High Stakes Seduction - Book 5

by LeCoeur, Ami

  "That's my girl," he said, kissing my forehead as he stood me up and nearly pushed me out the door. "I'll call you later."

  Chapter Forty-One

  ANTONIO

  "Hilary, get me Brad Stephens." I straightened up, looking over at the drawings Angela had left for me, still sitting on the table. I knew she meant well, but now I was worried. The last thing I needed was for her to become involved in this.

  "Stephens on line 2," Hilary said.

  "Brad, we need to wrap this up. And soon."

  "What's up, Mancini? Has something changed?" Stephens asked.

  "Not yet, but things are getting a bit too dicey, and I'm not so sure I can keep everything under control. Or under wraps."

  "That doesn't sound like you, Mancini. Is there something I should know about?"

  "No." It wouldn't do any good for me to tell him about Angela, or to voice my concerns. "But there are some unexpected complications raising their ugly heads. I know everything takes time and you can only push so much, but shouldn't we be getting pretty close to having this handled?"

  "Yes. I should have everything in place within a couple of days."

  "Thank God. I'll be glad when this is all over."

  "Me too, buddy."

  Chapter Forty-Two

  ANGELA

  Antonio seemed awfully glad to get rid of me. No matter what he said, I had already made my mind up that I wasn't going to simply let this go. There were things I needed to find out, and if he wasn't going to give me the answers, I'd just have to find out by myself.

  Besides, I was serious. The last thing in the world I wanted was for him to suddenly disappear on me, and I was willing to take a few chances to make sure that didn't happen.

  It was getting dark outside and I should be heading home. After our little celebration last night, I was sure Maria would appreciate some help with dinner at least. She wasn't used to drinking, and we'd certainly done our share. I'd been a little slower to start than normal today, but it was worth it to me. I couldn't remember the last time we'd had so much fun or so many giggles. I was amazed at how different our lives were now, compared to just a few months ago.

  All due to Antonio. Just another reason to protect my man… my heart… and my future.

  I walked through the hallway, noticing most of the offices were closed, people gone for the day. I pulled my cell phone out to check for the time as I stepped into the elevator, pressing the eighteenth floor. I'd decided to pay a visit to Mr. Wendell Walker myself. Certainly he'd remember me from the cruise, he'd gawked enough at me in the casino.

  I wasn't sure what good any of this would do, or what information I might be able to find out, but I was pretty sure I could fake my way through just about any conversation I had with him. Besides, the temptation of him being only fifteen floors above me was just too much.

  My heart was thudding as I stepped out of the elevator. I almost turned back, but I noticed there was a light shining into the hallway from his office. The door was slightly open, and I just couldn't resist.

  Okay, it's now or never, I told myself, taking a deep breath and crossing my fingers. Buck up, girl. You can do this.

  I stepped across to the office door, pressing it gently. I heard voices, but they weren’t very loud. I peeked around the door and office was empty. The secretary was either in the back room or gone for the day. The door on the far wall showed light coming through the glass, so I glanced down the hall, and then stepped inside the room, being as quiet as possible.

  I hurried over to the lighted door and pressed my ear near the door jam, straining to hear what was being said.

  "When is that delivery coming, Carmiante?" came Walker's unmistakably whiny voice. "I'm tired of waiting. I did my part, now do yours."

  "It's supposed to be matching funds, Walker. I don't see no matching funds this time. You're expecting us to transfer the money in first? You know that won't work with the boss. What are you trying to pull?" Carmiante sounded just as angry as Walker.

  "Technicalities! The funds will be there, stop worrying. It's all got to be there by the end of next week for the quarterly billing. Isn't that right, Armstrong?"

  I heard a low, rumbling voice muttering something, but it wasn't loud enough to make out. Quarterly billing? Matching funds? Carmiante? What was going on? And who was this Armstrong? That was a name I hadn't heard before.

  "If we don't get that money into Cartoli's account pretty quick, there'll be hell to pay."

  Lorenzo Cartoli? The alderman? I remembered his face again from the other night at the gallery. In my mind's eye I saw him turn, revealing the blotchy scar. And then I realized where I had seen him before. That weasely little man with the tablet at the meeting where I'd first been introduced to Carmiante. The slimy little fellow had tried to hide the face on the tablet. I didn't recognize him then, but I knew who he was now. It had been Cartoli. The scar was a telltale giveaway now that I knew what the man looked like.

  Holy crap! What in the world was Antonio involved in? And just how deep did it go? I leaned in further, straining to hear more.

  "And what about you? When are you going to deliver?" Walker demanded. "I need the evidence to either nail Stephens, or some way to make sure he plays along."

  "Don't you worry none, darlin'," came Naomi's sharp drawl. I had to cover my mouth to silence my gasp. "Our man will be in line. You just need to be a little more patient, honey."

  "Darlin', my ass," Walker retorted. "I'm beginning to think you aren't nearly the expert persuader you claim to be, regardless of your beauty and cunning."

  I knew I hated Naomi, but now I think I hated her even more. She was tied up in this alright. Antonio said she had an important role, and it obviously had something to do with the District Attorney. But if she was trying to frame the D.A., then what was Antonio really doing here—and whose side was he on? I'd come here hoping to get more answers, but now all I had was even more questions.

  I heard a soft scuffing sound behind me and the hair on the back of my neck rose in fear. Before I could turn to find out who else was in the room, a hand clamped over my mouth and nose, shutting off my air. A powerful arm circled my waist and lifted me off my feet.

  I struggled against my captor. I even tried to scream, but no sounds left my mouth. I kicked with my heels as hard as I could and tried to bite the hand fastened to my face. I heard a curse as I landed a random kick, but my flailing proved less than effective, and I began to panic as I fought to pull air into my lungs.

  Between the hand over my mouth and nose, and the arm clamped tightly around my middle, I couldn’t breathe and my lungs began to burn. Tears ran hot down my face as the edges of my vision grew dim. The last thing I remembered as blackness overcame me was Antonio's voice saying, "We have too much ahead of us, Cara. I promise you, everything will be okay.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  ANTONIO

  It had been a long day. I stretched my shoulders, trying to work out the knot that had been there since Angela's visit earlier this evening. She'd asked too many questions, questions I wasn't prepared to answer until this mess was over. She deserved to know what was going on, but I wasn't at liberty to explain. Not yet. Too many little pieces needed to be tied up before I could tell her everything.

  But now I was worried. I rubbed my temples, trying to get rid of the headache behind my eyes.

  She was intelligent, and curious, and determined when she wanted to be. The fact she'd come with the questions in the first place sent up warning signals that she was getting too close to the action.

  Her loyalty was one of the things I appreciated and found most attractive about her. What worried me right now was her brazen tendency to forge ahead, regardless of the consequences. She seemed determined to get answers to her questions, and it would only get her into trouble if she dabbled in this business.

  As I stepped into the elevator, all I could think of was that I loved this woman, and wanted to protect her, to wrap her up in something
soft and warm and hide her away. Or lock her in some damned castle where she'd be safe from harm.

  I shook my head at how much had changed. She hardly seemed to be the same person I'd met a few short months ago. But having her in my life had shifted things forever. She had captured my heart, there was no denying that.

  God, I would be so glad when this was over. I had only taken the assignment because Brad asked me to, as a favor to him. Now I was sorry. For the hundredth time in the past several weeks, I asked myself if I would've taken it on at all if I'd known her first.

  The building was strangely quiet as I left the elevator and walked through the lobby. My footsteps echoed loudly in the silence.

  I was relieved to find Thompson waiting for me at the curb. Here was someone I could trust, count on. Someone who never asked questions that I couldn't answer. The trust between us went both ways. I knew he'd listen to anything I had to say, without challenging my requests.

  As I reached for the door, my phone buzzed.

  "Yes?" I asked, my hand already grasping the door handle.

  "Mancini. What is this crap?"

  "What do you want, Walker?"

  "I thought you said the girl had nothing to do with this."

  I felt the hair on my neck bristle up on end. "What the hell are you talking about, Walker?"

  "You know perfectly well what I mean."

  The only "girl" he could be talking about was Angela. Damn. I told her to stay out of this.

  "And your Naomi seems to be slipping, too. Don't forget, we have an agreement. And time is running out."

  The phone went dead.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  MARIA

  I opened my eyes, and quickly shut them again. I still had the remnants of my headache from yesterday, but at least it was no longer a migraine. Still, the bright sunlight hurt my eyes. I had spent most of yesterday in bed, ruing my foolishness from two nights ago.

  I knew better. I was so not a drinker! But Ange and I had been excited about my upcoming operation, the recent gallery showing, and everything else—especially the goodnight kiss–that we demolished a bottle and a half of wine between us.

  Angela somehow made her way into work after our semi-drunken night. I don't know how she does it. I'm such a lightweight when it comes to drinking.

  I was grateful she'd just let me sleep, and thankfully, now, yesterday's migraine had finally disappeared.

  Pulling myself up and out of bed, I settled into my chair, always stationed next to the bed. I wheeled into the kitchen, longing for a cup of coffee even though it was almost afternoon.

  I wasn't a huge coffee drinker, either, but on days like this, caffeine seemed the best thing to help take that damn edge off. I watched the coffee drip into my cup, inhaling the fumes, hoping to push away the fog that still seemed to be settled in my brain.

  I wasn't sure what time Ange had gotten home last night. I glanced over at the table, noticing my note from yesterday was still sitting in the middle of it.

  Yesterday's 'morning after' had started with such a hangover, the first one I'd had in years. I'd made my way to the bathroom managing to unceremoniously relieve myself of the rest of the wine sitting on my stomach. Then I'd washed my face, and headed for the kitchen, hoping that breakfast would help me feel better.

  Ange had done her best not to laugh at me, I'm sure I looked pretty haggard. But when she offered me some of her scrambled eggs, I almost lost the rest of whatever was left in my stomach.

  "Sis, you should just go back to bed," she'd told me. "There's nothing that can't wait until tomorrow."

  She was right. After she'd left for work, I was listless, and couldn't focus on anything. And the migraine just got worse. I'd tried eating, but even that was difficult.

  About two o'clock I'd finally given up, deciding the best place for me was on my back under the blankets. So I'd written the note and gone to my room to pull the covers over my head. It hadn't taken long to fall asleep in my cozy cocoon, and I'd been dead to the world until a few minutes ago when I opened my eyes. I couldn't believe I'd slept for almost twenty-two hours!

  Ah, the coffee was done. I pulled the cup out and wheeled over to the table. At least today the light didn't hurt my eyes so much, even if the background pain was a residual reminder of yesterday's migraine.

  I sipped the hot brew, letting it wash down my throat, warming my stomach. That's when I realized how hungry I was. The last thing I'd eaten was lunch yesterday, and my stomach was protesting loudly.

  I turned and wheeled over to the refrigerator, pulling open the door. I grabbed a basket of strawberries and a small pitcher of cream. Then I wheeled back to the sink, rinsing the strawberries and slicing them into a bowl. I poured a little cream on top and took them back to the table.

  Strawberries and cream… food for the soul, and the migraine hangover. Just the right amount of sweetness combined with the slippery slickness of cream. My tummy welcomed the treat.

  I pulled out my cell phone from the pocket on my wheelchair.

  "Thanks for letting me sleep in, Sis. I'm back in the land of the living. Whew. Got any ideas for dinner?" I typed, then pushed send.

  The coffee was finally starting to hit, and I was beginning to feel normal again. My next order of business was finishing up my inventory before the testing and surgery. I expected there would be physical therapy afterwards, so even though I might have some time to get started on my commissioned paintings, I wouldn't be doing much other painting for a while.

  It was four-thirty by the time I finished figuring out which items were ready to be hung, or to be leased, and which still needed to be photographed for the catalog and insurance. I arched my back, pressing against it with my hands. I'd been bent over most of the afternoon, going through the paintings that were stacked against the wall. I felt stiff, and I twisted my body in my chair, trying to relieve the tension in my back.

  Maybe it was time to take some medication. I'd been trying to taper off, but the bending and stretching today had caused an aching that might interfere tonight with my sleep. I'd give it an hour or so to see if the ache calmed down.

  I pulled out my phone, dialing Angela's office number. She didn't answer, so I figured she must be busy. I looked up Antonio's number in our little phonebook. He'd asked specifically for one of the washes I'd done from Ange's photos. I had no idea about his décor and needed to find out if he had a preference for the frame. I still hadn't mounted or framed them, and since he was so interested, it would be easy to accommodate whatever his needs were.

  "Mancini Enterprises," said a pleasant voice. "Antonio Mancini's office."

  "Hello, this is Maria Tilson, Angela Tilson's sister. I'd like to speak with Mr. Mancini please."

  "Certainly, please hold." The line went silent for a few seconds.

  "Maria?" came Antonio's voice. "Is Angela okay?"

  "Sure. I mean, why wouldn't she be?" I heard the tinge of concern in his tone, and wondered what he was talking about.

  "I called down today to talk with her, and Priscilla, my floor manager, said she hadn't been in. That's not like Angela. She's usually punctual and responsible. Is she sick?"

  "I don't think so, as far as I know, she isn't here. Give me a sec, I'll check her room." I set down the phone, and went into the hallway, tapping lightly at her door. No answer. I pushed the door open, peeking in. No Angela. If she wasn't at work, where would she be?

  "Sorry," I said into the phone. "I just checked. She's not here. She must have left before I got up. I had a horrible migraine yesterday, so I went to bed early. I didn't even know the world existed until I woke up this morning about noon. You don't think something's happened do you?"

  My simple question began to develop a life of its own as the silence on the other end of the phone stretched on.

  "Maria, when was the last time you saw Angela?" he asked.

  "Yesterday morning before she left for work. Antonio, what are you suggesting?" My anxiousness was quickly blossomi
ng into something more. Much more.

  "She came into my office yesterday, just about quitting time. We had a conversation about our upcoming trip to Europe, but then she left. No one seems to have seen her since. Are you sure she came home last night?"

  "Why wouldn't she?" I wasn't sure what was going on, but now I really was worried. "Angela never stays out without letting me know. That isn't like her."

  What if Angela had not come home last night? I'd just assumed she was being nice by not disturbing my sleep, but what if something had happened to her? I looked over at my note, still sitting where I'd put it the day before. My imagination filled with all kinds of bizarre scenarios.

  "Do you think something is wrong?"

  "I'm sorry. I don't want you to worry,” he tried to assure me. "There must be a reasonable explanation for this. Does she have any friends you can contact? Someone she might've stopped by to see, and then maybe stayed over?"

  I wracked my brain, trying to remember if there was anyone from high school or from the 'old days' that she might've stayed in contact with. "No. She hasn't bothered to reestablish many of her friendships after she came back from college. After the accident. We just kind of moved on, the two of us."

  "Okay. Maybe it's nothing. I'll get to the bottom of this. And try not to worry. You just stay there, and I'll call you back when I know something."

  "Antonio. You know it would be hard for me to leave, even if I wanted to. And I have no idea where she might be. But you need to call me back if you find out anything. And I do mean… anything."

  I couldn't bear to think about something happening to my sweet sister. But she had never done anything like this before. Ever since the accident, she'd consistently kept me informed about what was happening, maybe even more than she needed to. It was just in her nature to be overprotective. She was a lot like my mom in that way.