Secrets and Seduction Las Vegas (Sexy Italian Imports Book 1)

by Laura Breck

  Dena’s smile seemed insincere. “You’re welcome any time.” She glanced at her daughter. “Drive safe, Valerie. And call me when you get home.”

  He caught the insinuation that Valerie was in danger being with him.

  Valerie took his arm as they walked to her car. Did she think he was too sloshed to walk? “Baby, I’m fine. I’ve been able to perform exceedingly well in this condition.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her and grabbed her for a kiss.

  “Yuck!” She cringed. “Cigars and liquor. Not sexy, baby.”

  “Are you making fun of me—baby?”

  “Yes, idiot. Get in the car. I’m taking you home.” She tried to smother a smile.

  “I’m sorry I let your dad liquor me up.”

  “You’re a big boy, Antonio.” She got into the driver’s seat and backed out of the driveway. “You could have said ‘no’.”

  “I’ll try next time.”

  “Thanks.”

  He turned on the radio, connected to an oldies station, and laid his head back on the seat. When Rob Thomas’ “Lonely No More” came on, he sang along. The song hit him hard, the words ringing true. “I don’t want to be angry no more.” He looked at Valerie. “I don’t want to be lonely anymore.”

  She looked at him then reached over and took his hand.

  He wanted to say something profound, to tell her how he felt, but she’d think it was the liquor talking.

  She took her hand from his and downshifted then turned into his parking garage. She walked around the hood and opened his car door for him.

  “You’re a real gentleman, Valerie.” He laughed and put his arm around her shoulders. They rode the elevator up, and she stopped in the foyer.

  By the look in her eyes, he could tell something was wrong. He took her purse and set it on the table. “I’ve got to piss. Don’t go anywhere, we should talk.”

  When he came back into the living room, he found her standing at the glass wall, looking out at The Strip. He tested his breath—he’d brushed and used mouthwash, slapped on aftershave while in the bathroom. He walked up behind her, put his hands on her shoulders, and ran them slowly down her arms. He wrapped his arms around under her breasts and bent to kiss her neck.

  “My sweet. I want you.” He pressed himself against her bottom, proving it to her.

  When he felt a drop of water on his forearm, he froze. Was she crying?

  He turned her gently to face him. She wouldn’t look into his eyes. He put his hands softly on her face and tipped her head up.

  “God, no, baby. I’m sorry.” He wiped her tears away with his thumbs.

  “What are you sorry for?” Her voice came out too small, too quiet.

  “For getting smashed?”

  “That’s not why I’m unhappy, Antonio.”

  “What is it, baby? What have I done?” He was a complete ass for…whatever it was he did this time.

  “I don’t understand what you do on weekends. Why do you have another car?”

  He shook his head. “What should I drive down to The Strip? The Ferrari? Or the Harley?”

  She tensed up.

  That must have come off as angry.

  Valerie sucked in an uneven breath. “If I’m prying, you can tell me to go to hell. I’m just so uncertain right now, it’s scaring me.”

  “Come here.” He led her to the couch and sat with his arm around her. “What’s scaring you?”

  “That your weekends are spent doing things you won’t tell me about.”

  Now would be the time to confess. He sighed and dropped his head back. But even with all the liquor in him, he didn’t have the courage. His eyes wouldn’t focus correctly and he felt himself drifting off.

  She stood, probably taking his silence for unwillingness. “I have an early day tomorrow. I’m going to take off.”

  “I want you to stay.” It came out like more of a demand than he’d intended.

  “We don’t always get what we want, do we, Antonio.”

  “You always run away from me when…” He gestured roughly toward the elevator with his fist, bringing it across his body—just as she bent to kiss him goodbye. He was stunned when his knuckles connected with her soft cheek. Hard.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  “No!” Valerie cried and stumbled back. She put her hand on her face and looked at Antonio with horror.

  He jumped up and touched the hand she held on her cheek. He suddenly felt horribly sober. “Valerie, angel, I’m so sorry. I would never intentionally hurt you.” His voice was a high whine.

  Her chin quivered, and her eyes filled with tears that ran down her cheeks. “I’ve never been hit before,” she whispered.

  He couldn’t follow her thought pattern. Was she in shock? “Sit down, sweetheart. Let me get you an ice pack.”

  She stepped back from him, pushing his hand away. “I think I need to go.”

  “Please. You believe me, don’t you? I was just—” He made the same motion with his arm, and she flinched. “I was just gesturing in response to your comment.”

  “I know. It’s okay.” She ran her tongue on the inside of her mouth and winced.

  Damn, he’d really smacked her.

  She walked to the elevator.

  “Will you call me when you get home?”

  “Sure. Right after I call my mother.” She grabbed her purse. “Everyone is so damned concerned for my safety.”

  “Please call me. I want to make sure you’re okay. That we’re okay.”

  She stepped into the elevator, and the light showed an angry red mark that would bruise. Her lip already looked swollen. She wouldn’t meet his eye. “I’ll call you. Get some sleep.”

  The doors closed. He hung his head, ran his fingers through his hair. He stunk like cigar, booze, and shame. He brought his phone into the bathroom and showered.

  She’d never been hit before. He’d never hit a woman before.

  He bent forward and braced his hands on his thighs. He was going to be sick.

  He lay in bed waiting for a half hour, but she never called. He made the mistake of calling her.

  ****

  Valerie drove home in a semi-shocked state. She went over the conversation leading up to the hit.

  She’d told him, “Your weekends are spent doing things you won’t tell me about.” When he hadn’t answered, she’d said, “I have an early meeting tomorrow. I’m going to go.”

  He’d demanded, “I want you to stay.”

  She’d replied angrily, “We don’t always get what we want, do we, Antonio.”

  She remembered looking into his eyes as she bent to kiss him. Then he’d struck her, but was it just delayed reaction because of the alcohol? She didn’t believe he was abusive but painfully felt the evidence as she touched her tongue to the lacerated flesh of her inner cheek. When he’d connected with her face, her teeth ripped flesh. In the elevator, she put a tissue in her mouth to stop the bleeding, but it didn’t help. She stuffed more in and pressed. It was painful. She needed to get ice on this quickly or it would bruise and swell.

  She was just turning onto her street when her cell phone rang. She would return the call from home. Pulling into her driveway, she saw her sister’s car by her garages.

  Monica walked up to the passenger side of her car. “I just tried to call you. We were driving by, and I thought you might like to meet Joe.” Joe got out of the car.

  “Mon, right now isn’t a good time.”

  Her sister looked down at the wad of bloody tissues on the floor mat. “What’s the blood about, Val?”

  She looked away. “Let me pull into the garage.”

  Monica and Joe followed her in, and she got out of her car.

  In the bright garage lights, Monica gasped. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “It was an accident.”

  “An accident my ass. He hit you!”

  Joe stepped forward and bent down to take a look. “Good to meet you, Valerie. Let’s get some ice on this.”


  She tried to smile, but it hurt too much. “Sorry about the drama, Joe. It’s nice to meet you too.”

  Monica looked at Joe. “That’s from a fist, isn’t it?”

  Valerie pushed past her sister and went into the house. “It was an accident. I bent down as he swung his arm. Seriously, just an accident.”

  They followed her into the kitchen. Monica pulled out a stool. “Sit. Let me look.”

  She frowned. She didn’t want all this attention.

  “I’m a doctor, for cryssake. Now sit!”

  She sat on the tall barstool. Monica looked at Joe. “Would you please find an icepack?”

  He went to the refrigerator while Monica dug a flashlight out of the junk drawer and shined it in Valerie’s mouth. “You’re still bleeding. You might need stitches. It’s pretty deep. Joe, look at this.”

  “No. It’s fine, really.” She hated when Monica fussed.

  Joe came and bent, looking into Valerie’s mouth. “No stitches needed. Just keep pressure on it. Do you have gauze?”

  She nodded. “Upstairs.”

  Joe handed her the cold pack wrapped in a kitchen towel. Monica looked at the outside of Valerie’s cheek and lip then looked into her eyes. “Put the ice on the outside, and let’s go upstairs. We’re going to talk.”

  “Sounds like a blast.” Her sarcasm dripping from her words.

  Joe’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ll just—”

  Valerie pointed. “I have a media room at that end of the house. Feel free to—”

  “Say no more.” He turned and walked a few feet then looked back at the women. “But let me know if there’s anything I can do, Valerie.”

  “Thank you, Joe. I hope to see you again soon, under better circumstances.”

  He winked and left the room.

  Valerie dug in her purse for her cell phone. “I’ve got to call Mom.” She made the call while Monica poured a glass of water and found a straw. Then she made a call to another psychologist who worked at the runaway shelter and asked her to cover for her the next day. She couldn’t make it ‘‘for health reasons,” she told her, and saw Monica give her a look. Valerie would wait to call Antonio until she had some privacy.

  But until then, Valerie had to deal with her protective older sister. “Let’s go up.”

  ****

  Monica set the glass on the bedside table while her sister went into the bathroom and closed the door. Valerie didn’t hear when her cell phone rang, so Monica picked it up and saw the caller I.D. Antonio. She took the phone out to the hall and answered it. “You bastard.”

  There was a moment of silence. “Valerie, I’m so sorry. It was an accident. Please—”

  “It’s Monica, and I’m ready to call the police and file a domestic violence report on you.”

  “Monica.” That one word conveyed a world of anxiety. “You’ve got to believe me, it was completely unintentional.”

  “You sound like you’re drunk.”

  “I…we were at your parents. I overdid it.”

  “Dad?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He got my last boyfriend sauced a couple years ago, and the guy couldn’t make it to work the next day.” Monica paused. “Funny thing is, he didn’t end up striking me.”

  Antonio let out a breath. “I gestured at something Valerie said just as she bent down to kiss me.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m positive if I wasn’t so drunk, if it hadn’t been so dark in the condo, it wouldn’t have gone the way it did.”

  “Good excuses. In the meantime, she is bruising, swelling, and needs stitches—”

  “Stitches? I didn’t see a cut!”

  “Her teeth cut her inner cheek.”

  “Oh, shit. What the fuck have I done?”

  Monica heard the pain in his voice. “She’s staying home tomorrow. You might want to call her then.”

  “Tell her I called. Tell her how sorry—”

  “Listen, asshole, I’m going to be watching her closely. If I see anything like this again, I’m going to have my friends in the security business pay you a visit and break every one of your goddamn bones.”

  “Monica, believe me, nothing will ever happen to her again. I’m falling in lo—” He took a breath. “She means everything to me.”

  “I’ll tell her you called.” Monica hung up. Was he going to say he loved Valerie? Was that the truth, or just a way for him to make himself sound more acceptable?

  She walked back into the bedroom. Her baby sister sat curled up in one of the overstuffed chairs in the corner wearing her pajamas. Valerie held the icepack to her cheek and pressed gauze in her mouth with her finger. She looked so young and fragile. Monica blinked back tears, feeling the big-sister urge to protect her from the difficult elements of life, but she had to let her muddle her own way through.

  She held up the cell phone. “He called.”

  Valerie nodded. “I was supposed to call him.” She mumbled around her finger and the gauze. “You gave him hell?”

  Monica sat in the other chair. “That’s what sisters are for.”

  Valerie leaned forward, her eyes worried. “Please don’t say anything to anyone about this.”

  “Mom and Dad?”

  “Or Ryan. No one can know.” Her sister’s eyes looked moist.

  “As long as it never happens again.”

  “Monica, I’m a professional therapist, and I have worked with dozens of domestic abuse cases. I would never subject myself to violence. No matter how much I loved the person.”

  “Love?” Now Valerie was saying it?

  Her sister sat back, dropping her gaze to her lap. “Hypothetically.”

  “Of course. You can’t love someone you’ve only known for weeks, can you.” She’d been asking herself the same thing all day.

  Valerie gave her a look. “You’re fishing for something, Monica. What is it?”

  Monica did love Joe. She felt it in every inch of her being. But Valerie and this mysterious blackmailer, a man who suddenly turned violent? She wanted to make her sister see the truth. “How well do you really know this guy? He could be a serial killer for all you know.”

  ****

  Valerie stared at her sister. She could be right. Antonio’s weekend secrecy, his disguise, the Toyota.

  “Just go slowly. Please. Make sure he’s legit.” Monica got up, stood behind her, and braided her hair.

  Valerie couldn’t talk to her sister about her suspicions. Monica wouldn’t understand. She’d completely freak out and, after tonight’s craziness, feel compelled to tell the family everything. No, she felt it better to talk to her therapist about it. See what he had to say.

  “I will. It’s unfortunate your only interactions with him have been so unpleasant. He’s really a good person.”

  “I usually trust your instincts, Val, but this guy—”

  “Right now, Monica, I just don’t want to talk about it. I’d like to crawl into bed.”

  “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. We’ll let ourselves out.” Monica bent and kissed her sister on the forehead. “Call me if you need anything at all. I’ll set the alarm as I go out.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate your being here tonight. And please apologize to Joe for me.”

  “Let me know if you want to talk. And be careful.” With a meaningful last glance, Monica left. Monica was warning her about her heart.

  She went to the bathroom and took off her makeup, brushed her teeth with just water, and took some pain reliever. She got into bed with one of the books Antonio had given her and read to take her mind off tonight’s fiasco. At about page fifteen, a woman’s body was found outside a North Las Vegas casino. Beaten to death.

  She snapped the book shut and tossed it on the floor. She looked at her bedside table, at the note he’d left her. Heart V + A. She closed her eyes. Why did all these outrageous things keep happening to drive them apart? All of them valid and overwhelming reasons why she shouldn’t fall for him. She sighed. Too late.

&nb
sp; ****

  Monica sat next to Joe on a double recliner in the media room. He pushed the remote to turn off ESPN. “How’s she doing?”

  “She’s okay. Defending him like any abused woman would.”

  He slung an arm around her shoulders. “She seems like a smart girl. You don’t think it’s anything chronic, do you?”

  She looked at him, needing to talk to someone about it, since she’d promised Valerie she wouldn’t go to their family. “I just don’t know. Valerie’s been overprotected all her life. Maybe she’s seeing what she wants to see in this guy.”

  “I have a friend. He’s a private investigator in LA, and I’m sure he could give us the name of somebody local.”

  She put her hand on his chest. “That’s a great idea.” She stood. “Let’s go call him right now.”

  He pulled her down onto his lap. “First, I want you to promise me something.”

  She smiled. He was such a sweet guy. “Anything, Joe.”

  “Promise me, when we have our own house, we can have a media room like this.”

  ****

  The next day, Valerie slipped into her favorite red bikini and stretched out on a chaise lounge by the pool. She was reading Antonio’s latest novel, a different book than the one she’d failed to get through last evening.

  She’d had a restless night and ended up sleeping until ten. When she tried to drink her morning coffee, the hot liquid sent her dancing around the kitchen in pain. Coffee was coffee, a necessity of life, and she drank it cold through a straw.

  Her stomach rumbled. It was noon, and she hadn’t eaten anything yet. What did she have in the refrigerator that wouldn’t require chewing?

  She heard the glass door behind her open and footstep quietly coming toward her. She looked up at Antonio, but the sun was behind him, and she couldn’t see his face.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  “Hi.” Valerie squinted as she tried to see Antonio’s face.

  He didn’t say anything, just stared at her.

  The bruising was atrocious, she knew that because she’d almost started crying this morning when she’d looked in the mirror. Now, in the glaring light of the sun, it probably looked even worse.

  He sat next to her leg on the lounge chair and rested a hand on her knee. His other hand moved as if to touch her bruised cheek. When his fingers shook, he pulled it back.