twelve
Manuel wasn’t the romantic type, despite the way Americans romanticized his culture and most especially not since his wife passed away. So when Rena Grace snuggled up to him after their furious sexcapade, he gently but forcefully pushed her away.
“Sorry, I guess it’s too soon for cuddling, huh?” Rena commented.
Manuel could tell from her tone that she wasn’t happy about the way he’d rebuffed her advances. Women tended to get emotional when it came to sex, expecting more than a man like him was willing to give. And for a man like him, who appeared to have the world to give, it seemed callous, but not only was it a matter of protecting his wealth, it was also a matter of protecting himself.
And whether she realized it or not, he was, in a way, also protecting her. She would thank him for it later.
“I have work to do.” He made no move to leave the bed, instead remaining on his back and reaching for his phone. As he scrolled through his long list of emails, he could feel her eyes on him. “What?”
“I can’t believe you’re working after all of that.”
“Why?” He glared at the phone, reading the name of a sender he didn’t particularly care for. He’d done business with the man once, helping him out of a tight spot—with interest—and now the guy hounded him day and night. Do one favor, and people acted as if you owed them something. He was going to have to deal with him soon, but for now, he deleted the message and continued scrolling.
“Well, maybe you didn’t enjoy it as much as I did, but I thought it was worth a little relaxation time at least.” He didn’t answer, and she scooted closer, despite the cold shoulder that should have discouraged her. Tracing a finger through his chest hair, she said, “Why do I get the feeling you’re a workaholic?”
“Because I am.” He sliced a look down at her. “I take care of my business, and my business takes care of me.”
She stared up at him with those mismatched eyes that, admittedly, captured his attention. “Has anyone ever told you that you are a very serious man?”
His right hand lifted, and he pinched her chin somewhat playfully, eyes narrowed on her sexy mouth that he wanted to kiss, but he didn’t want to encourage her. “Never. Everyone’s too afraid of me to dare.”
She laughed, thinking he must be joking, but when his expression didn’t change, she grew quiet again. “I don’t think you’re scary.”
“Wait till you get to know me.”
“Does that mean you’re planning to keep me around long enough for that to happen?”
His brows pulled down, and he could feel the frown on his face. Was that what he’d meant? He hadn’t given it any thought. None whatsoever. It’d just come out that way, and now she was attributing an errant remark to something more…
He considered kicking her out then and there so she would understand that he had zero notion of having anything more substantial between them than the purely physical…but then he thought about that hurt expression she’d worn when he’d merely pushed her away.
It didn’t sit well with him.
Curious. Why was it that he could do that—and had—to dozens of women before her, and now he was struggling with it? It should be second nature by now. Hell, it had been, before she came along.
As Manuel transferred his attention to the trey ceiling, he realized something was different with this one. He’d never been much for one-night stands, though he’d never turned his nose up at one if the opportunity and the need presented itself. But, in the past, whenever a woman showed signs of getting too close, he had no problem showing her the door.
Searching within himself, he found he didn’t possess the same inclinations with Rena. He…wanted her to stay. Just for a while. Nothing serious, but still, he wasn’t eager to run her off and never see her again.
“Manny,” Rena breathed, that gentle hand stroking his chest again.
Right. She’d asked him a question. “Si, I guess it does.”
He could feel the happiness radiating from her. Rena was so vibrant, jubilant, full of life… To crush that kind of spirit would be a tragedy. Yet, to remain with him would ensure just that. But he didn’t care. He’d made a decision: he was going to enjoy the fruits Rena had to offer. Just once, he was going to take his time with a woman, explore her depths more fully.
And when he was done with her, he’d cut her loose, no matter how he felt about her.
Which would be nothing but the kind of typical compassion one human being felt for another, but she was young and would soon forget about him and move on with her life, and he with his.
That tracing finger inched its way up his chest before her hand cupped his jaw and guided his face down to hers. “In the spirit of getting to know each other better, I vote we start here in bed.”
“Aren’t you tired, hermosa?” She’d already drained him twice, and the night was still young.
“I’ll rest when I’m dead,” she replied flippantly, then rolled fully into him and threw her leg around his waist, pulling her naked body on top of his. With a wickedly seductive smile, she said, “I’m going to ride you like a roller coaster.”
Manuel met her mouth halfway, and they tore into each other. Third time’s a charm, Manuel thought as she impaled herself on him and made good on her promise.
***
Ew, old people sex. Victorjia couldn’t believe that in a house as big as this, and with as much money as it must have taken to build it, they’d cut back in important areas, like adequate insulation.
She was in the opposite wing from her father, a hallway and grand staircase away, and she could still hear the sounds of sex. The walls must be paper thin. Just like the whole no-blinds-on-the-windows-so everyone-can-see-everything-you-own thing she didn’t understand, leave it to the rich to include sexual escapades to the list of their exhibitionist tendencies. Well, maybe she had that backward, but she knew what she meant.
Some things just needed to be kept private.
Unable to stand the wails and grunts of pleasure and that horrible skin-smacking sound—God, she prayed he wasn’t spanking the woman—Victorjia climbed out of bed and hurriedly threw on some clothes in the dark. She didn’t care if it matched or not; she just had to get out of the house before she lost her mind—or her dinner.
Either was very possible at this point.
Besides, she had a date tonight. She closed her eyes, hearing his smooth, low voice again. Tomorrow night. Eight. She had no intention of standing him up. She just needed to get there.
Most of the guards her father employed were sleeping in their assigned quarters or back home with their families—she assumed. But there was a small detail that stayed on overnight, combing the perimeter of the house and watching over its grounds to ensure no uninvited guests showed up unannounced.
Victorjia didn’t know what her father did to gain all of his considerable and obvious wealth since she’d been raised by her grandma for most of her life. But the years she could recall, somewhere between the ages of five and now, were filled with scathing stories of what a bad man Manuel Contreras was. How misguided he’d become after her mother died. Victorjia and he hadn’t had an ideal father-daughter relationship, one with piggyback rides and Sunday trips to the ice cream shop, but she’d never sensed a bad man when she spoke with him.
Her father was sad, a damaged soul filled with sorrow over a past that had done them both a considerable amount of damage and robbed them of a future that should have been.
Even now, seeing with her own eyes and having to acknowledge that something about the way he lived and how he came by it all, seemed suspect, but she couldn’t call him a bad man.
Sad, insecure, fearful, and a whole lot overprotective of his only daughter, but not bad. And if he had done bad things? Well, what human being could claim they never had? Life was fraught with uncertainties and unfortunate and sometimes necessary difficult decisions. As long as he wasn’t a cold-blooded murderer, as long as everything he did, he did with purpose, she could forgive him anything.
Sneaking down the shiny stone staircase that she was certain she would one day slip and fall down, Victorjia, quietly padded her way to the first floor, shoes in hand, ready for an adventure.
She had no idea where she was going— Okay, that wasn’t exactly true. She had some idea. While the area itself was as-yet unmapped to her, a particular face kept popping up in her mind’s eye.
That’s where she was headed. To find him.
The cab drive would take care of the rest.
It was easy enough to give the guard at the front door the slip. Easy because he’d been sleeping on the job. She’d been mad to find him passed out cold, but thankful because it gave her the chance to make her escape.
After that, it was a matter of simply waiting until the other two making their paces on the left and right side of the house changed direction, and she took off running on light feet across the cobbled turnabout, not stopping until the shadows of the tree-lined driveway enveloped her. Then she put on her canvas shoes and started walking—briskly—to the main road where she planned to call a cab that would pick her up en route and take her wherever she wanted to go.
It was almost scary how easily and well she was able to give her father’s men the slip. While it worked in her favor tonight, she knew she had to tell him about the man sleeping at his post come morning. With as much money as she’d bet he paid them, he deserved better security, and that man deserved to be fired. God forbid anything bad actually happened. He’d be a sitting duck.
Avoiding the security cameras, Victorjia scaled the stone wall holding up the tall, metal gates. Once she reached the other side, she made her call to the cab company, and within minutes, she was headed toward the small downtown area. Excitement filled her to the brim.