High Stakes Seduction - Book 5 (11 page)

"Tony, thank you so much for everything you've done for my sister and me. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. And, I'm sorry, I know this was childish of me. It really wasn't my intent to create a problem for you." In my mind I completed the sentence that I wasn't able to say in front of him:
but I'm fed up, I'm tired of being hurt, and I'm leaving.

I turned and walked back into the gallery, heading for Maria.

"Sis, enjoy your evening, you've worked hard for this and you deserve to enjoy every moment of it. I'll catch a taxi, and I'll see you at home."

"Angela! What's wrong?"

I knew Maria deserved an answer, but I just wasn't up to explanations at the moment. I searched through my mind, trying to come up with a quick or flippant response that would satisfy her and let me go. But I couldn't. So I made something up by stretching the truth a little.

"I'm tired Maria. And I have a sudden headache. Please enjoy yourself, and don't worry about me. I know you're in good hands, I'll see you when you get home."

A sudden commotion at the other end of the room caught our attention. I watched Naomi grab Brad Stephens' arm, literally dragging him away from the conversation he'd been engaged in. I couldn't help it, a smirk settled on my lips.

"Is that what this is about?" asked Maria turning back to me, eyebrows raised high.

"Sort of," I sighed, knowing she wouldn't let me off the hook if I didn't at least explain. "I caught her with Antonio in the hallway. She had her hands all over him, and I guess I kind of flipped out."

"Look Sis, I'm no mind reader, but I seriously doubt your Antonio has much fondness for Naomi. Whether or not she has designs on him. Perhaps you're jumping to conclusions."

I looked back at Maria, not knowing what to say. I just shook my head, raising my hands to rub my forehead. I really
was
getting a headache.

"Look, I'm tired. I'm going home."

"Not yet you aren't," came the voice from behind me.

I turned, expecting to see anger on Tony's face. Instead, he stood there silently, studying me intently.

"You and I need to have a talk, young lady."

Uh-oh, this was it, the confrontation I'd been afraid of
. "Can't it wait? I have a splitting headache, and I really don't think this is a good place to have that conversation."

He continued on with that piercing stare, and I felt my shoulders sag as I sighed in resignation. This was one time I knew for certain I didn't have a choice in the matter.

Chapter Thirty-Four

ANGELA

"Come," was all he said, gesturing with his hand toward the door.

I sighed again, giving Maria a kiss on the cheek. "I'll stop in before I leave." I told her.

I walked toward the door, mustering whatever dignity I could. No one else here knew what had happened, but still, I felt as though all eyes were on me. When I reached the door, I turned to wait for Tony, uncertain of where we were headed.

"This way," he said, taking the lead. I noticed he had grabbed two wine glasses, and a bottle of the wine the server had been pouring at the main table. At the end of the hall, we turned to the left and he guided me to the stairs. He gestured for me to precede him, which I did.

At the top of the stairs was a small landing, with three doors leading into rooms that I assumed were offices, or maybe storage. Antonio handed me the bottle of wine, and stuck his free hand into his pants pocket, pulling out a key which he then inserted into the door on our left.

Pushing it open, and flipping on the light from the switch on the wall, he ushered me inside. I looked around the room. Well, I was right, at least about this one. Definitely an office. And a nicely furnished one at that. Not nearly as nice as Antonio's, but a whole lot bigger and more plush than my little third floor office.

"Is this the gallery owner's office?"

"Yes," Tony answered as he shut and locked the door behind us. "But he's gone for the evening, which is why he gave me the key. This time we won't be interrupted."

Under other circumstances that statement might have made me nervous, but this was Antonio Mancini. My boss. A man I might not understand, but a man I thought I could trust… with my personal safety at least.

"Sit," he said, gesturing toward a large plush sofa. I did as I was told. He set the glasses down next to the wine bottle I had placed on the low table next to the sofa.

He sat beside me, and poured two glasses of wine, handing one to me. Then he stood up again, stepping over to the desk and leaning back against it, like he did in his own office. He took a sip of the wine, and stood there for a moment, watching me. He began to absentmindedly run his hand over his Rolex as he looked directly into my eyes. He took a big breath of air, and began to pace in the area between the sofa and the desk.

"I'm sorry," I blurted. "I don't know what came over me. I mean, I really do try my best to ignore her, but it's a lost cause. She drives me nuts."

I was startled when Antonio started laughing. "You're not the only one she rubs the wrong way. Trust me, there aren't many people who can ignore her, especially when she's 'on'."

"I just don't get it. Why do you keep seeing her? I mean, seriously! You keep saying it's over between you, but it seems like every time I turn around, I see her… with you."

"Angela, I've asked you to stay out of this. There are things going on that you need to steer clear from. Why won't you listen to me? I'm doing this for your own good."

"Well, it doesn't feel that way to me! You keep getting all mysterious on me, but you never really answer my questions. Sometimes I feel like I'm some kind of yo-yo or something, the way you seem to turn it on and off with me."

He came and sat next to me on the sofa, taking my hand in his. "Angela, there are some very dangerous things going on—with some very dangerous people. Things I'm not at liberty to explain. I want you to trust me on this. It really
is
for your own good."

"I do trust you, Tony. I mean, I trust your intent. Or, I think I do. But…" Then I started crying. I don't know what came over me at that moment, but I remembered how stunned I'd been onboard ship, when he'd gotten that text and suddenly turned to stone.

"What is it, Angela?" He set down his glass and pulled me toward him.

"I don't know… if I can… forgive you… for leaving me… at the end of the cruise. Leaving me to go off with that… that…
awful
woman." I managed between sobs.

"Really?"
His brows scrunched together, creating a perplexed frown
.
He pulled out his hankie, dabbing at my cheeks.
"
Come on, Angela, what's there to forgive? Business is business. That doesn't change the way I feel about you."

"Or how you feel about Naomi?"

He sighed, leaning back against the cushions, and taking a large swallow of wine. Then he set his glass on the table beside him again, and turned to face me, his arm lying along the back of the sofa.

"I'm not so happy about this either, but Naomi has played an important role in what's going on. I tell you, there's no romantic attachment between us. But right now she has her uses."

"Well, that's not how it looks to me. Every time I see the two of you together, she has her hands all over you. And as far as I can tell, you seem to be enjoying it. That doesn't sound like 'no attachment' to me."

He sighed again. "I'm sorry, Angela. It's complicated. And I really can't talk about it right now. It isn't safe."

"Safe? For me, or for you?"

"Please, Angela.
Please
just trust me on this."

"You know, Naomi said some very cruel things tonight. And she said them about Maria."

"I'm not surprised, she's known for that."

"Then why do you keep seeing her?"

He reached for the bottle of wine, refilling my glass, then filling his to the top.

"It's a long story, but here's the short version. Yes, we used to be an item. But that was a long time ago, before my father died. After his death, things changed dramatically for me. I dumped some of my old friends, and many of my old haunts. My father made me promise to take care of my family, and warned me about going down the same path he had, a path that had left him morally and spiritually empty."

This was getting interesting. It wasn't like Tony to talk about himself. I kept my mouth shut, wanting to know more. I remembered the night on the cruise, how much closer I’d felt to him after he’d opened up and provided a small glimpse into his past. I certainly wasn't going to stop him talking now. I was hungry to understand who this man was, and what drove him.

He took another sip of the wine, setting the glass back on the table. He sat there in silence for a moment, then stood again. Sticking his hands into his pockets he rocked back on his heels for a moment, staring at the floor. Then he began to pace again. Slowly, deliberately, as though the act of walking allowed the tension in his body to dissipate into the air around him.

"A few months after my father's death, Naomi realized I was not going to follow in his footsteps, along the path of power and money for money's sake. So, she dumped me for an acquaintance of mine, a petty thug from the neighborhood." He stood there silently for a moment, then shook his head. "But Roger was ambitious, and willing to take the kind of chances I was no longer willing to take. The poor fool."

"So where is he now? I can't believe he would just sit back and allow her to see you again."

"Well, he got on the dangerous side of the wrong people. And that's a big problem when you're dealing with people who are driven by power. Or greed. Especially if you don't have resources, or someone else to protect you. That first time you met her at the country club? That was just after the funeral."

He came and sat next to me again, taking my hand in both of his. "Angela," he said looking into my eyes, "do you remember the first time you danced for me?"

The memory came flooding back, the moonlight, the veranda, the music. I felt the warmth in my cheeks, which was only matched by the warmth between my legs.

"How could I forget? I was scared, and nervous, and so turned on. But then you… you…" I looked down at our hands. He raised my hand to his lips and kissed it gently.

"Ange, I want you to understand what that night was like for me. I wanted you. My God how much I wanted you. I had been trying since I first met you to keep everything strictly on a business level. But you made it impossible for me."

"I didn't do anything…" I started, but then I remembered the night in the limo.

"Exactly. You were just being yourself. But that was enough. And as much as I wanted you, until that night onboard ship, I had been pretty much able to restrain myself, to stuff it all down. But when you danced for me, I forgot my promise to myself."

"But you pushed me away."

"Yes. I'm sorry. When you called me 'Tony' that night, it was like being doused with a bucket of cold water. I suddenly remembered why I was on the cruise, and what the stakes were."

I looked at him in confusion. Why would using a nickname be so startling?

"Tony was a name from my past, from when I was a kid, still wet behind the ears. My college friends had called me that, but the only woman who had ever called me Tony on a regular basis was Naomi. Seeing you, touching you, feeling you, tasting you, wanting you so badly, and suddenly thinking of Naomi – it was just too jarring. I hated seeing the hurt on your face, and Angela, I'm so, so sorry. I didn't know how to explain it to you without hurting you more."

A thousand different thoughts and feelings crowded through my body, each one clamoring for attention. On one side was how ashamed I'd felt that night, worried that I'd done something wrong. On the other side was relief that it wasn't
me
that he had rejected that night, but instead, it was his thoughts of Naomi. And mixed throughout, were all the memories of pleasure he had brought up again with his description of touching and tasting and feeling.

"But, if it bothered you so much, why didn’t you say anything until now? Do you want me to stop calling you Tony?"

"No. It's okay. I got used to it. And in some ways, I'm glad you started calling me that. It took away some of the sting of disloyalty—a hold-over from when she dumped me. There's no need for me to let anything about Naomi disturb me again."

"Well, I don't want my use of a nickname to disturb you at all. How about that name Marko called you? Would you object to 'Tonio'?"

He laughed. "No, Tonio would be fine. It's what my father used to call me when I was young. But really, I'm okay with Tony. Now."

"Antonio, the last person in the world I want to remind you of is Naomi."

He laughed again. "Trust me, you're no Naomi." He shook his head, smoothing back my hair with his free hand. "Thank god."

"Antonio, you hardly ever talk about your father. Or about your family or your upbringing. Didn't you get along?"

"We were never very close when I was growing up. My father was always busy. He was usually gone, working or whatever. I was pretty angry with him for most of those years, mostly because he never seemed to be around. But then he took ill, and asked to see me. I almost didn't come home. And if I hadn't, I think I would've regretted it the rest of my life."