Knight in Tattooed Armor: International Billionaires XII: The Latinos

by Caro LaFever

Now?

  Now, he couldn’t care less.

  Shrugging, he glanced at the older man. “Just looking. Not interested.”

  “That’s good.”

  He focused on the woman again. A limo eased to a stop at the sidewalk and an eager driver jumped out to open her door.

  A sneer slid onto his face.

  “Yeah,” Manuel said. “Like I said, not for you.”

  With a flip of her long, blonde curls, she wiggled into the car, leaving little to his imagination as far as legs, ass, and tits.

  “Little rich girl, huh?” No way had she earned enough money for those clothes and that limo at her age. She either had a wealthy idiot on the leash, or came from money. Both of which deserved only disgust in his book.

  “Migneault’s girl. She works here.” The older man gestured toward the squat office building behind them.

  Riq turned to look up at the conference room he’d just left. Maurice Migneault had not been what he’d hoped for, or expected. In fairness, he hadn’t fit what the man wanted, either. He’d asked tough questions, hadn’t accepted the cagey answers, and eventually ruffled feathers. The meeting had been short, pointed, and gave him his answer before he’d strolled out the door.

  A flat no to being an angel for Migneault Perfumery.

  His friend glanced at him, his gaze curious. “Apple of her papa’s eye.”

  Having never been the apple of anyone’s eyes, other than maybe his yaya, used to make Riq angry. Now, like so much of life, it rolled right off his back. “Not surprised in the slightest. She must be wearing a thousand dollars’ worth of clothes and other female crap.”

  Which told him where part of Migneault’s overall problem was. The man had other problems on his hands too, but since Riq had refused his offer, he didn’t have to worry about it.

  The older man chuckled. “How do you know that?”

  He knew because he lived in the world of luxury. Lived a life where money was no longer an issue and he could have anything he wanted with a snap of his fingers. Yet, his grandmother didn’t know that. Neither did his family. It wasn’t surprising this man, their friend, knew nothing of what he really was, either.

  He shrugged again. “Just keeping up with what the ladies like.”

  “You’re good at that, huh, Riq?” He got a slap on his shoulder and another chuckle. “Your grandmother always tells me about your exploits.”

  She knew so little of his exploits it was laughable—though if she ever found out, Yaya Tibby would not be laughing. But the likelihood of that was zero. He’d made sure of that.

  “Come on,” he said, turning to the load of cinder blocks. “Let’s finish this job.”

  Chapter 2

  Her mother was in a tizzy.

  Unusual.

  Risa stared at her, as the woman zoomed through the kitchen and into the laundry room. “What’s going on?”

  A blonde head popped around the doorframe. Since the hair was swept into the hairdo her mom always wore when going out, it was apparent things were afoot. “Get ready.”

  Dropping her briefcase on the granite counter, she eased off her slingback shoes. Traffic had been heavy coming out to Star Island, and it had taken more than an hour to get home. The last thing she wanted to do was dress up and take another hour to drive to some party. Which was unusual for her. Once, before Spencer dropped her, she’d been the life of the party.

  Now, all she wanted to do was get into her favorite cotton jammies and relax. Preferably with some rich dark chocolate. “I thought we were supposed to talk about Paris. Didn’t Daddy call you and let you know?”

  “Yes, yes, sweetie. But plans have changed.” Her mom disappeared again, her voice growing muffled, as if she’d stuck herself into the dryer.

  “We’re not going to Paris?” Slumping on one of the wicker stools lining the back of the counter, she sniffed.

  “That’s on hold for the moment.” Her mother reappeared, a pair of silk stockings in one hand and her trusty Spanx in the other. “We’re going to the country club tonight to meet someone I’ve arranged to see.”

  “Coral Bay?” Her parents were members of only one country club, and once her daddy had given up golfing for more fishing, they rarely went there. Since Risa preferred their own beach and pool, she hadn’t minded.

  “No.” Her mom’s voice turned tentative. “We’re going to the Beachers.”

  “What?” Beachers was the most exclusive club in Miami—heck, in all of Florida. Her parents were rich, though she’d come to realize after dating Spencer, rich wasn’t enough for some people. Rich only got a girl or guy noticed. A person needed to know people, know the right people, to truly belong. Belong to a place like Beachers.

  The Talbot Dodges were prominent members of the Beachers.

  The Migneaults, with their new money and no connections, were not.

  “I know, darling. You’re worried about running into Spencer.” Her mom hustled to her side and gave her a tight hug. “But I doubt he’ll be at this party.”

  “Party?” The thought of running into her old boyfriend and his new maybe-girlfriend made goose bumps rise on her arm. “You said we’re meeting someone.”

  “Yes.” Her abnormally vivacious mother bopped off toward the spiral staircase leading to the bedrooms. “Someone important. And your daddy wants you there.”

  “Important why?” she mouthed to the empty kitchen. Yet, if her father wanted her there, it had to be for a good reason. Her daddy didn’t ask her to do much of anything, other than be happy, and she hadn’t done well in that area for months. She owed him.

  Sighing, she grabbed her shoes and headed toward the pool. She took one wistful gaze at the cool water, before striding to the terrace in front of her bedroom. Since leaving college and coming back to live with her parents—because where else was she going to go after Spencer’s defection?—her parents had decorated a separate apartment for her using the old pool house. Instead of being her dad’s home office, it was now a charming, cozy hideaway from her new reality.

  Living with her parents.

  Not Mrs. Talbot Dodge.

  She slammed the door behind her. Winkie, the stuffed bear she’d received at birth, stared at her from the pillow. His fur had long given up on being plush, and his button eyes no longer glowed, but he was her beloved Winkie. And the only male companion she had in her bed.

  How depressing.

  Hating herself and her life, she stomped to the closet and pulled out her favorite dress. The rose-gold sequins shimmered in the light and made her feel like a queen. If she was going to be a queen without an escort, at least she’d be the most beautiful one in the room. She selected the only shoes that could go with the dress. The Ralph & Russo stilettos were covered in pink satin, with gold flowers swirling along the heels.

  The dress and the shoes calmed her.

  She might not be Spencer’s beloved girlfriend anymore. However, she was still a princess, as her daddy told her every day.

  Taking a quick shower, Risa kept her focus on the dress and the shoes and the makeup and the hairstyle. It wasn’t until she wrapped a warmed towel around her and stepped to the mirror to swipe away the mist, that her mind wandered.

  To that guy. Again.

  She didn’t know why she’d spent the entire drive home mulling over the two-second encounter. It wasn’t as if it were important. It wasn’t as if he were important. But she had spent the entire hour-plus thinking about it, and him.

  That hair. Those eyes. The body.

  Snorting at herself, she grabbed the hairdryer and began her preparations. Getting pretty was something she’d been doing since she was five, so it didn’t take much of her concentration.

  He seeped back in.

  Her first impression had been right. He was taller than the other workers. But not until she’d stood right by him had she realized how much taller. He towered, like Spencer. Except there was a subtle difference in the way he stood, like he couldn’t be bothered to worry ab
out the impact he had on others.

  Spencer always was aware of his impact.

  Being the first-string quarterback of the Florida ’Gators is as much about presence as it is about performance.

  She mouthed the words at the mirror, words she’d heard time and time again from her precious boyfriend. Making a face at herself, she twisted her hair around a band until it hung in a fashionable chignon.

  That guy was taller than Spencer.

  She made another face. Why did it matter? So what if he must be close to six-five? She’d never see him after today, since she didn’t plan on supervising or commenting on the construction going on in her daddy’s courtyard. It was none of her business.

  A niggle of despair crept into her mind.

  When her father suggested she come to work with him and use her chemistry degree, she’d still been deep in her Spencer funk. Yet, something about the offer had intrigued her, and the first day at the job, she’d been tingling with expectancy. A weird kind of hope that perhaps she could make a difference beyond being a pretty person who made people happy.

  Nothing had come of it, though. Her family’s business, her father had made clear, was not her business. Looking pretty and being happy was her business.

  She leaned over the counter to put mascara on. Those were tears in her eyes.

  Shit.

  A tissue took care of that, and she finished doing her makeup in minutes.

  “Are you almost ready, darling?” Her mom’s voice came from the terrace. “Your father is going to meet us at the club.”

  “Just need to slip on my dress and shoes.” Why wasn’t her father coming home to change? As far as she knew, he hadn’t brought in a suit and tie to work. This evening was becoming stranger and stranger. “Do you want to come and see—?”

  “I’ll be waiting in the limo. Hurry.” The click click of her mother’s heels echoed off the tile.

  Stranger and stranger was right. Her mother never pushed or pulled. Never worried about the time, or nagged about arrivals or departures. Her mom was the type to come into her bedroom and coo over an outfit or spend an entire day by the pool doing nothing but doze. Easygoing could easily be her middle name.

  By the time Risa had dragged on her dress, yanked on her shoes, and made her way to the limo, her mother had gone from hurried to harassed. She flung the door open to the back, her expression flustered. “I just talked to your father.”

  “Again?” Slipping into the limo, she slid onto the soft leather seat. “Mom.”

  “What?” The door slammed shut. “All right, Samuel. We can go.”

  Their driver nodded and punched the gas, driving toward the bridge to the mainland.

  “What’s going on?” She kept her gaze focused on her mom, because often her hands and eyes told more of a story than her mouth.

  Her mom’s hands were white and fisted.

  Her eyes flitted away.

  Whatever was going on was something wrong. Something bad. Risa had spent her entire life living with two loving parents, with plenty of money, getting and doing anything she wanted. She realized many people thought she was spoiled, and she probably was. But that didn’t mean she didn’t have a good heart. She did. That didn’t mean she didn’t have something to offer. She did. It only meant she hadn’t experienced bad, only the best.

  Except, during the last two months, she’d experienced the worst that could happen to a girl.

  Losing her prince. Losing the future she’d planned.

  Losing everything that mattered.

  She didn’t want to think things could get worse. It really wouldn’t be fair. “Mommy?”

  In a flash, her mother changed in front of her eyes. The tension in her body eased, her face went calm, her hands relaxed on her lap. “Yes, darling?”

  Alarm streaked inside her. Her mom wasn’t like this—didn’t keep secrets or pretend. The question trembled on her tongue…

  What was wrong?

  “Tell me about this party.” Risa pinned a smile on her face, pushing the question aside. She didn’t want to know, didn’t want to believe anything truly awful was happening. Ignoring her daddy’s worry and her mom’s weird behavior was the only thing she could do.

  She didn’t deserve more bad.

  Her mom smiled, leaning over to pat her hand. “There’s my pretty girl.”

  Another niggle of despair squirmed in her heart, making it hard to breathe for a moment. But there was no other role for her to play, other than the one she’d had for her entire life. “Are there going to be any handsome men for me to meet?”

  “Many of them, sweetie.” Her mom’s smile edged up, telling Risa she’d done the right thing, the only thing. Making her mom smile. “And they’ll all be dazzled by you.”

  That’s what she was. The only thing she was.

  The princess of dazzle.

  Two hours later, Risa couldn’t keep up the dazzle.

  Not that she hadn’t tried.

  She’d entertained her mom for the entire two hours it had taken to get to the Beachers. When she’d gotten out of the limo, she’d greeted her daddy with a big hug that made him smile. Somehow, he’d found a tux that didn’t quite fit and made him look odd, but he was her father and she loved him too much to show any embarrassment. Being ushered into the Beachers’ main reception room, with its circular walls, arched windows, and huge chandelier, she’d grinned and chatted, drank champagne and nibbled on cheese balls.

  Her parents had never felt the need to hover around her when at a party, and tonight wasn’t any different. They were used to their little girl being fully capable of meeting new people and making new friends. Though never before had Risa seen her mommy and daddy huddle in a corner for hours with two strange men. Two men who looked like thugs, not guests to a fancy Beachers party.

  A tingle of alarm raced through her again.

  Throwing a smile at the throng of men she’d collected, she excused herself. She headed for the locker rooms, figuring she’d hide in there for a while. The bathrooms would be filled with women eyeing her and judging, not something she wanted to deal with. And leaving early without her parents wasn’t an option. The limo couldn’t get her back home and return in a reasonable time. Plus, her mommy and daddy would have a fit and become even more worried about her.

  Risa? Leaving a party?

  Disappointing them, when there were problems she didn’t want to understand, wasn’t possible. The best she could do was hide for a bit. At least, she thought as she glided into the foyer, she hadn’t had to deal with meeting Spencer and his maybe-new-girlfriend.

  “Hi, Maurisa. What are you doing here?”

  Her favorite voice in the entire world wrapped around her. Closing her eyes, she cursed in silent anguish. Before she allowed herself to cry, she popped her eyes wide open and plastered on her best smile. “Hi, Spencer. I’m attending a party. It’s so good to…”

  He didn’t appear to notice her trailing off. His focus was on the woman next to him.

  Missy Flagler.

  The bitch.

  “How’s your summer been?” He glanced at her before returning his gaze to his date.

  Her summer had been awful, thank you. Awful and horrible, and all because Spencer didn’t realize the gem he had in her. She widened the smile. If all she had was her pride, at least she’d hold on to that. “Great. I started working.”

  “Working?” The love of her life raised his blond brows. His blue eyes, eyes she’d described to her sorority sisters as blue as the larkspur that grew in her grandmother’s garden, filled with disbelief. “You? Working?”

  A shaft of anger shot up her spine, making her straighten on her stilettos. “Yes. At daddy’s office. I did get my chemistry degree.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He gave her a condescending look, his smile turning smug. “Your daddy.”

  Missy smirked, as if working for a father wasn’t something to brag about.

  Her heart and pride sunk to the end point of her high h
eels. Gritting her teeth, she kept the smile on.

  “Let me introduce my new girlfriend.” Waving at the prim woman twirling her pearls, he graced her with a tender look, a look he’d given Risa only a few months ago. “Missy, this is Maurisa.”

  Not a maybe-new-girlfriend. A real, honest-to-goodness new girlfriend.

  Her heart sunk farther, if it were possible. Sunk from the point of her heels into the marble floor beneath her.

  And then, it struck her with a hard tap—Spencer’s previous girlfriend before her had been Maria. Did the man have a thing for M-named women? Was he odd in that way? Like his girlfriends were interchangeable Ms, marching through his life?

  Pushing away the impertinent thought, because, after all, this was her Spencer, she thrust out her hand. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”

  The other woman gingerly took her hand. “Hello.”

  “Well, we should get going. We’re meeting Mother and Father in the Ocean Room for a late dinner.” Her now-officially ex-boyfriend tugged on Missy’s lace-covered elbow, stepping away as if he’d accomplished his goal of destroying Risa’s heart once and for all. “See you around.”

  “Yes,” she whispered to his back, “see you around.”

  She stood in the grand foyer of Beachers, with tuxedoed men and couture-dressed women swishing past her. The air seemed to swallow her whole, like she’d disappeared in a puff of smoke and ashes. Grief clutched her throat, and a horrid sense of losing her reason for being swept through her for the first time in her life.

  Not until this very moment had she thought Spencer was lost for good.

  “Shit.” Using the word would have made her mother tell her not to be uncouth, but her mom wasn’t here, so what the hell.

  “Shit,” she muttered again.

  Not knowing what else to do, Risa hustled toward the locker rooms, her eyes blurry with tears. Running around the bend and into the corridor leading to her hideout, she barreled straight into a hard, T-shirt covered chest.

  “Hey,” the chest said, “Watch where you’re going, chica.”

  The rumbling voice sounded familiar, but she was too upset to put the pieces together in her head. All she wanted was a dark corner where she could lick her wounds.