Knight in Tattooed Armor: International Billionaires XII: The Latinos

by Caro LaFever

  She hoped.

  “Man,” he grouched, before laying down beside her. “Don’t you ever get enough?”

  “No, never enough of you.” Rolling over, she snuggled into his side.

  With a fake exasperated sigh, he swung his arm around her, placing his hand on her hip. The position had become their position. She, tucked into him. He, putting his hand on her in a possessive grip.

  “So, Riq.” She dabbled her fingers across his chest, playing with his nipples.

  With a rough chuckle, he swatted her away. “Woman. You exhausted me last night.”

  “Did I?”

  “Five times.” He glanced at her, his eyes dancing, belying his complaint. “I’m the old man in this relationship.”

  “Sure.” Nestling closer, she sniffed. “If I remember right, it was you who initiated the last time.”

  An amused grunt was his assent.

  He smelled so good. It felt like her nose had come to life on this island. Being part of a perfume family meant she’d always been more attuned to scent than many people. It was nothing compared to what she took in now. The smell of the ocean mixed with the thick jungle. The mustiness of the earth combined with the lush sweetness of the Caribbean breeze.

  And most of all, him.

  Her lover.

  It astonished her how different he could smell. Sweaty and salty when he returned from working on the village. Crisp and clean after a shower. Citrusy and woodsy when he slapped on some of her grandfather’s cologne. But beneath, was the essential scent of Enrique de Molina. She knew if he stood in a group of a hundred men, she’d be able to find him blindfolded.

  Another chuckle came from him, drawing her back from her musings. “You’re smelling me again.”

  “Promise me.” She reared up on her elbow.

  His hand didn’t leave her hip, but his gaze grew wary. It hurt her, this instant withdrawal whenever she got serious. Since she’d rarely been truly serious in her life before meeting this man, it hurt that he didn’t like her this way.

  “You don’t have to look as if I’m about to knife you in the side.” She kept her voice light, because she knew that’s what he wanted.

  Predictably, his taut muscles relaxed and faint amusement filtered across his face. “So what’s the promise?”

  “Promise me you’ll let me use you for my perfumes.”

  They’d spent at least a couple of hours a day in his Spartan office, discussing Migneault Perfumery. Never once had he mentioned investing, and never once had she asked. She stood by her claim she didn’t want his money. Their relationship had become more precious to her than her family’s company—which she still found hard to believe.

  Except it was true.

  The truth of it had sunk into her like an ancient incense, an essence that combined with the essential part of her. This new love for him had fundamentally changed her.

  “Use me?” His thick brows rose and fell, his eyes twinkling. “You have my permission to use me anytime you want.”

  His words wafted around them and he stilled, as if sensing an unfamiliar reality he wasn’t sure he wanted. A reality where she and he were together, not just on this island paradise, but also when they got back to the mainland.

  She rushed into the breach, not wanting him to fall into a funk, or disappear in a fog of misty distraction. “I want to distill your scent.”

  “Coño.” Turning his head, he looked out at the sea. “It sounds like you’re going to put me in a jar and lock me up.”

  That hurt. Because she knew, he wasn’t talking about perfume. He was talking about their relationship. Not knowing where to go from here, she slouched down, hiding her face in the pillow of his hard shoulder.

  Eventually, he sighed. “Okay, Princesa. I’ll subject myself to your tests if you want me to.”

  Her head popped up, excitement zipping inside. “You will?”

  “I will.” His lips twisted in a wry grimace. “Which surprises me.”

  Risa stared at him, not sure what to say.

  “But then, everything about you surprises me.” His mouth relaxed into a quirk. “So why not this?”

  Settling against him again, she let herself smile into his warm skin. There was a crack here. He wasn’t going to think of this island time as a mere isolation from the real world. He’d basically told her they were still going to see each other once they were rescued.

  Her heart flew with fearful hope and wondrous love.

  “Getting too hot?” he murmured, his hand gently gliding across her hip. “Want to take a swim with me?”

  “Sure.” Pulling away and rising to her feet, she leaned down with a hand. “Need help, old man?”

  “Old man, huh?” He stood without her help, his gaze wicked. “I guess that’s superior to caveman.”

  Risa danced away from his grab, her grin lighting not only her face, but her heart. “Can’t catch me.”

  He paused, a startled expression crossing his face. Then, in a flash, it disappeared, replaced by a typical look of stout determination. “You better run.”

  She giggled as she took off toward the water, splashing into the warm waves and sinking deep into an ocean cove she thought of as hers as well as his. Because they’d played here together. Eaten here, loved here, talked here. This little cove, edged with his ruined boat and the jut of a sandy point, had turned into a place she thought of as their special heaven.

  A large splash at her side signaled his arrival. Two male hands grabbed her waist and pulled her to the surface.

  “Hi.” He grinned, his eyes alight with happiness, his expression filled with the boyish eagerness she’d come to treasure. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  “Aren’t you the guy who drives a motorcycle and leaves his flip-flops behind?” Falling into his playful mood, she slung her arms around his neck. “Or are you the guy who gave me a back rub last night?”

  “Hmm.” His face crumpled into pretend puzzlement. “I think that guy did a lot more for you last night than a back rub.”

  “Since there was only me and him in the room, you must be that guy.”

  Their feet fluttered close, and his hands swished back and forth, keeping them both afloat.

  “Guess I am.” His grin widened.

  “Then tell me, Mr. de Mol—”

  “There it is again.” A loud, exaggerated moan echoed off the water. “Tell me this. Tell me that.”

  Risa knew she was venturing into uncharted waters, but she felt this instinctive pull to figure him entirely out. There wasn’t much time, and she had to understand every nook and cranny of him so that when they arrived in Miami, she wouldn’t lose him.

  She couldn’t lose him. “I guess you’re this rich hotshot, right?”

  His white teeth flashed, letting her know she hadn’t stepped on any landmines yet. “Yep. That’s me. The hotshot.”

  Cocking her head, she contemplated him. No, he wasn’t, not at all. Beneath the arrogant confidence and snarly attitude lay a solid, good man. A man a woman could trust to care. Not for her physically, though he could do that well. But rather care for her. Her thoughts and plans, her dreams and desires. She’d disliked Riq from the moment she’d met him, which told her how much she still had to learn about herself, her judgments, and people.

  Things this guy could help her with.

  His gaze narrowed at her sudden silence. “Problem?”

  “Nope.” She smoothed her hand down his cheek, relishing the strong bones of his face and the dark shadow of his growing beard. “Tell me about what you do with all your money, hotshot.”

  His eyes gleamed with immediate humor. And maybe a touch of relief. “I buy islands and boats.”

  “Mmm. What else?”

  His broad shoulders rolled under her arms in a nonchalant shrug, but the tautening muscles told her she was close to hitting paydirt. Or a bomb, if she wasn’t careful. “I help my family.”

  “Who don’t know you’re a hotshot.”

  Another
flash of teeth, yet now his grin was uneasy. “True, and they wouldn’t believe it if they knew.”

  Oh, my. That was an interesting nugget of information she’d have to ruminate over later. “What else do you do with it?”

  “Invest in other people’s dreams.”

  His words were tough, even harsh, telling her she’d hit the minefield, if not exactly the mine. She decided to take one last step in and then leave it for the day. “That’s all?”

  His expression grew grim. “I have this foundation.”

  Shock and curiosity surged. “Why are you looking as though that’s a bad thing? What kind of foundation?”

  With a sigh, he gave a long stroke, pushing them toward the beach. “Questions. Questions. More questions.”

  “Tell me.”

  Standing, with her in his arms, he strode across the sand. “It’s just something I set up for my vet buddies.”

  “Just something.” This one piece of knowledge told her so much about him. So much she’d taken for granted, or scoffed at, or misunderstood. “For medical services, and things like that?”

  “Yeah, things like that.” Although his voice held irritation, his hold on her was gentle, as he laid her on the towel.

  She opened her mouth—

  “Enough questions.” Slinging himself down beside her, he leaned over and gave her a semi-fake glare. “Time for kisses, instead.”

  Not being a stupid woman, she reached up to pull him to her mouth. Questions were all well and good, but kissing Riq would always be far more important.

  The soft whirr of a boat engine made them both go still.

  “Finally.” He jumped to a stand and peered out at the sea. Risa sat up and stared too.

  It hit her, with a sudden jab. The real world had returned.

  Then, another jab hit.

  Finally. His one word had been filled with…relief?

  Hurt roared into her like a swift, scorching Gulf Stream current.

  “It’s heading toward the village’s dock,” he crowed. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Grabbing their two robes and his towel, he paced toward the stairs. For a second, she let herself take in the beauty of him once more. The punch of his ass, the sinewy strength of his thighs, the powerful impact of his tattooed back.

  Another realization hit.

  A butterfly. A cocoon. A man who hid from himself and how amazing he was. Perhaps without his knowing, he’d inked his major obstacle to happiness right on the skin of his back. He needed her just as much as she needed him. Riq needed her to rip open this hazy cocoon he’d fallen into when he’d damaged his knee. She knew it like a spike inside her spirit.

  “Come on.” Turning, he gestured toward her, his expression filled with excitement.

  Another surge of hurt landed in her heart. Was he so excited to get her off his island? Was that why he looked incredibly happy? With a sudden desperation which surprised her, she wished the real world would stay away for a few more days. A few more weeks, or maybe even a few more months.

  A frown crossed his face. “What’s wrong?”

  Standing, she grabbed her towel and held it in front of her, a flimsy protection. “I’m going to miss us.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She waved at the boat disappearing around the bend of his island. “They’ll take me back to Miami, I suppose.”

  The blue of his eyes went dark. “Hey.”

  Before she could stop them, tears welled. “Hey, yourself.”

  “Listen.” Striding to her side, he nestled her into his embrace. A soft kiss landed on her hair. “I live in Miami too, remember?”

  “I remember.” She stuck her nose in the middle of his chest and sniffed.

  A chuckle rumbled from him. “Smelling again? Anyway, there’s still going to be an us.”

  Her head popped up, pure joy flowing through her veins. “Really?”

  “Only if you don’t ask questions.” His expression grew stern, but the light of laughter continued to gild his eyes.

  “You.” She gave him a punch.

  The jab into his hard abdomen didn’t faze him. He didn’t step back or even flinch.

  And she knew. It was going to always be like this with him. No matter what crisis came their way, he’d stand tall. No matter what she might throw at him—her tears, her questions, her irritation—he wouldn’t fall or flinch.

  Tears, this time ones of gratitude for what she’d found in this man, welled again.

  “Hey, hey.” He tipped her chin with a finger and stared into her blurry eyes. “No crying, Princesa. Remember, you’re royalty to me, and always will be.”

  “Okay.” A sense of profound wonderment, impossible happiness strummed through her.

  Stepping back, he held out his hand. “Coming with me?”

  “Yes.” She snuck hers into his. “Always.”

  Chapter 33

  Riq couldn’t say he was surprised.

  He also couldn’t say he was happy.

  “Maurisa!” Her mother rushed toward them, clattering down the long, wooden dock wearing inappropriate high heels. She wore a red-and-pink dress that appeared to be couture. “You’re okay.”

  “Of course,” the daughter said. They’d both thrown on a T-shirt and shorts before driving down to the village, but compared to her mother, she looked like a woebegone castaway. “Riq was here.”

  The confidence in him stringing through her words lifted his spirits.

  For a moment.

  Her father peered at him from the rumbling vessel. Unlike his ruined one, Migneault’s boat appeared to be in fine condition.

  His mood continued to sour.

  “Molina.” The older man nodded his head with an eager grin. “Thanks for taking care of my baby.”

  Baby.

  Everything returned to his conscience and memory. Her comparative youth and naïveté. The perfumery in need of an angel investor. An artful female charm that had lured him into her body.

  He stepped back.

  “It’s de Molina, Daddy.” Pulling out of her mother’s grip, she frowned. “Remember?”

  “Sure, sure.” Migneault nodded again, his gaze growing hopeful. “Both of you had some time to get together?”

  Get together? Riq’s spine straightened, and his brain began to buzz.

  “Talk?” her father continued digging the hole.

  “Yes.” His sunshine girl nodded back, a firm gesture. “We did.”

  His sunshine girl?

  No. Wait. Maybe these last few days had been…

  “That’s great.” Her daddy beamed his approval.

  Riq’s formidable mind came back online for the first time in longer than a week. The Migneaults had this boat. They probably knew dozens of people with boats. And none of them had come to save the pretty princesa? Her parents hadn’t arrived for days and days. No friend had taken the easy trip across the ocean to his island.

  On purpose.

  Jesús. He’d been a complete fool.

  “But it’s time I returned to my company.” Risa’s words cut into the growing disgust inside him.

  Her words drifted between all four of them, a claim. A challenge. Except he didn’t think it was for him this time. This time it was directed toward her parents.

  The engine clicked off, and her father peered at her from the helm with a wary look. “What do you mean?”

  Without conscious thought, he grabbed the boat line the older man threw him. Concentrating on tying the craft to his dock, he tried to ignore the growing tension.

  “What I mean, Daddy, is I have a business plan now.”

  One they’d created as partners. Until now, he hadn’t realized how invested he’d become. Not with his money, as he usually was, but with his ideas. Another hook. Another lure he’d fallen for.

  Her father snorted. “All right, Princess. We’ll discuss it once we get you home.”

  “Look at your nails, darling.” Her mother’s fair brows rose in clear distres
s. “And your skin is so dry. We’ll need to go to the spa right away.”

  Riq glanced at his lover and watched as she changed before his eyes. Changed from a happy, glowing natural into a pampered, precious princesa. His heart, an organ he hadn’t realized was so far gone, dropped to his toes.

  “That sounds great,” she gushed, her hands tightening on her mom’s. “I can’t wait.”

  “Where are your clothes, Maurisa?” Her mother inspected her, the distress in her expression growing horrified. “What are you wearing?”

  With one last tug of the rope, he straightened to meet Maurice Migneault’s piercing gaze. Though he didn’t have much respect for the man, he saw something in the his eyes that made him cautious. Not because he’d taken the bait offered—which he had. No, it was because he saw more than a hope he’d finally agree to invest in the perfumery.

  The older man grinned. “You’ve fallen for her.”

  The words were quiet enough to not reach the women standing farther along the dock.

  “Just like every man she’s ever met,” Migneault went on.

  “Like her last boyfriend?” he sneered, his heart trembling in his chest.

  Migneault ignored the attempt at changing the subject. He clambered onto the deck, his expression smug. “My baby needs a man.”

  And you’re it. The words went unspoken, but the meaning was clear.

  He took another step back, teetering close to the edge of the dock. The older man didn’t come closer, yet it seemed as if he were pushing him.

  “Daddy? What are you doing?”

  “Just chatting with your young man.”

  Before Riq could challenge that remark, because it was becoming clearer and clearer what the agenda was, a woof came from the Jeep.

  With a glance over, he grimaced.

  His dog, as always, had decided not to follow directions. Jiggs had jumped from the front seat, out the open door, and was heading toward his favorite area.

  The water. Where he’d drown.

  The princesa chuckled. “Here he comes, Riq.”

  For a moment, their camaraderie swept into him once more. The way they cuddled in bed together after making love. How she touched him on the beach, spreading lotion on his skin and teasing him about his tattoos. A certainty that he’d found something with this woman he wouldn’t find with any other.