Knight in Tattooed Armor: International Billionaires XII: The Latinos

by Caro LaFever

  “What? A dog?” her mother gasped. “Have you been around that thing the entire ten days?”

  Ten days of learning about another person. Learning how they ate and talked, listened and thought. Ten days was such a speck of time in the length of his life, yet he felt as if it had been the moment he’d lived for.

  Jiggs barked at all of them, his short legs hustling across the beach as though he was a little engine that could.

  “Do you want me to save him, or are you going to?”

  She’d arrived at his side without him noticing, and the warmth of her body and her acceptance encircled him like a fog of remembered joy. But his instincts were roused now, no longer controlled by her charm and the lust still running through his blood.

  Another excited woof was followed by a sailing dog and a loud splash.

  “He’s my dog.” With those simple words, he jumped off the dock, escaping into his sea. Escaping the reckoning he’d seen in her father’s eyes. Escaping from the reality of what his heart stated and his mind now rejected.

  “Jiggs.” He grabbed the leather collar and yanked his stupid buddy into his arms. “You’re an idiot, boy.”

  Adoring eyes fastened on his, and a long tongue lolled out of a panting mouth.

  “Is he okay? Do you need my help?”

  He glanced at her. She kneeled on the dock, her blond hair whipping in the soft wind, bringing back memories of how he’d wrapped the strands around his fist as he took her. The borrowed T-shirt hung on her, but he still noticed the lift of her plump breasts and the delicate line of her waist.

  “No,” he said with a short, sharp inflection. “He’s fine. I’ve got him.”

  Her gaze moved to his, and her brows furrowed. “Is something wrong?”

  “You need to get going with your parents.” He used one hand to wave at the waiting couple and the intact boat. “Like your mom said, you need to get your nails done.”

  She stiffened, her expression going blank. “I thought we could show them the tree house.”

  “My house.”

  Not yours, sunshine. Although your presence permeates every room like a golden glide of prettiness.

  “Yes,” she said slowly. “Your house. I think they’d enjoy seeing it.”

  Her parents were uncharacteristically silent behind them. What he wanted, with a sudden desperate desire, was for the two of them to take their princesa and leave. Leave for good. Because he realized he couldn’t handle what he’d seen in her father’s eyes. He wasn’t a man to take on this pampered girl or her problems. It wasn’t in him, and he wanted nothing to do with it.

  Or her.

  “Go home,” he snarled. “You’re saved.”

  With that demand, he turned toward the beach and slogged his way out of the water, his dog in hand.

  Much to his despair, she met him on the wet sand, her gaze narrowed, and her body tight with tension. “What is wrong with you?”

  Not everything. But many things. Things like he couldn’t figure out what the hell he was supposed to do with the rest of his barren life. Things like his family wouldn’t accept him as he really was, though he hadn’t given them a chance. Things like this girl’s father had apparently baited a hook he’d bit into and now was trying furiously to spit out.

  Beauty can be deadly.

  Sì, he’d been exactly right when he’d said those words to her. Her beauty had nearly hooked him into a family and business drama he had no wish to be involved in.

  “Nothing other than my time as a host is done.” He shifted Jiggs in his arms, using him as a shield. “It’s been fun, sunshine.”

  “Fun?” Her eyes didn’t tear up as he thought they would. Instead, they grew dark with knowledge. “Don’t be an ass.”

  “I’ll send you the business plans when I get back in town.” He glanced at his Jeep, wishing this was over. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep my promise.”

  “Will you?” Not taking the hint, not disappearing when he wanted her to, she drew closer.

  Of all the women he’d dated, every one of them had taken the hint. It was fairly easy to get rid of a woman when it was over. Easy to send her a note and a gift and a hint. Easy to say goodbye. But as usual, the princesa was a different woman. A woman who wasn’t easy to get rid of.

  The goodbye lodged in his throat like a barnacle.

  “You’re running scared,” she whispered. The words were hard, though the tone was gentle. “You’re not willing to acknowledge what’s between us.”

  “We shared a good time since we were stranded.” He hefted his panting dog in his arms and Jiggs whined when his grip tightened. “We talked about your business as I promised.”

  “Fun. A good time.” She laid the words in front of him like an indictment.

  He glared at her. He hadn’t wanted to end this in an ugly way. A part of him would suffer if he did. But this woman wouldn’t follow his lead or take the hint. “Don’t tell me your father didn’t put you up to this.”

  “What?” She staggered back, shock filling her face. “What are you talking about?”

  Following her, his hurt and rage churning inside, he loomed over her. “Sending his pretty little princesa here to this island right before a hurricane.”

  “I told you I came here on my own.” She stopped and dug her heels into the sand. “Remember? I was worried about my parents knowing where I was.”

  “A lie.”

  “Look who’s talking.” She came right at him, pressing her body against his and his dog’s.

  Jiggs woofed and his adoring gaze switched to her.

  “I love you too, Jiggers.” Leaning in, she placed a tender kiss on the fuzzy top of the animal’s head. “I love your owner even more.”

  The words came at him, filling him with dread. Because with them came the dare, the demand. To be more than he’d been these last few years. To become more.

  She looked at him with those Marine-blue eyes of hers. Looked at him with pity. “You’re using this as an excuse. You know the truth.”

  Riq did know, but he wasn’t willing to accept the fact.

  Those intelligent eyes narrowed. “I see. You’re hiding again.”

  “I’m not.”

  Waving off his lame attempt to assert his power, she threw him a disgusted look. “I thought you were worthy of me. I thought you were special.”

  A billowing regret surrounded the barnacle in his throat, making it impossible to talk.

  “Although I love you, I don’t respect a man who hides. Hides far too much.” She stepped back. “At least I acknowledge when I’m wrong, and tackle life with my dreams and wishes.”

  He stood, seawater dripping from his clothes, his now-silent dog in his arms.

  “You won’t even let yourself dream. I understand now why you got in a tizzy when I asked you about your dreams. I hoped you’d share. Except there’s nothing to share, is there?” She laid the last indictment at his feet. “Not only do you have no dreams, you won’t admit your true feelings. You’re a coward, Enrique de Molina.”

  Turning, she stomped toward her parents and disappeared from his life like a puff of sexy smoke.

  Grandma Olsen stood on her stoop, watching Risa climb out of her car.

  “You’re moving like you’re sick,” the old woman observed. “What’s wrong?”

  What wasn’t wrong? She’d returned to her normal life for more than two weeks, and nothing had happened. Other than her daddy not listening, and her mom pretending all was well.

  And not hearing one single thing from the caveman. At least, nothing personal.

  Not that she expected to.

  The hurting heart in the center of her chest twisted.

  Plastering a smile on, she ambled toward her grandmother as if nothing was the matter. “Hi, Grandma. How are you?”

  “Better than you, Pooh.” Keen blue eyes met hers. “But we’ll get to your problems in a few minutes.”

  With a sigh, Risa stepped into the house, following behind the
older woman to the outdoor patio. The summer flowers had faded, replaced by snapdragons and mums. Two tea cups already sat ready to be sipped.

  She slumped into one of the wicker chairs and eyed her serene grandmother. “You knew I was coming.”

  “I asked you to come, didn’t I? And you’ve always been a good granddaughter. Though you didn’t bring your plants, which is a bit unusual.”

  After being gone for almost ten days and then spending these last two weeks in a fruitless pursuit to make her dreams come true, she hadn’t thought about the wilted plants sitting in her office. “Sorry.”

  Her grandmother shrugged. “It’s all right. I can grow you more.”

  Risa leaned in, taking a sip of the sweetened tea and trying to ignore the quiet contest of wills going on between her and her grandma.

  “I talked with Candice yesterday.”

  “Did you?” Surprise rippled through her distress. Her mom and grandma didn’t talk that much. Mom was too involved in her volunteer work and taking care of Daddy. Her grandmother was nothing, if not self-sufficient. Most of the time in the last several years, it was Risa who’d passed messages between the two women. There wasn’t any animosity, just simply a lack of commonalities. “What about?”

  “I hear the perfumery is scheduled to close.”

  Risa’s hand tightened on the tea cup handle. “Not if I can help it.”

  She’d received her business plan as Riq had promised. The spreadsheets and notes arrived by delivery only a day after she’d gotten home. A subsequent email with more comments and a list of suggestions and been sent to her company address.

  No personal comment.

  Nothing.

  “Ah,” her grandma broke into her depressing thoughts. “There’s the Maurisa I know and respect.”

  “Why should you respect me, when I can’t get Daddy to listen?”

  “Listen to what, Pooh?”

  “My business plan.” Fiddling with a teaspoon, her mind went over the ideas she’d put together with Riq. They were solid, they could work. But without an influx of money, they were dead on arrival. And Daddy had refused to release her trust fund.

  The only other source of money she could think of wasn’t an option. Her pride demanded she stay away, and her instincts told her if she went on bended knee to Riq, she’d never have a chance to convince him she was more than just a spoiled princess.

  She wanted his respect.

  Even though he didn’t have hers.

  “Tell me about your business plan.” Grandma Olsen’s calm voice drifted across the table.

  Glancing up from her empty tea cup, Risa sighed. “What’s the use?”

  “Just tell me.”

  Another sigh. “Okay.”

  So she did. Not in the flowery language she’d used when talking with her daddy two weeks ago. Not bringing out spreadsheets and bullet points designed by a billionaire investor and his eager pupil. She told her grandma about her plans as she used to tell her about her girlish dreams and optimistic wishes.

  She told with her heart.

  A silence descended when she was done, her words fading as she came to the end of her tale.

  It was the end, wasn’t it?

  The end of Migneault Perfumery and the end of her hopeless dream to love an Enrique de Molina who stepped up and became the man he was supposed to be.

  “Well,” her grandmother said, pushing away her cup. “That was quite impressive.”

  “Really?” A flicker of deathless hope stuttered to life, only to fall quiet when she thought about all the obstacles in her way. Her daddy wouldn’t agree to bring the plans to the Migneault board. He wouldn’t use her trust fund to save their company.

  “Yes, really.” The older woman stared at her with a familiar keen gaze. “Tell me, Pooh. Did someone help you?”

  A sniff couldn’t be helped. Her eyes welled with useless tears. Because even if the caveman appeared before her like magic, she wouldn’t take him, she wouldn’t accept him. If she knew anything about herself now, it was she wanted the best. Not in the way she used to expect it, but in the knowledge that she needed the best of a person so she’d become the best herself.

  Riq still hid in his cocoon. And she didn’t want him like that.

  “Tell me about Enrique de Molina.”

  Looking away, she swept the tears from her cheeks. “He doesn’t matter, Grandma.”

  “No?” Gray brows arched. “That’s not what your mother told me.”

  She gritted her teeth at the temptation to go to him, to beg. “Mom always thinks there’s romance with me whenever a good-looking man is around.”

  “So he’s good-looking?”

  No, he was more. She knew in the depths of her that even as he got older, he’d keep his beauty. The beauty of not only his big, tattooed body, but his bold character. There was so much of him he didn’t see that she did. Except the way he’d left it, their final moments on the island’s beach, told her he didn’t see and maybe never would. She shrugged his memory away. “He’s all right.”

  “Hmm.” The old, keen gaze didn’t falter. “Your mother told me he’s rich.”

  “I don’t care about his money.” Her hands tightened into fists in her lap.

  Her grandmother’s hum this time was approving. “That’s good, Pooh. You’ve grown up, haven’t you?”

  She flashed an irritated look across the table. “I was grown up before I met him.”

  “Were you?” Easing back in her chair, Grandma Olsen smiled for the first time. “I have a proposal for you.”

  “What?”

  “I own this house, free and clear.” A gnarled, yet elegant hand waved. “Since this land borders a state park and the Atlantic, it’s worth quite a bit of money. I also have money stashed away in savings.”

  Shock rippled through her because she understood where her relative was going. She and her grandmother had always experienced an intuitive affinity for each other. “I don’t want you to—”

  “Pooh.” The old woman leaned over the table and grabbed her hand in a strong grip. “You’re my only grandchild, and my pride and joy.”

  “Grandma.” Tears welled again. “I don’t know—”

  “Your mother told me. Your father won’t release your trust to you.”

  “Yes, he said Grand-père Migneault would come back from the dead and kill him if he did.”

  A chuckle came from across the table. “He’s probably right. Marcel was a stubborn old man, and he didn’t want you to have that money until you were grown up.”

  “That’s what Daddy said.”

  “But here’s the thing your grandfather isn’t here to understand, Maurisa.”

  “What?” She gaped at her grandmother.

  “You have grown up.”

  Her hands tightened into a frantic, excited knot.

  “So I’m going to give you the money you need, and tell your parents to listen to you. You can pay me back when you turn twenty-five.” Grandma Olsen smiled, a serene one that told Risa she’d made up her mind. “I want you to go and make your company a success.”

  Chapter 34

  “Enrique.” Yaya Tibby eyed him from her chair, her gaze chilly. “Where have you been?”

  Falling in love.

  Also falling into a depression worse than when he’d killed his career with the SEALS. Which astonished him. He’d tried to avoid the reality for the last couple of weeks after returning, reluctantly, to the mainland. Yet, he’d promised the princesa her business plans, and he needed to check on his investments after ten days away.

  “Nowhere, amor.” Ducking down, he placed a kiss on each of her weathered cheeks. “How are you?”

  “She’s been grouchy for weeks.” His mimi appeared the archway leading from the dining room. “I think she was worried about you because of the hurricane. Time to sit for dinner, both of you.”

  His grandmother should have been worried about him. But not because of a windstorm. No, because of a charming princ
esa intent on stealing his heart.

  “Grouchy?” He widened his eyes. “My yaya?”

  A hoarse chuckle came from the old lady, and she batted his hand away when he tried to lift her to a stand. “I can get up on my own. I’m not dead.”

  Riq kept behind her, watchful in case she wobbled, and steering clear of any more rebuffs. When she’d eased herself into a chair, he finally acknowledged his two brothers who were already sitting.

  “Jorge. Drew.”

  Their wives pursed their lips at him.

  “Doris. Angelica.” He nodded again.

  “Tío Riq.” His youngest nephew, Rio, jumped up and down on his chair, with only his father’s clamped hand on his leg keeping him in place. “You’re here!”

  “Where have you been?” His other nephew, Elon, pouted. “We were going to play football last weekend, remember?”

  “I’m sorry.” Looking straight into the boy’s eyes, he didn’t flinch from the disappointment. “I was stuck.”

  “Stuck?” Yaya Tibby’s gray brows rose. “Stuck where, mi nieto?”

  “The hurricane.” He tried to shrug the question off, but another voice echoed in his head.

  I don’t respect a man who hides.

  “A hurricane is not a place to be stuck in.” His grandmother cut through the stewing emotions swirling inside him. “What nonsense.”

  “Enrique.” His popi walked into the room, a steaming plate of Boliche in his hands. “Welcome. Where have you been?”

  “He’s been stuck, he says,” Rio piped in.

  “Stuck?” Luis de Molina’s brows rose, much like his mother’s had moments ago. “Are you in trouble?”

  “He’s always in some kind of trouble.” Jorge leaned back in his chair, a smug look on his face. “It’s because he doesn’t have a job. He’s got too much time on his hands.”

  I thought you were worthy of me.

  A flash of rage, old and mean, stirred in the depths of his gut. Grabbing the glass of water in front of him, he swallowed slowly, letting the coolness sink in.

  His grandmother’s gnarled hand slid onto his thigh and patted him with a gentle, conciliatory touch. Riq glanced at her, meeting old, wise eyes. For some stupid reason, they reminded him of a set of Marine-blue eyes that looked right through him and saw everything.