High Stakes Seduction - Book 2

by LeCoeur, Ami

  I sighed with relief as I looked in my closet. Being at the store for the past couple of months had certainly improved my sense of style. And, thankfully, had added enough to my pocket book to pay for a wardrobe that would make me feel like I belonged on Antonio's arm.

  I had picked up a couple of beautiful gowns among the many at our store, along with some simple, but elegant dresses. Tonight I chose a turquoise-blue sheath. It reminded me of the color of the ocean this afternoon, with shiny hints of green and black depending on the angle of the light.

  Slipping the dress over my head, and admiring myself in the mirror, I felt better. It's okay, Ange, I told myself as I applied my make-up. It'll all work out fine.

  ***

  That first night, our tablemates were an octogenarian couple who couldn't talk about anything except their grandkids. Don't get me wrong, I like kids as much as the next person, but they are not my main focus.

  When they weren't talking about the darling grandkids, they went on and on about their farm in Wisconsin, and how they had scrimped and saved all their life for this cruise.

  Part of me wanted to ask them when they were going to start enjoying the cruise instead of talking about how difficult it had been to save for it. But then, somewhere in their story I realized it had always been about the struggle for them. They had struggled to overcome their obstacles and "earned" their reward.

  I squirmed in my seat as I realized we weren't so different after all.

  I still thought it was a shame they couldn't finally relax and enjoy the cruise. They'd worked so hard for so long, that they'd lost sight of their goal. All they remembered now was the struggle. I vowed to take to heart Maria's admonition to enjoy myself. I was, indeed, paying my own price to be here.

  Antonio was gracious and patient with them. He ooohed over their pictures and congratulated them on their success. He suggested a tour they might like. I felt a little embarrassed about my own impatience.

  I watched the three of them. Antonio so vibrant and alive, so sure of himself, the older couple so sweet and faded. I wondered if there was anything this man had struggled for in his life, and what he might be like in forty years as he approached his own twilight.

  "Well, the night is still young, and this is our first evening at sea," Antonio said as we made our exit from the dining room. "I don't suppose you're ready for bed?"

  I almost choked. "No, not yet."

  "How about a nightcap before we head back?" he suggested.

  Thank goodness, I sighed with relief, glad to put off the inevitable. "Sounds lovely."

  We ducked into one of the nightclubs. The band was a retro 80s tribute band, more on the ballad side than on the disco side. I was just as glad, since disco had never really held much interest for me.

  We sat at the bar, Antonio ordering a crisp Sauvignon Blanc for me and a Jack Daniels neat for himself. I wondered how I would respond if he asked me to dance. How would it feel to be back in his arms?

  I shivered, remembering the garden room at the country club, the heat rising in my cheeks. Maybe this time I wouldn't insist he stop. But. We were in a public bar. With lots of people around. My imagination was definitely getting the best of me.

  "Are you ready?"

  "I'm sorry, what?" I asked, my heart already racing at his words.

  "Are you ready?" he repeated, his eyes burning into mine. "To go."

  I couldn't breathe and my hands trembled just a bit. This was the moment I'd been dreading, although my body seemed to disagree. My insides were stirring, my nipples growing tight, and I felt myself wiggling in my seat.

  "Yes," I answered, trying to pull myself together.

  He took my arm and steered me through the crowd, out of the room and onto the elevator. As I stood next to him in the intimate, glass-enclosed space, watching the people below grow smaller and smaller, I did my best to slow my breathing and relax my racing pulse. Surely he could hear how loud my heart was beating. Or at least, feel it pounding where he held onto my wrist.

  We walked to the room in silence. He slipped the key into the lock and turned towards me. That focused, determined look was back. Then he swore under his breath as his cell phone began to vibrate in his pocket.

  Opening the door, he pulled out the phone, glancing at the number before he put it to his ear. "Hey, Jorge. I see you got my message. Thanks for getting back to me."

  I stepped into the room as he continued his conversation in the hallway. I debated whether I should wait for him, or go on into the living room. Business as usual? Did this man ever take any time off?

  "Sorry," he said, sticking his head into the room. "Something's come up. Don't wait up for me. I'll see you in the morning. We'll have breakfast." And he was gone. Again.

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning I wandered the decks again. It had been well after midnight when I heard the key in the door lock. Antonio had done his best not to awaken me, and I hadn't let on that I'd been laying there in bed wondering when he'd get back. Or that I'd turned over at the sound of his key, finally drifting off to sleep.

  That morning we'd made a quick stop in the food court area, grabbing fruit juice and coffee and an English muffin. It seemed neither of us was particularly interested in breakfast.

  Then, he'd gone off for a meeting, telling me to just relax and get my "sea legs", there would be plenty of time for business later.

  I found myself wandering and people watching—one of my favorite pastimes, really. I'd managed to get some interesting photographs, just as the couple yesterday had suggested.

  "Releasing the Artist Within," read a sign in the front of a conference room. "Thomas Markus—Author, Illustrator, Poet. NYC Bestseller. Today at 11 a.m."

  Now that sounds like fun. I looked at my cellphone. 10:53 a.m. Perfect! I kept thinking about Maria. At home without me. I wish she'd pick up her brushes again. She was such a lovely painter. Maybe Mr. Markus could give me some ideas.

  ***

  "Our artist is actually our child within, our inner playmate. As with all playmates, it is joy, not duty, that makes for a lasting bond." I kept remembering the Julia Cameron quote. During his lecture, Thomas Markus had talked about Julia Cameron and Betty Edwards almost as much as he had his own work.

  "I'm delighted to sign this book for your sister," he smiled and flourished his pen. "Just remind her that any art must be practiced. And encourage her to go back to her painting. Even if she thinks it isn't very good, it will still be good practice."

  Well, that was something I could do for her. I hugged the book to my chest. It had been so long since I'd seen joy on her face. Maybe the book would help.

  ***

  After a quick lunch, I changed clothes, slipping into my bathing suit and a simple cover-up, heading out towards the pool. Being at sea hadn't seemed much different than being on land to me, except the view was different, of course, and I felt like I was at some super-exclusive resort. I knew there was a lot more than I'd be able to see on my own.

  I slathered on the sunscreen. Some people didn't seem to need it, but with my coloration, I was better safe than sorry. I found a semi-secluded spot that was warm and lovely, and I simply couldn't help myself. I drifted off into a short nap.

  My eyes fluttered open at the sound of approaching voices. The music in their laughter identified them as the romantic couple from yesterday.

  "Oh Charles!" the woman laughed. "How do you come up with these ideas?"

  "Ah, my sweet, you know you're my inspiration."

  She laughed again, leaning her head against his shoulder and smiling contentedly.

  "Well, look here!" Charles smiled at me. "It's our friend from yesterday."

  "Good afternoon." I hoped I didn't look as though I'd been sleeping.

  "Did you get any sunrise shots?" asked the woman.

  "No, that's too early for me," I laughed. "I'm Angela, by the way."

  "Charles, here." The man held out his hand. "And this lovely lady is Samantha, my bri
de."

  I couldn't miss the warm glance that passed between them. They may have made this trip many times, but it was obvious they were just as in love as when they'd first taken it.

  We chatted a few minutes longer, gossiping about the amenities onboard the ship.

  "Maybe we'll get to sit together for dinner soon," said Samantha. "But right now it's time for our 'nap'."

  Nap?

  "Wouldn't dream of missing our nap," Charles laughed. The look they shared as they walked off, wrapped in each others' arms, told me they weren't likely to be doing much sleeping.

  I sighed. Some folks, I thought wistfully.

  Chapter Ten

  Dinner that night wasn't much different from the previous night. Except this time the couple at the next table provided most of the entertainment.

  The dinner had started off pleasantly enough, and the people at our table were chattering amicably. At least I hadn’t noticed anything amiss.

  "Just what are you accusing me of, Henry?" Came the woman's voice from the next table. Involuntarily, I turned my gaze towards the exclamation.

  "Sylvia, keep your voice down. Please."

  "I will not! You're the one who brought this up. Why are you always trying to make trouble?"

  The couple appeared to be somewhere around Antonio's age, although the man could have been a bit older. The woman was a stunning blond, with exquisite features and exquisite jewelry.

  The man was equally distinguished, with dark hair and just the beginning of silver in his sideburns. He leaned closer towards the woman, whispering something urgently.

  "Oh don't be silly! Why do you always do this to me?"

  His eyes narrowed and he leaned in further, his face tight, as though he was clenching his jaws he spoke to her.

  "That's it, Henry!" She threw down her napkin, knocking over the wine glass as she rose from the table. "Enough already." And stormed out.

  Henry stood up and went after her. When they were near the door, he grabbed her arm and swung her around. She reached up and slapped his face. His head reared back and his hand went to where the slap had hit him. She slipped through the door quickly and was gone.

  He stood there for a moment, pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his cheek, then went after her.

  I turned back to Antonio, noticing he had also been watching the couple intently. He raised his eyebrows in a kind of visual shrug and reached for the wine bottle, refilling my glass.

  "Goodness," said the matronly woman across from me. "I wonder what that was about?"

  "It's none of our business, Gertrude," her husband murmured.

  "Ah, but I do like getting in on juicy gossip."

  "I know," sighed her husband "I know."

  "Well my goodness, honey, after all these years you better," she laughed with delight.

  I looked over at Antonio, deciding it best to simply keep my mouth shut.

  ***

  After dinner, Antonio excused himself again, sending me back to the room by myself.

  I changed into something more casual, and spent the evening sitting in a large, comfortable, overstuffed chair in the lobby, reading through the book I'd picked up for Maria. Thomas Markus was a pretty good writer, and his suggestions for composition gave me some new ideas for my photography.

  "Enjoying the book?"

  I looked up to see the author standing over me, drink in hand.

  "Oh. It's good. I like your explanation of how to frame your subject." He looked pleased. "And I picked up a couple of tips for my own photography."

  "You're a creative, too? Your sister paints and you photograph. It often runs in families. But what's going on here? You are far too lovely to be sitting by yourself this time of the evening."

  I shrugged.

  He shook his head. "Well, let's change that right now. Will you join me for a glass of wine?"

  I thought briefly about Antonio. Would it be disloyal if I joined the author? No. Antonio was off enjoying himself, and he'd insisted he wanted me to enjoy myself, too.

  "Mr. Markus, I would be delighted to join you for a drink." I stood up, smoothing my slacks and slipping my sandals back on.

  He laughed. "Then, you must call me Tom." He gave a small bow.

  "And you must call me Angela."

  We stepped up to the lobby bar, sitting on the tall stools.

  "Pinot Grigio" I told the bartender, and turned back to talk with my new friend.

  "What made you decide to write a book?" I asked.

  "I've been a teacher almost as long as I've been a painter," he stared out over the lobby. "It was a logical extension of what I was already doing. But how about you, tell me about your photography. People or landscapes?"

  "A little of both. I like capturing memories for people—parties, weddings, birthdays. But my sister always wants landscapes."

  "Is that what she paints?"

  "Mostly. She had planned to study in Paris. But that was before…" I paused.

  "Paris is a wonderful city for artists, as well as lovers. It's a great walking city. So diverse. So much atmosphere. And the light is extraordinary. She should go."

  I looked down at my wine. "Maybe someday."

  "The sooner the better, I always say. If she has an interest, then she should figure out how to go. Now. Not 'someday'."

  "It's not really that easy," I looked away. "She was in an accident and is confined to a wheelchair."

  "I'm truly sorry. But she can't let that stop her. A disability doesn't mean you stop living."

  I looked back at him. He was right. And that was pretty much how Maria felt, too, even if she was still hesitant to leave the house much. I smiled. In that moment I knew for certain she would enjoy his book.

  ***

  That night, laying in my bed, waiting to hear Antonio's key in the door, I thought about what my life had become. Working for Antonio had eased the financial struggle some. And for that I was grateful. Even if being in his presence caused me no end of internal confusion.

  Thomas Markus was right, though. Regardless of the circumstances, life was meant to be lived. Not put on hold because of current conditions or past experiences. As I drifted off to sleep, I vowed to make sure Maria wasn't housebound any longer. It was time both of us started living our lives fully.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tap-tap-tap.

  It sounded like a woodpecker at my door. I opened my eyes and looked around, trying to remember where I was. The bed was comfortable and I felt cozy, but it wasn't the bed I was used to.

  Tap-tap-tap came the sound again.

  Oh. That's right, on board ship.

  "Are you awake?" Came the voice on the other side of the door. "Time for some breakfast, my dear. And then time to get to work."

  Work? Oh! That's right, this was a "business as usual" trip, and I was here to work off a debt. Well, a future debt. I hadn't realized Antonio was a morning kind of guy. But then, I really didn't know much about him, did I?

  "Give me a moment," I mumbled as I threw off the covers and jumped out of bed. I reached into the drawer, pulling out a sleeveless blouse and pair of shorts. Slipping on my sandals, I ran a brush through my hair.

  Good thing my hair isn't too tangled, I thought, giving myself a critical eye as I brushed my teeth quickly. No time for makeup. Well, Antonio, today is 'what you see is what you get'.

  "Good morning. I hope you slept well." God, that sounded snarky. Great way to start the day off, not to mention our new 'arrangement'.

  Antonio gave me that crooked little smile as he held open the cabin door.

  "Very well. And you?"

  Sheesh, I just couldn't win with this guy. He always seem to have the edge. I just hoped my cheeks weren't flaming too much.

  "Let's grab something we can take up on deck," he suggested. "That way we can enjoy the view, and we can talk about this trip."

  Seriously? We're going to talk about that on deck? Maybe there was even more to this guy that I didn't understand.

>   ***

  Sitting in the early morning sun, munching an almond croissant with my espresso certainly beat sitting in a restaurant. There was something about being in the open air that made me hungrier this morning than normal. I watched Antonio with his yogurt and fresh fruit, and glanced around at the others sitting at the small tables on the sunny side of the deck.

  "Angela, thank you for joining me on this cruise. I know it was sudden, and I appreciate your flexibility."

  I watched his face, waiting for more.

  "I invited you here for a very specific reason."

  Um-hmm, here it comes.

  "I'm sure you have questions. There's a lot you need to know, and while there are some things we need to discuss, I'm not prepared to go into it in any detail right now. However, I think you understand some things have changed." He leaned back in his chair.

  My heart was pounding in my chest. I wasn't sure what he was going to say, and I certainly didn't want to be second guessing myself now.

  "As you may have suspected, this trip isn't all for fun. I have several… sensitive… issues that need to be handled while we're gone, and the fact you're here, well, that makes it a lot easier for me in some ways."

  "Couldn't you have handled your 'issues' at home? It seems kind of an expensive way to take care of things."

  "No. That wouldn't have been possible. Too many eyes and ears."

  Eyes and ears? That was something Maria had said, but in a different context. I took a deep breath. "And, so, tell me… what are your expectations?"

  "Don't look so serious," he laughed, reaching into his pocket and placing a flash drive on the table beside his plate. "For one thing, I need you to handle some details for Carlo and Poula. After all, it's your account."

  Carlo and Poula? The twins?

  "I'll want to visit them at their studio soon, well before the new line comes out. Please make arrangements for our trip early next month."