This week has been all about settling in, and next week, I will begin sorting out what comes next. I can’t stay in this limbo forever, and there’s no telling how long Nikolas is going to drag this out.
A perfunctory knock sounds on the door, startling me. Tomàs rarely has reason to knock. I don’t go anywhere, and since I have the cell phone, I barely see him.
I walk to the door and tentatively open it.
Tomàs stands there, unsmiling as he holds out a wide, glossy black box with some sort of emblem on it. “Mr. Del Toro has requested you wear this for this evening. Be ready by seven.”
My heart drops. “The club?” I ask hollowly.
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
I give him a tight-lipped nod and close the door. I had hoped that the charade at the club was a one-time thing. It was hard enough dealing with the guilt the following day. I’m not ready to handle another outing with Nikolas.
Curious but also filled with dread, I set the box on the counter and lift the lid. After removing delicate tissue, I carefully pull out the floor-length gown.
This can’t be good.
* * *
Nerves have taken over every inch of my being. I’m dressed and pacing the kitchen as I wait for Tomàs to tell me it’s time to leave. My heels click softly on the floor, and the delicate fabric of the dress swishes around my ankles like a lover’s caress.
I have to confess; the dress is gorgeous. It has beaded cap sleeves that are delicate and sparkle faintly. The pale blue—nearly gray—fabric dips into a boat neckline, hugging my breasts until an embellished, narrow belt with matching beading brings attention to my small waist. The fabric then molds to my hips before flowing around my knees in a slightly flared hemline. The dress is elegantly sophisticated, and for the most part, quite tasteful. The only thing I don’t like is how indecent the back is. My back is entirely bare, and the fabric dips to the beginning curve of my backside.
I’m not sure who picked it out or how they knew my size, but the gown fits like a glove. This is certainly not something you wear to a club, which tells me we’re attending a formal social function of some sort.
I draw in a deep breath and slowly exhale.
Wherever we’re going, it’ll be formal. Thank God for that. There shouldn’t be any major lip-locking tonight, but it still doesn’t make the evening any further appealing.
When the knock finally sounds on the door, I nearly jump out of my skin. Instead of answering it, I slowly count to five and touch my hair, which is neatly pulled back at the nape of my neck. After checking the matching small clutch purse to be certain I have the phone and anything else I might need for the evening, I walk to the door.
Upon opening it, I find that Tomàs has his hand up, prepared to knock a second time. I arch an eyebrow. What is it with these men and their lack of patience?
“This way, Miss Herrera,” he says politely, offering me his arm.
“Catalina,” I correct before accepting.
The fabric of the gown moves quietly around my legs as we walk, and I am immensely thankful for the matching high heels that had come with the dress. They’re tall and quite delicate, and with the silhouette of the gown, I feel taller and self-assured.
Tomàs is silent as we approach the elevator, and I take a moment to glance at his attire. He too is dressed for a formal evening. I’d offer him a compliment, but I think my words would just bounce off him like they would if I were talking to a brick wall.
A few minutes later, we exit the apartment building and Tomàs escorts me to the awaiting limousine parked at the curb. My heart flutters knowing that Nikolas is likely inside. It isn’t fluttering from excitement, but more from nerves and not knowing what to expect. I resent the vulnerability I sometimes experience when I’m with him.
Tomàs opens the door for me and helps me climb inside. Once I’m situated, he closes the door, leaving me alone with Nikolas.
He sits across from me, wearing a black tuxedo that looks specially tailored for him. As usual, I’m dismayed over how someone can be so handsome. He looks like he’d just stepped off the pages of a magazine. I hate how he seems to have this odd effect on me and that my hormones take notice.
His eyes roam over me, and when they return to my gaze, I see a hint of appreciation within them. “You look lovely tonight.”
“Thank you,” I say politely, finding my manners.
Before I can say anything further, I hear the unmistakable sound of a phone vibrating. I hadn’t noticed he was holding his phone until he presses it to his ear.
He begins speaking fluent Spanish, and I’m well-versed in the language thanks to my Mexican heritage. My father had grown up in Mexico but had moved to the states in his mid-twenties to build his empire. I avidly listen in on his conversation but soon learn it’s a business call that has to do with actual business rather than my father or anything criminal.
Becoming bored with eavesdropping, I gaze out the window and wonder where we’re going. I’m not familiar with Los Angeles, so I take in the sights as we make our way through congested traffic. Time passes, and Nikolas continues with his conversation, his low, deep voice almost lulling me into a relaxed state.
I’m not sure how long we’ve been driving, but evidently our destination requires a bit of a drive. After a while, I note that we seem to be making our way closer to the marina.
Nikolas’s voice cuts into my thoughts. “We’ll be boarding a private yacht docked at Del Rey Landing.”
I glance at him to find that he’s watching me. I’d done my research and know he has shares in a very successful luxury yacht brokerage company. The company is international, but has an office right here in Los Angeles. Like I’d said before, the man is well-connected, and from what I’ve surmised, not much has ever been denied him.
In a way, I can’t help but admire him—not that I’ll ever tell him that. He’s managed to take over Los Angeles with minimal bloodshed. He’s ruthless in so many ways that I’m a bit surprised that my father hasn’t made a move yet to dethrone him.
I turn my attention back to the conversation at hand. “Is this business or pleasure?”
“Both. Bernard Alcott is the head of our LA based office, and he throws an annual sunset cruise when corporate members from overseas are visiting. Tonight’s cruise happens to fall upon his daughter’s birthday,” he explains.
Okay, I can handle this, I tell myself. A setting like tonight will call for proper etiquette, which means Nikolas shouldn’t be pushing himself on me for the sake of the charade.
His eyes are half-mast as he says, “You’re here to be seen as my date, nothing more. Smile and be polite without freely sharing your opinions.”
I draw in a sharp breath. “Excuse me?”
He casually fixes his cufflinks as his eyes bore into mine. “Consider yourself an accessory.”
Anger burrows deep within my gut, and just when I’m about to give him a piece of my mind, he begins speaking again. “This is business, and you will be seen, not heard. This is what I expect from you, and you will provide it,” he warns.
A glare pours from my eyes. “Chauvinistic much?”
Those unfathomable eyes turn to steel. “This is not a date, gatita.”
He’s a monumental asshole, and yet I feel what might be a small hint of empathy for him. If Nikolas treats everyone in his life like a never-ending business arrangement, he must be a very lonely man.
I prefer not to continue the conversation, so I turn my head and look out the window. We’ve reached the marina, and I watch as we drive past docked sail boats, charters, yachts and smaller boats. The marina is quite large, and eventually we reach Del Rey Landing.
Once the limousine has pulled to a stop, the door opens, and Tomàs helps me out. I get my first glimpse of the huge luxury yacht, and it’s much larger than I was expecting. Certainly larger than the yachts we’d passed by earlier upon our arrival at the marina.
The yacht is lit for the evening as th
e sun sinks lower in the sky, and Nikolas approaches my side. Without a word, he places his hand on the small of my back and begins leading me towards the yacht.
I’m immediately distracted by the sensation of his warm hand on my bare skin, and I feel goosebumps rise. The contact feels intimate, and I quickly become aware of his tall, strong body beside mine as we approach the docked yacht.
Both Tomàs and Nikolas politely help me aboard, and I look around with interest. There appears to be plenty of finely dressed people mingling on the bridge deck that opens up into a luxurious salon. There’s lavish seating along the deck, and within the salon, I spy a long, L-shaped sofa and coffee table. The room is richly furnished, and there are two waiters moving slowly throughout the salon and deck, trays filled with flutes of champagne.
We no sooner step onto the bridge deck, and we’re promptly approached by an older couple as Tomàs silently slips away.
I quickly paste a smile on my face as Nikolas rests his hand on my bare back while introducing me to the couple, who both have heavy French accents. Though the woman smiles pleasantly throughout the conversation, she doesn’t make a move to try to join.
The crew prepare the yacht to leave the marina, and soon, we’re slowly cruising through the water as the sun begins to set. Throughout the next hour, I’m introduced to plenty of men and women, but all that’s expected of me is a smile when someone looks my way. It isn’t until we move further into the salon and approach an older gentleman who’s conversing with an elegant blonde, that the evening turns interesting.
When the silver-haired man notices our approach, he breaks into a huge grin and holds out his hand in greeting. “Nikolas, so glad you could make it,” he says as they shake hands.
“I would never miss one of your parties, Bernard,” Nikolas says smoothly.
“Good, good. This here is my daughter, Genevieve,” Bernard introduces, motioning to the beautiful, svelte blonde whose perfect curves are draped in clingy, gold fabric.
She immediately steps forward and leans close to Nikolas, air-kissing both his cheeks in greeting. “It’s nice to meet you Mr. Del Toro,” she says in a lilting voice as her perfume permeates the air around us.
“Likewise. I hear birthday wishes are in order,” he replies with a smile.
If I had feelings for Nikolas, I’d be quite offended being ignored as I am, but it’s easy to brush off.
“Thank you,” Genevieve says as her blue eyes lock on Nikolas’s as if she’s trying to give him some sort of mental signal. It’s obvious she’s very much interested in him.
“And who’s this?” Bernard cuts in, his eyes focused on me with warm curiosity.
I hold out my hand before Nikolas can speak for me. “Catalina,” I say with a smile.
His hand squeezes mine as he smiles. “Catalina. Such a beautiful name.”
“Thank you.”
Another couple happens to approach, and the conversation quickly shifts to business. While the men talk, I remain at Nikolas’s side, holding a flute of champagne and trying to appear as if I’m having a good time.
Genevieve smiles prettily beside her father, but it’s obvious that she too is miffed to be left out. She also glances at me every so often with a hint of coolness. Apparently, she thinks I’m competition, which is amusing. I’d like to tell her that she can have him.
Eventually, I excuse myself to find a restroom. One of the waiters directs me to an en suite bathroom within a guest room. I close the door for privacy and exhale with relief. My face hurts from smiling so much, and I just need a few minutes to myself.
I give the room a brief scan, all the luxury having no effect on me whatsoever. Yes, it’s pleasing to the eye, but I would prefer nothing more than to curl up on my sofa at the apartment with a blanket. And a book. I miss reading.
Knowing I can’t linger too long, I turn to the mirror and check my hair and makeup. Everything looks in order, so I run cool water over my hands, careful of the foundation I’d put on to cover my scars. Cuff bracelets had been out of the question with the formal attire, so I’d had to make do with makeup. If one doesn’t look too closely, the scars should go unnoticed.
When I’m ready to face the world once more, I open the door and enter the suite. Much to my surprise, Genevieve is patiently standing there. I smile politely, not sure if she’s here for the bathroom or to warn me off Nikolas.
She returns my smile, but it’s cool and calculating. “Enjoy your time with him. From what I hear, no one can manage to hold his attention longer than a week.”
I refuse to rise to her bait. “This is a beautiful yacht, and the party has been delightful. I hope your birthday is lovely, Genevieve,” I say kindly. Before she can reply, I move past her and exit the suite, making my way down the hall and back to the salon. I don’t see Nikolas, so I take it upon myself to do a little exploring. Some fresh air would be wonderful, so I find a narrow walkway along the bridge deck that leads to a stairwell to the upper deck.
There are a few other couples lingering about, and I walk to the railing and stare out at the beautiful night. The sky has become dark now, and thanks to the clear velvety sky, stars are scattered above. The earlier humidity has eased, and the breeze feels wonderful as it caresses my face.
“There you are,” Nikolas says, breaking the serene silence.
I turn and find him holding two flutes of champagne. He offers me one. “Thank you,” I murmur, taking a small sip.
Amusement lurks behind his eyes. “Hiding?”
“Hardly,” I say coolly. “I didn’t see you when I came back and decided some fresh air was in order.”
He lifts the flute to his lips and takes a drink as he turns and looks out over the ocean. “The mix of so much perfume is giving me a headache,” he says under his breath, mindful of the other couples on the deck.
The corner of my mouth tilts upwards. “Ah, so you’re not impervious after all.”
He ignores my quip and remains silent.
The breeze feels heavenly across my face, and I tilt my head to enjoy the full effect of it. “So how are things going with my father?” I ask, keeping my tone low and casual.
“When I have something to tell you, I’ll tell you.”
God, the man doesn’t give an inch, and it’s irritating as hell. I turn to face him full-on. “Genevieve warned me away from you,” I comment, curious of his reaction.
“She did, did she?”
“Apparently, she believes that she could be the one to tame your playboy ways,” I inform him.
He appears to be mildly annoyed by this news. “I have no time for childish antics like the one you were subjected to. It’s one of the reasons I wisely avoid relationships,” he says dryly.
I shake my head, a little appalled by his lifestyle. “So you skip the ‘getting to know you’ bit entirely.”
Nikolas turns and fixes me with a look. “You sure seem fascinated with my personal life, gatita.”
“No, not fascinated at all. I think you’re…very much one-dimensional,” I say lightly.
Apparently, I’ve caught him off guard with my assessment. His blue eyes hold mine captive. “Pardon?”
“Everything has more than one side,” I say with a shrug. “But you appear to be the same no matter which side one looks upon.” Like a robot, I think silently. An emotionless—though handsome, object that is simply going through the motions of life.
“I do believe you’ve just insulted me.”
“It wasn’t meant to be an insult, just a statement,” I murmur.
He studies me for a long moment and then straightens. “We should rejoin the others,” he suggests, deciding not to further the conversation.
Seven
Nikolas
I’m not looking forward to tonight’s poker game as much as I typically would. Most of these outings are simply to connect with those I have associations with, but poker has always been an indulgence that I genuinely enjoy. However, as my personal driver, Sergio, drives me to
the location of the game, I find that my mind is distracted.
Rumors are spreading of my involvement with Catalina, just as I’d expected. If that isn’t enough to unsettle Herrera, the two shipments that were apprehended by the DEA should. Herrera is steadily losing money and credibility. This is just the beginning of what will be a very, very torturous downfall for the miserable bastard. I’m also certain that it’ll only be a matter of time before Herrera will make a move to bring his daughter back under control. His men are probably already in the area, watching for an opening. For now, Tomàs is the only one assigned to watch over Catalina. He’s one of my most trusted men, and I know he’ll keep her safe. There are also two men in place watching the building at night, and there are precautionary measures in place if Tomàs should become ambushed.
Naturally, my thoughts shift to Catalina and our conversation three days earlier on the yacht. As much as that conversation had displeased me, it still replays in my mind.
The little spitfire called me boring.
I’ve never been called monotonous…ever. The fact that it was her that called me out on my ways is what rankles me the most. It shouldn’t be bothersome considering she’s just a pawn, but yet it aggravates the hell out of me.
I’m a businessman, first and foremost. I didn’t get here by making rash decisions and losing my shit when things didn’t go my way. Every move has been methodical. Truthfully, I do tend to look at women as a business transaction. Why complicate sex with pointless conversation when it’s just the pleasure I’m after. Besides, I always make that fact abundantly clear before we hit the sheets.
Does that make me one-dimensional?
Why the fuck should I care.
I run a hand over my jaw and glance briefly out the limousine’s window. We’re stuck in heavy traffic, so I pour myself a glass of bourbon as the traffic inches forward.
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