High Stakes Seduction - Book 5

by LeCoeur, Ami

  Angela ran ahead of me to open the door for Thompson. I heard them greeting each other with 'hellos' before I came around the corner and… everything stopped.

  Thompson was in mid-sentence, saying something about what nice weather we were expecting tonight. But his words were cut short when he saw me, his mouth open in mid-word, his nostrils flaring, the hands at his sides clenching into fists.

  “Wow,” he finally breathed out before gathering himself and transforming back into his professional stoic demeanor before my eyes.

  “Wow yourself,” I said and meant it. I was used to seeing him in a black suit but this tux nearly took what little breath I had away. His broad shoulders filled the doorway, his masculine, angular face framed by the white collar of his shirt. What was the word I used for him earlier? Sexy. Yes, he looked sexy indeed.

  "Hello, Miss Maria," he smiled down at me. "You look stunning tonight."

  I'm sure I must have blushed at that.

  Thompson was always so sweet to me. But he was always so formal, I would love to break him out of that sometime.

  "Well, thank you kind sir, I could say the same thing about you." I winked at him. That brought a small grin to his face, at least until he wiped it off with feigned seriousness.

  "You know," he said, "they'll be expecting us, we should get going."

  "Hey you two," Angela called after us. "Go have a great time, and do something fun. That way Maria will have something to tell me when she comes home."

  Thompson nodded solemnly at Angela. "I'll take good care of her, Miss. I have a feeling it will be a night to remember.”

  I swear, that man was too sweet for his own good. Angela followed us onto the porch and leaned down to kiss my cheek. "I hope you enjoy your evening with Antonio," I told her. "I'm sure we'll both have things to share later," I laughed as Thompson wheeled me down the ramp.

  At the limousine, he opened the door for me, took me by the hand, and did his little twisty twirly thing that scooped me up and deposited me securely on the back seat. I'm not sure how he did it, but it made me feel as though I was flying, every single time.

  "Thank you, Thompson."

  "Excited, Miss? This is, indeed, your special night." He grinned at me as he shut the door and went around to the driver's seat after securing the wheelchair in the trunk.

  I watched his eyes crinkle at me in the rearview mirror when he started up the car and we drove away from the bungalow. I had no idea what to expect at tonight's showing. My hands were actually shaking a little as I smoothed my dress.

  Will the patrons like my paintings? Hardly anyone outside the family had ever seen them. I mean, Antonio and Gregory thought they were good enough to show, but were they—really? I sighed, trying to shut up the yammering doubts spouting from my critical brain.

  For the first time in years, I did feel special. Truly special. I knew without a doubt, this was something I had worked for, and something I deserved. I sat back in the seat, took a deep breath, told my brain to Shut UP! I was determined to enjoy every moment of this night.

  I caught Thompson looking at me in the rearview mirror again and I gave him a little wink. He winked back and my breath caught in my throat, my insides clenched with sudden desire. I thought of how easily he picked me up, the tight muscles under his suit. I thought about how close his lips sometimes got to mine. The look in his eyes as he glanced at me, especially when he didn’t know I knew.

  Desire spiraled through me as I imagined our first kiss, our first intimate caress, my fingers unbuttoning his shirt and exposing his hard chest. I wondered if he had hair there, and how it would feel to nuzzle my nose in its softness. How his lips would feel on my breast, between my legs.

  Legs.

  Might as well have been cold water dousing my desire. How could I even think about the possibility of having sex without the use of my legs? I had no idea if it would even work. Or what it might feel like. I still had desires sometimes, but I’d never allowed myself to think very far along those lines. Ever since the accident, I was certain I’d die a freakin’ virgin.

  “Are you nervous?” Thompson asked, breaking into my thoughts.

  I was, but not for the reasons he imagined.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ANTONIO

  "I'll just be a moment, please wait here." I stepped out of the taxi and went up the front steps to the bungalow. I rang the doorbell, waiting patiently for Angela to answer.

  The door opened promptly, she stood there in the doorway, looking fresh and beautiful as always. It was hard to imagine that she'd come into my life scant months before. I didn't even want to think about what my life would have been like without her.

  "Ready?" I asked, smiling at the direction of my thoughts.

  "Yes, let me grab my bag. I'll just be a moment." She stepped away briefly and returned just as quickly, pulling the door behind her with a click as the lock settled into place.

  "So where are we off to tonight?" she asked as I helped her slide into the taxi.

  "There's a fundraiser at the gallery. This one features some new, up-and-coming artists."

  She sat back, taking a deep breath. "And tonight… what is my role tonight?"

  I grinned at that. I would tell her more later. But for the moment I simply said, "Tonight you are my date."

  That seemed to take her by surprise, at least based on the way she looked at me.

  "I'm sorry, but this feels more like a royal summons than an invitation."

  I turned away, not wanting to appear smug. "You do a great job as my associate. I appreciate that. And you are a loyal employee who I can depend upon. Tonight isn't about either of those. I respect that you didn't have much choice, but I've already promised you, I won't make you enjoy yourself."

  Then I turned back and looked directly into her eyes, a tiny grin curling the corner of my lip. "But somehow, I think you will."

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ANGELA

  "Oh, I remember this place!" I also remembered how uncomfortable I had been the first time I came here. But, surprisingly, all that was different tonight. This time I felt as though I did belong, and I belonged here with Antonio.

  He held the door for me, extending his hand. I clasped it, and he pulled me smoothly out of the taxi. He leaned forward for a moment, giving the driver our fare, then he turned toward me and held out his arm for me to take.

  I remembered the nervous young woman who had accompanied him here the first time. It had not been so long ago, yet so much had changed since then.

  "And what's the special attraction tonight? You never did tell me." I looked up at the handsome face beside me, admiring the line of his jaw, my eyes lingering on his sensuous lips. It didn't matter how angry I might be with him, Antonio was still the most attractive man I had ever met. I shivered, thinking of the pleasure he had given me.

  "Well, tonight's kind of special. This is a charity fundraiser, featuring a variety of new artists. I think you’ll find it inspiring.”

  The elusive Antonio continued to fascinate me. He was successful, powerful, and he had a philanthropic streak. He'd helped Gisele, and Krissy, and now this new and up-and-coming artist. Well, he'd also helped me, giving me the opportunity to develop the Carlo and Poula line, even beyond anything having to do with the mortgage, or Maria's surgery.

  I recognized the interior of the gallery, the main lobby area teeming with people dressed in elegant gowns. I hadn't been so sure that I wanted to wear this particular dress. I was reminded of both my experience when Antonio had selected it for me on the cruise, and later going back to the shop to purchase the purple lingerie.

  Even thinking about it now made my cheeks grow warm. Not that I regretted it. In fact, it had all definitely worked in my favor. But seriously, the last thing I needed tonight was to be reminded of our intimacy aboard ship.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ANTONIO

  She may have been mad at me, but I loved watching Angela's face, the way it lit
up as we walked into the gallery. I was enjoying our conversation, while subtly trying to maneuver her toward the Poplar wing and Maria's exhibition. We threaded our way through the people in the main lobby, and grabbed two glasses of champagne from the main table.

  "Thank you for joining me tonight, but remember, no having fun!" I handed her one of the glasses.

  She shook her head at me, a grin pulling at the corner of her mouth. She was humoring me, of course. I liked that she always seemed willing to forgive me. Lord knows, I'd given her reason enough not to. I was anxious for the day when the need for secrecy was over and I could talk with her freely.

  I watched her take a sip of the champagne. She wrinkled her nose slightly, the way she always did when the champagne bubbles hit her nose. I laughed softly.

  "So, where do we start?"

  "Right here," I said, pointing at the doorway. As we walked through the door, she turned to look at me, her face confused.

  "Tony, these look like Maria's paintings," she said. "Oh… wait… what in the world…?"

  I stood there grinning like the cat who ate the proverbial canary. I couldn't help myself. I loved the look of amazement on her face. "Would you like to meet the artist?" I asked.

  Angela's eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth to speak.

  But Maria beat her to it. "Angela!” Rolling up in her wheelchair, Maria grabbed her sister's free hand. “Surprise!”

  "Oh Maria! I… oh my goodness… I had no idea."

  Maria laughed. “I know… that was the intent.” She took my hand and looked up at her sister. "This is all Antonio's doing—and Thompson's." She smiled over her shoulder at the chauffeur standing nearby.

  "I had no idea!" Angela said again, tears filling her eyes. "Oh Sis, I'm so happy for you. Is this why you wanted to know which paintings were my favorites?"

  "Yes, I wanted to make sure at least one was hung as part of the show."

  "Oh!" Angela's eyes got large as she put her hand to her lips. "You're not going to sell it are you? I mean, I would love for you to sell your paintings, but just not that one."

  "I would never!" Maria said. "In fact, it's one of two paintings here that are not for sale. The other is the one I gave Mom on her birthday."

  "So where is this favorite painting?" I looked from Angela to Maria and back again. "I'd like to see where your taste in art runs."

  "It's in the back there, behind the harpist." Maria pointed toward the back wall.

  "No hurry, "Angela said. “Now that we're here." She smiled shyly at me. "You'll have plenty of chance to see what I like."

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  ANGELA

  "Excuse me," said an elderly man in a bow-tie. "Are you the artist?" At Maria's nod, he continued. "May I inquire about this painting over here?"

  She wheeled away, chattering brightly with the man and his wife. I turned to Tony, tears still in my eyes.

  "I had no idea. What can I say? This is such a surprise." I felt my eyes well up again. I knew they were tears of happiness, but I didn't want to make a scene. I carefully wiped one away before it could fall onto my cheek. Damn this man! Would he ever change? First, he gets me riled up and he pushes me away, telling me to stay out of things. Then, he turns around and does something totally selfless like setting up a showing of my sister's paintings.

  "I'm glad I could help. But it's not entirely my doing. The gallery owner is the one who made the final decision. And, of course, Maria had to have the talent in the first place."

  "But this is just so wonderful. I don't know how I can thank you."

  He had that sultry, smoky look in his eyes again. I felt a sudden warmth in my loins, a yearning ache that spread down my thighs. Damn, I'd better be careful.

  "Maria has real talent. And if you'll forgive me for saying so, I think she's been holed up too long. Artists can be their own worst critics. Sometimes they need a little nudge to get them out of their comfortable nest. This showing means she can't ever go back to being small—an amateur. As of today, she's had her first gallery showing—and she can't hide away any longer. Not if she wants to be a professional artist."

  Wasn't this what Maria had been saying to me? That she didn’t want to be treated as some fragile object? And this man, who only met her a short time ago, "got it" immediately. I shook my head. There was still so much I didn't understand about Antonio. I'd never met anyone as complex, as infuriating, or as endearing.

  I glanced over to where Maria was talking with the gentleman and his wife. Her cheeks were flushed as she pointed at the different parts of the landscape, gesturing with her hands like an excited teenager. I hadn't seen her this happy since before the accident. A small group had gathered around them, listening intently and nodding.

  Suddenly it was hard to breathe. My chest was tight, as though my heart was too full, overwhelmed with gratitude. I turned to Antonio, who was watching Maria with a small smile.

  "Thank you," I managed to whisper. He turned to look at me, that smoldering gaze that always lit my own fire. He reached for my hand, squeezing it gently. Then he pulled me away from the group, away from the room, and into the hallway.

  He looked over his shoulder briefly, then back at me, leading me down the hall into a small coat closet. Shutting the door behind us, he pulled me close.

  "Cara, there's a better way to thank me, don't you think?" Then his lips melted with mine, and my knees went weak.

  "Tony," I whispered when he pulled away, grateful his arms were holding me up. I had forgotten the full impact his kisses had on me, but that all came rushing back in an explosion of heat and desire the moment his tongue slipped into my mouth. Now I stood there, panting slightly, trying to catch my breath and re-order my senses.

  I reached up to stroke his cheek, and he tilted his head, resting it for a moment on my hand. The undeniable desire in his eyes made me catch my breath again. I had missed this. Missed it terribly. This raw aching threatened to tear me apart. I pulled him closer, leaning into his manhood, pressing myself against the throbbing I could feel building even as I shamelessly rubbed myself against him.

  He took my face in his hands, staring into my eyes and leaning in to kiss me. I opened my lips to accept the sweetness of his mouth, when I heard a jangling behind me.

  Suddenly the door swung open. "Oh, excuse me. I didn't mean to… to interrupt," stammered a bald-headed man with glasses. "My wife. She sent me. Um, she um, needs her shawl. Please excuse me." He reached to a hook on the wall, giving us an embarrassed nod as he stepped back out of the tiny room.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  ANGELA

  I pulled away from Antonio when the door opened. Now I stood there, looking at his sultry face, feeling like a kid who was just caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Someone else's cookie jar, I reminded myself, seeing Naomi's face in my mind.

  I put my hand to my mouth, feeling the slightly swollen heat from the kiss my lips had just received.

  "Tony, I… "

  "What is it, Cara?" he asked softly.

  "Will you excuse me? I need the ladies room." I reached for the doorknob, twisting it quickly in my haste to get out of the suddenly too small, too intimate space.

  Oh my god, what was I thinking? Nothing has changed, has it? He’s still the one in control. The one with power; the one with the magnetic charm. I cursed myself as I headed toward the ladies room. Will I ever learn?

  Stepping through the door, I suddenly remembered my previous experience here. How out of place I'd been. The women sitting on the couches, gossiping among themselves. I stepped to the counter, turning on the faucet. Maybe splashing some water on my face would bring me back to my senses.

  "Hello ma’am," came a voice from the corner. "Is there something I can assist you with?"

  I looked over and immediately recognized the kindly attendant who had been so understanding the first time I had been in the room.

  "No, I'm okay," I smiled. "But thank you."

  "Haven't I seen you her
e before?" she asked, eying me up and down.

  "Yes, I was here for the exhibit of fashion costumes a few months back."

  "I remember. You were concerned about that cliquish group of madams in the other room. Girl, I don't know what you done, but you don't hardly look like the same lady. Been some transforming I'd say." She smiled at me.

  I stared at myself in the mirror. Had I changed that much? I certainly didn't feel like the same person, but it was hard to know if that showed on the outside. Apparently it did. At least to some people. I dabbed at my face, drying it without smudging my make-up too much. Then I took a deep breath.

  "Thank you," I told the woman. "Tonight I'm here for my sister. She's one of the artists."

  "Really? Which one?"

  "The landscapes. In the Poplar room."

  "Oh, the big, wide open views. Kinda makes me want to travel." She grinned at me. " 'Cept I'm a homebody. I like knowing where I'm from and where I belong. Makes me feel safe."

  That would be nice, I thought, looking back at my reflection in the mirror. After the accident, I used to think I belonged with Maria. But so many things had changed—for me and for her. I certainly knew where I was from, but I had no idea where I was going.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ANGELA

  As I made my way back through the foyer, I looked around, remembering what it was like the last time I was there. It didn't look much different, the guests were distinguished looking without being stuffy. They seemed enchanted within the comfortable circle of the gallery, gathered into small groups of two and three at a time, chatting and laughing.

  I stuck my head into a couple of the wings on my way back to the Poplar room, hoping to get a glimpse of the other artists. The Willow room was filled with small sculptures, most of them appeared to be brass, unusual shapes that looked like little sea creatures and mermaids.