by Cassie Wild
He was also gorgeous, so gorgeous I almost swallowed my tongue as I stood there staring at him. Water beaded and rolled down his neck, then on down to a chest so perfectly chiseled, it should be classified as a work of art. A few inches below the low-slung towel, right at his navel, there was a faint line of dark hair and it disappeared behind the towel. The muscles in his arms and what I could see of his legs were clearly defined.
I was a ballerina—the men I danced with were some of the most fit in the world.
This guy could have given them a run for their money.
He looked at me, puzzled.
“What are you doing in my room?” I asked, not knowing what else to say.
“It’s my room,” he replied, a charming grin curling his lips upward.
“But Isabel …” I stopped and shook my head. She must have told me the wrong room. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d given bad directions. I’d gotten lost on the way to pick up a pizza once, thanks to her directions.
“I must be…” I waved a hand toward the open door and the other bedrooms that must be in the hallway. “Out there somewhere.”
He continued to study me. “Russian?”
I nodded cautiously, keeping my eyes locked on his face, not daring to let them stray any lower. I’d seen men wearing less … in movies. But this was the first time I’d ever been this close to a real, live man wearing next to nothing. Heat suffused my cheeks and I doggedly ignored it. “I’m over here for school,” I told him.
Understanding dawned in his dark blue eyes and he took another step forward. “You must be Isabel’s friend, Daria. I heard you two went to school together in New York. Sean mentioned you were here in the states to study … ballet, I think?”
“Yes.” Uncomfortable, I resisted the urge to squirm. “I should …”
He moved forward another step. “I’m Brooks, Sean’s brother. I’m in the wedding party, too. One of the groomsmen.”
He went to shift the towel from one hand to the other, offering his right hand.
As I reached out to accept his handshake, the towel he’d been holding gaped, then fell. He grasped at it awkwardly until he held only a corner between his fingertips.
A faint grin tugged up the corner of his lips, but other than that, he acted like he hadn’t even noticed.
Okay. If he could do that, I could, too.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I shook his hand. “Daria,” I said with a little laugh. “Well, you know that. I’m just going to …” I tugged my hand back and waved in the direction of the door.
I tried not to run and I thought I did a credible enough of job of walking casually, if somewhat quickly, out the door, shutting it behind me.
My heart continued to race as I looked around, bewildered.
There was another door just across from me and with a desperate hope, I knocked tentatively.
There was no answer.
I eased the door open and found a room that was a mirror to the one I’d just left, although while that one had been decorated in cream and blue, this one was done in colors of crimson and cream.
I sagged against the doorframe, relieved when I saw my bags on the bed waiting for me.
Hurriedly, I shut the door behind me and collapsed facedown on the lake-sized bed. I found that the bed was as comfortable as it was beautiful. With a sigh, I closed my eyes. I could just hide away in here for the next few hours and hope the sexy Brooks, brother to the bridegroom, would forget about what had just happened.
One could always hope.
I lay there for a few more minutes but then, my innate neat streak starting to nag me and I got up. My bags lay there, ready for me to unpack. I started that brainless task, tucking socks, panties and bras inside the top drawer of the nearby bureau. It was elegant and exquisite, just like everything else in this house.
I went to hang up a few blouses in the closet and saw that my bridesmaid dress was already hanging inside.
I touched a finger to the delicate crystals that encrusted the straps. The dress was black and ankle-length, matching the black-and-white theme Isabel had chosen for her wedding. The nice thing about the dress was that it could be worn to other events, a pretty, black formal dress.
Just as I went to pull it out to try it on, my phone buzzed.
I picked it up from where it lay on the bed.
It was a text from Isabel.
I’m at the pool … come on down! One of the house servants can show you how to get here.
I bit my lip. Isabel had told me she had a swimming pool and that we’d make time to hang out next to it. I hadn’t gone swimming since the last summer I’d spent in Moscow, several years ago. Kiska and I had gone swimming, and then out for ice cream.
It was a good memory that sometimes made me sad, but I didn’t let myself brood over it.
Instead, I hunted down the swimming suit I’d bought for just this occasion.
Four
Brooks
Well, I’d had some abstract idea about hooking up with a cute bridesmaid while I was here.
Daria wasn’t exactly cute—she was long, sexy and elegant. But that was even better, in my opinion.
I wouldn’t mind reconnecting with her over the weekend, and preferably at that time, she’d be wearing about as much as I was in that moment.
It was an appealing thought and if things worked out nicely, a few hot hours twisting naked on the sheets with Daria could serve as a useful distraction from the things I was trying not to brood about.
Of course, it would only be a distraction.
Distractions only worked for a short while to keep me from brooding about the turn my life had taken over the past few years.
I was down here to act as my brother’s best man as he married the daughter of one of the biggest criminals in the States. My father also shared that dubious honor.
Not that anything underhanded had ever been successfully pinned on either Basilio Castellanos or my father, Seamus, but crimes had been committed nonetheless, and I also knew that there were any number of law enforcement agencies that would love to have whatever dirt they could get on either of them.
And there was dirt—it was a matter of unearthing it and it was harder than one might think. I helped with that, too.
The Downing family was pure Irish mob.
From the time I’d been old enough to understand that, I’d wanted to get out of this life.
I’d gone to school to be a lawyer.
After graduating with honors from Harvard—two years earlier than most people were able to finish the same program—I’d planned on going into business myself with a focus on business law.
I loved my family but the last thing I’d ever wanted was to get tied up in the business that had made mine one of the richest in the country. It seemed like getting free of the family wasn’t in the cards for me though.
I found myself being pulled back in, time and time again, my father using the guise of my legal expertise as his reasons for needing my insight and my advice.
Maybe I should have majored in podiatry. It would be harder for him to use that excuse if I was a doctor with a focus on feet.
Dropping down on the bed, I closed my eyes.
My family was also part of the reason that Sean was getting married tomorrow. While I had no doubt that Sean had feelings for Isabel, I knew my father had been pressuring him in subtle ways almost from the time the two of the them had hooked up.
Isabel’s family, the Castellanos, had connections to the Cuban mafia. While my family specialized in running illegal weapons, the Castellanos focused more on drugs, and to my disgust, human trafficking. When the two families were able to get my brother hooked up with Isabel, part of the deal my father had struck with Basilio, the head of the Castellanos, had been that they would share resources.
I had no desire to share resources, or anything else, with the Castellanos but I wasn’t in charge of the family business, either.
Dad had been looking
to expand outside our home city of Philadelphia for several years. The cops in that city were notoriously bulldogged and it was cutting into our business.
When he saw a chance to form an alliance of sorts with the Castellanos over the deepening connection between Isabel and Sean, he’d jumped at it.
Now nothing I said or did was going to convince him that we didn’t need to get tied up with people who made their money on human trafficking. Maybe it was a weird line to draw in the sand but it was mine.
But Seamus Downing, the powerful head of the Downing clan, had seen things differently and there was no arguing with him.
Once this wedding was done, I suspected I’d have my hands full dealing with all the new bullshit this business arrangement was going to foist on us.
Sean was all gung-ho to help with the new direction things were going to take in Miami and had told me all the plans he had to help ‘strengthen the family,’ as long as Dad let him have some control in the matter. He’d asked me for my help and, stupidly, I’d agreed.
I would do it the same way if I had the chance.
Sean was my kid brother and he didn’t always think things through.
No matter how this turned out, I was going to be there for Sean, and for my family.
Even if I didn’t necessarily like the way things were going, this was my family were talking about.
If there was one thing the Downing clan took seriously, it was family.
I wasn’t any different.
Five
Daria
The hot, humid heat of the summer day wrapped around me as I sat in a lounger by the pool next to Isabel.
Her idea of swimming had more to do with sitting in a chair and watching the other people at the pool dive in. I was hot as hell, but content to sit there with my friend as others splashed in the cool blue waters.
“Man,” Isabel said, heaving out a sigh. “Those are some seriously excellent muscles.”
I glanced at the diving board where one of the groomsmen was preparing to jump in. I had to admit: the man did have excellent muscles. But I shot Isabel a teasing look. “Aren’t you getting married tomorrow?”
“Yes. Married. Not dead. I can still admire the scenery, right?” She gave me a wicked smile before shifting her attention back to the pool.
The one who’d just executed a perfect half gainer was Cedrick Waterson. He was a friend of Sean’s and had flirted easily when Isabel had introduced us. The light flirtation had made me want to shut down. I was so awkward around men—around anybody I didn’t know, really—but especially men.
Isabel had recognized my discomfort and chased Cedrick away, even though he occasionally wandered by and dropped down on the lounger next to my feet, another playful comment on his lips.
He was, like the rest of the men there at the pool, a serious piece of eye-candy. He was lean and tall, with golden-brown hair and beautiful blue eyes. Out of the men who’d been introduced to me so far, Cedrick was the one I found easiest to talk to, despite his playful flirtations. There was also another friend of Sean’s, Dominick O’Malley. Dominick wasn’t quite as playful and teasing as Cedrick, but he had a nice smile and didn’t stare at me like he was already imagining me naked.
I couldn’t say the same for one of Isabel’s brothers. Marcos.
Just being around him made me want to find some clothes to pull on over my nearly naked body, then run for the nearest shower.
I could tell that he loved his sister, but he didn’t show much of an attempt to play the gentleman, even though his sister was right there.
Isabel seemed completely unaware.
I wouldn’t let it get to me, I told myself. I’d just make an effort to avoid being around Marcos. Especially if he was alone.
Her other brother, Duardo, was a little easier on my nerves.
He was quiet and intense, but offered me a polite smile when we were introduced.
Slumped in the chair, relaxed by the heat and the sun, I sat there enjoying a cold cocktail—I’d already forgotten what it was called—when I caught sight of somebody else entering the pool area.
My mouth went dry as I saw who it was.
Brooks.
The man I’d walked in on as he came out of the shower.
I sipped my drink and curled my free hand into a fist out of frustration. Then I hurriedly looked away. Not that it did much good. The moment Isabel saw him she waved him over. “Brooks! Come on, you have to meet my friend, Daria. She just got in.”
I flushed uncomfortably as he drew near, a faint smile on his lips. “We’ve met,” he said, offering his hand.
I took his and gave it a quick shake before tugging free.
“When did you meet?” Isabel asked, confused.
“I … ah …” As my tongue tangled over the words, Brooks slipped me an amused wink.
He took over and gave Isabel a smooth smile. “We bumped into each other upstairs. I took the liberty of introducing myself.”
“Oh.” Isabel waved at the pool. “Go ahead and make yourself at home, Brooks. If you’re in the mood for a beer or cocktail, you can get one over there.” She indicated the little covered area where the bar service off to the side. “Just let Stefan know what you’re in the mood for.”
“I think I’ll just swim for now.” He nodded at both of us and turned away. As he moved to drop his towel and slip out of his shoes, I told myself not to stare.
I wasn’t having much luck.
Isabel noticed.
“He’s hot,” she commented.
“So’s Sean.”
She grinned at me. “Like I said, I’m getting married. Doesn’t mean I’m dead.”
Her smile faded though and she shifted on her lounger, turning to face me. “Brooks is hot, but I’d keep my distance if I were you.”
I blinked at the comment, then shook my head. “Is this coming from Isabel Castellanos who has tried to hook me up at almost every party we’ve ever gone to, and half the bars in New York City?”
“I think half is an exaggeration,” she said loftily, waving a dismissive hand at me. “And there’s a difference. Those are strangers—you have a fun night and move on. Brooks, though … well, you’re my best friend and he’s Sean’s brother.” She bit her lip, then added softly, “He’s also a bit of a player. That’s not really anything you need to get involved in.”
My cheeks flushed and I looked away.
Isabel knew what nobody else did.
I was still a virgin.
“Look, I appreciate the concern, but you don’t need to worry.” I shot her a quick smile and focused back on my drink. “I’m just … well, I’m doing what you’re doing. Admiring. I’m not dead either.”
A laugh bubbled from Isabel’s lips and she settled more comfortably in her chair. “He’s definitely worthy of admiration. Just … keep it to looking, okay, sweetie?” She rolled her eyes expressively and added, “Even though I hear he’s something of a legend in the sack.”
Without even thinking, I commented, “Not that I’m speaking with a wealth of experience, but he’s certainly built for it.”
If I could have kept from blushing, she might have never picked up on anything.
But my fair complexion was the bane of my existence and she knew just by looking at me that I wasn’t talking about his lean, muscled torso or his excellent shoulders.
“What does that mean?” she demanded, leaning closer and speaking in a hushed voice.
“Um …” I swallowed. Panicked now, I averted my gaze.
“Daria!” she insisted. “I’ll go ask him!”
“I kind of … walked in on him when he was coming out of the bathroom—he’d just finished his shower,” I said. Defensively, I added, “It’s your fault. You told me the wrong room!”
She gaped at me. “You mean …” She licked her lips, then slid a look in Brooks’ direction. “Sweet heaven. You saw him naked?”
Mouth dry, all I could do was nod.
She squealed and clapped a han
d over her mouth. Then, without missing a beat, she demanded, “Is he hung?”
“I don’t really have a lot of experience,” I said, shooting her a dark look.
“Speculate. Tell me. Details.”
I flushed and squirmed on the chair. “He looked … more than adequate.”
“That’s not details,” she said, heaving out a sigh.
Her phone buzzed and she glanced at it, then rose with a heavy sigh. “We need to head in. We’ve got to start getting ready for the rehearsal dinner. The rest of the bridesmaids are here.”
“And them?” I asked, glancing past her to the pool where all the men were either swimming, talking or drinking.
“They’re guys.” She shrugged. “They don’t require near as much prep-time as we do.”
Six
Brooks
The rehearsal dinner, thankfully, was behind us.
The only thing that had been remotely enjoyable about having the two big families together for the run-through of the wedding had been seeing Daria of the shy blushes and excellent legs there.
She’d studiously avoided my gaze, which only served to intrigue me more.
Those shy blushes, though should be a warning.
I didn’t mess with women who blushed. I preferred those who knew the score, those who’d been around the block enough that they’d already moved past the stage of blushing.
But I still found myself watching her, watching and wondering if maybe I should make a move on her before the wedding, or just see how things turned out.
Several of the other guys there flirted with her and I’d noticed, with interest, that she seemed completely unaware.
But the dinner, and my last look at Daria, had been several hours ago.
We were currently at the Palms Hotel in Miami, tucked away inside the presidential suite on the top floor.
The doors were open, letting the breeze drift inside, carrying with it the scent of the ocean.
That mingled with the scents of cologne, alcohol and perfume.
