “But of course, anything I can do for the US government. I mean, they take so much of my money. It’s nice to see my dollars at work.”
Agent Dane pretended not to notice the ice in his words as he typed something into the stationary computer before him.
“Before we go any further, I want to clarify that your name is Aaric Nigel Buckley, born in Leeds, United Kingdom, September first, 1972?”
“I think we are both certain I am the same man, Agent Dane,” Aaric replied dryly. “Why don’t you cut the crap and tell me what this is about.”
“Sir, as I am sure you are aware, your company is being investigated for fraud and potential terroristic threats to the United States government,” the ICE worker stated, the hospitality shedding from his eyes.
“Those allegations are unfounded and categorically untrue,” Vince cut in. “What does any of this have to do with immigration?”
“Your client is a citizen of the United Kingdom, and under the new immigration act, we are required to investigate any risks to our national security quite seriously.”
Both Aaric and Vince snorted in unison.
“Are you suggesting that my company poses a thr
eat to national security?” Aaric demanded. “That is ridiculous. The district attorney is on a wild goose chase, a witch hunt based on the allegations of a disgruntled employee.”
“Several ‘disgruntled’ employees, Mr. Buckley but that is not our department. Immigration must determine if your presence in the States is undermining the safety of its citizens.”
Aaric’s eyes narrowed.
“After twenty-two years?” Aaric laughed.
Agent Dane eyed him seriously.
“Just because it took that long to see the danger doesn’t make it any less threatening, does it, Mr. Buckley?”
Their gazes locked in a silent battle of the wills until Oliver shifted his attention back to his computer.
“You would think that after twenty-two years I would have acted, wouldn’t you, Vince?” Aaric continued, his temper flaring.
“Aaric…” Vince said warningly. “Just let the man do his job.”
Yet Aaric was growing angrier by the minute.
“Who put you up to this?” he demanded. “Is this from the DA?”
Agent Dane smiled thinly.
“This is the law, sir. I am afraid that your work visa is being revoked until all matters concerning your company are clear. At that time, we will reassess the matter of re-entry to the United States.”
Aaric’s mouth fell open in shock, and he looked at his lawyer.
“You can’t seriously allow for this to happen,” he told Vince, and the attorney shook his head.
“Of course not!” he declared. “I will file a motion to dismiss this immediately.”
“You may file as many motions as you wish,” Agent Dane told him amiably. “But you will be fighting them while your client remains in the UK. He has twenty-four hours to get his affairs in order. I will arrange a car to pick him up on Fisher Island at six o’clock tomorrow night. His plane departs for England at eight thirty from Miami International Airport.”
Agent Dane rose while the duo stared at him in disbelief.
“I will have your job,” Aaric snapped furiously, and Oliver turned to grin, unperturbed by the outburst.
The Lost Seal: A Seal Romance Page 19
