by Eva Charles
I turn off the light and shut the suite door behind me.
Antonio is waiting in the upper hall, near the staircase. I haven’t spoken to him since he left his apartment on Monday. I text him, done, every morning, but he never responds to those texts. Victor did let it slip that each time they speak, he asks about me.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs. His eyes darken as he takes me in, and I know the compliment is genuine.
“Thank you. You clean up pretty well too.” And he does. The tux he’s wearing fits like a glove, accentuating his broad shoulders and narrow hips. “Congratulations. You were impressive today. Although it’s not always wise to spit in the face of danger.”
His smile fades. “Cristiano spoke out of turn.”
“Cristiano didn’t have a choice.”
He snickers as he slides his hand into his jacket pocket and pulls out a square velvet box. He holds it in his palm and pulls back the lid. “For you,” he says quietly. “Now that the word is out about our engagement, everyone will expect you to have a ring.”
“I never knew you were such a romantic,” I quip.
“It’s a gorgeous ring,” I add softly, not taking it from him yet. It appears to be an heirloom. I hope it’s not his mother’s. The thought of wearing a ring Hugo Huntsman picked out makes me nauseous.
“It belonged to my maternal grandmother. Her marriage was also arranged, but my grandparents had a very long and mostly happy life together. They died within a week of each other. My mother claims my grandfather couldn’t live without her.”
I feel my mouth curl, but I still don’t take the ring. “Tell me what happened with your car.”
“Cristiano told you plenty. You don’t need to bother yourself with the details. They’re not important. We need to go.”
He inches the velvet box closer to me, and I take a small step back.
“I can be a tame bird, kept in a gilded cage, lavished with riches and stroked occasionally, or I can be a strong ally. But I can’t be both.” I pull back my shoulders. “Before I accept the ring, I want to know if you want a loyal partner or a pampered pet.”
“I think you can be both,” he says after some contemplation. “Although not a pet. A princesa. And I can’t imagine you tame.”
It’s not perfect, but from a man like him, it’s the best I’m going to get. I take the ring and slide it on my finger while he watches. It shines brightly, but it’s heavy, dimming the joy that ordinarily surrounds an engagement.
“That ring comes with my promise to take care of you, and to keep you safe, at any cost.”
But it doesn’t come with the promise of love. The one thing I always dreamed I’d have in a marriage. “We’re going to be late,” I say quietly without looking at him.
“Someone tinkered with the steering mechanism on the car,” he mutters as we descend the stairs. “The problem was fixed before the beginning of the race.”
I stop on the landing and turn to him. “Do you know who? Or why?”
“We’re still working it.”
I nod and slide my arm through his as we head out the door. It’s a small gesture, but it surprises him. If we’re ever going to live civilly, he needs to know that his efforts are rewarded.
Perhaps it’s not a great foundation to build a marriage on, but it’s the scaffolding our marriage will need to prevent it from imploding and destroying everything around us.
64
Daniela
From the moment we walk into the grand ballroom, all the attention is on us.
While this afternoon I saw hundreds of people I hadn’t seen in years, it was from a distance. Now I’m face-to-face, bombarded with questions from all sides, while women of all ages gush over my ring.
“When did you arrive?”
“How is your aunt?” Oh God.
“When is the wedding?”
“What are your plans for Quinta Rosa do Vale?”
The fate of my family’s vineyards interests the owners of the port houses far more than our wedding plans.
I smile coyly in response, when I can, avoiding the land mines. Without any guilt, I explain that Antonio and I never lost touch while I was abroad. That’s mostly true—on his part, anyway. And I assure everyone that the wedding plans are going splendidly. But in truth I’ve given the arrangements so little thought.
Antonio never leaves my side but lets me handle the barrage of questions, only stepping in when I need to be rescued from someone who pushes too hard. I give everyone more leeway to prod than good manners require, but Antonio has no qualms about telling the nosy old biddies to mind their own business. Although he handles them deftly, without offending anyone.
By the time we were seated at the table, I’m overwhelmed.
I turn to Cristiano’s date, Mia, who isn’t an actual date but one of my guards for the evening. “I’m going to the ladies’ room,” I mouth from two seats away.
She nods, and we excuse ourselves, making a beeline to the nearest exit so that I’m not bombarded with more questions.
We’re gone only ten minutes, but it’s been a peaceful ten minutes, away from probing eyes. As I’m reapplying lipstick, a young woman enters the ladies’ lounge.
“Hello,” she says. “You’re quite lovely.”
“Thank you,” I reply. “That shade of blue is gorgeous on you.” It is. She’s stunning, and the strapless gown shows off her curves and makes her eyes dance.
“I don’t know if Antonio has mentioned me, but I’m Sonia,” she says, sending my antennae up when she uses only her first name. Something about it doesn’t sit well.
“I don’t think he has, but we’ve been so busy with the wedding plans. I’m Daniela, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.” I grab my clutch, and Mia follows me out. Before I can ask what she knows about Sonia, Tomas Huntsman appears out of nowhere.
“It’s been a long time,” he says, the menace sitting just below the surface. “I thought you’d left for good.”
My heart hammers, and my first instinct is to flee, but I see Mia in my peripheral vision, and that calms me.
“It has been a long time.” Not long enough, though.
“I assume she’s your guard, but I need a word alone with you.”
“Antonio won’t like it,” I say, taking a step back.
“Do you think I give a damn what Antonio likes?”
If you don’t, you’re not just a monster, but an idiot too.
“Did you enjoy living in New Bedford?” he asks, gauging my reaction.
But I didn’t live in New Bedford. It’s a city not too far from Fall River, where I did live. It also boasts a large Portuguese population.
“I understand New Bedford is a wonderful place,” I reply. “But I lived with my great-aunt in Canada.” I don’t say a word about Fall River—where Valentina and Isabel still live.
He smirks, stepping closer.
Mia is instantly at my side. “We should go back to the table,” she says, “before they get worried that we’ve been gone too long.”
“The next time I’m in New Bedford, I’ll look up your maid and her daughter. What’s her name?”
You sonofabitch. I turn to Mia. “Just give us a moment. But don’t go too far. I won’t be able to find my way back.”
“I’ll be right here,” she says, mostly for Tomas’s benefit.
“What do you want?” I hiss.
“Have you told him about his father?”
I shake my head, the bile rising.
“I’m next in line to become president of the foundation. My revenge will reach all the way to New Bedford if it doesn’t happen because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. Do we understand each other?”
My palms are sweating.
“I haven’t ever breathed a word about any of it to anyone. I’m certainly not going to start now.”
“Aren’t you going to ask about my father? Have you lost your manners living in the US? By the way, I tracked you all the way to New Bedfo
rd.”
He’s trying to intimidate me with talk of New Bedford—or he’s probing. The skin on the back of my neck prickles. “How’s your father?” I ask, steering the subject away from where I lived.
“Sweet of you to ask. He seems to enjoy being pushed around the gardens. But it’s hard to tell. He doesn’t communicate much.”
Does he really think I care?
From the corner of my eye, I see Antonio approach. Relief rushes through me, like water through an open dam. It leaves me light-headed.
“Tomas. Congratulating the bride-to-be?” Antonio asks, pulling me close to him.
I lean into his body, not to stay upright, but to feel safe.
“My congratulations to both of you. Your father is somewhere right now, delighted to see her at your side. I can almost see his big grin. God bless his soul.”
Antonio tenses, and within seconds I feel the rage vibrating off him.
“Daniela, go back to the table with Mia. I’ll join you shortly.”
I glance at Lucas and Cristiano when I turn to leave. Then at the men I suspect are with Tomas.
I draw a large breath to steady my nerves.
I’m not ready to bring Isabel and Valentina back into this world. But Tomas knows where they’re living. Not the exact location, but he’s close. They can’t stay in Fall River.
I’ll be there in a week, and we’ll make other living arrangements. Valentina’s going to be unhappy about leaving her friends, and I’m sorry about that, but I won’t let them be in danger.
Thank God they have a guard.
I look over my shoulder as we walk into the ballroom. From this distance, Antonio doesn’t seem any more relaxed.
65
Antonio
“I’ve been wanting a word with you,” I tell my cousin, although I’d rather put my fist in his face than talk to him. I can’t believe he had the nerve to corner Daniela. Mia was smart to text Cristiano.
“You know how to reach me.”
“I’ve reached you now. Let’s go out on the balcony where we won’t be overheard. Just you and me.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“You always were afraid of your own shadow. And of me. You worried I might steal your lollipop?”
“Fuck you.”
“Fine. You want me to say it here, where anyone can hear. My pleasure.”
He’s wavering. Tomas knows I’m capable of anything. Including saying something that will diminish him in front of his men. Not that they hold him in such high esteem.
“Just you and me,” he says, in a tone that he hopes will save face.
Daniela has bigger balls than this guy.
When we step onto the empty balcony, he immediately turns to me. “What the fuck do you have to say to me?”
“It’s quite simple, actually.” I keep my voice even and low. “If you bring the Russians in, I’ll destroy you. The company, your house, everything you care about will be rubble.”
He raises his hands in surrender. “Don’t look at me. I don’t want those greedy bastards here any more than you do. I’m fully aware that they have no regard for the valley. But you might want to take a closer look at Viera. I hear he’s been courting the Bratva.”
What a fucking liar.
“I’m looking at you,” I growl, stepping closer and forcing him back toward the building. “And the next time you so much as breathe on my fiancée, it’ll be the last breath you take.”
He snickers. “Never pegged you for the kind of man who enjoys leftovers. I hear the princesa spreads her legs for anyone who asks nicely.”
I slam my open hand into his face, smashing his head against the stone. Before he can react, I pull out my knife and hold the blade to his meaty throat.
“Not here,” Lucas cautions, grabbing my wrist, but not before I pierce the bastard’s throat with the knife tip, drawing blood.
“Your days are numbered,” I warn before releasing him.
66
Daniela
I don’t see Tomas again, and the rest of the evening goes smoothly.
Better than smoothly. It’s wonderful, like something straight out of a fairy tale. Although I know at some point I’m likely to lose a shoe, or encounter a pack of wolves—perhaps just one. But I don’t dwell on that part of the story.
Antonio is relaxed, smiling more than I’ve ever seen him smile. And he’s attentive. My wineglass is never empty, and when I discover I don’t have a salad fork, he gives me his before signaling for the waiter. It all happens seamlessly, without discussion, like we’ve done this dozens of times.
Even when he’s chatting with someone who stops by the table, Antonio drapes his arm across the back of my chair, or squeezes my hand under the table. He’s the perfect date.
At the end of the night, when Thiago pulls the car up to the house in the valley, Antonio gets out and then helps me out. He doesn’t let go of my hand as we go inside.
Several lights are on, but it’s after midnight, and the house is quiet.
“Thank you for tonight. It was a lovely evening. When I was a little girl, I dreamed about going to the Camellia Ball.”
“I’m glad you finally had the chance.” He presses his lips to the top of my head. It feels like an intimate good-night kiss, not at all threatening. “Do you want anything before we go up?”
Before we go up? “You’re staying?”
“It is my house.” His mouth twitches at the corners, and his eyes glimmer with a hint of playfulness.
“It’s—it’s just that you don’t normally stay the night. At least not since I’ve been here.” I shrug, trying to cover my surprise with nonchalance.
“Is my staying a problem?” he asks, but as he turns out a light and moves toward the stairs, I know he’s staying regardless of my feelings.
At the bottom of the staircase, I gaze into his handsome face, and even though I’m a bit nervous of what staying means for me, I shake my head.
He motions for me to go up ahead of him, and I do, squeezing the railing as I climb.
When we get to the third floor, he lifts my chin and peers into my eyes. “Tell me what Tomas said to you.”
The butterflies swirl madly inside, like a storm is headed my way. He’ll know if you lie.
“It was strange,” I begin, trying to keep as close to the truth as possible. “He kept mentioning something about me living in New Bedford. I’m not sure if that’s what he believes, or if he was trying to get me to confirm it. He said he tracked me there.”
Antonio’s eyes flare, and his expression hardens as I watch. “Did he say anything else?” He releases his hold on my chin.
“Just some nonsense about his father enjoying being pushed in the garden. Then you came.”
He nods, studying my face carefully. I didn’t tell Antonio everything, but I didn’t lie. “I’m worried about Isabel and Valentina,” I continue. “New Bedford is not that far from Fall River.”
“Why would he want to harm Isabel?”
He’s probing.
I shrug. “Something about his behavior tonight—I can’t put my finger on it. But it gave me goose bumps.” I grasp his arm. “Would you consider putting more security on them? Please.” My voice wobbles as I plead—it’s not a manipulation. The more I think about it, the more worried I become.
He takes out his phone and places a call. “Double the security on Isabel and Valentina,” he instructs the person who answers. “Make sure there’s a guard on each of them at all times. Do it tonight.”
Without a thank-you, or a goodbye, he ends the call and slips the phone into his jacket.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
He sweeps a lock of hair behind my ear. “I want you in my bed tonight. And I don’t want you preoccupied with anyone’s safety but your own.”
67
Daniela
His voice is low and rough.
I swallow hard, but I don’t respond.
I’m a bundle of nerves, but I d
o want to be in his bed—although it’s still so damn hard to admit it—even to myself. Especially to myself.
Antonio runs his fingertips down my cheek. “I’m not Josh. Even when you haven’t pushed me to the end of my rope, even when I’m not enraged by your reckless behavior, I’m not the kind of man who’ll take you gently. I’m rough. Demanding. Selfish.”
His voice is coarse as gravel. His eyes are dark, danger dancing in the shadows.
It’s a warning.
“I don’t want you preoccupied with anyone’s safety but your own.”
I’m not afraid of him. Not really.
Just admit it. You want him.
I do.
I want him to do unspeakable things to me. The kinds of things that aren’t discussed at afternoon tea or at formal dinner parties. The kinds of things men whisper about in dimly lit lounges over a tumbler of whiskey and a cigar, using words like whore and sweet little cunt.
I capture his gaze and hold tight. I don’t say what I should say. I say what’s in my heart.
“I don’t want Josh. I want you.”
With a low growl, he lifts me into his arms and takes me to his lair.
The full moon bathes the room in a soft glow. It’s deceptive, because nothing about this man is soft.
Antonio sets me on my feet. My knees wobble as he lowers the zipper on my dress, his lips on my throat. The arousal builds as I step out of the gown.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs. His fingers work the hooks on my strapless bra until my breasts fall free.
He presses his mouth to mine. It’s not a gentle caress, but a bruising battle of lips and tongues.
His mouth is hungry, and it takes everything he needs. The tender caress only comes when he needs to breathe—and then it’s gone, as if it never happened.
As we explore, the curl of desire twists low in my belly.
My pussy aches for him. It sways against his cock, brushing wantonly over the hard bulge, inviting him in.
