“I love Ben,” she whispered, a smart smirk turning her red lips upward. “He’s the last person I see before I go to bed, and the first I see in the morning...”
“And what’s he doing tonight, seeing as how you’re here with me? And what about when you go to San Francisco? Where is he then?”
“I think tonight he’s out on a date with a gorgeous but incredibly stupid fireman.”
Rafael smiled, realization dawning on him. “He’s gay.”
“He is,” she confirmed, taking her wineglass. “And you’re jealous.”
He clinked his glass against hers. “I’m not jealous.”
“Sure,” she said, clearly not believing him, as she sipped and turned away from him. “This is a pretty nice place.”
“Thanks, but I can’t take credit. My friend Alana designed it, decorated it and ordered all the furniture. I wish I had the opportunity to spend a little more time here, though.”
“You spend a lot of your nights at your room at Di Terrestres, I know. So, why are you running for mayor? It will only take up more time.”
He didn’t answer her, and instead plated their meals and brought them over to the table. “Chicken tetrazzini or turkey Bolognese?”
“Chicken, please.”
He set the food in front of her and handed her cutlery and a napkin. “I want to be mayor because a career in politics has always been my dream. First the city, then the senate, then the White House.”
“Lofty goals,” she said. “The people of Las Vegas are just your stepping-stone to the rest of the country?”
He sighed heavily. “You always say things like that. Like I’m just here doing all this work for my own personal gain. But that’s not the case. I have money, yes, I don’t need politics. But because I’m in such a position, I want to do what I can, when I can, to help people. I can make this city better, I know it. But bigger and better will always be my goal, no matter which heights I reach.” He looked over at her.
“There’s more, though, isn’t there? What about personally? You maintain that I don’t know who you are, so tell me.”
“Well, you know my family immigrated here. My mom and dad both worked hard. Dad got a job in a casino as a janitor, and Mom worked part-time at our school. They made sure to instill the value of hard work in us. They made sure we stayed in school, excelled, went to college. But it wasn’t a free ride. I got some scholarships, but otherwise, I paid for it myself. It still amounted to quite a bit of student loan debt. I struggled for years, and I pulled myself out of it. That doesn’t make me a bad person, and it doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten where I come from.”
“Where are your parents now?”
“They’re still here. They have a home in Henderson.”
“And your sisters?”
“Three sisters.” He smiled. “Two older, one younger. They’re a pain, but I love them. They also live here, but my youngest sister is in Haiti right now, working with a humanitarian project down there.”
“If you come from such humble beginnings, how did you get into business? Even though you keep them quiet, you’ve got some pretty good connections.” She took an appraising look around his home. “You’ve obviously been successful.”
He nodded. “I have been. Being a Las Vegas city councillor isn’t what made me rich, but it’s the work that’s close to my heart. I made the right investments, trusted the right people. But it’s been a group effort. Alex, Brett, Alana, Gabe, we all work together on our ventures. We each do our part and bring something to the table. The money we make gets invested back into the rest of the businesses. The Brotherhood’s built itself quite a comfortable little empire,” he finished with a smile.
“And political clout, that’s what you bring to the table, isn’t it?”
He shrugged and smirked, but didn’t respond. He’d be lying if he said he’d never used his name, or position, in the city to make life easier for his friends. There were all sorts of people he was interested in helping, including the business community. Maybe it muddied the waters a bit, but if it got things done—made positive change in the long run—then he didn’t mind. “I think that’s enough about me. What about you? What’s your story?”
Jessica played with the stem of her glass, looking into the dark red liquid, as she turned the glass in circles. “Well, I’m from here. Born and raised in Las Vegas. My mother was a showgirl, like with the feathers and dancing and all that. I didn’t know my father, he left before I was born.” She ran a finger along the lip of her glass. “Even though I was left alone a lot—Mom worked nights, obviously—she always made up for it. I never lacked for love or attention.”
He sipped his wine. “When did you start stripping?”
“I started dancing in college,” she corrected him. “I needed a job I could do on the weekends, but like you, I also needed help paying my tuition and bills. From growing up with my mom, I’d learned some tricks that look good onstage, plus I took some lessons when we could afford it.” She smiled faintly. “But I was so nervous on my first night. They just kind of threw me onstage. So, I basically winged it and shook my ass and did a few tricks for a three-minute song, and I made four hundred dollars that night.” She shrugged. “But as it turns out I was really good at it. I got better, I trained with dance instructors, learned how to pole dance and honed my craft, all while I studied and completed a political science degree. But when I graduated, instead of looking for a regular day job, I kept dancing. Then I started getting more attention, and took part in competitions. Started winning. I’ve actually won international championships for pole dancing.”
“Really?” He was impressed. “And now you’re giving it all up for a run at the mayor’s office?”
She nodded, taking her first bite of chicken. “Like a lot of people in this city, I’m tired of the status quo and feeling underrepresented by those in power. I knew there needed to be a change. And I figured as long as there were only rich men in power, I knew that change wouldn’t come about.”
“And your message is resonating with the people.”
“It seems to be. There’s a lot of frustration, locally and throughout the country.”
“You know, you really are doing a great job. For someone who’s as new as you are, to come in and make such a big splash, it’s surprising. You’re making me work a hell of a lot harder than I thought I would.” He was sincere in his compliments. Her success was commendable.
She looked up from her food. “Thank you.”
“So, do you have any plans this weekend?”
“I’m going to San Francisco,” she told him.
The news wasn’t pleasant for him, and he frowned but said nothing. He brought some pasta to his mouth, and chewed. It was delicious, but he barely tasted it. He didn’t have a claim to her, but he didn’t like the idea of her onstage, in front of strangers.
He looked up at her, and saw that she was looking at him, frowning. “What?” she asked, obviously able to see through his silence.
“I didn’t know that you would still be dancing. I thought you were done, once I saw you there.”
“I’ve decided to go back one last time before the election. Hopefully that’ll get it out of my system.”
“I don’t like it,” he said, simply. He didn’t mean to say it, it just slipped out.
She looked taken aback. “Well, that’s not for you to decide. Plus, my campaign can always use more money.”
“The Kickstarter hasn’t raised enough?”
She glared at him across the table. “You’re an asshole. Why should political office only be for the people who can afford to run a campaign? Representation for everyone matters.”
“It does. I’m in full agreement with you. But I guess I just don’t understand why you still strip, even though you’ve been with the council for a couple of years, making a decent salary. It’s so expl
oitative.”
She leaned in, her gaze hard and unwavering. “Rafael, I’ll let you in on a secret. Politics is far more exploitative than anything I’ve ever done on the stage. As a dancer, no one hounds me in the streets or clamors to know about my personal life. But for whatever reason, this election has made people want to know about us. I’m actually surprised it hasn’t come out yet. But when I’m onstage, I’m free. It’s fun. People are there to see me, and they don’t expect anything more from me than simple entertainment.”
He nodded. Maybe she had a point. He forked some more pasta into his mouth, and chewed thoughtfully.
“And now you’re pouting.”
“I’m not pouting.”
“Ha!” she snickered. “Be more of a jealous man, why don’t you?”
He laughed bitterly, as well. He’d never been the jealous type, but Jessica seemed to bring it out in him.
“Why does it matter to you what I do on the weekends? You say you aren’t jealous, but why do you care? You aren’t even supposed to like me, remember? But yet, you don’t like the idea of other men seeing me? So, what is it?” she asked.
“You know what? It doesn’t matter,” he said, bringing their plates to the kitchen. He washed his hands, and from its space in a nearby cupboard, he withdrew the black-and-gold envelope that he’d been looking forward to giving her. “But I have something for you. There’s a party at Di Terrestres next Saturday. It’s our yearly masquerade for our members. Everyone dresses up, we wear masks. It’s a lot of fun. I want you to come.” He’d never brought a date to the party before. He’d never asked Jessica out on a date.
She accepted it and fingered the flap. “I don’t know. What if people see us together?”
“That again? Like I told you. It’s safe there. You’ll be wearing a mask, and if anyone did see you, they couldn’t say anything anyway.”
“But the press...”
“Aren’t allowed in. Decide later,” he told her, “but for now, come on.” He picked up the bottle. “Want some more wine?”
“Sure. Where are we going?”
“It’s a nice night. Let’s go outside,” he said. He grabbed the bottle and crossed the floor to the doors that led to his balcony, where he’d already set everything up.
The hot tub bubbled. Both it and the pool were lit from the bottom and looked inviting in the cool night air. The notes of Mexican guitar surrounded them, his favorite music. A throwback to his roots. It was sexy, mellow, and it relaxed him. He hoped she felt the same.
“Wow,” she said, looking visibly impressed. “This is how the 1 percenters live, hey?”
He ignored the gibe and turned to her. “Want to go for a swim?”
“It’s a bit chilly.”
“I’ll keep you warm.”
“I forgot my bathing suit.”
“What, are you afraid to get naked?” he challenged, putting down the wine bottle and then kicking off his shoes. “Sounds like you’re just trying to find excuses.”
When he looked up at her, she was already in the process of pulling her shirt over her head. “Never.”
He stopped in place and smiled at her willingness to strip to her bra and panties. When she reached back to unclasp her bra, she paused and looked at him. “What’s the holdup? Are you afraid to get naked?” she challenged him.
“The picture that I sent you last night should tell you otherwise,” he told her, while unbuttoning his shirt. He shucked his shirt and dipped his fingers under the waistband of his pants and boxers, dropping them to his ankles.
The way her eyes roamed up and down his now naked body gave him a surge of satisfaction. “Your turn,” he said, waiting for her to get rid of her bra and underwear.
She followed suit, and he took in her naked body. She was perfect—all smooth, soft skin, curvaceous, and he could see the firm muscle that came about from her time on the stage. Naked, he stalked toward her, a predatory growl that started low in his belly made its way upward and passed through his parted lips as he reached her.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. She went to him willingly, his upright cock pressing into her stomach, which was warm against him. Rafael wanted to bury himself deep inside of her. But first, he gripped her tightly, and jumped into the pool, pulling her in with him. When they surfaced, she laughed and punched him in the shoulder. “Jerk,” she said with a smile, pushing her wet hair, the golden brown made dark by the water, behind her shoulders. “Why did you do that?” she asked, before swimming away.
“I don’t know.” He laughed again and followed her to the edge of the pool where he’d placed their wine. “I just felt like it, I guess. I felt hot. So did you.”
It felt good to just laugh with her. They’d spent so much time arguing, being contentious in the media, and during council meetings, but he was quickly learning that not only was she stubborn and frustrating, and sexy beyond his wildest fantasies, but she was also a lot of fun to be around.
* * *
Jessica shivered. Rafael’s body was warm, but the cool, late October air was chilly.
“Cold?” he asked, pulling her more fully against him. Her palms flattened against his chest and then she fisted the dark curly hair that covered it.
“A little.”
“Want to move to the hot tub?”
She nodded, and he brought them to the pool’s edge where he lifted her out, so she sat on the concrete. She watched every muscle in his upper body work as he pushed himself out, and her mouth dropped. He was a powerful, devastatingly sexy man; his body was perfect.
Jessica settled into the hot tub, and let her body still as the jets of water hit her fatigued muscles. She sighed deeply. She heard him slip into the water beside her. And he passed over her wineglass. She took it and watched him. He was quiet, but she could tell there was something on his mind.
“What’s up? You look like you’re a million miles away.”
He laughed. “Do you like me yet?” he asked with a lopsided grin.
Despite herself, she smiled and shrugged. Something was definitely forming between them. Whether it was a newfound respect for him, or just physical, she had to admit that her long-held opinions of him were beginning to change. “I think I’m getting there,” she admitted.
“I’d like to go to San Francisco with you.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve seen what happens when guys come to watch their girlfriends dance. They always claim to be cool with it, and then they get all crazy and possessive. It always ends terribly.”
“Well, you’re not my girlfriend,” he offered, needlessly. “And I’d like to see you dance again.”
“I know, but you were about frothing at the mouth over Ben. I can’t imagine you at a club.”
“I’ve seen you dance before.”
“Things are different now.” She didn’t know exactly how it had happened but since the night they’d met in San Francisco, he’d started to wear down her resolve. She was starting to like him. A lot. And even though they were still competitors, rivals, they were able to sit together, naked in a hot tub, joking and laughing, a prelude to the amazing sex they would soon have.
“All right. I won’t go,” he said. It surprised her to hear him concede. “But you can take the jet.”
The jet? “No, I’m fine. I’ve got my tickets booked already. I can pay my own way.” She didn’t need his help. It wasn’t about the money.
“It’s not about that. But this could be your opportunity to fly on your own schedule.” He smirked. “You know, you might be the only person to fight me on the offer of a private jet.”
“I’m just not used to having people help me like that. I grew up relying on myself. I never imagined that you’d be the guy offering me help.”
“Maybe you should learn t
o accept some help, every now and then. There’s nothing wrong with it—wasn’t that your point at the debate?”
His words surprised her. She didn’t have trouble accepting help from others, did she? She shrugged and turned back to her wineglass. Still, taking the favor of a private jet ride wasn’t what she’d meant. Without answering him, she leaned back and closed her eyes, letting the powerful jets of the hot tub pulse against her muscles. Her body was completely relaxed, but her mind was racing. His home, his life, was comfortable and luxurious, and while dancing helped her financially—she’d been able to buy a nicer house than she could have imagined, she could afford to travel and allow herself small luxuries like the six-dollar coffee she needed every morning—her lifestyle was still fairly modest, in comparison. She sneaked a peek at Rafael. He had given up on getting a response, and he was also leaning back, enjoying the spoils of his opulent life, as if it was nothing.
With a frown, she realized that she didn’t fit into his life at all. Discussing private jet usage, in a hot tub on the patio of a luxury home, sipping expensive wine, this wasn’t her. She grew restless. And she put down her glass and shifted to get out of the tub. He reached out and grasped her wrist before she could fully stand.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“I’ve got to get home.”
“Already?”
“Rafael, just let me go.”
He did. “Why don’t you tell me what’s making you want to leave so quickly. I thought we were having a good time.”
“I need to leave. I have a life, work to do.”
“Nothing else?”
Jessica sighed. “I don’t know what we’re doing here, Rafael. Look at us. We shouldn’t be doing this. We’re opponents, you’re—” she waved a hand “—you’re all this. And I’m not.”
“So that means we can’t hang out? Drink wine and have great sex?”
She looked around again, trying to remind herself why she couldn’t spend time with him. “But we’re so different,” she said, her voice low and her constitution weak.
Sins of the Flesh Page 10