High Stakes Seduction - Book 5

by LeCoeur, Ami

  "Sis, enjoy your evening, you've worked hard for this and you deserve to enjoy every moment of it. I'll catch a taxi, and I'll see you at home."

  "Angela! What's wrong?"

  I knew Maria deserved an answer, but I just wasn't up to explanations at the moment. I searched through my mind, trying to come up with a quick or flippant response that would satisfy her and let me go. But I couldn't. So I made something up by stretching the truth a little.

  "I'm tired Maria. And I have a sudden headache. Please enjoy yourself, and don't worry about me. I know you're in good hands, I'll see you when you get home."

  A sudden commotion at the other end of the room caught our attention. I watched Naomi grab Brad Stephens' arm, literally dragging him away from the conversation he'd been engaged in. I couldn't help it, a smirk settled on my lips.

  "Is that what this is about?" asked Maria turning back to me, eyebrows raised high.

  "Sort of," I sighed, knowing she wouldn't let me off the hook if I didn't at least explain. "I caught her with Antonio in the hallway. She had her hands all over him, and I guess I kind of flipped out."

  "Look Sis, I'm no mind reader, but I seriously doubt your Antonio has much fondness for Naomi. Whether or not she has designs on him. Perhaps you're jumping to conclusions."

  I looked back at Maria, not knowing what to say. I just shook my head, raising my hands to rub my forehead. I really was getting a headache.

  "Look, I'm tired. I'm going home."

  "Not yet you aren't," came the voice from behind me.

  I turned, expecting to see anger on Tony's face. Instead, he stood there silently, studying me intently.

  "You and I need to have a talk, young lady."

  Uh-oh, this was it, the confrontation I'd been afraid of. "Can't it wait? I have a splitting headache, and I really don't think this is a good place to have that conversation."

  He continued on with that piercing stare, and I felt my shoulders sag as I sighed in resignation. This was one time I knew for certain I didn't have a choice in the matter.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  ANGELA

  "Come," was all he said, gesturing with his hand toward the door.

  I sighed again, giving Maria a kiss on the cheek. "I'll stop in before I leave." I told her.

  I walked toward the door, mustering whatever dignity I could. No one else here knew what had happened, but still, I felt as though all eyes were on me. When I reached the door, I turned to wait for Tony, uncertain of where we were headed.

  "This way," he said, taking the lead. I noticed he had grabbed two wine glasses, and a bottle of the wine the server had been pouring at the main table. At the end of the hall, we turned to the left and he guided me to the stairs. He gestured for me to precede him, which I did.

  At the top of the stairs was a small landing, with three doors leading into rooms that I assumed were offices, or maybe storage. Antonio handed me the bottle of wine, and stuck his free hand into his pants pocket, pulling out a key which he then inserted into the door on our left.

  Pushing it open, and flipping on the light from the switch on the wall, he ushered me inside. I looked around the room. Well, I was right, at least about this one. Definitely an office. And a nicely furnished one at that. Not nearly as nice as Antonio's, but a whole lot bigger and more plush than my little third floor office.

  "Is this the gallery owner's office?"

  "Yes," Tony answered as he shut and locked the door behind us. "But he's gone for the evening, which is why he gave me the key. This time we won't be interrupted."

  Under other circumstances that statement might have made me nervous, but this was Antonio Mancini. My boss. A man I might not understand, but a man I thought I could trust… with my personal safety at least.

  "Sit," he said, gesturing toward a large plush sofa. I did as I was told. He set the glasses down next to the wine bottle I had placed on the low table next to the sofa.

  He sat beside me, and poured two glasses of wine, handing one to me. Then he stood up again, stepping over to the desk and leaning back against it, like he did in his own office. He took a sip of the wine, and stood there for a moment, watching me. He began to absentmindedly run his hand over his Rolex as he looked directly into my eyes. He took a big breath of air, and began to pace in the area between the sofa and the desk.

  "I'm sorry," I blurted. "I don't know what came over me. I mean, I really do try my best to ignore her, but it's a lost cause. She drives me nuts."

  I was startled when Antonio started laughing. "You're not the only one she rubs the wrong way. Trust me, there aren't many people who can ignore her, especially when she's 'on'."

  "I just don't get it. Why do you keep seeing her? I mean, seriously! You keep saying it's over between you, but it seems like every time I turn around, I see her… with you."

  "Angela, I've asked you to stay out of this. There are things going on that you need to steer clear from. Why won't you listen to me? I'm doing this for your own good."

  "Well, it doesn't feel that way to me! You keep getting all mysterious on me, but you never really answer my questions. Sometimes I feel like I'm some kind of yo-yo or something, the way you seem to turn it on and off with me."

  He came and sat next to me on the sofa, taking my hand in his. "Angela, there are some very dangerous things going on—with some very dangerous people. Things I'm not at liberty to explain. I want you to trust me on this. It really is for your own good."

  "I do trust you, Tony. I mean, I trust your intent. Or, I think I do. But…" Then I started crying. I don't know what came over me at that moment, but I remembered how stunned I'd been onboard ship, when he'd gotten that text and suddenly turned to stone.

  "What is it, Angela?" He set down his glass and pulled me toward him.

  "I don't know… if I can… forgive you… for leaving me… at the end of the cruise. Leaving me to go off with that… that… awful woman." I managed between sobs.

  "Really?" His brows scrunched together, creating a perplexed frown. He pulled out his hankie, dabbing at my cheeks. "Come on, Angela, what's there to forgive? Business is business. That doesn't change the way I feel about you."

  "Or how you feel about Naomi?"

  He sighed, leaning back against the cushions, and taking a large swallow of wine. Then he set his glass on the table beside him again, and turned to face me, his arm lying along the back of the sofa.

  "I'm not so happy about this either, but Naomi has played an important role in what's going on. I tell you, there's no romantic attachment between us. But right now she has her uses."

  "Well, that's not how it looks to me. Every time I see the two of you together, she has her hands all over you. And as far as I can tell, you seem to be enjoying it. That doesn't sound like 'no attachment' to me."

  He sighed again. "I'm sorry, Angela. It's complicated. And I really can't talk about it right now. It isn't safe."

  "Safe? For me, or for you?"

  "Please, Angela. Please just trust me on this."

  "You know, Naomi said some very cruel things tonight. And she said them about Maria."

  "I'm not surprised, she's known for that."

  "Then why do you keep seeing her?"

  He reached for the bottle of wine, refilling my glass, then filling his to the top.

  "It's a long story, but here's the short version. Yes, we used to be an item. But that was a long time ago, before my father died. After his death, things changed dramatically for me. I dumped some of my old friends, and many of my old haunts. My father made me promise to take care of my family, and warned me about going down the same path he had, a path that had left him morally and spiritually empty."

  This was getting interesting. It wasn't like Tony to talk about himself. I kept my mouth shut, wanting to know more. I remembered the night on the cruise, how much closer I’d felt to him after he’d opened up and provided a small glimpse into his past. I certainly wasn't going to stop him talking now. I was hungry to unde
rstand who this man was, and what drove him.

  He took another sip of the wine, setting the glass back on the table. He sat there in silence for a moment, then stood again. Sticking his hands into his pockets he rocked back on his heels for a moment, staring at the floor. Then he began to pace again. Slowly, deliberately, as though the act of walking allowed the tension in his body to dissipate into the air around him.

  "A few months after my father's death, Naomi realized I was not going to follow in his footsteps, along the path of power and money for money's sake. So, she dumped me for an acquaintance of mine, a petty thug from the neighborhood." He stood there silently for a moment, then shook his head. "But Roger was ambitious, and willing to take the kind of chances I was no longer willing to take. The poor fool."

  "So where is he now? I can't believe he would just sit back and allow her to see you again."

  "Well, he got on the dangerous side of the wrong people. And that's a big problem when you're dealing with people who are driven by power. Or greed. Especially if you don't have resources, or someone else to protect you. That first time you met her at the country club? That was just after the funeral."

  He came and sat next to me again, taking my hand in both of his. "Angela," he said looking into my eyes, "do you remember the first time you danced for me?"

  The memory came flooding back, the moonlight, the veranda, the music. I felt the warmth in my cheeks, which was only matched by the warmth between my legs.

  "How could I forget? I was scared, and nervous, and so turned on. But then you… you…" I looked down at our hands. He raised my hand to his lips and kissed it gently.

  "Ange, I want you to understand what that night was like for me. I wanted you. My God how much I wanted you. I had been trying since I first met you to keep everything strictly on a business level. But you made it impossible for me."

  "I didn't do anything…" I started, but then I remembered the night in the limo.

  "Exactly. You were just being yourself. But that was enough. And as much as I wanted you, until that night onboard ship, I had been pretty much able to restrain myself, to stuff it all down. But when you danced for me, I forgot my promise to myself."

  "But you pushed me away."

  "Yes. I'm sorry. When you called me 'Tony' that night, it was like being doused with a bucket of cold water. I suddenly remembered why I was on the cruise, and what the stakes were."

  I looked at him in confusion. Why would using a nickname be so startling?

  "Tony was a name from my past, from when I was a kid, still wet behind the ears. My college friends had called me that, but the only woman who had ever called me Tony on a regular basis was Naomi. Seeing you, touching you, feeling you, tasting you, wanting you so badly, and suddenly thinking of Naomi – it was just too jarring. I hated seeing the hurt on your face, and Angela, I'm so, so sorry. I didn't know how to explain it to you without hurting you more."

  A thousand different thoughts and feelings crowded through my body, each one clamoring for attention. On one side was how ashamed I'd felt that night, worried that I'd done something wrong. On the other side was relief that it wasn't me that he had rejected that night, but instead, it was his thoughts of Naomi. And mixed throughout, were all the memories of pleasure he had brought up again with his description of touching and tasting and feeling.

  "But, if it bothered you so much, why didn’t you say anything until now? Do you want me to stop calling you Tony?"

  "No. It's okay. I got used to it. And in some ways, I'm glad you started calling me that. It took away some of the sting of disloyalty—a hold-over from when she dumped me. There's no need for me to let anything about Naomi disturb me again."

  "Well, I don't want my use of a nickname to disturb you at all. How about that name Marko called you? Would you object to 'Tonio'?"

  He laughed. "No, Tonio would be fine. It's what my father used to call me when I was young. But really, I'm okay with Tony. Now."

  "Antonio, the last person in the world I want to remind you of is Naomi."

  He laughed again. "Trust me, you're no Naomi." He shook his head, smoothing back my hair with his free hand. "Thank god."

  "Antonio, you hardly ever talk about your father. Or about your family or your upbringing. Didn't you get along?"

  "We were never very close when I was growing up. My father was always busy. He was usually gone, working or whatever. I was pretty angry with him for most of those years, mostly because he never seemed to be around. But then he took ill, and asked to see me. I almost didn't come home. And if I hadn't, I think I would've regretted it the rest of my life."

  He refilled our glasses, taking a sip before he continued.

  "My father had always been strong and confident. When I saw him that time, though, he was weak and tired, almost wasting away. He told me I was heading in the same direction as he had, and if I didn't straighten out–soon–I'd end up just like him.”

  Antonio seemed far away, staring at the wall as if it were a movie screen replaying his life. I wanted to reach out to him, but didn’t dare, didn’t want to break this moment of trust.

  "At first that really pissed me off, him telling me that I was just like him. I mean, how the hell would he know? He was never there at home. But then, he shared his regrets with me, the things he'd done that he was sorry for. He insisted that I listen to him. And it gave me a different perspective on the man, something I had never considered before.”

  I so badly wanted to ask questions, wanted to know what his dad had done that he regretted. But I sensed this moment was too fragile for me to interrupt.

  "The night he died, I thought long and hard about everything he'd said. I realized he was right; if I didn't change my ways and change them fast, I would end up just like him. In a loveless marriage, without many true friends, always wondering which piece of me somebody wanted. And that was the last thing I wanted to happen."

  I saw the pain on his face, and it melted something inside me.

  "So, in a way, he was a great benefactor. He taught me a lesson I might not have learned in any other way, or that I might've learned too late. And he was a great example to me—of exactly how I didn't want to be."

  "Antonio, I don't know what to say. Our families were so different. Maria and I, we never had a lot of money, but my parents were always warm and loving. And, until my mother died in the car accident, we were very close knit."

  "That's obvious, I've seen the way you and Maria take care of each other. You're very supportive, looking out for one another. I'm even kind of envious."

  I smiled, thinking of Maria. Here. Tonight. Being the center of attention.

  "I can't tell you how much I appreciate what you've done for us, especially for Maria. And especially tonight. It was truly magical seeing her get the recognition she deserves."

  "You both deserve a lot more than you've gotten so far. I'm glad I was able to help Maria, that's one of the advantages of having the right contacts. I'd like to see her spread her wings a little more. Just because she's stuck in a wheelchair—for now—doesn't mean she has to let it be a cage."

  I shook my head, smiling up at him as I handed back his handkerchief. I watched him slip it into his pocket while I admired the line of his jaw, and the way the light glinted in his eyes. "I don't know what it is, but I just can't stay angry with you. Even when I'm hurt, when I'm mad as blazes, you surprise me by doing something generous."

  "You surprise me too, Angela." He laughed. "Especially tonight. You should've seen Naomi's face when you spilled the wine on her 'accidentally'. It was priceless."

  I felt my face flush, remembering the childish glee I'd felt earlier in the evening.

  "You're not mad at me?" I asked hopefully.

  "Angela, how could I ever be mad at you? Don't you know that by now?"

  I pressed my lips together and shook my head. Seriously? Before tonight, and the confessions he'd just made, I'd have found it impossible to believe. "Antonio, I don't know what to th
ink. I can't seem to figure you out."

  "My dear, I really am a simple man. I know you may find that hard to believe, especially since I don't flaunt my emotions or wear my heart on my sleeve."

  "So then, where do you wear it? I keep trying, but I certainly haven't figured that out yet, either."

  He pulled my hand toward him, drawing me closer also. Then he placed my hand on his chest, and covered it with both of his. I felt the steady beating of his heart under my hand. "It's here," he said, staring into my eyes. "Just waiting for you."

  For a moment, I couldn't breathe. Then my heart started pounding wildly as a flush of uncertain pleasure washed over me. How long had I waited for this, just hoping he would show me a sign that he felt the same way about me, even if just a little bit?

  "But I am here, Antonio," I said, placing my other hand on his cheek. "And I always have been."

  He pulled me closer, sliding his arm around my back, grasping my waist as he pressed his chest to mine. He smoothed back my hair with a small flip of his hand, bending his head to nuzzle my neck. The warmth of his lips sent chills down me, electric spikes of pleasure that danced down my spine.

  "Oh!" I shivered in anticipation, combing my fingers through his soft, gorgeous hair, excitement shooting from my center as I pressed myself against him.

  "Cara mia, it's been too long," he whispered into my neck. "I need you."

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  ANTONIO

  I pulled her toward me, aching to hold her in my arms again. We both knew the time for talking was over. I brushed aside her silky hair, and leaned in to nibble her neck. That sweet, delicious neck of hers that always excited me with its long, regal perfection.

  Just the taste of her was almost more than I could stand. I wanted to tear the clothes from her body and devour her right there, right then, with no regard for the future. Or even her pleasure. My need was raw and my desire threatened to overtake me.

  But some sense of self-preservation held me back, this was something more important. I wasn't just a starving man, wanting to consume the succulent meal in front of me, although the urgency that pushed me onward felt that way. This was something special. Something divine. A precious gift I wanted to be able to feast upon again, and again, regardless of the primal urges screaming for my attention.