Red Hot Christmas

by Carmen Falcone

  He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I am being up-front with you. We’re in this together to find whoever is responsible. You’re sexy and it’s hard to keep my hands off you. What you see is what you get. Isn’t that what Americans say?” he said, staring at her intently. He noticed her throat working, and the pulse in her neck. The truth was the only thing he could offer right now that wouldn’t turn against him. Her eyes darkened to a cocoa shade, but he didn’t waver. No. For a moment that stretched for a notch longer than comfortable, they looked deep into each other, and he wondered if words were even necessary. Not that he understood what was being exchanged; but he felt it. Awareness at its best.

  “What happened to her?” She slid to the edge of her seat, and he noticed she was jiggling her right foot as if her body dwelled between showing control and giving in to anxiety.

  “Eventually she understood the message and left me alone. She was a socialite,” he added, hoping that would make Carla less likable for Sydney.

  She frowned, a dark emotion crossing her face. “Why do you always refer to her in the past?”

  “Because she disappeared from view,” he said truthfully. “Two months ago, but her family hasn’t filed a missing person’s report or anything. They said she went to Europe for a trip and wanted to disconnect from Argentina and the media.” The high society way of sweeping unpleasant events under the rug. He drummed his fingers on his leg, the sad reality wearing him down and pushing him against the seat. Glancing at the roof of the limo, he wished things were simpler. Maybe that’s why he was so attracted to her—that sexual connection was about the simplest thing in his life right now. Yet, the consequences were rather complicated.

  “Doesn’t make any sense to me.” Her voice yanked him from his thoughts. “Why would an attention-seeker disappear into oblivion?” She upped her brow.

  “I haven’t given it much thought. Her stunt cost me millions from ongoing business deals. Even with her retraction, it tarnished my reputation at the time.” What else could he say? He had no desire to keep in touch with her. Could she blame him?

  “Did you ever try to get back at her? One way or another?” She cocked her head to the side, challenge dripping from her voice.

  “No.” He shrugged. “Sometimes, it’s best to let fate take its course.”

  She scratched her chin. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean sometimes it’s best to learn from our mistakes, maybe she learned from hers. Listen, Sydney, don’t paint me as a monster just because a stupid pap said more than he should. Carla is probably living it up somewhere, far away from me, thank goodness.”

  ***

  She rubbed her hands on her knees, desperate to will away the chilly sensation flooding her like a tsunami. Never mind it was well over ninety degrees outside; in the limo, the efficient AC blasting cold air had nothing on her body temperature. Ever since the paparazzo had mentioned assault, her brain had been working in overdrive, trying to put the pieces together.

  Was she really that bad in her choice of men? Not like he was her man. He was a politician’s son through and through, and a South American one at that—used to beautiful women around him, who knew how to entertain guests and dress to impress. Like his mother. Not a mouthy New Yorker like her.

  Besides, her flags were raised high. The man had been accused of assault, for crying out loud. And his ex girlfriend might as well have been missing. Shit. She gathered her strength to study him, and her heart flipped in her chest. He kept looking at her, his eyes both challenging her to believe him and warning her. Her stomach knotted, and she touched her belly wishing the simple gesture would help her.

  Help her? Was she crazy? Buck up, Sydney. She’d attended all those support meetings for adults who had been foster kids, had donated her cold hard cash to the cause, and for what? To give him the benefit of the doubt, just because he was sex on a long alluring stick? She couldn’t allow herself to go down that dead-end road. “When we get back to your place, I’m leaving.”

  He pursed his lips. “That’s not an option.”

  Excuse me? She balled her fingers into a fist. “You can’t keep me here against my will. You promised me I could leave at any time. ”

  “I know.” He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “Sydney, if I wanted to harm you, why would I bring you all the way to Buenos Aires?”

  “Because here I am vulnerable. I don’t speak the language, I don’t know anyone.” If he wanted to get rid of her, no one would miss her. She wouldn’t be anything but a name in the company newsletter. A couple coworkers would say a prayer for her, the same way they would for anyone else—they probably had for Patty. She tasted bile in the back of her throat.

  He leaned forward, and the handsome contours of his face tightened. “You know me,” he breathed out, and goose bumps rose on her arms. The tortured plea in his eyes went against his proud stance.

  “We just established that I don’t,” she choked out the words.

  He lifted his chin, and quirked his lips to one side. “Would you like to?”

  Would she? She tapped her fingers on the buttery leather seat, and wished there was a button she could push to eject her from the vehicle and take her far away from Alejandro. The way her body responded to him jeopardized the work she’d been doing for years on herself. Life taught her to close the door to the wrong kind of people, and until she did that with every single bad specimen that crossed her way, she wouldn’t find someone who deserved her. Little mattered to her that he came from the upper crust of Argentine society. If his values were wrong, well, he was no different than her former foster families. “Right now, all I want is to go back to the US. Maybe that will be better for you, too. I can try to talk to Patty’s husband in person and convince him to get an autopsy done,” she said, realizing her suggestion was more self-serving than anything. It was an option, though, wasn’t it?

  He ran his fingers into his hair. “How come we were kissing one moment, and you’re pegging me as a coldhearted murderer the next?”

  She cleared her throat. “Because I thought you would keep me safe. I came here because after what I’ve been through in life I didn’t want to be someone’s punch bag anymore. My attacker could have killed me. He would have.”

  “And you think I would do the same?”

  “I think being attracted to you is blurring my judgment, and I can’t afford to lose my common sense. Safety isn’t just about the physical part, Alejandro.”

  “You said you went to prison for a crime you didn’t commit. Isn’t it hypocritical you aren’t giving me the benefit of the doubt, even when I have been cleared of the charge?”

  She mulled it over. Sure, his rationalization had a degree of truth. Didn’t she loathe the stigma of being a former inmate? “Even wanting to believe you is dangerous at this point.”

  “I’m innocent, god damn it.”

  When she returned to the States, she’d call a counselor. That couldn’t be normal, to be this attracted to a man that was no good for her. To a man that could hurt her.

  The questions followed her as they arrived at his mother’s place. While the doorman, with a name tag that read Luiz, asked him something in Spanish, she hurried to call the elevator, but before she pressed the button, a tall, slim man with a baseball cap appeared and bumped into her on the way out. She jerked back, the bump hurting her. Without as much as mumbling an excuse, he just pulled his baseball hat down, shoved both hands into his jeans and increased his pace.

  She spun on her boots and watched him go, a strange sensation snaking up her. By the time Alejandro returned, the elevator doors opened in front of them.

  He had an easy smile on his lips, and she doubted he’d seen the way the man had knocked her. Had he? He’d been talking to the doorman, turned away from them.

  When they walked into the top floor, his mother lay on the sofa, while the maid leaned over her with a glass of water and a small white pill. Remains of her black mascara circled the region under her red
, puffy eyes.

  “What happened? Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Not really.” His mother swallowed the medicine then took a swig of water, fast. “A man was just here. I have no idea how he got in, I went to the home office and there he was, sitting at the table and snooping through the computer files. I yelled and he hit me.” She rubbed her hand over her arm, and just then Sydney noticed her arm was a dark shade of pink, and swollen.

  “Lucia came to help me.” She pointed at the maid, who stood next to them with widened eyes. “He slapped her face, slammed her against the wall, and then ran to the stairs.”

  A chill went through Sydney. Why would a man come into the house, and leave empty handed? What was he hoping to find in the computer?

  The maid spoke in a fast Spanish, and Alejandro translated for Sydney. “She said she called the reception, so Luiz would get him on his way out, but he never picked up.” Alejandro paused. “Must have been when I was talking to the doorman…mierda.”

  Lucia continued to speak, and the only word Sydney understood was policía. The police. Every time she heard that, her stomach cramped. But all this was a case for Argentina’s police, and they had nothing on her. Someone had to catch that guy. “Was he tall, and slim? Wearing a dark blue shirt?” Sydney asked.

  “Yes.” Constanza sat upright. “How do you know?”

  Sydney blinked. “I bumped into him downstairs.”

  Constanza twisted her hands together, and wrinkled her nose. “Why was he fumbling in the office, instead of scavenger hunting for my jewelry collection or the safe?”

  Sydney gazed at Alejandro, who paced in a small circle. When he stopped and caught his breath, the main vein in his neck pulsated. “Madre, we have to tell you something.”

  Chapter 6

  “When exactly were you going to tell me there’s someone after my only son?” Constanza asked for the second time, after he had told her about Frank’s and Patty’s suspicious deaths.

  Alejandro dismissed her with a shrug. “It’s probably nothing.” His voice was firmer than his conviction. “We are just being cautious.” He nodded at Sydney, who offered him a tight-lipped smile. Who was he kidding? Judging by the nervous way his mother toyed with her chunky pearl necklace, she wasn’t buying it. “My head of security, Marcus, is talking to Luiz right now and getting access to the security tapes to see if we can recognize the intruder.”

  The guy who invaded their home had been on a very precise search. What for?

  “At least we were able to stop Lucia from calling the police.” Constanza shook her head. “Imagine what kind of bad press this would bring to your uncle’s campaign.”

  “What if Jose Perez, who’s running against Evandro for the Senate seat, wanted to find something to incriminate him?” Alejandro scratched his chin while playing with the possibility. His uncle sought re-election, and politics were less than honorable these days.

  Constanza blinked a couple of times, and crossed her arms. “What? Don’t you think in that case they would search in his home, and not mine?”

  “Unless they think there’s something here worth stealing.” Sydney spoke at last, and although she was next to him, it was his mother she stared at.

  Constanza rose to her feet, her high heels clicking on the polished flooring. “Evandro doesn’t share much of his political strategies to spare us from all the stress. I go to a charity event here and there to support him, but that’s about it. No hidden files or USB drives in this house.” His mother flashed Sydney a winning smile. Contanza grabbed a cup of tea from the side table, and lifted it to her mouth. “I guess we should cancel our presence at the Four Seasons for the fundraiser party. The thought that there’s someone out there to hurt my only son…” Tears bordered her eyes, and, she sat the cup on the coffee table and quickly wiped them, not giving them a chance to roll down her cheeks.

  He clamped his lips and squeezed his mother’s shoulders.

  Either way, he wasn’t about to let whoever tried to scare them dictate his life. “I’ll go in your place to represent our family,” Alejandro said, letting the amateur politician in his DNA shine. “If I’m the target, I say they come and try to get me.”

  “That’s insane,” his mother said.

  “Nothing will happen. I can fend for myself, and my bodyguards can watch over Sydney.”

  “I…I’ll go with you.” Sydney angled toward him. She worried her bottom lip, and shuffled her feet.

  Did she really prefer to put herself on the line when there could be a psycho out there just to avoid spending time with his mother? In the car, she seemed resolute in leaving Argentina. The selfish bastard in him craved her company at the fundraiser; if that was all he could have. A few hours with her. Had his libido betrayed him that much?

  “You don’t have to,” he said, stringing the words together.

  She placed her hands on her waist, her chin jutting out. “What could possibly happen, besides me overdosing on jumbo shrimp and fancy overpriced champagne?”

  Constanza frowned at their exchange, and he suppressed a chuckle. None of this was supposed to be funny.

  “I’ll go with Sydney and one of the bodyguards. I’ll leave the other to take care of you, Madre.”

  “Oh, you are stubborn just like your father.” Constanza lifted her hands in surrender. As she sauntered out of sight, she mumbled things he was pretty sure he’d rather not hear. Or didn’t really care. Didn’t matter.

  He paced in silence, and as much as going to the fund raiser didn’t particularly hold an appeal to him, he could use the time away from family. Alejandro didn’t need to regress to a five year old and hear an earful on what he should and should not have done. Truth was, his spending time with his mother over the holidays had become a lot more of a chore than anything else.

  “Why did you want to go?”

  “It seemed important to you. And I’m not sure about staying home with your mother tonight. Her nerves are shot.”

  “You changed your mind about leaving Buenos Aires?”

  “No,” she whispered. “I just can’t go yet. Regardless of anything…if there was really someone here looking for you or something to hurt you…” She chewed on her lower lip. “This is getting out of control. If this is the same person, and they bothered to come all the way here, then I can’t simply go back. If I do, I’m toast. What if whoever is behind this thinks I know something? And they hurt me?”

  Hurt her? The pulse in her neck told him she had been hurt too much already. So did her scars. His heart beat in a formula one race speed, and he cracked his knuckles to shake off the need to hold her, and not let go. What? Where did that come from?

  He shook his head. “No one will hurt you, I promise.” An organic need to protect her fueled him. The silly desire to bring her knuckles to his lips and kiss them stabbed at him, but he resisted. Time to redirect. “We’ll have to get you something suitable to wear for tonight.”

  ***

  In other circumstances he would call a boutique and have them come to his place with an array of gowns for her to try on. But bringing strangers to his mother’s place today was a liability. Besides, some time away from the drama would come in handy.

  Minutes later, the car purred up to the curb of an exclusive street filled with high-end stores, all of them adorned with extravagant gold and red bows. His bodyguard followed in the vehicle behind them, although the man was burly and tall, he moved with precision and grace. Alejandro opened the door for her, and as they entered a sleek department store, the general manager walked up to them. “Mr. Soto. Such a pleasure to have you here.”

  Alejandro smiled and nodded, transfixed in her reaction to the place. Most women loved shopping, of course, and Sydney would have been too predictable had she been the same way. She touched the tips of high heels in the shoe department with a mix of fascination and fear. It was like she’d been invited to a secret club and lurked at the entrance, unsure if she should jump inside or steer clear.

&nbs
p; A patrician blonde ushered Sydney away from him, and he was shown the VIP area in the men’s section. An espresso machine, along with copies of world newspapers and a couple of sleek TVs turned to sports channels could only distract him for so long. Whenever he wanted to buy something, most times he wouldn’t bother to visit the store. A phone call or email would do, and a sales team would have the items delivered. Dillydallying wasn’t this thing.

  After listening to the Feliz Navidad song the fourth time, he snorted. Thirty minutes. How long did it take a pragmatic woman like Sydney to find a damn dress?

  He walked toward the fitting rooms, and heard Sydney saying, “This one won’t work. Thank you.”

  “Wouldn’t you even like to try it on? The color will look gorgeous on your skin,” the sales girl insisted, injecting some energy in her voice at the end. “Very Christmassy, too.”

  Rolling his eyes, he gestured for the eager-to-sell lady to leave them alone and knocked on her door.

  After a beat, she opened. “What?” She was wearing the same clothes she had on before, some grey slacks and a light green polo shirt. She stepped outside the stall; it was just the two of them in the hallway, all the other stalls closed, and several asymmetric mirrors capturing their interaction from every angle.

  “Out of all the assumptions I made of you, high maintenance wasn’t one of them, tesoro.”

  “What can I say?” Her shrug didn’t fool him for one moment. “I have to keep you on your toes. Maybe hanging out with a high roller has gone to my head and turned me into a diva.”

  “By the time we leave here it’ll be New Years.” He peeked at the large rack with sparkly, long gowns and pointed at them. “Either you tell me what’s wrong or I’ll pick a dress myself. And trust me, you might not like my choice.” His voice dropped an octave. Images of a dress complimenting her body filled his mind, followed by how delightful it would be to take it off. Slowly. A rush of libido stirred in him.

  “Most of these expose a lot of skin,” she said, hands perched on her waist.