Scandalous Heroes Box Set

by Latrivia Nelson

  Too powerful.

  The orgasm built in her from the sheer overwhelming takedown of all her defenses. Tears leaked from her eyes and she held tighter to him. Renaldo kept grooving, he kept loving her, kept showering her face and neck with kisses that each meant something. He made a promise to her body and soul. At the height of her climax she gave a strangled scream of release with her nails anchored deep enough to draw blood from his skin.

  Scalding spurts of his essence jetted up into her in a continual stream. Gradually she came back to her senses. She dropped her face on his shoulder and shuddered. He grunted and shook, continuing to explode deep inside of her.

  “I think I’m in love,” she joked.

  He stiffened. She felt his entire body go stiff. Kyra lifted her head and he looked her in the eye. With him pinned inside of her the words had meaning she didn’t intend. She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean it literally. I was… it felt nice,” she smiled.

  He kissed her. “I understand, cara,” he said and slowly released her. “Love from a woman like you has to be earned. As it should be.”

  She didn’t know if he was discouraged or disinterested. But the words he spoke were so poetic she could say nothing in return. Renaldo rarely showed her any emotion other than the times his defenses were down during sex. What was his life like? Day to day was her hired gun, the soldier to a Mafia boss, as attentive and caring with others as he was with her?

  “Why did you… did we… do this without protection?” she asked. She traced her finger over the eight-inch scar along his back. It was some kind of knife wound, or maybe from a surgical procedure. “Why did you want to?”

  “I apologize. I… I only… I shouldn’t have asked,” he said lathering his hands and then covering his face. He washed and scrubbed his entire head before stepping into the spray of the shower and beginning on the rest of his body. Kyra stood there watching him, silent. Pleasure still rippled through her. She held herself through the aftershocks.

  “Maybe when I… if I get the job at Mirabella’s in Paris we can see each other from time to time? Maybe? Or who knows I could get a job in Italy. You never know.”

  He glanced back at her from over his shoulder. Kyra walked over to him. “This is good, sex, and what we have… I like it,” she smiled. “Maybe we could get to know each other better?”

  He chuckled. “Maybe.” He turned and looked her over. “Can I see where you live?”

  “Sure… well,” she chewed on her bottom lip. “I need to change and stuff. And we can do some sightseeing. But…”

  He pulled her to him. She held his waist. “Thing is, I’m not a clean freak like you.”

  “Freak?” he frowned. “You think I’m strange?”

  She giggled. “No. It’s a figure of speech.” She rose on her toes and kissed him. “You wash my back and I’ll wash yours. Then I’ll take you home to meet Jamie.”

  He kissed her brow. “I’d like that.”

  Later –

  “There, that one is my building!” she pointed.

  The car came to an abrupt stop. Renaldo spun the wheel to make a U-turn in the street. Kyra laughed. “Your driving is crazy, man!”

  He winked at her and found an empty spot to parallel park the vehicle against the curb. The car’s fit was snug. He turned off the engine. It was near thirty degrees and almost noon. He glanced at the building. “You stay here alone?” he asked.

  “Yep. Jamie is my best friend. She lives upstairs.” Kyra smiled. “Ah, I need to tell you about Jamie.”

  Renaldo looked at her curiously. “What is it?”

  “Well… I love her. And I want you to respect her. If you don’t we can’t be friends,” Kyra informed him.

  His brows lowered with concern. “I don’t understand. I would not disrespect anyone close to you.”

  She smiled. “Jamie is transsexual.”

  He blinked at her as if he didn’t understand the term. She didn’t know what the translation was in Italian to explain. So she tried another approach. “She’s a man who dresses as a woman.”

  His brows shot up. Surprise registered on his face. It was 1993 and things were changing in New York. But across the world people like Jamie were treated with scorn. She didn’t know what her strict disciplined Catholic lover would think. She held her breath and waited.

  “It is his choice to be that way?” he asked.

  “Well… she would say she was born in the wrong skin. It’s not a choice. It’s who she is.”

  “Ah, I see.” He glanced back out the window. “I’ve seen them before. Men in dresses.” He glanced over at Kyra. “You like these people?”

  “I love Jamie. I love people for who they are,” Kyra said.

  “I understand. I will respect your friend,” he smiled. He leaned in and kissed her nose. “You are a strange woman, Kyra. Different. My shoe maker. Of course your friends… would be different too.”

  Kyra hugged his neck. She kissed his cheek. His aftershave smelled like heaven. She could sniff him all day. “Come on, let’s go.”

  When she opened her door he grabbed her hand. He shook his head no. “Oh, I forgot. Sorry,” Kyra released the door handle.

  Renaldo got out of the car. He walked around and opened the door for her. It was one of the things he insisted on whenever they passed through a door. He led and opened it for her. He extended his gloved hand to her and she stepped out of the car like a princess. Renaldo closed the door and dropped his arm around her shoulder.

  Together they started up the sidewalk.

  “Kyra! Kyra!”

  She heard her name and her head turned. Cezar walked fast up the sidewalk to catch up to them. Shocked, Kyra wasn’t sure what to say or do. Renaldo at her side he observed the man and she knew he recognized him. She prayed he didn’t.

  “What is it?” Kyra asked. “What do you want?”

  “Can we talk?” Cezar looked Renaldo over, one step and then two, and he breached her personal space. Kyra stepped back and collided with Renaldo’s unmovable form. The scowl on Cezar’s face deepened. It contorted with rage. “I’d like to speak with my girlfriend alone.”

  “No! I’m not your damn girlfriend, you psycho! I told you to go away!” Kyra stepped from the protective side of Renaldo and stood between the men. “If you don’t stop harassing me I will call the police. I mean it, Cezar!”

  Cezar glared at her. He glanced back at Renaldo this time with a sneer. “You fucking her too!”

  “Oh go to hell,” she said. Something was mounting, she could feel the element of danger and it scared her. She reached behind her for Renaldo’s hand. “Let’s go.”

  He didn’t budge. Kyra looked back and Renaldo was still and silent. “Ignore him. Let’s go,” she said again. Renaldo’s gaze never left Cezar. He vibrated with invisible tension.

  “You whore! You’re a fucking whore, Kyra! A cold-blooded bitch! What is he? Your next customer!” Cezar yelled after her.

  “Kiss my ass, Cezar!” she shouted back at him. Renaldo shoved her aside. Kyra grabbed his sleeve. “No. It’s fine. Let’s just go. Please!” Kyra pleaded.

  He didn’t listen. In a flash of violence he was on Cezar. Renaldo seized him by the collar and throat with one hand. And though Cezar was only a few inches shorter than Renaldo he was lifted from his feet. And to Kyra’s horror he was then slammed down hard on the sidewalk. Cezar screamed. The assault was beyond vicious. Renaldo pounded his fist into Cezar’s face until blood spurted from the man’s nose and mouth.

  “Stop it! You’re going to kill him!” Kyra tried to grab at Renaldo but he behaved like a madman. Cezar gurgled and his eyes rolled in his head. “Stop it, please!” Kyra wept, with her hands now to her mouth.

  Renaldo’s fist froze mid-air. He dragged a semi-conscious Cezar up an inch from the concrete by his hair. Kyra wasn’t sure what he said.

  Cezar’s glasses had shattered in one lens. But she saw his eyes through the swelling and blood. He looked at her. “I apolo
gize, Kyra. Forgive me!” he pleaded in agony. Renaldo let him go. Cezar shot to his feet and ran for his life.

  Stunned, shaking with terror and tears, Kyra looked at the blood on the sidewalk and then to Renaldo. She backed away from him in horror. She’d never seen anybody respond to anything in her life with such violence. He walked toward her and she put up her hand. “Don’t come near me,” she wept. “What the hell is wrong with you? You could have killed him.”

  Renaldo blinked as if confused.

  “He’s a jerk, yes. But what you did. My God,” she said with disgust. “I want you to go! Go!” she said. Fearful she raced to her door and punched in the key code. The door unlocked and she hurried inside. Renaldo stood on the sidewalk for a moment. She peeked out at him to see if he would leave. He did.

  She breathed a sigh of relief. Cezar deserved it. Hell if she were a man she would have slugged him herself. But what she witnessed didn’t feel heroic. It was both dark and sinister. And the wild look in Renaldo’s eye when he let him go was the most frightening. She backed away and went to the elevator. When she was on the lift she immediately began to rethink her reaction. The man was from a different world. And his actions were only in defense of her. Kyra put a hand to her head unsure of what to do next.

  She walked to her apartment door, unlocked it, and went inside. Sad she fell back on her door. Kyra shook her head. She walked over to her sofa and sat down.

  Before she could take off her shoes there was a pounding on her door.

  Startled she froze. Her heart beat so hard she feared it would go into arrest. Of course no one could arrive at her door from outside unless she invited that person. Still she felt a cold prickle of apprehension move up her spine.

  “Kyra, girl! Open up!” Jamie demanded.

  “Jamie?” she sighed.

  Kyra went to the door and opened it. Jamie barged in. “Girl! Hells bells, snakes and snails, seeing is believing, honey. Hercules put Poindexter on his ass!” Jamie clutched her chest. “Was that him? The hit man? Honey! Whew!” Jamie fanned herself. “Got me tingling all over. He’s beautiful. And means business. Oh my!”

  “Wait, you saw it?” Kyra closed the door.

  “Yes. I was at the window when you two got out of the car. Then Poindexter runs his lanky ass up and starts talking shit. But your man wasn’t having it.” Jamie threw air punches like a boxer. She ducked and weaved against an imaginary opponent. “Whew, he put his ass down.” Jamie laughed shaking her blonde wig. “Girl, I died when Waldo ran his scary ass back to his car and high tailed it out of there. Why did you send Hercules away?”

  “He could have killed him,” Kyra said.

  “So?” Jamie dropped her hands to her hips. She wore a black silk Kimono with a sewn red dragon down the back and wide bell like sleeves.

  “So?” Kyra shook her head. “I don’t like violence. And I sure as hell don’t want a violent man. Cezar is an asshole, a creep, but Renaldo took it too far.” She sat down. “What else should I have done? Invited him upstairs for tea? The man had blood on his hands and coat for God’s sake. What if he got pissed with me? How would he react then?”

  Jamie chuckled. “Hercules didn’t look like a man out of control. It looked like chivalry to me.”

  “Are you for real?” Kyra scoffed.

  “Listen to me, honey. Men come in all kinds. Look at me!” Jamie twirled for her in her Wonder Woman fashion. Kyra had no choice but to laugh. “You thought Cezar was a sweet little geek to play with, and he flipped on you. What would have happened if your guy didn’t bring you home? I told you to report Cezar’s creepy ways to the police. It could have been far worse.”

  Kyra nodded in agreement.

  “I don’t condone violence either. But this is a violent world, sweetheart. Sometimes you got to throw the first punch,” Jamie reasoned.

  “I guess. I don’t know. He did something really sweet for me too. I have news.” She smiled. “Renaldo got an interview for me with Catalina Battaglia. Tomorrow morning.”

  “No shit!” Jamie exclaimed. “He did that?”

  Kyra felt the sharp edge of guilt stab her heart once more. She’d set out to seduce Renaldo to get closer to the Battaglias. And in the process found him irresistible. Now he’d done what she asked and she chased him away over one incident. “I should call him and apologize. Maybe invite him back for dinner. Something I cook?”

  Jamie winked.

  Kyra rose. She went to the phone. She called information for the number to the Waldorf and then dialed his hotel room. After several rings with no answer she was connected with the receptionist desk.

  “Yes I’d like to leave a voice message for Renaldo Cracchiolo please.”

  The receptionist put her on hold and then transferred her to a message line.

  “Hi, ah, it’s me. Kyra. Sorry about earlier. I might have overreacted. I’d like to make it up to you. If you’d like? Um. Can you come here at 7? I want to cook for you. Okay. Bye.”

  She hung up.

  Jamie clapped. “Bravo as the Italians would say!”

  Kyra put on a brave smile. She was still uneasy over the entire incident. But she agreed with Jamie, she should have at least heard the man out. “What if he doesn’t want to come back? I might have screwed things up? Huh?”

  “You’re young, prone to overreacting. How old is he?” Jamie asked.

  “Twenty-seven,” she said. “He’s a single dad too. He has a ten year old son.”

  “Then he deals with kids. He’ll figure it out.” Jamie joked. Kyra rubbed her temples. The day was ruined. And it was all her fault for not dealing with Cezar seriously. She could have spent the evening showing Renaldo New York. Her thoughts returned to Cezar.

  “I think I might need to get a restraining order against him. He’s crazy. Do you know he called me a whore? What the hell is wrong with him?”

  “You need to report him. Go down to the station and have him served.” Jamie went to the window and looked out of it. “The sooner the better.”

  “Okay. Now. Let’s talk about my interview. I need your help to get ready.”

  “Go get the portfolio. What shoes will you wear?” Jamie asked.

  Kyra went into the other room and fetched her portfolio case. “Shoes?”

  “You need to wear the fiercest pair we got. Make sure they truly sparkle on your feet. Give them a taste.”

  “Oh yeah, true. Pick a few pairs and I’ll practice.” Kyra laid out the portfolio folder. She glanced to the telephone. She couldn’t wait to see Renaldo again. She really hated the way they left things.

  Later –

  Kyra stirred her soup. She had made groundnut soup, fried yams, and fried fish. They were her favorite recipes from her mother’s kitchen. Renaldo never called back. She’d left another message for him thirty minutes ago to confirm if he was coming. She got no return call.

  Her gaze lifted to the candles on the table. The apartment was cleaner than she’d ever kept it. She even polished the floorboards. All afternoon she did what she could to prepare. She had chosen Anita Baker for mood music. And her apology had been rehearsed to perfection. None of it mattered. After waiting another hour she sadly realized Sunday was a bust. And her short-lived romance with her mysterious Sicilian was donezo.

  Kyra blew out the candles and sat back with a sad sigh. Maybe it was for the best. Kyra pushed back from the table and began to put up her meal. She’d have something to take for lunch.

  Chapter Six

  Interviews and Apologies

  “You’re here mighty early,” Bette snickered.

  Kyra looked up. She was so nervous she got to work at six. The ability to speak failed her early on. All she could do was nod her answer. Her heart felt as if it were permanently lodged in her throat. Bette’s critical stare went from Kyra to the portfolio folder Kyra kept with her behind the receptionist cubicle.

  “Something going on I should know?” Bette asked.

  “Interview,” Kyra croaked. She swallowed a
nd spoke clearly. “I have an interview with Catalina and Marietta Battaglia this morning,” Kyra clarified.

  Bette sipped her coffee and didn’t respond.

  Kyra didn’t care what Bette thought. She would get her shot and she’d succeed in spite of them all.

  “The interviews are bullshit, Kyra. They will close this office and take whomever Mirabella has already chosen for Paris. I told you honey, this company is going in a different direction. And tacky shoes aren’t it. You should consider doing the same.”

  “I’m sick of your snotty bullshit okay?”

  Bette laughed and cut her eyes away as if to dismiss Kyra. “Now it’s snotty bullshit? Just the other day you called it advice,” Bette tossed back.

  “That was until I realized your petty jealousy made you pathetic and immature.”

  “Really?” Bette arched a brow. “I’m immature, and you’re the girl who writes on shoes with crayons and calls it art.”

  “At least I have talent. Not some stuffy degree, and a team of kiss-ass junior stylists to make me feel important.” Kyra said.

  “Well good luck, Kyra. You’ll need it.”

  Kyra rolled her eyes. Bette sashayed away. The elevator dinged. Kyra’s gaze flipped up. She stared out past the glass doors to the elevator and waited for the Battaglia women. Secretly she wanted to see Renaldo. She was still pissed that he blew off her apology last night.

  The doors parted. Mr. Tate walked out with a couple of other employees. Kyra lowered her gaze in disappointment. It was still early.

  “Morning,” Mr. Tate said. He picked up his mail from the receptionist cubicle. “Coffee-black-no-sugar and bring it to my office, love,” he said and strolled away.

  “Yes, Mr. Tate,” Kyra said. She walked around the desk and hurried to the break room. Kyra fixed the cup of coffee the way her boss liked and headed towards his office. She looked up to see Catalina and Marietta Battaglia walking down the hall. Both women looked regal, beautiful. Each wore furs over nicely tailored beige pantsuits.