High Stakes Seduction - Book 2 (8 page)

“I—I thought maybe you would…” I let the words trail off as we walked together down the quiet hallway.

Antonio stopped, leaning against the wall and pulling me into him. “You thought what?”

I caught my breath, feeling the taut muscles of his chest against me as his arms wound around my waist. "I thought—" I began, but I was distracted by the way the tip of his tongue ran over his lips, parted ever so invitingly. My hands were on his arms, my body pressed against his. All he had to do was lean down to kiss me.

Or I could kiss him. Is that what he wanted?

My body almost begged me to do it. But, despite the alcohol encouraging me to let go, despite my decision to take my life into my own hands, my rational mind held me back. His eyes flickered darkly with… disappointment? After a moment, his hands unwound from behind me, sliding to my hips as he gently pushed me back away from him.

We walked back to our cabin in a tense silence, with about a foot of space between us. When he opened the door for me, I stepped inside, but Antonio didn’t follow.

“Good evening, Angela,” he said, and closed the door between us.

I stared at the door for the longest time, unable to believe this impossible man had just left me.

Again.

I felt my fury returning.
What the hell was going on?
What did this man want from me? I was so angry! And frustrated. And… hurt.

And yet, I could still feel the delicious ache in my groin, remembering his fingers sliding along my thigh, reaching up beneath the hem of my dress.

I stepped over to the mirror, watching as my own fingers traced the path of my memory and imagination, gently teasing the hem of my dress higher and higher until I revealed the black lace panties beneath. I gently stroked the delicate material, sucking in a breath when I realized how wet I was. How much I'd wanted his hands on me, in my most private and primal parts.

I glanced behind me at the door, worried for a moment that Antonio would decide to return and find me like this. But as my yearning overcame my natural reluctance, I moaned softly with disappointment that he wasn't here.

And then, I felt a little rush run through me, and I began to imagine him walking back through that door as I slipped my finger beneath the black lace, rubbing gently along my warm wet slit, intensifying the heat and desire within me. I imagined him stepping up behind me, joining his hand with mine, pressing against me, fingers sliding down. Slowly at first, letting the ache radiate within me as I moved a hand up to my breasts, imagining Antonio’s fingers slipping beneath my bra. My fingers pinched at my taut nipples and I groaned, my back arching with the waves of pleasure spiraling through my body. “I want you, Angela,” I could hear him whisper in my ear.

I felt my legs growing weak, as the throbbing between them grew more intense. My fingers moved more vigorously as I stepped over to the bed. I sat down, my leg spread wide as I imagined Antonio sitting across from me, his hungry eyes drawn to the movement of my fingers, slick with desire, as I brought myself closer and closer to the edge.

“That’s it,” he whispered in his velvety voice, “Come for me, Angela.”

And I did, throwing my head back and crying out his name as my body shuddered with each wave of pleasure, until at last, I collapsed on the bed. Breathless.

Chapter Nineteen

“These are gorgeous!” Maria said over our connection the next morning in the media room. She kept looking away from the video call to her laptop, admiring the pictures I’d sent. “Look at the way the island’s reflection shimmers off the surface of the water. It’s so beautiful!”

“Did you see the dolphins?” I asked.

She clicked through a few more images, her eyes shining as she looked up at me. “I love dolphins!”

“I know,” I said, beaming at her. “I was so lucky! Just as I was about to leave, they showed up. So I grabbed you a picture.”

“I’ve been looking through your great photos while I wait for Thompson to come back.”

I eyed Maria shrewdly. “Waiting for Thompson to come
back
? Maria, what are you up to? I’ve only been gone for a few days.”

Maria blushed, literally covering her mouth to hide her giggle. “Oh, you know. He just dropped by to check up on me. He's picking up Chinese take-out. It’s nothing, Ange.”

“Uh huh,” I grinned. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much!”

“Well, what about you and Antonio?”

“Oh no, you don’t get to change the subject on me.” I said the words playfully, but there was no way I wanted to talk about Antonio right now. I wasn’t in the mood to spin Maria another lie to cover up whatever it was that was going on in this odd arrangement he and I shared. In fact, I’d actually dreaded calling Maria because I knew she’d ask about Antonio and me. But, I figured the pictures would be enough to distract her. Thankfully, now I had Thompson too. “You keep begging me for juicy details. Now it’s your turn to spill, Sis.”

She laughed, her face brightening again. “All right, I guess it’s only fair. Although, there’s nothing really going on that’s quite as exciting as your life, Ange. Thompson is just really sweet. He drops by to check up on me and brings me treats. Last night he stayed a bit later after dinner to watch TV with me. And this weekend, he’s taking me to an Art and Wine Festival.”

“That sounds wonderful, Maria,” I said, genuinely pleased. “I’m glad you’re having a good time. You need to get out more. There's no need to stay cooped up in the house.”

“Especially with the wonderful weather we've been having. Thompson's really sweet, Ange. I know he's big and burly looking, but he has a gentle heart."

I narrowed my eyes at the wistful sound in Maria's voice. "Is there something more you want to tell me?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Oh no! Well, not really," came her surprisingly bashful reply.

"Well then, I'll be expecting full details of your festival trip,"

"Don't worry. I'll be more forthcoming than you've been so far," she teased.

My heart nearly stopped.

"And I’m glad you’re having a good time. Enjoy the island sunshine, Sis. And send me more pictures!”

Chapter Twenty

MARIA

Angela had the strangest look on her face as she waved goodbye to me from the monitor. I waved back and clicked on the icon to end the video call. I had been a bit anxious, waiting for her to "check in" again from the cruise ship. But it had been great to actually chat face-to-face. She looked like she was finally enjoying herself.

As I scrolled back through the photos she'd sent me, I was glad I'd insisted on Ange taking her camera. Her composition was always so good. And she had a wonderful knack for capturing just the right angle. The island children had obviously been her favorite subject, considering most of her images included one or more of them.

But my little sis knew my thing had always been landscapes, and she hadn’t let me down. The beaches, the architecture of the little homes, and all the beautiful flowers. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine myself there.

I glanced over at the ghostly canvases leaning against the wall, continuing to collect dust in my makeshift corner studio in the living room. Then I turned back to the coffee table, where Nevia's gift sat behind my laptop. The light brown wooden case sat there, silently taunting me.

My hands trembled as I reached to open the narrow little case. The handsome set of bristle brushes sat inside, untouched since Nevia had brought them to me two days ago. It had been such a surprise. I hadn't thought about painting in so long. But now, here they were, sitting politely waiting in their box, challenging me with their tidiness.

Maybe it was time to consider picking up my paints again.

The doorbell rang. Startled, I shut the box and set it aside. “It’s open,” I called out.

“Hungry?” came a soft, deep voice behind me as I blinked quickly to get rid of the tears that had been threatening me just a short moment earlier.

Putting on my best grin, I turned to greet Thompson. He stood there smiling, holding up a big brown paper bag.

“You have excellent timing, sir. My stomach was just starting to complain loudly.”

Thompson laughed, making his way toward the kitchen as I followed behind. He placed the food on the table while I set out dishes and silverware.

“What’s on the agenda for today?”

“A few of the company’s models need to be chauffeured around for photo shoots this afternoon, but other than that, it’s a pretty light time for me with the Boss away."

"Are you on call? Or do you get the time off?"

"Basically on call. But Mr. Mancini is a good boss. When he doesn't need me, or I'm not scheduled for shoots and such, he lets me spend my time with my daughter.”

“Oh.” A daughter. Then that means… “I didn’t realize you had a daughter. That is, I didn’t realize you were… married?”

“I’m not, actually,” he said, helping himself to an egg roll. “Not any more. Her mother and I separated a few years ago. It was messy. I don't want to go into details, but it didn't end well."

His face shifted into a dark brooding look.

"Emily is special. She was injured when she was five—spinal cord. I can't prove anything, but I don't think it was accidental. Anyway, she doesn't get around too easily by herself. And, I don’t get to see my girl as much as I’d like because of the odd hours this job requires, so I try to get in as much time with her as I can when I have a break. The Boss understands that.”

“I’d love to meet your daughter. How old is she now?”

"Nine. A wonderful, imaginative, spirited nine-year-old." His face beamed as he described her. "She’ll be coming along to the Festival this weekend, if that’s all right?"

"Perfect!" I said. “And, I’m really looking forward to the Festival, thank you so much for asking me."

Thompson actually blushed. I thought it was so cute on such a big man.

Chapter Twenty-One

ANGELA

“Put on your best walking shoes, Angela. We’re going to a batik factory today,” Antonio had announced at breakfast. It was the second stop for the ship, and I was glad I wouldn't have to do it alone. Again.

“What’s a batik factory?”

“You’ll see,” he'd said with a twinkle in his eyes.

He was in a good mood and I was glad he'd finally be spending time with me. I wasn't going to question my luck. I hurried back to the room to meet up with him after my call to Maria.

The moment we stepped off the gangplank onto solid ground, he took my hand and led me away, hailing a carriage drawn by a wiry young man of surprising strength and stamina. I marveled at everything we passed, until finally, he came to a stop before a breathtaking manor, restored to glory with bright paints and surrounded by lush vegetation. Antonio paid our driver and we stepped inside, where friendly faces greeted us.

“Oh!” I exclaimed when I saw the beautiful fabrics draped all over the rooms. “I had no idea this kind of material and design actually had a name.”

“All hand dyed and hand painted,” Antonio smiled, fingering a blue and white swath of fabric. "It’s somewhat labor intensive, but you'll get to see the process on the tour. I admire fine work, regardless of the medium."

"Welcome to our estate," the solemn guide said, leading us into the setup rooms. "Thank you for your interest in our process."

I looked over at Antonio as he spoke quietly with the guide. So, this was a working vacation after all.

I soon lost myself in watching the beautiful and intricate work. I was amazed at the long bolts of white fabric, stretched on looms. Women stamped designs or hand painted them using a combination of beeswax and paraffin. Each piece was hand-dipped or hand-painted with each dye color separately. The wax-painted sections resisted color, which is how they got the whites and the lighter undercolors. It was definitely a labor-intensive process.

We stepped into the steaming "boiling rooms"—places where the finished pieces were boiled for forty-five minutes to remove the wax and "pre-shrink" the fabric. Once the fabric was removed from the pots, they were hung outside in the sun and wind.

I had never seen such a colorful display of fabrics! And the process was absolutely mesmerizing.

"Our drying lawns are perhaps the most photographed clotheslines in the world," the guide proudly told us.

We stepped into the showroom. The patterns that surrounded me were as brilliant as the garden outside, which I imagined inspired many of the designs. “This would make a beautiful dress,” I said, holding up a bright green fabric to my skin.

Antonio eyed me, giving me his “Fashion Industry Mogul” once over, before leading me into a room off to the side where elegant mannequins were adorned in gorgeous batik dresses and skirts. He found a dress made of the same material I’d just been admiring and held it up before me. “Try it on.”

I obliged, loving the feel of the clean, soft fabric against my skin. “Well?” I twirled before him, feeling the hem of the thigh length dress rise enticingly as I did so. “What do you think?”