Henry raised a dark eyebrow, the full impact of his father’s request feeling like a punch in the gut. “If I manage to get on Ms. Helen Carrington’s good side, she’ll be likely to help us to secure the building permit we need to begin construction near the beach.”
Never one to mince words, his father smiled slyly. “That’s my boy. I’ve taught you well.”
Bullshit! To teach me something, you’d have actually needed to be around.
“I accepted this position as a real-estate developer, not your stud for hire.” Henry crossed his arms. “I must have been mistaken when I assumed we would be business partners. I had no idea that part of the deal was for you to become my pimp.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Henrique,” Diego tsked. “You’re a young, handsome, virile gentleman. Use your God-given strengths to your advantage. I’m confident your good looks will only add to the appeal of our proposal. I’m sure you will find some way to have Ms. Carrington seeing things from our perspective.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“I know you’ll get her to join our team. Just do what you do best. Turn on the charm and make her swoon. I’ve no doubt that by the end of the gala, you’ll have her eating right out of the palm of your hand. Just like all the others, she’ll be begging to make you happy.”
All the others? His father seemed to think his reputation as a lady’s man held true. “Such confidence you have in me, Father.”
His father wheezed as he stomped up beside him and slapped him on the shoulder. “Come. Have a drink with me. We’ve got an agenda to discuss.”
Henry shook his head then walked to the door. “Sorry. I’ve got something to take care of.” As he turned the doorknob, he called over his shoulder, “I’m sure we’ll talk soon.”
RELEASING A DEEP BREATH, Henry reluctantly knocked on the hotel room’s door. A moment later, the door swung open and Kelly St. Regis catapulted into his arms. With her breasts crushed against his chest, she held his face between her palms and pelted him with kisses.
What had possessed him to come to his ex-girlfriend’s hotel room? It was a terrible idea. He should’ve known better than to think they could have a rational, non-physical conversation.
“I’ve missed you,” she said, her lips moving lower to nuzzle his neck.
Carefully, Henry unlatched her fingers, seemingly made of Velcro, from around his neck. His eyes widened as he took a good look at her. Oh shit. He quickly averted his gaze, staring at the ugly checked pattern of the carpet. He couldn’t allow his cock to rule his head, even if Kelly was clad in nothing but a pair of black lace panties and black stiletto heels.
One long, blood-red fingernail stroked over his shirt, stopping above the button of his pants as Kelly eyed his crotch. “Someone is happy to see me.”
“Don’t.” Henry clasped her wrist, pulling her hand away.
“Why not?” Kelly tossed her dark hair back, wiggling her shoulders. Her breasts jutted forward while she shamelessly pinched their puckered nipples. “You know you want me.”
Rubbing his temples, he contemplated a way to get through to her. “This is wrong—we are wrong, Kelly.”
Hands now on her hips, she reminded him of a child, a very sexually mature child, as she pouted up at him. “But I traveled all day to see you.”
Sighing, Henry reminded himself that he’d only come to her hotel room to settle this once and for all. “You shouldn’t have. I thought we settled this before I left Miami.”
Ignoring him, Kelly kicked off her heels and lowered herself onto the bed. Head tossed back, her long hair cascaded down her arched back as she struck a model’s pose. “Come here. Let me remind you that being here is where you belong,” she said seductively.
I should have known better. Henry started to turn around, deciding to leave before things became any more uncomfortable. “It was stupid of me to believe we could have a conversation in your hotel room. I’m sorry. I take complete responsibility for any misunderstandings between us.”
“Then you can thank me later, Henry. I’ve been dying to have you take me to that expensive Italian restaurant with the grand-opening sign in the window.”
Her words cut to the quick, stopping him in his tracks. Always an ulterior motive! He spun on his heel and charged toward the bed with long-legged strides. “I’m not taking you anywhere. Do I really have to remind you that we’re no longer a couple?”
Kelly’s beautiful face twisted into an ugly grimace. “You aren’t the only man who could take me to that expensive, new Italian restaurant.”
“It’s about time you realized that. I’m sure there are plenty of men who’d love to bring you there,” he said, reining in his temper.
“Don’t act all holier than thou, Henrique, when we both know you love rutting with me. Getting all down and dirty,” Kelly spat.
Anger exploded within him. Henry bent over her, fisting the blankets as he braced his arms on each side of her. “Who do you think introduced me to those perverted games?” He hissed through gritted teeth, “Don’t try to make me feel like an asshole for taking what you so willingly offered. I’m no different than any other red-blooded man with needs.” He bounded for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“It’s none of your fucking business.” Nostrils flaring, he warned her, “I’ve tried to be kind. But let me spell it out so you’ll get it through your thick head. We. Never. Will. Get. Back. Together.” Henry slung the door open, his teeth rattling from the force of its bang against the wall, and stormed from the room.
“You son of a bitch!” Kelly snatched her shoe from the floor and threw it as the door slammed shut.
Chapter 3
Victoria
After another long and restless night of tossing and turning, Victoria felt like a walking zombie. Thanks to Santana Construction’s relentless pursuit of her property, she was not only exhausted—she was stressed to the max. She hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in weeks. Her mind was too preoccupied with worry. If her mind wasn’t cluttered with thoughts of being homeless, they were consumed with the possibility of having her and Jennifer’s business ripped out from under them. And yesterday’s arrival of a fat manila envelope in the mail had only made matters worse.
Barefoot, Victoria plodded half asleep down the staircase. She’d been disoriented when the alarm clock buzzed and had hastily donned her bathrobe, tying it around her middle as she walked toward the kitchen to make her cup of coffee. Of course, had she actually gotten more than twenty minutes of sleep, she’d have remembered to put her slippers on and her feet wouldn’t feel like ice cubes now. Something she wouldn’t have forgotten to do had Henrique Santana and his group of hoodlums left her alone.
The large glass windowpanes rattled from the ocean’s brutality; its gusts battered around the corners of the old home. Raw drafts seeped through the seams of the weathered wood paneling. Victoria shivered and tightened her fingers around the oversized coffee mug, its warmth providing a welcome relief against her palms. She took a sip, savoring the nutty flavor of the fresh brew as it coated her throat, and folded her legs beneath her, slumping onto the wicker chair. Eyes closed, she wondered what Nana would think if she knew Victoria had been offered a generous seven figures to buy their old colonial home. After all of Nana’s hard work and sacrifice, Victoria couldn’t imagine selling out to those land-hungry vultures. They’d never appreciate what this home meant to her, nor how hard her grandmother had worked to maintain a roof over their heads after Victoria’s parents’ untimely death in an automobile accident. There was no way she’d willingly allow Santana Construction to rip her inheritance away.
TWO HOURS LATER, VICTORIA had arrived at the Literary Ladies’ Book Nook and Café. “Good morning,” she called out, stepping into the semi-dark room.
Seated at a table in the café, Jennifer rested her forehead against her palm. “Too loud,” she grumbled.
“Late night?” Victoria turned the open/closed sign on the door and flipped the l
ight switch on, pretending not to hear Jennifer’s muffled expletives at the unwanted brightness.
Jennifer squinted toward her, her eyes mere slits. “Is it necessary to turn all the damn lights on?”
“I’m afraid so. We won’t have any business if nobody thinks we’re open.” Although experience had proven that it was best not to bother Jennifer when she was nursing a hangover, Victoria simply couldn’t wait. After all, she’d spent a good portion of her night thinking about the upcoming city council meeting. Entering the café, she dared to broach the subject. “We need to discuss our plans for the city council meeting.”
Eyes squeezed tight, Jennifer released an unrecognizable, not-quite-human sound. “Now?”
Victoria lowered herself onto the chair across from Jennifer, ignoring Jennifer’s obvious irritability. Jenn would have to deal because their futures were at stake. “I thought maybe we should have some notes written up. Maybe practice possible Q&A.”
Face scrunched up, Jennifer slowly moved her head back and forth in opposition. “We’ll sound too rehearsed if we do that.”
“It doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”
“No, it doesn’t. But I know you, Vicki. You’ll never sleep as you plan what to say, when to say it, and who to say it to.” Jennifer cupped her head in her palms and released a loud sigh. “Can’t you just have faith that our reputation as quality women entrepreneurs will work to our advantage over some unknown, big-ass conglomerate?”
I don’t sleep now, Victoria thought in protest when the chime signaled a customer had just entered the shop. The interruption put an abrupt end to their discussion.
Jennifer looked toward the entrance and groaned, lifting her hand in a halfhearted wave.
“Good morning!” Mrs. Burton bellowed throughout the room.
“Good morning.” Smiling, Victoria moved toward the woman. “I’m happy you came in today. We have some great new mysteries that just arrived.”
“How wonderful!”
Victoria flinched. She might not be hung over, but it was still too early for Mrs. Burton’s boisterous voice. “Follow me.” Victoria motioned to a nearby bookshelf. “I’ll show you to them.”
ONCE THE LUNCHTIME rush had passed, Jennifer left early for a doctor’s appointment. Victoria had tidied up the bookshelves, as well as vacuumed and dusted the shop. Since there had been little traffic all day and she was caught up on inventory, Victoria decided to take advantage of the quiet afternoon by spending the remaining hour before closing drinking a cup of tea and flipping through the latest issue of People Magazine. In a few days, the holiday season would be in full swing and she’d long for a moment to breathe. As she poured boiling water over a bag of green tea, the bell above the door chimed, and Yushin Matsui shuffled in. “Good day, Victoria,” he said, his ordinarily exuberant tone sounding deflated.
“Nice to see you, Mr. Matsui.” Victoria’s smile quickly faded as she noted the grim expression on the elderly man’s face. “Is everything all right?”
A jagged newspaper clipping shook from between his weathered fingers. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I read this in my retirement magazine and thought you might like to see it,” he said, handing Victoria the wrinkled piece of paper.
Her eyes widened as she read the headline. “Santana Construction’s Plans to Revive Newport’s Gilded Past.” She skimmed the article, scoffing at its contents. “Can you believe this nonsense?”
Victoria thought she saw pity flicker in the man’s dark eyes. “I hate that our city would even consider such a monstrosity, but times change. Things certainly aren’t like they used to be.” The founder of South Sea’s Dynasty, a family-run Japanese restaurant located directly across from the Literary Ladies’ Book Nook and Café, had seen tremendous change throughout its many years along the waterfront.
“It’s positively sinful,” Victoria said.
“Everything is about the almighty dollar,” Mr. Matsui added. “Tourism brings in money.”
“But building here doesn’t make sense. Millionaire’s Row is only a few blocks away. If Thames Street is leveled, they’ll lose a valuable piece of history.”
“You’ve made a good point. Bellevue Avenue is inundated with lavish parties where socialites and political leaders are known to gather at the various mansions. I suppose Santana Construction believes they will capitalize on the overspill, which the Gilded Seashell Hotel cannot accommodate.”
Mr. Matsui peered around the empty shop. “In the summertime, this shop, along with all the other businesses in Brick Marketplace, are swarming with customers. Lines of people form along the sidewalk, waiting for an empty table in my restaurant. It’s not the sushi, although it is the best in town,” Mr. Matsui boasted a moment before continuing. “People pile into my restaurant because of the location. So I understand the appeal of adding additional lodging. However, I’m not certain that a five-star resort would be successful year-round.”
“Of course, it wouldn’t.” Victoria set her jaw. “I can’t imagine why anyone would host a party at a five-star resort when they could rent a mansion.”
“And there’s the billion-dollar question.” Mr. Matsui winked. “Pardon the pun.”
It’s not funny. Victoria shot Mr. Matsui an incredulous look. There was absolutely no humor in this situation at all. How could he act so matter-of-fact when his business was under attack as well? “Aren’t you worried about the future of your restaurant?”
“The Mrs. and I are old. We can’t physically do what we once did.” His lips curved at the sides, his eyes crinkling at each corner. “This may surprise you, but we didn’t have money to go on a honeymoon. We recently celebrated our fifty-second wedding anniversary. It’s about time Sakura and I see the world.”
Nodding, Victoria crossed her arms. “You should. Just like anyone who visits the City by the Sea should actually be able to view the ocean.”
“Both you and Jennifer should be proud of what you’ve accomplished.” Mr. Matsui braced his weight on his cane and began to shuffle his way toward the exit. “Your grandmother would be. Regardless of any resorts that are built along the waterfront, I’ve no doubt that the two of you will be successful in anything you endeavor.”
Victoria placed her hand on his bony shoulder and walked him to the door. “Thank you, Mr. Matsui. I appreciate your confidence in us. But I assure you, Jenn and I are going to fight for what’s rightfully ours,” she promised and turned the deadbolt, watching through the glass door to be sure Mr. Matsui had safely made it across the cobblestone street.
Chapter 4
Henry
Freshly showered and feeling invigorated after spending the last 90 minutes at Waterfront Fitness, the upscale gym located in Brick Marketplace, Henry strode quickly down the sidewalk. He treated his workout regimen as if it were the Holy Grail. Lifting had become his drug, an escape that he began out of necessity. Being an overweight teenager with acne-prone skin, he’d grown tired of being bullied. Knowing that a fad diet wouldn’t work, Henry had gone to the boarding school’s library and borrowed a book on nutrition, which he read in its entirety that same night. The next day he’d returned to the library and borrowed another book. By graduation, he’d read each of the books in the massive collection.
Throughout his senior year, Henry had seriously considered combining his love of physical fitness with his passion for art. His vision was to pursue a degree in physical therapy with a minor in art therapy for children. Once he’d completed college, he’d then open a professionally staffed training center for children with special needs. The center would focus on their rehabilitation while helping them find their own creative outlets on their journey to wellness. Of course, when Henry had told his father his idea, Diego had balked. He’d given Henry no alternative but to earn his master’s degree in architecture. His father had Henry’s future already planned out for him—to take over the family business.
Suddenly, his focus was drawn to the large glass windowpane of the Literary L
adies’ Book Nook and Café. From behind the glass Victoria Hathaway stood fussing with a stack of books on display. Henry slowed his gait, reminding himself to breathe as his focus became riveted on Victoria Hathaway. Realizing he was acting like a green schoolboy, he moved on. Reluctantly, he lowered onto the driver’s seat once he’d reached his sports car parked only a few spaces away from the bookshop. Unable to tear his gaze away from the sexy bookseller, he fumbled with the ignition. The sports car roared to life.
Suddenly, the bookshop’s lights dimmed. Victoria stood at the entrance door and reached to turn the open/closed sign.
Like a voyeur, Henry leered from his position behind the steering wheel. His cock twitched. His full attention focused on Victoria’s feminine silhouette. Turning off the car’s ignition, he waited for her to exit.
Bundled in layers of pink, Victoria stepped onto the sidewalk. She withdrew a key from the lock and rattled the doorknob multiple times. A bit obsessive compulsive, Henry concluded while continuing to spy. Nonchalantly, she proceeded down the sidewalk and, apparently, didn’t plan on driving away in any of the parked cars she passed.
Henry clenched his jaw. Didn’t Victoria Hathaway realize she flirted with danger by walking alone at night? Anyone who possessed perverse intentions could hide among the plethora of dark alcoves that ran adjacent to the cobblestone streets. Evil lurked under the veil of night. Experience had proven this to him firsthand when his fiancée, Isobel, had been murdered the one night she walked home alone after class.
Henry brooded, uttering a curse under his breath. He pushed the driver’s side door open and unfolded his 6'5" body from the seat. Since she wasn’t going to look after her own safety, he’d have to do it for her.
Trudging over the slippery cobblestones, Henry prayed like hell that Victoria didn’t notice him. Wind gales howled violently, muffling the sound of ice crackling beneath his footsteps. Henry pulled on the collar of his coat, shielding himself from the whistling wind, its brutality nearly sucking the breath from his lungs.
The Prodigal's Desire Page 2