Shadow Keeper

by Christine Feehan

  If she managed to do half the things she wanted to do to Giovanni, she would definitely deserve the smirks and knowing looks she was getting. Then, after being completely sated and feeling smug, she wouldn't mind those looks. The thought made her smile. She glanced up at his table. His family had headed down to the dance floor. They all seemed to like to dance and they were very good at it.

  She had to admit, the Ferraro family was very good-looking and drew the eye. She had been known to stare a bit at them when she first was hired, earlier in the month. Of course, she worked the floor far down below their elevated status. She'd found herself staring at Giovanni every time he went onto the floor until she realized he was such a player. Now, she wasn't so sure. He didn't seem like one when he was with her. He kept his gaze fixed on her. Not once, even now, when his brothers were on the dance floor and he would have had an excuse, did he look down at the other women.

  Sasha looked. She made a slow perusal of the club and the women while she waited for the tray of drinks to take up to two of the tables. Most were beautiful. Really, beautiful. Their clothes were quality, clearly designer. Their hair was styled perfectly and most dripped gold and diamonds. How had Giovanni overlooked them to find her?

  It wasn't that she thought the others were better than her in any way--she didn't. Sasha had confidence in herself as a woman. She could take care of herself and her brother. On the other hand, she knew her heart was very vulnerable, and she'd always protected it. When she loved, she loved with everything in her. She was intensely loyal and expected the same. She wanted a home and family. She also believed in a strong partnership. She didn't want Giovanni to make the mistake of thinking he was going to take care of her.

  Her gaze was pulled inevitably back to him. He was so handsome he took her breath away. He really did. She could barely breathe sometimes when she got close to him and inhaled his scent. He had the kind of body artists sculpted or painted. He was sweet to her and caring. She hadn't planned to fall for him. She'd started out thinking he was the worst kind of human being and somewhere along the line she'd fallen under his spell.

  "You look like you got it bad, Sasha," Alan, the bartender, said.

  She laughed and turned back to him. "I do. He's very sweet to me."

  "So, it's really true? You're engaged to him?"

  She held up her left hand and showed him the unusual band. "I am." It was important to play along with the engagement so the Center continued to believe she was with Giovanni and the Ferraro family. She wasn't the best security possible for her brother. And the truth was, she liked the thought of being engaged to him, but that she kept to herself.

  Fingers brushed her wrist as if the person wanted to see her ring. She turned toward the man standing that little bit too close to her. James Corlege and Tom Mariland, the MMA fighters who always came in with Aaron, stood close, crowding her against the bar. She dropped her hand to the tray, but James and Tom could clearly see the ring.

  "Looks like your little ploy worked," James snickered. "I told Aaron you were interested in the Ferraros. All the servers here are. Pay someone to rip your blouse, and he's all about saving you." His voice was nasty. Sneering.

  She stepped back away from him. When she stepped back, she did so right into his friend, Tom. He didn't move. He felt like an oak tree, his body hard from all the workout and training for fights he'd done. She was used to men with hard bodies--she was from an area of cattle ranchers, men who rode and worked for a living--so Tom didn't intimidate her.

  Sasha glanced at him over her shoulder. Tom wore the same mask of contempt as James did. She stepped to the opposite side, moving closer to the bar and away from both men. She knew she could signal the security guards. Right now, they probably thought the men were being friendly. The fact that she could summon help made her feel confident.

  "What did you do to get his attention?" Tom sneered. "Give him a blow job? I hear that's one way girls like you snare wealthy men."

  James nudged her with his foot, keeping the action small so Alan, behind the bar, couldn't see him. "You like giving blow jobs, Sasha?"

  She sent him a small frown, feigning confusion and a wealth of being sorry for him. "Doesn't your girlfriend like to give you blow jobs? Because if she doesn't, maybe you need to figure out why. Cleanliness is at the top of the list, and then there's what you eat. You want to take care of yourself or she's just not going to go there." She switched her attention to the bartender. "Do you have those drinks up yet, Alan?"

  He grinned at her. "Right here, Sasha." He pushed the tray toward her and then switched his attention to the two men. "What can I get for you? Usually your server will take your orders."

  "Our server is too busy flirting her ass off with the Ferraros to bother with us," Tom said.

  Alan glanced at his watch. "I don't know when she would have had time to do that, sir. We keep strict watch on all servers and she's more than meeting the requirements to keep drinks on the table, but if you want to file a complaint ..."

  James cursed and shook his head, turning away to start up the stairs after Sasha. She was very conscious of the two men coming up fast right behind her. She could actually feel hot breath on her neck as she neared the top. They were deliberately harassing her and she wasn't certain why. As she gained the top tier she spun around and faced them.

  "Did I do something to offend you?" she asked James deliberately, looking him straight in the eye. Let him defend himself for a change. "As I recall, you were the one who was all over me the other night, and in fact, you sent me chocolates to make amends. What changed between then and now?"

  "You didn't even bother to look around you at any other men," James accused. "You set your sights on Ferraro, yet you flirted your ass off with Aaron, making him think he had a chance. You also made certain I was looking and so was Tom."

  Her breath caught in her throat. "I didn't. I didn't flirt with anyone that night. You were all drunk, and I thought all of you were a bunch of wealthy players with far too much money and no manners. None of you impressed me."

  Tom narrowed his eyes at her. "Yet you're wearing Giovanni Ferraro's ring."

  She supposed that was a bit of damning evidence against her. She shrugged. "I did nothing to either of you, or Aaron. If he wanted to see me outside of the club, he gave no indication. I appreciate that you're both his good friends, but I'm a little tired of you acting as if it's your right to persecute me."

  She swung away from them and went to the table where the four men waited for their drinks. One smiled at her. "Are they giving you a hard time?"

  The question sounded casual enough, but something in the man's voice caught her attention, as if he was really asking, not just being nice. She had the feeling that if she answered in the negative, he--and possibly the others--would jump up, pummel the two men and throw them out. She hadn't noticed just how fit these men were beneath their flawless suits. More, they weren't dancing. In fact, they weren't even looking at the women on the club floor. She had put the table down to out-of-towners, businessmen looking for relaxation. Now, she wasn't so certain.

  "Seriously, honey," another said. "If they're giving you a hard time, say the word and we'll take care of it."

  She flashed a quick smile and pocketed their generous tip. "Thanks, really, but I can handle them." She turned away, hesitated and then turned back. They had to know, just to keep them safe. She didn't want them taking matters into their own hands. "They're mixed martial arts fighters. All of them at that table, and I believe most have won championships in their divisions. I really appreciate the offer, but security is excellent here. You just enjoy yourselves and the evening." She gave them her high-wattage smile and moved to the next table.

  Two gentlemen gave her smiles. They'd gone down to the dance floor twice the entire evening, but not at the same time. Both had been respectful as well as being generous tippers. She put their drinks in front of them and turned to go back down the stairs. Her stomach sank. Aaron stood waiting for
her a few feet away.

  "Ma'am"--one of the men stopped her, his voice pitched low--"if you need help, just shout out."

  Did she look that fragile, or worried? She didn't like to think so. She wasn't a woman who depended on others to defend herself. She flashed a smile and shook her head. "No problem, really. I'll be fine." She hoped she wasn't lying to them--or to herself.

  "Mr. Anderson? Is there something I can do for you?" She went straight up to him, deciding to get it over with.

  "Aaron. Call me Aaron."

  She nodded. "Aaron then. What can I do for you?" She walked past him to his table, ignoring James and Tom.

  Aaron leaned close to her. "I need to talk to you. Somewhere private." He kept his voice to a near whisper, as if just standing there with her wasn't going to cause undue attention.

  "I'm working." Sasha pointed out the obvious, setting his drink in front of his seat. She turned to go.

  Anderson caught her wrist, a wad of bills in his other hand. "I'm serious. It's for your own good. I'm not trying to be a dick, but someone needs to warn you." He pushed the cash into her hand. "Please, just give me two minutes. And take your tip."

  Sasha hesitated and then nodded. "I'm heading to the bar to grab more drinks. You can either walk with me and talk, or be down there and talk while I get the drinks." She was firm about that. She wasn't going anywhere alone with him. She just didn't trust anyone.

  Giovanni was close, but that didn't mean he could get to her if some crazy man with too many fantasies tried to hurt her. Sandlin needed her alive. It was possible--even probable--she'd been too stubborn about working this soon.

  Aaron followed her as she made her way around the tables toward the stairs. There was just enough room for the two of them to walk side by side as they descended. She didn't so much as glance at Giovanni. She had the feeling he wouldn't like Aaron walking so close to her. She didn't like it, especially every time his body brushed against hers. She was fairly sure Aaron was sliding up against her deliberately every chance he got.

  "He's a player," Aaron announced.

  Sasha glanced up at him. It wasn't what she expected. Not at all. She'd braced herself for something different, something to do with the picture of her breasts exposed. She'd been getting a few propositions, and after what James and Tom had said to her and the way they'd treated her, she was expecting the same from Aaron.

  "Excuse me?"

  "Giovanni. He's my friend. I've known him a long time, if anyone knows a Ferraro, but he's a player. Straight up. A good man, but a player. He's never going to go through with the wedding."

  She continued down the stairs, keeping her eyes on where she was going. He put his hand under her elbow and gripped, as if helping her down. She didn't like to be touched when she hadn't invited it, and after that ghastly, very public picture in the tabloids for the world to see, she really didn't like it. Too many men, as she served them their drinks, had brushed against her body as if they had the right. It wasn't anything she could call security over, but it made her skin crawl. His friends had been the most disrespectful, and that seemed to be on his behalf.

  When she didn't reply, Aaron continued. "Look, I know you're going to think I have an agenda, and maybe I do. I noticed you right away and tried to get your attention. I was drunk and went about it wrong, but it was genuine interest. Giovanni knows that. He's competitive. Do you think this is the first time we've competed for a woman?"

  She hadn't paid attention to anything he said until the last. It made sense given what she knew about Giovanni. He was competitive, and he detested the way women threw themselves at his brothers, cousins and especially him. She couldn't help the sideways glance she gave Aaron. She knew immediately he would take that as a go-ahead to continue.

  "End it. Give him the ring back. Tell him you don't want anything to do with him."

  She didn't know what to say or how to react. She wasn't someone who doubted herself. She knew she was good-looking. Okay. More than good-looking. She also knew quite a few men thought she was sexy. She had curves and confidence. She wasn't a shrinking violet. She liked sex and what's more, she enjoyed giving her partner pleasure, in particular Giovanni.

  "Give me a chance."

  "This competition you and Giovanni are supposed to have. Does it involve money?"

  He shot her a quick glance and then shifted his gaze away, nodding. She couldn't judge his voice by his nod. She had to hear the lie, she couldn't see it.

  "So, you bet whether or not you could lure me away from him?"

  "No, God, no. Of course not. I wouldn't do that."

  "Yet you have money on the table between you. How exactly did the bet go?" She stopped and turned so she was right in front of him, challenging him. She wanted to hear his voice. "And look me right in the eye. If you're betting on my downfall, the least you can do is look me in the eye when you tell me about it."

  He sighed. "He bet me a thousand he could wrap you up before I did."

  Her churning stomach settled. He was lying. She saw it in his eyes and heard it in his voice. Why he was lying, she didn't know, but he was definitely trying to break up her and Giovanni.

  "We're done. Please don't talk to me again," she said. "And I hope Giovanni realizes you aren't his friend at all." Deliberately she turned her back on him and went to the bar to get the drinks for her other tables.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A half hour later, Sasha finally got a well-deserved break. Nancy was supposed to cover her tables much earlier, but she continued to have headaches and had lain down in the lounge to try to combat the one she had, so Sasha had taken both tiers. The Ferraro family sat in full force at their table, which made it just a little intimidating to approach. Still, the ring on her finger gave her an added boost of confidence.

  She went right up to the table, stood across from Giovanni deliberately between Geno and Salvatore, his two cousins who had played their game. She smirked at both of them and then locked eyes with Giovanni. "Would you care to dance with me, Giovanni?" She sent him a sultry smile, her voice pure seduction.

  Geno groaned. "I don't think this is going to be a fair competition."

  "No one had better be competing at all," Francesca decreed.

  Giovanni's lashes lifted and his dark eyes met Sasha's. She felt the impact right down to her toes. He couldn't possibly fake that kind of desire. The sensual lines carved in his face deepened. Lust rose, sharp and terrible to settle wickedly in her deepest core. He could do that to her with one look. He rose immediately without a word.

  Sasha dropped a hand on either cousin's shoulder. "Perhaps there is a lady or two ready and willing to ask you to dance." Smiling, she took Giovanni's hand, threading her fingers through his as they walked away together.

  "Was that a challenge?"

  She laughed. "Of course it was. I know you lost a good deal of money to that awful Geno. He was bragging. We'll have to see just how many points you earn tonight."

  "It's late, baby. We'd have to hurry if we were going to win back all our losings."

  They moved down the stairs together. Around them flashes went off as the paparazzi went crazy trying to get photographs of the two of them together. A couple had managed to sneak up to the top tier--although to do that she was fairly certain security had to have cooperated. They managed to take pictures quickly before they were escorted back down the stairs. She'd noted no cameras were taken away from the photographers. In fact, everyone had been polite.

  Once on the dance floor, Sasha let him guide her through the mass of writhing bodies to the darker edges where she let the music take her. She'd always loved music and dancing. She found the rhythm in the pounding beat immediately and began to move her body to it. Giovanni came up behind her, his body against hers, following the same beat so that they moved almost as if they were already joined, skin to skin.

  His hands came up to her hips, guiding her more intimately into him so that she felt his erection pressed tightly against her buttocks. Ev
ery time she moved, she rubbed her body over his. She reached down and brought his hands up to her breasts. The moment his warm palms covered her, her nipples pushed against him, begging for attention.

  Her breasts felt swollen and achy, hungry for his touch. Her panties were damp, her body going hot and slick. There was something about the pounding beat of music, the dark, his body, so hard and masculine up against hers, just a thin layer of clothing between them. Heat blossomed in the pit of her stomach and spread like wildfire through her veins.

  His thumbs strummed her nipples, rubbed through the thin top until she wanted to scream in an agony of need. Her eyes were closed and she found herself sinking deeper into a haze of desire. She took his hand and slid it along the seam of her blouse. It wouldn't be easy to slide his hands under the camisole, but she should have known he would be able to figure it out. The zipper whispered and the camisole loosened, allowing his palms to slide up her rib cage to the sides of her breasts.

  She sighed and pressed back into him again and again, rocking her hips. He kept one hand around her waist, locking her to him while his other cupped the weight of her right breast, his fingers and thumb busy, stroking and caressing, kneading and tugging. Rolling and pulling. Lightning streaked from her breasts to her clit. Her body pulsed with need. For him. She was wrapped in a web of sheer physical hunger.

  His breath was warm against her ear as his teeth tugged at her earlobe. More lightning. More fire. Her sheath spasmed. Clenched. Went hotter and slicker. "Baby, you have to ask me to put my hands on you."

  She wanted that more than anything. Skin to skin contact. Her entire body felt as though she was going up in flames. But ... a tiny little part of her hesitated. She could have this moment--this intimacy, locked with him surrounded by a sea of people, but it was only the two of them. If he really was playing her, was this moment going to be enough for her? Would she look back on it with regrets?

  "Sasha?" His hands went from moving over her body to swinging her around to face him. His palms framed her face. "Look at me."