“What do you mean?” He sounded completely awake now. “What’s going on Miriam? Are you drunk?”
Hardly, though I’d had a couple of glasses of wine with Mike while I told him everything that had happened between King and me. He still wasn’t a big fan, but I had convinced him not to go to Juaquin’s hotel to kick his ass, at least. An improvement if not a large one.
“No. I’m not. But I slept with someone else tonight.” I didn’t see any reason to beat around the bush. The relationship is definitely over when a guy who’s not your boyfriend slips his dick into you.
“The Hispanic dude? Juaquin Acenado?”
I was surprised that he remembered. When I had told him about King before, admittedly skipping a few of the details, it had seemed like he hadn’t cared or almost like he knew everything already and was bored by the specifics.
I was getting the same vibe from him now.
“Yes,” I verified. “It’s him, and I’m sorry. It has nothing to do with you. You’ve been great. It’s just that I’ve been hung up on Juaquin for a long time. I thought I was over it. But…”
“Has he declared himself?”
“What?”
“Has he told you the extent of his feelings for you? Has he said that he wants a future with you?”
“No.” He hadn’t said anything like that. My chest squeezed so tight the softly spoken denial was all I had been able to manage.
“Miriam, darling. Listen. I’m not gonna lie. It cuts like a knife that you went there with him when we’re in a committed relationship, but maybe it’s for the best.”
“Huh?” Was he kidding? How the hell could he say that?
“You’ve been holding back with me, with us. I know it. You know it. Deep down. And now I know he’s the reason. I think you need to realize once and for all that the guy’s all wrong for you.” He sighed into the phone. “I’ve got to go on a business trip to New York. I’m not exactly sure how long it will take.” He cleared his throat. “It’s a big opportunity with the potential to change my work schedule if all goes as I expect it to. While I’m gone I want you to really think about this. But understand. I want you, Miriam. I want a future with you. I don’t want anybody else.”
The line went dead. He had hung up on me.
I woke up the next morning with Frank’s words still ringing in my ears. And even though my lips still stung from his kisses, and I had faint bruises on my hips from his masterful possession, I had only silence from Juaquin.
Chapter Thirteen
Miriam
“Miss Jackson,” Vincenzo’s PA said. “Mr. Campanella has asked to see you.”
“Alright.” I set down my glass of iced tea. Jazz gave me a concerned look as I pushed back from the table, but I kept my expression neutral as if it was no big deal for her father to call me into his office. Terrible timing considering how on edge I was after checking the screen on my phone all morning hoping Juaquin would text or call. I squeezed Jazz’s shoulder gently as I passed her chair. “Finish your lunch and your homework. We’ll go to the pool when I get back.”
I followed the assistant out of the penthouse. She didn’t speak which wasn’t unusual for her as we traveled the length of the hall to the bank of elevators. We stepped inside and rode it down in silence. After the silent disapproval, the usual downstairs activity seemed overly loud. Tourists with cameras hustled through the expansive lobby on their way to the closest slot machines. Regulars gathered around the card tables ever hoping for a hot streak. And construction workers buzzed around like drones hammering, painting and soldering slowly but surely transforming the old Tropicana into the new vision Vincenzo had for it.
“That will be all, Miss Pennington.”
I stepped through the portal into the huge imposing office as the assistant stepped out of it.
“Miss Jackson, so good of you to come.” Vincenzo Campanella rose slowly from behind his massive desk, refastening the middle button on his suit jacket as he navigated around it. His cobalt eyes locked on me. They were the only feature he had inherited from his mother, a Vegas showgirl. I knew these details only because Jasmine had told me. The rest, his wavy dark brown hair, olive complexion, his definitive nose and his don’t-cross-me manner came from his now deceased mobster father. “Take a seat.” He gestured to one of the high-backed chairs in front of his desk. While I did as I was instructed, feeling duly intimidated as I suspected was his intention, he leaned a hip against the corner of his desk. He continued to watch me carefully as I tugged ineffectually on the midriff baring top trying to cover the exposed skin between the dangling tassels and the top of my faded cutoff shorts. For a day by the pool with Jazz, I was appropriately attired. For a formal meeting with my boss, I was conspicuously underdressed.
“I’ll get right to the point. I suppose you’re wondering why I called you into my office.”
“Yes, Sir.” I nodded. It was strange that he had. I had only been inside it once before when he had hired me. The hallway itself required a keycard and a passcode to access it.
“Understand that I think you’ve done a fine job with my daughter, but…”
I swallowed as he paused. Was he going to fire me? I needed this job, and as Juaquin had pointed out, I loved Jasmine. She was more like a younger sibling to me than a charge.
“Jasmine will be turning twelve in a couple of weeks, and the time to transition her care has come. Reason being, she needs to grow up. She needs someone to look out for her no doubt, but the person I have in mind will be less of a companion like you and more of a bodyguard.”
“Oh.” My face fell, my heart sinking to my shoes. “Can I still see her from time to time?” I knew many layers of security that separated Jazz from the rest of the world. If he didn’t give permission, I wouldn’t be able to come anywhere near here. I felt my heart already cracking.
“That will be entirely up to you.”
“How so?” My brows drew together as I blinked at him in confusion.
“I have a new business proposition I want to run by you.” Glancing toward the seamless one-way glass windows that overlooked the pool, he twisted on the platinum C signet ring he always wore on his left pinky finger, denoting the Campanella empire. When Vincenzo turned and refocused on me again his gaze bored into me. “I’m making a lot of changes at the Tropicana as you are well aware. What you probably don’t know is that my ambitions extend quite a bit farther. Not only do I plan to reopen the hotel under a new name and theme, but I also will soon break ground on three other properties on this section of the strip; an indoor mall with an ice skating rink, as well as two brand new hotels. The construction you have probably noticed as you have driven in to work is the beginnings of my new vision for this area. “The reason being,” I tried not to visibly cringe as he once again used his crutch phrase, “it’s time to make this part of the strip relevant again.” His dark blue eyes narrowed on me.
“Wow,” I said, trying not to fidget as his gaze swept over me. “That’s cool.”
“I’m glad you approve. Despite the obstruction of the state’s attorneys and other segments of law enforcement determined to smear my family’s name, I plan on building a legacy that would make my father proud. With the expansion, there will be many important positions to fill, such as the one here at the Tropicana I’m offering to you.”
“Oh.” I sat up straighter, picking up my heart from the floor and dusting it off. Maybe I would still get to see Jasmine after all.
“Your impressive following at the Sexxy Club is not something that has escaped my notice.” My fingers tightened on the armrests of the chair. Of course, he knew about my other job. A thorough background check had been conducted when I had applied for my current position. Vincenzo had mentioned it not being a problem, that he considered it an honest way to make a living, and that it was proof that I was a hard worker like his mother had been.
“I want the reopened Tropicana to set the bar for allure in Vegas and I want you to embody it.”
<
br /> “That’s very flattering, Sir.” My heart stopped. With Vincenzo I was afraid this was less a proposition and more of an offer I couldn’t refuse.
“What exactly would I be doing if I accepted?”
“You would strip of course. But you would be completely nude. And your activities would be more, how should I put this, interactive than your current routines. And you would be recorded for the pay per view option.” His eyes darkened to black or maybe it was just the crisscross scaffolding outside his window.
“Well, I appreciate you considering me.” There was no way in hell I would do porn. Even to maintain my ties to Jazz. I knew better. If I went down that road with a man like him there would be no coming back. “I have an arrangement that already works for me. It’s limited exposure, and it’s hands off. What you have in mind I think we can both agree is neither of those things.”
“Oh, I think we are closer to reaching mutually agreeable terms than you think.” His gaze honed to a razor’s edge. He leaned toward me. I squirmed in my chair. I couldn’t help it. “Don’t say no right away. Take these next few weeks with Jasmine to consider what I am offering. I’m talking about a salary that starts at a hundred thousand with royalty options. I know you have ambitions, Miriam. What I can give you is the means to make those dreams a reality. And in the end, it is after all only acting.”
* * *
I stumbled back to the penthouse distracted and dazed. Jazz awaited me, her swimsuit already on. Her eager expression faltered when she saw me.
“Is everything ok?” She clutched my oversized tote tightly to her chest as she studied my face. “What did my father say to you?”
“Just stuff about the Tropicana.” I was purposefully vague. “And your birthday.” I took my bag from her. It held my swimsuit and my cell in addition to everything else. Vincenzo had no tolerance for distractions when his employees visited his office. I wanted to check to see if I had any messages from King, but on the other had I didn’t. I was a little afraid to. I couldn’t take any more bad news. No matter what kind of pretty decorative bow he tied on it, Vincenzo Campanella’s job offer was just that. Bad news. “Ready to go swimming?”
“Yeah.” She nodded, but she seemed to have lost her enthusiasm. She knew something was up. She reached for me. I squeezed her hands. “Hey, it’ll be ok.” I licked my dry lips. “Did you call down to get us a cabana?”
“Yes.”
“Great. I’ll just go change real quick.” I gave her fingers one more squeeze before I released them.
“Miriam,” she called after I had taken only a single step.
“Yeah, Jazz?” I turned to look back at her.
“You’ll always be my friend, right?” She shifted her weight nervously from one flip flopped foot to the other.
“You know I will.”
“What my father does. Well…” She trailed off, glancing around nervously, afraid to speak ill of him in front of the cameras that were all over the Tropicana, even inside the penthouse. “Well, who he is…that’s not me. I’m not like him. I will never be like him. You know that, right?”
“I do. I know that very well. I told you all about my father. I am not him any more than you are yours.”
She nodded. I went into the half bath and slipped into my suit avoiding my own worried reflection. It too closely mirrored hers.
Chapter Fourteen
Miriam
I solemnly observed Jasmine from my spot beneath the shade of the striped cabana. Her laughter as she played volleyball with a group of girls in the tropical oasis themed pool probably sounded genuine to most, but I knew deep down she was unsettled. We had been making a lot of small talk mostly about nothing and exchanging the occasional forced smile since my meeting with her father. I would have to come clean soon and tell her what was going on, but I wanted to delay the unpleasantness as long as I could. Leaving the employment of her father was what I had to do, but that certainly gave me little comfort.
“Miss Jackson?”
“Yes?” I turned my gaze away from Jazz, slid my sunglasses down my nose and peered over the top of them at the young woman wearing a white polo and khaki shorts, the standard uniform for all of the Tropicana employees around the pool.
“This is for you.” She lowered her silver tray.
“I didn’t order anything.” I squinted suspiciously at the drink her tray contained.
“Compliments of the gentleman at the bar.”
“What gentleman?” I glanced past her. There was no one at the bar, not counting other employees dressed exactly like her. They scurried around outdoor speakers and a long table that looked like it was being set up for a DJ. There was often music by the pool.
“Won’t you take it?” She moved the tray closer, blocking my view of the bar. “It’s a bushwhacker. They’re really tasty. I made it myself. There’s a card, too.”
“Alright.” I took the paper, unfolded it and gasped as I read the words.
Reina. For you.
I reached for the drink. The hurricane glass was frosty cold when I picked it up. I removed the umbrella and brought the straw to my lips while my eyes actively searched the pool deck. The drink was delicious, rich from the ice cream and dangerously strong because of a combination of dark rum, Kahlúa and Crème de cacao. But where was Juaquin? And what did his note signify? Was this drink a goodbye gift or a yes-I-am-ready-to-fuck-you-again-hello?
Unable to locate him, I checked on Jazz again, not that she needed my supervision given the two lifeguards in elevated chairs on either side of the pool. But she was my responsibility, and even though my job would end soon, I took it and her welfare seriously.
Music suddenly blazed from the sound system at the bar. Keyboards. Heavily synthesized. A salsa-like rhythm. And there he was, no shade, out in the full sun, his bronzed skin glistening as if he had oiled it and wearing only polarized aviator sunglasses and black board shorts that rode low on his narrow hips.
“Hola, Tropicana.” A cordless mic in one hand, a boyish grin on his handsome face, he threw his other arm up in the air pointing a finger at the cloudless Vegas sky. He jumped in time to the beat, and I rose from my lounge as if he had ordered me to do so. He and his music were just that compelling.
“Ok, everybody.” He cast a glance around the pool deck. “Raise ‘em up.” He clapped his hands together over his head. I set my drink on a nearby table, moving toward him like everyone else seemed to be doing. The rays raining down on him caressed all of the compelling contours of his impressive physique the way I hadn’t had the chance to the night before. We had come together so quickly he hadn’t even taken his shirt off.
“Vámonos. Let’s go.” Elbow out, mic to his mouth, he spotted me. He ran his shaded gaze over me, from the top of my head to the bottom of my toes and then back up again slower. I flushed with warmth that had nothing to do with the desert heat and everything to do with the way he looked at me. His lips formed a sexy smile. He seemed to appreciate the little black bikini I wore. We were certainly color coordinated.
Mamasota, can’t let you go.
Seen you dance, seen you flow
I want more, with you I’m an animal
Eat you up just like a cannibal
So baby here I am
¡Ven aquí
¡Ven aquí
¡Ven aquí y bésame,
chiquita pero picosa!
I had never seen him quite like this, never seen anything like it really. He ruled as a performer. He shrugged his strong shoulders. He spun with his arms up in the air. He clapped. He jumped and gesticulated widely in conjunction to the thumping beat while an audience gathered around him that included Jazz, the volleyball girls, Tropicana employees, and even hotel patrons that had spilled out onto the pool deck from the lobby. Everyone including me danced with him, and he seemed to feed off our energy.
So addicted to the way you move.
Just like a drug that sexy groove
Puts me in a certain frame of mind
>
To let you know you’re one of a kind
So baby let’s get physical.
¡Ven aquí
¡Ven aquí
¡Ven aquí y bésame,
chiquita pero picosa!
Come on, C’mon, C’mon let’s go
I gotta be part of your show
Again and again, time after time
Tonight you’ll see I’m gonna make you mine
Mamacitas, goodbye.
It was like there was some invisible cord lashing us together. Each flash of his arm. Every flick of his shaded gaze my way. Even the rolling gyrations of his hips drew me near. But mostly it was him and that sexy rhythm of his, a scandalous beat I had never been able to resist.
¡Ven aquí
¡Ven aquí
¡Ven aquí y bésame,
Mi reina.
King beckoned, and I went to him. The music still blaring, he switched off his mic and passed it to an employee. Dipping and gliding gracefully through the bouncing crowd, he met me in the middle of it. He stretched out his arm, his fingertips gliding over my parted lips on their way into my hair. My breath hitched. He placed his other hand right above the top edge of my bikini bottom. My swaying hips stilled. His fingertips sizzled against my skin. Slow and sensually he slid his hand up to the indentation at my waist while he moved behind me. He pressed closer, his front to my back. If this hot approach was a precursor to how it was going to be when he brought our two bodies together during an extended lovemaking session, I was ready to get started on that right the hell now.
* * *
King
“Reina.” I leaned in brushing the length of her hair aside to whisper into her ear. “You look hot as shit in that bikini, but I need to talk to you for a moment alone.”
Scandalous Beat (The Tempest Rock Star series Book 6) Page 10