by Piper Stone
“De Luca said that the past was coming back to haunt us.”
“Yeah, well, that narrows it down to about fifty people. Maybe more.”
“I know. I think we need to make a list, including who has most to gain from tearing apart our organization starting with our hold in Texas,” I suggested.
“Agreed. In truth, that’s our weakest stronghold. Whoever this asshole is, he’s smart enough to realize that. Family meeting in the morning.”
“Where?”
“My boat.”
I could hear the amusement in his voice. “You bought a boat.”
“Well, Emily would call it a yacht, but it’s not that large,” he said, laughing.
“Let me guess, a present to your lovely wife.”
“You bet. Christened it Miss Emily.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Good for you. I’m sure I’ll find it.”
“I’ll text you the basics. Nine?”
“I’ll be there.” As I ended the call, the smile remained. He’d never been the kind of man to appreciate toys like I had. The man was changing. Hell, maybe for the better. I had to guess that’s what the love of a good woman could do for you.
As I heard footsteps, I immediately reacted as I usually did, placing my hand on my weapon. I could see her reflection in the window as she stopped short. Relaxing, I sighed as I turned to face her. She’d changed, donning a lovely floral dress. For some reason, her choice shocked the hell out of me.
Acadia stood in bare feet, her long hair flowing over her shoulders. She was a breath of fresh air, a picture of loveliness. Damn it. I was horny as hell. “You look beautiful.”
She took tentative steps into the room. “I couldn’t stand wearing the damn leather skirt any longer.”
“I don’t blame you.”
The moment of silence was strained.
“How’s the shoulder?” she asked, as if she actually gave a damn.
“It aches. I took your advice and took some aspirin.” I was struck by how normal our conversation was, as if we were a couple on an average Thursday night.
Instead of a man who’d abducted her for use as a toy, the most incredible plaything in the world. The thought was disturbing.
“Good. I think tomorrow morning it’s going to be worse. I’ll need to change the wrap later. Will you let me do that?”
“Of course.” I couldn’t stand the way my body stiffened, the tenseness in the air. “Would you like a drink?”
“Actually? Yes. If that’s okay with you.”
I was also surprised at her tentative actions. For her balls to the wall attitude on the plane, this was a one-hundred-eighty-degree difference. “I think we need to have a discussion on rules, Acadia.”
“I knew that was coming.”
Sighing, I walked to the bar, selecting a bottle of wine for a change. I could feel her presence behind me as I opened the bottle of merlot, the selection one of my favorites.
“You always seem to know what I’m in the mood for,” she said with reservation in her voice.
Another surprise. An actual compliment.
“I was in the mood. You don’t appear to be a white wine drinker.” As I poured two glasses, I heard the slight sound, almost like a purr. My cock immediately shoved tight against my jeans; the ache worse than the damn injury. I took a deep breath before handing her a glass, shifting my gaze to the bodice of her dress. The same scintillating electricity pounded through me, creating an inability to focus for a few seconds.
Everything about her was exhilarating, including her rebellious behavior. However, I was no fool. Her sudden shift in demeanor meant she had a plan of her own, one that included escape.
“Your house is beautiful, exactly as I’d anticipated,” she stated, immediately breaking the connection. She seemed flustered, a slight blush creeping up on both sides of her face.
My balls tightened, the same filthy thoughts and longing I’d had before breaking the surface. “Does that mean you approve?”
She laughed and turned in a complete circle. “You saw my apartment. I did everything I could to make it feel like home, but between the nasty cockroaches and the rats skittering in the walls, it was difficult to enjoy my surroundings. Granted, I’m not complaining. It’s the best place I’ve ever lived in.”
“Why hasn’t your PR company done more? I would assume you have a record deal.”
In the middle of a sip, she almost choked then smacked her hand across her mouth. I watched as several beads of wine slipped past her luscious lips. The beast inside of me wanted nothing more than to drag my tongue across them just seconds before I devoured her.
Exhaling, I shoved my thoughts aside, although I knew it wouldn’t be capable for long.
“A PR company? Are you kidding me? Rebel’s Cause was put together after a weekend of drinking, the asshole drummer finally allowing a change in the name of their band.”
“By whose orders?”
“Pedro Santana.”
Now we were getting somewhere. “It would seem Pedro has quite a following in Galveston.”
She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Pedro is a brute. Granted, I think he actually has a heart, but you wouldn’t know it by the way he treats people. Butch, that’s the drummer, owed Pedro money. It was either pay up or allow me into the band with the name change. I assure you that there aren’t any record producers beating down our doors. We’re lucky to get a few gigs. Butch is a drunk, the bass player close behind.”
“Is that what you’ve always wanted to do?”
“Play in a heavy metal band? Hell, no. I invented Rebel at the last minute, pretending I could draw in a new crowd. I couldn’t care less if I ever had to sing another mindless rock song again.” She looked away, brushing hair from her face, a haunted look crossing her face. “Don’t get me wrong. I love to sing. I love music. I just never saw myself performing in a platinum wig, pretending to be someone I wasn’t. And why am I bothering to tell you that? You don’t care.”
“Maybe I do.”
Acadia snorted, moving toward the set of French doors. “Is it all right if I open them?”
“Of course. You can move freely both inside and on the grounds of the estate. You simply can’t leave the premises.”
“One of the rules?”
I leaned against the bar, studying her intently. “One of the rules.”
“Gotcha.” She wandered outside in the waning light, taking a deep breath.
After laughing softly to myself, I followed her outside, turning on several of the lights, including those to the pool.
“Wow. You really do live like the rich and famous.” When I didn’t say anything, she shot me a mischievous look over her shoulder. “Oh, come on. I wasn’t bashful. I took a look in your garage. A gorgeous red Corvette, a souped to the hilt SUV, and a Lamborghini Reventón worth somewhere in the neighborhood of one point five million dollars.”
“I’m impressed.”
“I might be poor as a church mouse. That doesn’t mean I don’t dream; however, I’ll make my own money. I’m going to be rich and famous by the time I’m thirty. You wait and see.”
There was actual excitement in her voice as well as one of the strongest levels of conviction I’d heard in a long time. “Now I’m the one who’s impressed, and I believe you.”
She walked closer to the edge of the pool, swishing her voluptuous hips. “What other toys do you have?”
I kept my distance, enjoying every moment of our banter. It had been a long time since I’d had a basic conversation with anyone, especially a beautiful woman. “I doubt you really want to know.”
“But I can guess. I imagine boats. No, a yacht with a crew of twelve or fifteen catering to your every need. Of course you have a helicopter at your disposal, a smaller boat to take you to a beautiful reef where you go diving since you’re a certified diver after all. My guess is that in addition to that Learjet you own, you have a smaller plane of your own since you were insistent that you take
flying lessons. A Cessna, yet still equipped with all the finest luxuries money can buy. I also believe you have a beach house somewhere exotic, only a few yards from the Caribbean ocean. Maybe even a house in the mountains, the kind of log cabins that are highlighted in the finest magazines. Am I close?”
All I could do was shake my head, a part of me rattled at her representation of my life. Sadly, she was far too damn close for comfort. “Let’s see. The Learjet belongs to the family, not just to me. I had a boat, although I never considered it a yacht, but since I never found time to enjoy it other than the maiden voyage, I sold it. Yes, I’ve taken flying lessons, although I sucked at being a pilot. As far as diving, I can’t stand deep water. No beach house any longer, although it’s been on my radar to purchase another one, but I do own a lovely small cabin in the Catskills.”
“Hmmm…” She hunkered down, running her fingers through the water. “What a sad life you’ve led. You have no plants, few pictures of loved ones, but you do have expensive art. Granted, I didn’t check your closet, but I’m going to bet that every suit is lined up perfectly, every crisp shirt pressed and ready, and your extensive collection of ties in every color of the rainbow.”
“You’ve very observant.”
“I’ve had to be. That’s kept me safe and basically sane.” She laughed, the sound almost as if she was nervous. When she stood, she shook her head. “Who are the kids in the picture?”
A strange sadness flowed into my heart and mind and I wasn’t certain why. “My brother’s children. They are such little spitfires. Almost eight years old now and going on fifteen. I can’t imagine what Michael will do when that happens.”
“Ah, so someone is actually married.”
The cloud reformed in my mind, my throat tightening. “Their mother is no longer alive, but he has an amazing woman by his side.” I was surprised I’d divulged any information to her, but what I’d said could be found on any internet search.
Acadia turned in my direction. “I’m sorry. I can tell that bothers you.”
“It does because she was murdered.”
She shook her head, biting her lower lip. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“I think you did, but that’s fine. I assure you that I’ll be asking questions regarding your life later.”
“Of course you will.”
Another moment of awkward silence slipped between us. “Are you hungry? You must be.”
“I could eat.”
“Then I’ll make a reservation.”
“Is that all that you do? Have someone else provide everything for you? Shopping? Cooking? Cleaning? Do you even know how to cook?”
I laughed again, finally shaking my head. “I don’t think you even want me to boil water.”
“Hmmm… Do you have groceries?”
“Yes. They’re brought in once a week.”
Sighing, she walked closer. “As I would have guessed. You have no idea what’s in the refrigerator or freezer, do you?”
I thought about her question and could only grin. “I have absolutely no idea.”
She studied me for a few seconds. “Do you own a grill?”
“I think so.”
“My God. The life of the rich and famous.” Huffing, she walked away, obviously searching the patio. “You do have one fine-looking grill and smoker combination. Jesus. Six burners, an infrared burner, and the ability to do a huge turkey on your rotisserie. Let alone you could smoke three pork butts at one time and some delicious chicken. The freaking tags are still on the damn thing. You’ve never used it.”
“I haven’t had an occasion to.” She was the single person in my life who made me feel inadequate. I was thrown by a wave of embarrassment, something that I never felt for any reason. “I take it that means you know how to use a grill.”
“Are you kidding me? When I was five years old, I was cooking on a hibachi.” She turned her attention in my direction, laughing almost hysterically. “And you have no idea what that is.”
“No, I can admit that.”
“A small portable charcoal grill popular ages ago. I cook a mean pork butt. Just the right amount of smoke for the most incredible pulled pork sandwich. Fresh coleslaw, not the shitty kind you get at a grocery store but full of chunks of cabbage and carrots and… and I’ve lost you.”
I inched closer, a rush of adrenaline mixing with the remaining electricity. “I understand.”
“But that’s not what you eat.”
“I’ve had barbeque once, maybe twice.”
“What in God’s name do you eat?”
“Prime rib, filet, fresh caught salmon.” I couldn’t believe I was spilling my guts on something like this. I was floored that she brought out so many different emotions as well as basic obstacles.
“Uh-huh. You can’t cook. You eat expensive food. You drink the finest liquor and I’m certain this wine cost at least a hundred dollars a bottle. Right?”
“Somewhere in that neighborhood. What are you getting at, Acadia? That because I haven’t been forced to worry about the cost of food that I don’t know how to live?”
She closed the lid on the grill then walked to within a few inches of me. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. You don’t know what it’s like to be able to buy a piece of reduced meat just before it spoils and make something fabulous out of that and a box of Kraft macaroni and cheese.”
It was as if she was daring me to come down off my plateau.
“Fine. What would you like to have for dinner?”
Her nose wrinkling, she turned her attention back to the grill. “Would you allow me to cook something?”
I thought about her request, a single moment of joy settling into my system. What the hell? “Why not. Anything you’d like.”
“You promise you’ll at least try it?”
“I promise I will.”
“Okay then. I might just make the best trailer trash food you’ve ever had.”
As she walked away, I remained where I was standing. For a few precious seconds, I realized that I’d never experienced anyone like Rebel-Acadia Chenault. The woman didn’t just entice the beast dwelling inside.
She’d snagged something I’d never wanted and certainly wasn’t prepared for.
A small portion of my heart.
Chapter 8
Acadia
Nerves.
I still felt sick to my stomach, the incident in the morning weighing heavily on my mind. At least I’d gotten over the shock factor, able to refocus on my intention of getting the awful man to trust me. As I headed toward the kitchen, I knew he’d follow at some point, concerned that I’d hide a real knife somewhere under my dress. The thought had crossed my mind, but with his soldiers remaining outside, I knew I wouldn’t get very far even if I escaped.
Him.
The monster.
The asshole.
The gorgeous hunk.
I would continue to admonish myself for my attraction to him, refusing to give into my burning desires or the fact I could tell there was more to him that his dangerous persona gave off. Vincenzo was like an intricate puzzle, the pieces so difficult to fit together that it could blow anyone’s mind. The mask he wore so tightly around him harbored pain, I just had no idea where that was coming from.
It was obvious in talking about his brother’s children that he had a soft spot.
So what? What was I doing? Trying to justify that fact he’d kidnapped me, taking me to another city? I shuddered, raking myself over the coals. Just seeing the Lamborghini had been enough of a reminder that he lived larger than life.
I was a nobody, just a girl he believed held vital information. Maybe I should lead him on, pretending I had something important. Then maybe I would stay alive until I had a plan of escape prepared.
When I turned on the lights in the kitchen, I had to take a deep breath. The place was larger than the majority of my apartment. It was the one room I hadn’t been in since my arrival. I was in awe of everything the man owned, but I
was also saddened by the realization that he probably had never spent more than a few minutes in the kitchen grabbing a bottle of water.
I was starving. The one thing I desperately needed was my strength. I would make what kind of food I wanted to eat. Fuck him. With a smile on my face, I searched through the refrigerator and pantry, pulling out all the necessary ingredients. Well, not quite all. “Damn it.” I sensed his presence, my entire being surrounded by his aura. Even his scent was far too enticing.
He’d changed into jeans and a polo, an unexpected look for a man I thought lived and breathed in an expensive suit. I couldn’t help but notice the way he filled out the well-worn pair of denims, his sculpted body seemingly poured into the tight material. I took a deep breath, inhaling his cologne and shivering as I turned around.
“Do you need something?” he asked, a boyish look on his face. He seemed completely amused, as if this was nothing but a game to him.
“Actually, yes. Do you think you could have one of your boys run off to the store?”
He seemed confused at first by the question, finally nodding. “Sure. What do you need?”
“I need hamburger buns and sliced cheese, not the processed bullshit you find in the refrigerated section but freshly sliced white American cheese and it has to be white. There is a difference in taste. I also need mayonnaise, Hellman’s if this state carries the brand. That’s the only kind that’s worth its salt in eating.” I realized that my nerves had allowed me to jabber on like some lovestruck schoolgirl.
Instead of the King’s precious new toy.
Vincenzo chuckled, his eyes shimmering to the point they started to draw me into their web. I looked away for fear of getting sucked all the way in. “Why not. There’s a grocery store not too far away. Anything else?”
I purposely took my time checking the refrigerator. “I would assume you have tequila.”
“I have everything.”
“Of course you do. How about some margarita mix? It will go perfectly with the meal.”
“Okay. I’ll give Alejandro instructions.”