by Ruby Laska
But that was impossible. Whoever Ricardo really was—and she was no closer to knowing the truth now than she had been when they met—he wasn’t scarred the way she was. He had understood her; he had known how to pleasure her. He was in command.
In return, what had she given him? Chelsea was unaccustomed to giving up control, but Ricardo was no stranger to leading. Taking. Commanding. She’d gladly done his bidding and she knew she’d gladly do it again—and again. But what could she give him, other than to be a canvas for his erotic whims? She felt lost in a way that she hadn’t since she first lived on her own, unsure of what was expected and where her path would take her.
“You are magnificent,” Ricardo said as if sensing her uncertainty. “You are a perfect submissive, Chelsea, do you know that?”
His voice held awe as well as adoration, and Chelsea longed for it to be real, desperate for his approval in a way that she’d never felt for a man. “I’m not—all I did was…lie there.”
Ricardo laughed, a throaty chuckle that was not at all unkind. “Oh, querida. So you have some learning to do. That is all right. We will take our time. But your first lesson is this: you are beautiful. At all times when we are apart, I want you to think of me telling you this, and know that it is true. You are beautiful…and you are mine.”
Yes, Chelsea thought, even if she couldn’t say it out loud. Something had shifted, not just between them, but inside her. Some fundamental part of her being was different though she was too spent, sated and groggy with the aftereffects of ecstasy.
Ricardo kissed her, once, very gently. Then he got up from the bed.
“Mr. Smith will be outside all night. You will be perfectly safe. In the morning, he will bring you clothes and take you home. I’m not sure how long I will be called away, but in my absence, please know that you are safe, always. I will return as soon as I can.”
“Will you…call me?” Chelsea asked sleepily, rolling up on her elbows to watch him get dressed. It probably sounded needy and girlish, but she had to know. The way he was talking, it sounded like he was definitely leaving her for murky ventures on the other side of the law, but all she cared about was getting him back again.
“Regrettably, I cannot. It simply isn’t possible.”
After a final kiss and a string of words in Spanish that she could not follow, Ricardo was gone. Chelsea lay in the soft light of the lamp and the guttering candle, sleep tugging insistently at her, her body utterly spent and satisfied.
She had a lover. A man she might well…come to love. Was that even possible? Chelsea had long ago resigned herself to being alone forever. She had never spent an entire night with a man, never let a man sleep in her bed. Now, she was going to sleep in a man’s bed, but he was not there. It was a puzzle, a series of contradictions too complex for her mind to absorb in the moment.
Instead, she rolled onto her side, gathering the linens into her arms, inhaling the lingering scent of him. For the first time in her adult life, Chelsea did not end her day reminding herself that she was safe, that nothing could harm her now. She simply knew it to be true.
Tomorrow, she could go over what had happened, dissect it, decide what to do about it all. Tonight, her lover was headed to places unknown, to business she was better off not knowing. But in this moment, she would not squander the gift she had been given.
Chelsea fell into untroubled, dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The man called Mr. Smith was standing motionless under a tree near the edge of the property, watching the house. Most people wouldn’t have seen him, even if they’d been looking.
Most people hadn’t been trained in surveillance. But Ricardo had.
Mr. Smith nodded at his approach.
“Nothing to worry about?” Ricardo asked quietly.
“Not sure. I went back—no sign of her purse.”
That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “I suppose someone might have picked it up…”
“Perhaps.” Mr. Smith didn’t sound optimistic.
The two stood in silence for a moment, as Ricardo thought.
“Well,” he finally said, “she’ll need help getting into her place. The locks will need to be changed at the gallery.”
“Of course. I’ll see that it’s done.”
“And she’ll need a new bag…never mind, I’ll take care of that myself.” As skilled as Mr. Smith was in many ways, fashion was not his strong suit.
“As you wish.”
Ricardo knew he could count on the man, so there was no point in lingering. Even now, a private jet was waiting for him at the airport. Every minute counted. The crisis in London had reached a critical point, and a lot depended on what he was able to accomplish in the next twenty-four hours.
“You’ll keep her safe,” he finally said, unable to help himself. Smith only nodded.
There was nothing else to say. Nothing else he could do.
Ricardo de Santos walked to the little garage tucked behind the house. Inside was a six-year-old gray Ford Taurus that was indistinguishable from thousands of other cars on the road, which was the point. Ricardo would get in the car and drive to the airport. He would catch some sleep on the plane tonight. In the morning, when he woke in another time zone, he would not be able to spare any time or focus thinking of a woman, no matter how much he might like to. It wasn’t safe. It could get him killed.
With any luck, he’d resolve the issue quickly and quietly and be back before it could spin out of control. Then, he could take up where he left off with Chelsea.
Except…was that really wise? Was it fair to her? She couldn’t know what kind of danger she might be walking into. He couldn’t control what threats she would be exposed to. Even if he walked away tomorrow, he’d never be able to escape the long shadow of who he had become.
The right thing to do was to end it now. But Ricardo knew that he couldn’t do that. Already he longed to be with Chelsea again, to take her further, to own her more completely. The fire between them might be deadly, but it was irresistible. Ricardo could no sooner turn away from it than he could stop breathing.
At the bottom of the drive, waiting for the light to change, he allowed himself one glance up the hill where Chelsea was asleep in the closest thing Ricardo had to a real home.
The light turned green and Ricardo drove on.
“I’ll return for you, mi corazon,” he whispered.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Vlad Aksyonov pulled into the parking lot in a section of Los Angeles better known for its sky-high crime rate than its food, but he was still looking forward to the borscht served in the small, nondescript restaurant where he and the rest of the bratva frequently conducted their business.
Before Vlad could think of eating, however, he had to take care of an unpleasant task.
He walked into the restaurant, keeping his expression neutral, Chelsea Ryder’s wallet in his hand. The purse and the rest of her belongings had been discarded in dumpsters all over the city and, he was confident, would never be discovered.
“Ah, Vlad,” Sergey Tochiev’s voice boomed, stirring a familiar combination of pleasure and fear in Vlad’s blood. Pleasure at having moved up in the bratva until he was second in command, and fear of Sergey’s legendary temper. “Back from your little fishing trip. Come, sit, and tell us what you caught.”
Vlad nodded to the three men gathered at the table as they made room for him. Viktor, the youngest and lowest-ranking, poured him a shot, slopping the vodka over the edge of the glass. Vlad nodded at him and picked up the glass, downing the cold liquid in one gulp.
Thus fortified, he delivered the bad news as succinctly as he could:
“I lost them after they left the hotel. De Santos’s driver—he is good.”
Sergey gave him a hard look, then raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps I should see if he would like a job, yes?”
Vlad didn’t acknowledge the jab, knowing that to do so in front of the other men would only make the offense worse. Instead he
flourished the wallet. “I have all the information I need here to find his woman. Driver’s license, address, credit cards.”
Sergey’s expression relaxed, and Vlad let out the breath he had been holding. Sergey hadn’t risen to the position of avtoritet by tolerating mistakes. His swift retribution sometimes resulted in men like Vlad losing their jobs—or worse.
“So who is this woman who has captivated our friend’s attention?”
At Vlad’s left, Viktor chuckled obsequiously at their boss’s joke. Ricardo de Santos was not a friend, not when he was threatening to destroy a deal that had taken months to set up and tied up nearly a hundred million rubles.
Vlad shrugged, showing a confidence he almost felt. “She is a small dealer of art. Her gallery is not far from here.”
“You’ll be paying a visit, then,” Sergey said. “Very good. Do this quickly, my friend. I am tired of dealing with de Santos. Maybe this will convince him of the need to negotiate.”
A woman came into the room carrying a platter of steaming dumplings. When she saw Vlad, she smiled slyly and set the platter in front of him. He could smell her heavy perfume, a scent he’d enjoyed on several nights such as this one.
But tonight he would go home alone and make a plan. Sergey clearly wanted the matter resolved. Which was not good news for the tall, dark-haired American woman who’d undergone such a startling transformation before creating a scene at the hotel tonight.
She’d managed to catch him off-guard once, dashing away from the photographers who’d provided him such effective camouflage earlier.
She wouldn’t fool him twice.
Vlad picked up the glass that the waitress had re-filled. “Za vstrechu!” he toasted. Until next we meet.
But the next time he met Chelsea Ryder, only one of them would have cause to celebrate.
The End
***
Did you enjoy XQUISITE?
Check out more books by Ruby Laska:
The Xquisite Series:
Xquisite
Xtraordinary (June, 2015)
Xtreme (August, 2015)
The Boomtown Boys Series:
Black Gold
Black Heat
Black Flame
Black Ember
The Cupid Island Series:
Larissa Learns to Breathe
Mandy Makes Her Mark
Plain Jane’s Birthday Wish
Standalone Novels:
Mountain Song
Heartbreak, Tennessee
A Man for the Summer
Mine ’til Monday
Along for the Ride
Snow Creek Novella:
Miss Bonny’s Buried Treasure
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Xtraordinary, The second novel in the XQUISITE series will be coming in June, 2015!
International art thief Ricardo de los Santos barely introduced Chelsea to the dark, sensual world he inhabits when he disappeared. Now he’s back—demanding more of her than ever.
Art dealer Chelsea Ryder has spent only two incredible evenings with Ricardo de los Santos when he disappears, leaving only a cryptic note. Attempting to trace the priceless painting he gave her, Chelsea finds nothing but dead ends—and increasing evidence that her lover is involved with dangerous crimes.
Still, she can’t forget the man who promised to take her all the way on the journey of submission she barely began. She tries to numb her need with work until she is contacted by an FBI agent who wants her to cooperate in a sting operation. Ricardo returns before she can cement her arrangement with the FBI. He neither admits nor denies her accusations, but takes her back into his bed, where he pushes the limits of her experience, intuitively guiding her to the things she has sworn she will never do.
Torn between her need and her doubts, she starts an investigation of her own, hiring a former art forger to find out the truth about Ricardo. Is he merely a man ruled by immense passions—or a murderer as well as a thief?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ruby Laska has always been a bit contrary. Where others see stop signs, she sees green lights. What others consider obstacles, Ruby likes to think of as opportunities. And when it comes to men, Ruby has always loved the ones that her mother warned her about: demanding, conflicted, and more than a little dangerous.