Authors: Ella Grace
“Yes. How’d you know?”
“I have friends who’ve served.”
When she stopped tracing the scar and removed her hand, he felt the loss of her touch like a blow. Glad that he still held her other one, he squeezed it gently. “So…care to tell me why you were snapping photographs of me?”
“I’m an artist?”
“Are you asking me?”
A delightful pink tinged her cheeks. “No…no. Of course not. I am an artist.” Her voice grew with confidence. “Whenever I see an interesting face, I take snapshots so I can recreate it later.”
“I’m honored you find my face interesting. So…water color, charcoal, or oils?”
“Um…charcoal.”
“Fascinating.” He withdrew a notepad and pen from the inside pocket of his jacket and pushed them across the table. “Draw my face. If you convince me you’re an artist, I’ll let you keep the photos.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’m not going to draw a picture of you. My work is private…deeply personal. Now please let go of my hand and I’ll be on my way.”
“Do it and I’ll delete the photos I took of you with spaghetti hanging from your mouth.”
Her cheeks went pinker. “You didn’t get any shots of that.”
“Did too.”
Glaring at him, she snapped, “I’m right-handed. You’ll have to let go of me first.”
Unable to resist and willing to take a slug to the face if she saw fit, Ian lifted her hand to his mouth for a light kiss and then released it. Before she could react to that impropriety, he grabbed her phone. “I’ll just hang on to this for the time being.”
Eyes sparkling with a bright green fury, she snatched up the paper and pen and started drawing. He had no idea if she was actually sketching him or just doodling circles and figure eights. He couldn’t take his eyes off her face.
The soft pink coloring her velvety cheeks made him think of a creamy white rose he’d seen in his mom’s yard. He remembered that it bloomed solid white but after a few days, took on a rosy, blush-colored hue. The flower, however, paled in comparison to this enchanting creature’s beauty.
She wore a sleeveless, light green blouse almost the exact shade of her eyes. Her arms were a light golden color and though slender, were well toned as if physical fitness was a priority for her. She looked both strong and delicately feminine.
“Here.” She shoved the drawing toward him.
Dragging his gaze away, he looked down at the notebook and choked on a strangled laugh. She had indeed drawn him and not very flattering. “I never realized how large my nose was.”
“Nosy people rarely do.”
He slid her phone across the table, placing it where it’d been before. “Care to tell me the truth about the photos?”
She eyed him speculatively. He withstood the scrutiny, knowing she was trying to determine if he could be trusted. “If I tell you, will you answer my questions?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Benoit’s wife hired me to prove he was cheating on her.”
“You’re a private investigator?”
“Yes.”
“And what have you decided about dear old Harold?”
She lifted her slender shoulders in a delightfully feminine manner. “He eats too much red meat, is a lousy tipper, and picks his teeth when he thinks no one is looking.”
“True and quite gross, but not exactly evidence of infidelity.”
“He’s also doing something underhanded…sneaky.”
“Really? Like what?”
“You tell me.”
Ian leaned back against his chair. With anyone else he might have told a lie or at the very least skirted around the truth. This woman made him want to share information. Get her take and opinion. He was an excellent judge of character and knew to his soul that she could be trusted.
“Harold Benoit works for Blue Sea Industries, which among other things, develops women’s cosmetics.”
“Yes, I know that much about him.”
“Harold has been working on a project for cell rejuvenation. Cutting-edge research. If FDA approval comes through, it could have a major impact on the aging process and make a boatload of money for the company. And—”
“And Deep Blue thinks Benoit is trying to sell this formula to the highest bidder.”
“In a nutshell, yes.”
“And he is, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is.”
“So he is a scum-sucking, lowlife creepazoid. Just not a cheating one.”
“From my research of him and observations, no, he isn’t…a cheater, that is. The other description is most definitely true.”
“And you were hired by his employer to catch him?”
“Yes. Tonight was my final meeting with him. I was undercover, pretending to work for a competitor. I made him a lucrative offer. He eagerly accepted.”
“So what happens now?”
Ian glanced at his watch. “I’d say that even as we speak Harold is making his one allowed phone call to his attorney. I texted his employer just after he left the table.”
“So you’re a PI, too?”
“I am.”
“Care to tell me your name?”
“I will if you will.”
She held out her hand to shake his. “Sabrina Wilde, Wilde Investigations.”
Taking her hand back into his, Ian knew an odd moment of serenity, as if he was not only touching the soft, smooth skin of a beautiful woman but also someone who would become very important to him.
“Ian Mackenzie.”
“I’ve heard of you.”
Reluctantly releasing her hand, he cocked his head, surprised. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
She flashed him an unabashedly cheeky grin. “I’ve heard you always get your man.”
Unable to resist, his own grin just as cheeky, he said, “And my woman, too.”
Chapter One
Miami, Florida
Armando Cruz stepped out of his limo into the back alley of his club and took in a deep breath. Ah yes, the smell of success. Oh, some people might think of it as stink. The stench of debauchery or filth. But Armando knew better. This was life, humanity.
This
had made him wealthy beyond his dreams.
This
was his destiny.
Who knew that a few days ago he could have felt this good or optimistic? After Lauren had left him, he’d been distraught. Yeah, he could admit that to himself now. She had broken his heart, almost broken his spirit. After all he’d done for her, given her. She had betrayed him in the worst way possible. He had been set on vengeance. Finding her and making her pay his only priority. But then he’d been made to see reason and now had a new lease on life.
Only three people knew how this had happened—Armando, the shrink who’d helped him, and Robert, his most trusted friend and advisor. If news got out he had seen a head doctor, Armando knew he’d be ruined for sure. Admitting weakness in this business was tantamount to asking to be killed or taken over. But his one true friend had suggested the shrink. And Armando knew Robert would never tell a soul.
Though wary of sharing his inner most thoughts with anyone, especially a stranger, he had agreed to a visit. After all, Robert had never steered him wrong yet. And once again his friend had been right. That visit had changed his life—made him see things in a whole new light. He now knew why he acted the way he did, did the things he did.
His newly discovered self-awareness hadn’t stopped him from performing his job. If anything, understanding his motivation had only increased his productivity. As the doc had assured him, understanding one’s inner demons would keep Armando grounded. Didn’t mean he stopped being a tough guy. Oh hell no. In fact, just yesterday he’d taken over the territory of one of his oldest rivals, ordering the elimination of the man’s entire family. Only a strong, courageous leader would have the balls to do something so bold.
Yeah, he was definitely back on his game.
Even though the shrink believed he needed more than one visit to be completely cured, Armando disagreed. He had overcome a difficult time in his life and he was moving on. It was over…done with.
This morning he’d called off his team of investigators, told them to come back home. He had better things to do than go after some nobody who didn’t appreciate him. There were plenty more women in this world. Lauren Kendall meant nothing to him anymore.
“Boss, everything okay?”
Abruptly aware that he’d been standing in one place, staring at the back door of his club, Armando gave a stiff, arrogant nod. So what? He had nothing to be embarrassed about. This was his place…his kingdom. If he told this dumb-ass to stand here until next week with his underwear down around his ankles and his ass hanging in the wind, then that’s what the guy had better do. Armando was the ruler of his world.
“I’m fine.”
The words were nothing less than a growl. Nevertheless, Armando straightened his shoulders and walked through the door that was being held open for him. The dark hallway led to his offices. Few knew that the lower floors existed. The nightclub was a notorious place of sleaze and human vermin where lowlifes and gangbangers came to get drunk, get laid, and make deals.
Armando liked places like this. It reminded him where he’d come from and how far he’d risen. He could leave here and go home to his mansion, fly anywhere in the world in his private jet, make people do anything he wanted. But the sleaze that came here day after day would never be more. In every way possible, Armando was far superior from that sludge.
A part of a wall slid open, revealing the interior of an elevator. As Armando descended, he stood proudly before the mirror on the elevator door and took stock of his appearance. Just over six feet tall, smooth, slightly olive skin, glossy, thick black hair, chocolate brown eyes, and a slender physique. His dark brown suit had been tailored to perfection, enhancing but not overwhelming his good looks. He was tough looking but elegant, too—the image of a successful businessman. As he’d learned early in his career—image was everything.
A minute later he was in another world. This one of wealth and privilege. The fragrance of rich leather and thousand dollar cigars permeated the air. Decadence surrounded him. While he basked in elegance, the fools above him slogged around in the trenches of filth. But without them, he wouldn’t be here. He loved the irony.
“Everything’s ready for you, sir.”
Armando didn’t bother to acknowledge the asinine words. Of course it was ready for him. There would be hell to pay if it wasn’t.
He seated himself at his table and immediately dug into his Porterhouse steak. Prepared by the chef of the most exclusive restaurant in Miami, the meal was exquisite. The Cabernet, a perfect accompaniment, had been flown in from France just last week. At five thousand dollars a bottle, few people could afford it.
Armando paid no attention to the people surrounding him. They were there to do his bidding. And just like the furniture or decor, they could easily be replaced.
Hunger appeased, he took one last swallow of his wine and stood. The remains of his meal would be removed, the table cleared. He gave a nod to one of his men who clicked on his stereo. The soothing sounds of light jazz filled the room. That was also a signal to bring in tonight’s guests for drinks and some fun. One hunger had been appeased, another remained.
The door opened and two people entered, a man and woman. He knew the man well. Ryan Walker had been working for Armando for years. Caught between two worlds, Walker had proved his loyalty and cunning numerous times.
Walker had brought the woman round before, but Armando had been too immersed in his grief over losing Lauren to really notice her. And damn what a sight he’d missed. Medium height, silky black hair that just touched her shoulders, and a body that wouldn’t quit. Good sized knockers that would overfill his hands, slender hips, but not too skinny, and long legs that could wrap all the way around a man’s waist for a good, hard ride.
Her smooth white skin reminded him of cream and silk. Armando’s mouth watered. He couldn’t wait to see if she tasted as good as she looked. And oh yeah…her mouth. Even if she were as ugly as a donkey’s ass, that mouth would’ve sealed the deal. A woman’s mouth was made for only two things and neither of them involved talking. He looked forward to putting that luscious mouth to good use.
“Welcome!”
Walker shook his hand, while the woman stood back, looking slightly awkward and shy. Yes indeed, he was going to have a good time tonight.
Giving his other men a nod of dismissal, Armando waited until they’d closed the door behind them, leaving him alone with Walker and the woman before saying, “Who’s your friend, Ryan?”
“Mr. Cruz, I’d like to introduce you to Lilah Green.”
“Come over here, sugar, and let’s get a good look at you.”
Her slender neck moved as she swallowed nervously. Green eyes darted over to Walker, as if asking permission.
“No use looking at him. I’m the one who calls the shots here.” Armando’s voice went hard—she needed to learn obedience, quick. “Now come over here before you’re made to.”