High Stakes Seduction - Book 2

by LeCoeur, Ami

  We walked back to our cabin in a tense silence, with about a foot of space between us. When he opened the door for me, I stepped inside, but Antonio didn’t follow.

  “Good evening, Angela,” he said, and closed the door between us.

  I stared at the door for the longest time, unable to believe this impossible man had just left me.

  Again.

  I felt my fury returning. What the hell was going on? What did this man want from me? I was so angry! And frustrated. And… hurt.

  And yet, I could still feel the delicious ache in my groin, remembering his fingers sliding along my thigh, reaching up beneath the hem of my dress.

  I stepped over to the mirror, watching as my own fingers traced the path of my memory and imagination, gently teasing the hem of my dress higher and higher until I revealed the black lace panties beneath. I gently stroked the delicate material, sucking in a breath when I realized how wet I was. How much I'd wanted his hands on me, in my most private and primal parts.

  I glanced behind me at the door, worried for a moment that Antonio would decide to return and find me like this. But as my yearning overcame my natural reluctance, I moaned softly with disappointment that he wasn't here.

  And then, I felt a little rush run through me, and I began to imagine him walking back through that door as I slipped my finger beneath the black lace, rubbing gently along my warm wet slit, intensifying the heat and desire within me. I imagined him stepping up behind me, joining his hand with mine, pressing against me, fingers sliding down. Slowly at first, letting the ache radiate within me as I moved a hand up to my breasts, imagining Antonio’s fingers slipping beneath my bra. My fingers pinched at my taut nipples and I groaned, my back arching with the waves of pleasure spiraling through my body. “I want you, Angela,” I could hear him whisper in my ear.

  I felt my legs growing weak, as the throbbing between them grew more intense. My fingers moved more vigorously as I stepped over to the bed. I sat down, my leg spread wide as I imagined Antonio sitting across from me, his hungry eyes drawn to the movement of my fingers, slick with desire, as I brought myself closer and closer to the edge.

  “That’s it,” he whispered in his velvety voice, “Come for me, Angela.”

  And I did, throwing my head back and crying out his name as my body shuddered with each wave of pleasure, until at last, I collapsed on the bed. Breathless.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “These are gorgeous!” Maria said over our connection the next morning in the media room. She kept looking away from the video call to her laptop, admiring the pictures I’d sent. “Look at the way the island’s reflection shimmers off the surface of the water. It’s so beautiful!”

  “Did you see the dolphins?” I asked.

  She clicked through a few more images, her eyes shining as she looked up at me. “I love dolphins!”

  “I know,” I said, beaming at her. “I was so lucky! Just as I was about to leave, they showed up. So I grabbed you a picture.”

  “I’ve been looking through your great photos while I wait for Thompson to come back.”

  I eyed Maria shrewdly. “Waiting for Thompson to come back? Maria, what are you up to? I’ve only been gone for a few days.”

  Maria blushed, literally covering her mouth to hide her giggle. “Oh, you know. He just dropped by to check up on me. He's picking up Chinese take-out. It’s nothing, Ange.”

  “Uh huh,” I grinned. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much!”

  “Well, what about you and Antonio?”

  “Oh no, you don’t get to change the subject on me.” I said the words playfully, but there was no way I wanted to talk about Antonio right now. I wasn’t in the mood to spin Maria another lie to cover up whatever it was that was going on in this odd arrangement he and I shared. In fact, I’d actually dreaded calling Maria because I knew she’d ask about Antonio and me. But, I figured the pictures would be enough to distract her. Thankfully, now I had Thompson too. “You keep begging me for juicy details. Now it’s your turn to spill, Sis.”

  She laughed, her face brightening again. “All right, I guess it’s only fair. Although, there’s nothing really going on that’s quite as exciting as your life, Ange. Thompson is just really sweet. He drops by to check up on me and brings me treats. Last night he stayed a bit later after dinner to watch TV with me. And this weekend, he’s taking me to an Art and Wine Festival.”

  “That sounds wonderful, Maria,” I said, genuinely pleased. “I’m glad you’re having a good time. You need to get out more. There's no need to stay cooped up in the house.”

  “Especially with the wonderful weather we've been having. Thompson's really sweet, Ange. I know he's big and burly looking, but he has a gentle heart."

  I narrowed my eyes at the wistful sound in Maria's voice. "Is there something more you want to tell me?" I couldn't help but ask.

  "Oh no! Well, not really," came her surprisingly bashful reply.

  "Well then, I'll be expecting full details of your festival trip,"

  "Don't worry. I'll be more forthcoming than you've been so far," she teased.

  My heart nearly stopped.

  "And I’m glad you’re having a good time. Enjoy the island sunshine, Sis. And send me more pictures!”

  Chapter Twenty

  MARIA

  Angela had the strangest look on her face as she waved goodbye to me from the monitor. I waved back and clicked on the icon to end the video call. I had been a bit anxious, waiting for her to "check in" again from the cruise ship. But it had been great to actually chat face-to-face. She looked like she was finally enjoying herself.

  As I scrolled back through the photos she'd sent me, I was glad I'd insisted on Ange taking her camera. Her composition was always so good. And she had a wonderful knack for capturing just the right angle. The island children had obviously been her favorite subject, considering most of her images included one or more of them.

  But my little sis knew my thing had always been landscapes, and she hadn’t let me down. The beaches, the architecture of the little homes, and all the beautiful flowers. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine myself there.

  I glanced over at the ghostly canvases leaning against the wall, continuing to collect dust in my makeshift corner studio in the living room. Then I turned back to the coffee table, where Nevia's gift sat behind my laptop. The light brown wooden case sat there, silently taunting me.

  My hands trembled as I reached to open the narrow little case. The handsome set of bristle brushes sat inside, untouched since Nevia had brought them to me two days ago. It had been such a surprise. I hadn't thought about painting in so long. But now, here they were, sitting politely waiting in their box, challenging me with their tidiness.

  Maybe it was time to consider picking up my paints again.

  The doorbell rang. Startled, I shut the box and set it aside. “It’s open,” I called out.

  “Hungry?” came a soft, deep voice behind me as I blinked quickly to get rid of the tears that had been threatening me just a short moment earlier.

  Putting on my best grin, I turned to greet Thompson. He stood there smiling, holding up a big brown paper bag.

  “You have excellent timing, sir. My stomach was just starting to complain loudly.”

  Thompson laughed, making his way toward the kitchen as I followed behind. He placed the food on the table while I set out dishes and silverware.

  “What’s on the agenda for today?”

  “A few of the company’s models need to be chauffeured around for photo shoots this afternoon, but other than that, it’s a pretty light time for me with the Boss away."

  "Are you on call? Or do you get the time off?"

  "Basically on call. But Mr. Mancini is a good boss. When he doesn't need me, or I'm not scheduled for shoots and such, he lets me spend my time with my daughter.”

  “Oh.” A daughter. Then that means… “I didn’t realize you had a daughter. That is, I didn’t realize you were�
� married?”

  “I’m not, actually,” he said, helping himself to an egg roll. “Not any more. Her mother and I separated a few years ago. It was messy. I don't want to go into details, but it didn't end well."

  His face shifted into a dark brooding look.

  "Emily is special. She was injured when she was five—spinal cord. I can't prove anything, but I don't think it was accidental. Anyway, she doesn't get around too easily by herself. And, I don’t get to see my girl as much as I’d like because of the odd hours this job requires, so I try to get in as much time with her as I can when I have a break. The Boss understands that.”

  “I’d love to meet your daughter. How old is she now?”

  "Nine. A wonderful, imaginative, spirited nine-year-old." His face beamed as he described her. "She’ll be coming along to the Festival this weekend, if that’s all right?"

  "Perfect!" I said. “And, I’m really looking forward to the Festival, thank you so much for asking me."

  Thompson actually blushed. I thought it was so cute on such a big man.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ANGELA

  “Put on your best walking shoes, Angela. We’re going to a batik factory today,” Antonio had announced at breakfast. It was the second stop for the ship, and I was glad I wouldn't have to do it alone. Again.

  “What’s a batik factory?”

  “You’ll see,” he'd said with a twinkle in his eyes.

  He was in a good mood and I was glad he'd finally be spending time with me. I wasn't going to question my luck. I hurried back to the room to meet up with him after my call to Maria.

  The moment we stepped off the gangplank onto solid ground, he took my hand and led me away, hailing a carriage drawn by a wiry young man of surprising strength and stamina. I marveled at everything we passed, until finally, he came to a stop before a breathtaking manor, restored to glory with bright paints and surrounded by lush vegetation. Antonio paid our driver and we stepped inside, where friendly faces greeted us.

  “Oh!” I exclaimed when I saw the beautiful fabrics draped all over the rooms. “I had no idea this kind of material and design actually had a name.”

  “All hand dyed and hand painted,” Antonio smiled, fingering a blue and white swath of fabric. "It’s somewhat labor intensive, but you'll get to see the process on the tour. I admire fine work, regardless of the medium."

  "Welcome to our estate," the solemn guide said, leading us into the setup rooms. "Thank you for your interest in our process."

  I looked over at Antonio as he spoke quietly with the guide. So, this was a working vacation after all.

  I soon lost myself in watching the beautiful and intricate work. I was amazed at the long bolts of white fabric, stretched on looms. Women stamped designs or hand painted them using a combination of beeswax and paraffin. Each piece was hand-dipped or hand-painted with each dye color separately. The wax-painted sections resisted color, which is how they got the whites and the lighter undercolors. It was definitely a labor-intensive process.

  We stepped into the steaming "boiling rooms"—places where the finished pieces were boiled for forty-five minutes to remove the wax and "pre-shrink" the fabric. Once the fabric was removed from the pots, they were hung outside in the sun and wind.

  I had never seen such a colorful display of fabrics! And the process was absolutely mesmerizing.

  "Our drying lawns are perhaps the most photographed clotheslines in the world," the guide proudly told us.

  We stepped into the showroom. The patterns that surrounded me were as brilliant as the garden outside, which I imagined inspired many of the designs. “This would make a beautiful dress,” I said, holding up a bright green fabric to my skin.

  Antonio eyed me, giving me his “Fashion Industry Mogul” once over, before leading me into a room off to the side where elegant mannequins were adorned in gorgeous batik dresses and skirts. He found a dress made of the same material I’d just been admiring and held it up before me. “Try it on.”

  I obliged, loving the feel of the clean, soft fabric against my skin. “Well?” I twirled before him, feeling the hem of the thigh length dress rise enticingly as I did so. “What do you think?”

  His eyes sparkled with approval.

  "Now it's my turn!" I walked back into the showroom, pulling down a multi-colored shirt in mauves and blues.

  He laughed when I handed it to him, shaking his head and furrowing his brow slightly.

  "Oh come on," I said. "I know it's not your regular uniform, but we are on vacation. Loosen up a little." You might actually like it, I thought, but bit my tongue to stop from saying any more.

  He cocked his head at me, narrowing his eyes a little. "Okay." Then he stepped into the dressing room.

  I tried not to be nervous. I had pretty much pushed him into trying on the shirt. What if he hated it?

  "Angela." I turned my head at the sound of his voice.

  "Oh Antonio! You look… great!" The colors were perfect, bringing out his eyes and the warm tan of his skin. The shirt across his shoulders gave him a casual island flair. "Now you look like you're on vacation!"

  He laughed again at my enthusiasm.

  Feeling a little brazen, I stepped to his side, taking his arm and turning him so we could see ourselves in the mirror. “Let’s do something fun tonight, can we?"

  He raised an eyebrow, a faint smile on his lips. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Let’s go dancing.”

  “Hmm, I’m not much of a dancer,” he said thoughtfully. “But you do deserve an evening of fun.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  After dinner, we made our way over to a lounge I hadn't been to yet. It was decorated with ebony furnishings and trimmed with gold and silver. A single red rose and a tapering candle sat between us at the cozy table for two that Antonio chose, right in front of the little stage.

  I looked around, curious and, I'll admit it, a bit nervous. “I-I’ve never been to a burlesque show before.”

  Antonio smiled. "It's a unique experience, for sure,” he said, as the waiter poured our champagne. "This is not something you'd normally find onboard. I arranged tonight's show as a special treat for our politician friend."

  "But you didn't tell me about it until tonight?"

  He shrugged. "Angela, I wasn't sure it was something you'd like. But when you mention dancing, and having fun, I thought this might be a nice diversion for you."

  I glanced around the intimate room, recognizing faces from the previous night. "So this is a private party? Is that why they asked for your name at the door?"

  "Yes. Special invitation only."

  Then the lights dimmed around us, leaving little more than the flickering candlelight to see by. A bright spotlight flicked on with a buzz and the thick, velvety red curtains shivered on stage. One long, sinuous leg, wearing nothing more than a stiletto, peeked out between the curtains, joined by the sound of trumpets that swept into a swanky jazz tune. The slinky woman attached to that smooth, tanned leg, eased out from behind the curtain, her scantily clad hips swaying to the rhythm as she danced her way across the stage, singing a sultry tune from the 1920s.

  As the show went on, I noticed it consisted almost entirely of women, with a few male backup dancers. For the finale, the first woman was joined by several others, performing some highly athletic and jaw-dropping moves that I couldn’t even imagine myself doing. But I also noticed their clothing—if you could call it that. They wore barely-there corsets, and minimal covering.

  I spent as much time watching Antonio as I did watching the performance. I wasn't quite sure what to think. The women were quite talented, if somewhat suggestive, and Antonio seemed mesmerized by it all. Is this the kind of thing he likes? I wondered, as the show came to an end and the ladies took their bows

  A dark-haired woman in a green outfit winked at us, and then locked eyes with Antonio giving him an almost imperceptible tilt of her head.

  Antonio tipped his head, nodding ba
ck with a slight smile.

  I turned towards Antonio, expecting the women to head off stage as the applause died down, but grew confused when he stood up instead. As the curtain closed behind them, the performers came down off the stage to mingle with the audience.

  “Tony, darling!” The dark-haired woman made a bee-line straight for Antonio, arms outstretched. He smiled and took her hand with an eager grin. She planted a kiss on his cheek, one muscled leg raised dramatically. I saw her whisper something in Antonio’s ear as his arm slipped around her waist.

  I stood there awkwardly, waiting for the display to be finished.

  “Hello, gorgeous!” the woman exclaimed, stretching a manicured hand out to me. “How’d you like the show?”

  “It was very… entertaining,” I managed.

  She squeezed my hand and pulled me close, creating a warm sandwich of bodies that Antonio seemed enjoy. The woman leaned between us and said in a husky voice, “Thank you for coming, Tony. Are you ready to let me show you a thing or two? I promise, you'll like it.” I swear, she positively purred!

  Antonio chuckled, obviously enjoying her attention. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills.

  “Oh honey,” the woman purred but her eyes shone with pure gratitude, “you’ve done so much for me already. But, I suppose a little more couldn’t hurt.”

  I tried not to wonder what she meant by that as I watched him peel off two twenty dollar bills and tuck them into the low cut bodice of her corset.

  “Don’t let that serious side of him fool you,” she said to me. “Your man is a sweetheart. But I’m sure you already know that.”

  I glanced up at Antonio, who gave me a shrug and a grin, much like he had the other night at the casino. I was seeing a whole new side to him and I wasn't sure what to think of it. He didn't seem embarrassed by any of this, in fact, he seemed to enjoy it. The truth was, I really had no idea what was going on. I stepped back out of their arms and turned to find another woman, a red-head, had sauntered over, as if summoned by the money in Antonio’s hand.