“Do you want me to see who it is?” He stood, waiting for her permission to answer her door.
“No, I’m going.” She resolutely walked inside.
A moment later, he heard feminine voices and strained to recognize the foreign accent, while remaining out of sight on the balcony. No kidding. Had they attracted Dianna Oliveira by gossiping about her?
Why was she here?
“Dante, come here please,” Alexa called. “Dianna wants to talk to us.”
He sauntered into the living room, his curiosity piqued. “Hello, Dianna.” Her heady perfume wafted around as she twirled toward him.
“Dante, I’m scared.” The sultry Brazilian beauty grabbed his hand. The quivering of her lips attested to her fear.
Dante freed his hand and motioned her to the sofa. “Have a seat and tell us why. Can I get you a drink?”
“Just water, please.”
Dianna dropped onto the edge of the sofa. Alexa sat not far from her. As they both crossed their legs, Dante’s eyes almost crossed. His gaze shifted from one sculptural pair of legs to the other. From one tempting beauty with black hair and dark chocolate eyes to the other with golden brown hair and green eyes. He mentally shook himself into sanity. The Blue Waves building boasted many gorgeous females, and Greg knew how to choose his women.
Dante went to the kitchen and filled three glasses with cold water and ice. He added a wedge of lemon on the side of each glass.
“What scared you, Dianna?” he asked as he carried a tray with the glasses to the living room and set it on the glass cocktail table.
“I am afraid of Greg.”
“Greg? Why is that?” Alexa leaned forward, her eyes narrowed. “You recently said he planned to buy a penthouse in preparation for your wedding.”
“I exaggerated because I was fed up with Greg continuously playing the doting ex-husband on you.” Dianna lowered her head. “He mentioned once that a penthouse would be a good investment and he missed the view he had from your condo. I think… I think Greg killed Steve.”
“What?” Alexa echoed Dante’s surprised shout. He motioned to her to calm down and spun to focus his attention on Dianna.
“Why would you throw out such a grave accusation?”
“Because I made a mistake by telling him what Steve asked me to do as a favor.”
“A favor?” Dante urged. She wasn’t making much sense.
“Two weeks ago Steve asked me to talk to you, Alexa, and plead his cause. He wanted to marry you. And to be honest, I wanted you married and out of the way, so that Greg would stop knocking on your door every other day. I realized that as long as you were without a husband, Greg would not marry me. So I promised Steve I would talk to you.” She paused and bit the skin at the side of her nail. “I thought that mentioning it to Greg would make him understand that you were off limits to him. But Greg got mad and threatened to throw me out if I said one word to you. I kept my mouth shut.”
“But that doesn’t mean Greg killed Steve,” Alexa protested with a frown.
“If you had seen Greg’s expression and heard how he cursed Steve you’d agree with me. He didn’t want Steve to come near you.”
“Did you tell this to the detective?” Dante asked.
“Are you crazy? Greg would kill me. He’s already enraged since you two are flaunting your relationship without any shame, as he said.”
Dante scoffed, but then sobered when he noticed Alexa flexing her fingers nervously.
“We shouldn’t have crossed him,” she mumbled.
“Alexa, what happened to the assertive pledge you made?”
“Does assertiveness work when you’re dealing with someone obsessed?”
“I know what you mean,” Dianna said. “I love Greg and admire him. He’s a powerful man, so sure of himself. I wanted to marry him, but now I don’t know anymore. If he’s a killer… He scares me.” Her hand shook while she drank half of her glass of water as if the coolness could quench both her thirst and her fear.
“Dianna, you were the last to see Steve. You two chatted while he was in the Jacuzzi. How did he look? What did he say?”
“He looked cheerful. Happy. He laughed as he called to me.” She glanced at Alexa, twitched her mouth, and hesitated. “He said, ‘Thank you for talking to Alexa. We’re getting married soon.’ Did you really agree to marry him?”
“No.” Alexa brought both hands to her chest. “No,” she repeated louder. “Did you say that to the detective?”
“Yes. I was the first one he interviewed. I had to.”
“No wonder Ladd is convinced I agreed to marry Steve.” Her eyes shot daggers. “I wish…” She didn’t finish her sentence but Dante understood. If Steve were alive, Alexa would have probably punched him where it hurt.
Dianna stood. She was calmer than when she’d arrived. “I have to go and fix dinner. Please, don’t mention to Greg that I was here. And don’t repeat Steve’s last words. Greg would go berserk, if he heard that you agreed to marry Steve.”
“I told you, I didn’t, damn it.”
“Yes. Yes. Still, be careful what you say around Greg. No need to aggravate him more.”
Alexa punched the arm of the sofa. “Believe me, I’ve known Greg long enough, certainly better than you have. But thanks for the warning.”
Both Alexa and Dante walked her to the door.
“She doesn’t give a hoot about me. I don’t understand why she came to accuse Greg?” Alexa pinched her lips as she went to refill her glass with water. “I don’t see how Greg could have put Valium in the Amaretto.”
“Good question. The carafe belonged to you. You said it was in your bar. Besides, the analysis showed it wasn’t contaminated with Valium. Only one glass was. One glass, Alexa. But you said Steve poured in front of you…” He refused to paint the situation darker, but the thought she was a prime suspect stabbed his heart.
“Yes,” she murmured in a desolate voice as if a bleak future shaped in front of her eyes. Her cell phone ring pierced the silence. She checked the identity of her caller. “It’s Greg.”
“Yes, Greg. What’s up?”
A scowl gathered on her forehead as she listened to her ex and then answered, “You can offer a ride to Julia and her daughter, and take Dianna with you, but I’m not riding with them. I’ll see you at the church. Bye.” She shut her phone and hauled a deep sigh. “The funeral is the day after tomorrow, at ten.”
“You don’t have to go.”
A sad snort escaped her. “The whole building will point fingers and accuse me if I don’t show up.”
“Fine. We’ll be there before ten, but tonight I’m staying with you.”
“Dante, I’m too tired. Please, go back to your apartment.”
Seriously worried about her safety in addition to her mental state, he shook his head. “I can’t leave you alone in this apartment. It seems that too many people have access to your key.”
Chapter Eight
Alexa opened tired eyes and peered at the digital clock on top of her night table. Six-thirty only. Why was she already awake when her head pounded like a fierce gong?
Scenes from yesterday assailed her, each like a sharp arrow spearing through her fogged mind. Julia in Tom’s arms at the marina. The lovely boat ride interrupted by the detective. His search through her intimate apparels. Dianna’s claim that Steve confided Alexa had agreed to marry him.
Why were they all determined to believe Steve’s lies? When would this mess end? Could she keep her sanity through it all?
A mild, regular sound emanated from her right. She turned and swallowed a gasp.
Wearing only shorts, Dante slept on the other side of her huge king-size bed, deliciously cute with his lips partly open over a soft snore and his forehead mussed with strands of dark hair. A slice of morning hazed through the shades, brushing his sleeping face with a touch of sunshine. His masculine scent wrapped her like a warm mantle. The temptation to kiss him sent hot tingles all the way to her belly, but sh
e reconsidered.
Dear Dante, once more he’d shown a noble streak of his character last night. The man, who had lavished her with passionate kisses during the day, had controlled his lust and held her like a tender friend. Whispering soothing words, he’d kept her cuddled in his arms for a long time, massaging her back, and stroking her shoulders. When she drifted, he’d probably rolled to the other side and slept.
Wide-awake now, she swiftly slipped out of bed and padded to her dresser to choose a bikini. Her hand rested on the side drawer where she usually left the pieces of jewelry she’d worn the day before. “Don’t leave it around,” the detective had told yesterday, after he’d ogled her jewelry boxes. The same advice Greg often gave her. Her mind dazed by the previous days’ events, she’d forgotten to lock her gems in the secret safe no one knew about, except Greg.
Careful not to wake Dante, she gathered her precious trinkets, and stuffed them in a velvet pouch embroidered with her initials. Carrying her bikini and the pouch to her dressing area, she closed the door behind her.
After her divorce, she’d personally repainted her bedroom and dressing closet, using the same pattern of light and dark pink, irregular stripes. Without hesitation, she reached between her gray coat and the brown one, and pressed upon the dark hot-pink spot that hid a tiny button.
A small door swiveled open to reveal her secret safe. She entered the combination, pulled the heavy door, and deposited the pouch, then closed her secret cache.
Reassured that she had regained enough self-control to hide her assets, she peeled off her long pajamas to slip into a bikini and covered it with a beach dress, the terrycloth cool against her skin.
Ready to exert herself with a swim in the fresh ocean water, she indulged into a long gaze at Dante’s naked torso and chiseled features, and blew him a kiss.
Her flip-flop slippers dangling from her hand, she tiptoed out of the room, and grabbed her keys from the horseshoe hook hanging on the corridor wall. After shoving her phone into her pocket and wearing her slippers, she silently walked out of the apartment and rode the empty elevator to the basement garage leading to the beach terrace.
A moment later, she took off her dress, stuffed her keys into its pocket, and left it on a chair with her flip-flops. She had often swum in the early morning and delighted at seeing both the terrace and the beach deserted. A little paradise that belonged only to her—at least until the crowd of sunbathers invaded the sand. The ocean scent she grew up with beckoned with a sure promise of relaxation.
Not wasting time, she dove into the crystal clear ocean, swam vigorously away from the shore, came back, and repeated the strenuous exercise several times. Finally tired from the effort, she eased on her back and floated. Arms spread and eyes closed, she welcomed the early morning peace and the comforting din of the light surf.
Things would get better soon. Focusing on happy moments with Dante, she coached herself to relax and unwind. A picture of Dante, holding her and kissing her, popped into her mind, bringing a surge of cheerful tingles to her stomach and a wave of tenderness to her heart. Rejuvenated, she smiled, ready to tackle the day with renewed energy.
Time to go back. She opened her eyes and startled at the sight of a masked face bending over her.
No. A hand slammed her mouth shut. Her cry didn’t reach her lips. An arm coiled around her neck. Help. Her scream clogged her throat. Hoping to free herself, she clutched her attacker’s head with both hands and clawed at his face. Only to feel a ski mask under her fingers. So he came prepared to kill and escape, unrecognized.
Help. “Don’t kill me,” she pleaded against the palm gagging her. Incoherent sounds reached her ears. No one could hear her. No one would come.
He pushed her down, under water.
Save yourself, girl.
She wriggled and spun. Like an android out of control, she kicked and punched in all directions, hitting him in the groin. The man released her throat. She propelled herself up and managed to surface.
“You bitch,” he groaned. Grabbing her hair, he yanked hard, submerged her again, and dragged her lower and lower.
Don’t panic. Think. Quickly. She’d always been a good swimmer, winning competitions. She couldn’t let a killer drown her. Holding her breath as she’d learned during her underwater ballet lessons, she let herself sink to the bottom and remained motionless, playing dead and praying that her ploy would fool him. The man kicked her back with his foot one last time and swam away.
Thank God, it worked. Gathering her failing strength, she crawled at the bottom of the ocean, counting the seconds, afraid to emerge. Her lungs ached, about to burst with her effort. Yet she retained her breath and kept counting. Hundred, hundred and one, hundred and... Unable to stay under water any longer, she surfaced and gasped for air. Would he come back and attack her again?
Rattling from the shore, a rumbling noise hammered her brain. Her heart pounded. Don’t wait like a lamb. Open your eyes. Do it. She forced herself to look at the beach.
On the right, a man in black shorts strode away from her building, away from the bulldozer that cleaned the sand every morning. She needed help. The driver could save her. She swam and staggered to the shore, tottered, and stumbled in front of the oncoming vehicle. “Help, help.”
The driver cut the engine and jumped out his bulldozer. “Ma’m, are you sick?”
“Yes,” she hiccupped. “Take me... Blue Waves.”
He helped her up and supported her across the width of the beach to the terrace.
“Alexa.” Dante’s shout was the sweetest sound she’d ever heard. He ran toward her, pulled her in his arms. “What happened?”
“The lady was swimming and felt sick,” the driver explained. “She collapsed in front of my bulldozer and asked for help.”
“Thank you. I’ll take care of her.” Dante put an arm under her knees and carried her to the terrace.
****
Scrutinizing her face, Dante set her on a chair and bent over her. “You got sick? Stomach sick?” She looked deathly pale, with wet hair plastered all over her cheeks. Scrunched eyes attested to her pain. Yet she didn’t utter a sound. “Alexa, tell me what happened.”
“Drowned,” she whispered. “He tried... kill me.” Her words were barely audible.
“Someone tried to drown you?” Had he heard correctly? Dread pooled in his stomach.
She grasped her chest and curled up on her chair. Short frayed breaths escaped her open mouth.
A spasm tingled at the base of his neck. “Dio, you can hardly breathe. I’m calling an ambulance and the police.”
“No. no.” Shaking her head frantically, she grabbed his arm. “No. You...take me...hospital,” she spat, and then gulped air. “Not others.”
Dante scooped her into his arms and rushed to the garage and his car. Her panic squeezed his gut. Guilt overwhelmed him. A killer had tried to drown her while Dante slept comfortably in her bed. Who and why?
He revved his engine and drove out of their building. No traffic clogged the streets at this early hour. He immediately sped above the limit. A moment later, a police car signaled to stop. “Officer, we need help. The lady almost drowned. She has chest pain. I’m taking her to the hospital,” Dante recited.
“Follow me. We’ll go to Holy Cross,” the policeman said.
The siren blared in the silence as they zoomed to the hospital. By the time, Dante stopped in front of the ER entrance, the cop had already notified the reception, and a volunteer pushed a wheelchair to the car. Dante climbed out of his BMW, opened the door for Alexa. She collapsed in the awaiting wheelchair.
“The officer already told us she has chest pain.” The orderly wheeled her through an automatic door. “I’ll park the car and join you in a sec,” Dante called.
When he entered the ER, the nurse at the front desk directed him to one of the examination rooms. Raw emotions boiled inside him. His breath hitched at the sight of Alexa in a hospital gown, eyes closed and deathly pale, with an oxygen tub
e inserted in her nose and her golden brown hair mussed over the pillow. A fragile patient so different from the sophisticated young woman he’d known so far. A nurse was sticking electrode patches on her body while another took her blood pressure.
“She said she spent some time under water, holding her breath. No wonder, she has chest pain. Why did you do that, Alexa?” the nurse asked. Tears streamed down Alexa’s cheeks, but she didn’t answer. “Was it a game or something more serious?” Bewildered the nurse frowned while shaking her head. “Your BP is too high. Understandable if you’re very nervous.”
The other nurse announced, “EKG normal.”
Standing next to Alexa’s bed, Dante caressed her forehead. Her eyelids fluttered. She fixed a tired look on him, her beautiful green eyes shimmering with fear and distrust of her surroundings. “You’ll be fine, Alexa.” He was beginning to sound like a broken record to his own ears. His jaws tightened in frustration. How many times had he assured her she’d be fine? Yet, he’d been proven wrong.
“Don’t leave me, please.”
“Never.” He enfolded her cold hand between both of his. She’d been his top priority since his return from Sicily, and he’d been at her side continuously. Except this morning. Someone lurked, ready to hurt her. Who and why?
The policeman stood at the door, his gaze flipping from Alexa to Dante. “Is she in a condition to give us a report?”
“I’m her lawyer. She told me a man wearing a black mask tried to drown her while she was swimming in the ocean. It’s a miracle she managed to survive.”
The policeman pulled a form from a folder he held and scribbled on it. “Any witnesses?”
“No one was there at the time. Later the man cleaning the beach stopped his bulldozer to help her when she collapsed on the sand.”
“Can you please, read this, and have the lady sign here?” the policeman said after recording the information.
Dante carefully read through the written words. “It’s good. She’ll give you more details later when she’s in a better condition.”
After Alexa signed, the policeman tucked the report into his folder. “I’ll file it at the police station. An officer will contact you later. I hope you feel better, Ma’am,” he added.
The Ultimate Romance Box (6 Bestselling Romance Novels) Page 62
