Lonzo: Book 2 (Tycoon Series Book 2) (6 page)

“Don’t tell me that you’re still not over her? I refuse to believe that!” she exclaimed.

He did a mental double take at that.

“Her?” he bit out.

“Oh come on, darling. Your ex. The little Brazilian supermodel. Jordana Almueda. She’s coming tonight at the charity said my agent. Why, with her new hunky boyfriend, of course. He’s Italian too. What was his name again…? Ah, yes. That hunky footballer. Chris Falcone. According to the organizers, both gave a substantial amount for the AIDS research—” Helene sweetly imparted.

A flash of hot, raging jealousy thumped him in the chest.

He was able to hide it from the woman eyeing him speculatively. Being poker-faced in his business dealings served him well.

“Should I be interested?” he asked in a neutral, almost bored tone.

“So she’s really out? So there’s no reason for you not to escort me tonight? Hmmm?” she prodded. He found himself saying yes. She was obviously elated. She almost danced as she dressed up and skipped her way from his suite.

And so here he was, completely regretting his hasty decision.

He let his ego get the best of him. Crap. Who was he kidding? He wanted to see her again. To prove that the jealousy he felt in the hotel suite was just a knee-jerk reaction.

He got this obsession with her all under control…

And then he saw her.

She was slowly making her way on the red carpet, wearing a gold gown that could’ve been poured over her amazing body. It made the IQs of the males present fall into single digits. His included.

And then he noticed Chris’ presence at her side. The sonofabitch looked so smug, holding her close to him by the waist. He wanted to march over, get the footballer’s hand off her and drag her away from this place.

His ears registered Helene laughing at his side.

“Darling, I’m so glad you’re wearing a tux. The color green just doesn’t suit you—” she said as she led him inside.

Jordana fought not to squirm
. This was her first big public appearance months after her return from Rome.

Chris had asked her two weeks ago to accompany him and she declined numerous times but he persuaded and cajoled her into agreeing. He said the charity was the perfect event to show the world she was living her life fabulously after the Vitale fiasco. That was really sweet of him.

When Chris began seeing her in New York, she did try to avoid him. She was still smarting over Lonzo. She told him upfront that she wasn’t ready to date anyone yet. He still persisted. He said he wanted to get to know her as a friend. He wouldn’t pressure her into anything. He disclosed that he was on the same boat as she was and that he found it refreshing that she didn’t make a play for him.

“Don’t tell me you shun female attention, Falcone.”

“Hey, I didn’t say that. What I’m saying is, locker sex gets old. In time you’d wish these girls wouldn’t want to fuck you all the time.”

“Oh, pwoor wittle you. You’re growing conceited, Falcone.”

He shrugged. “A bit. I’m a guy.”

She laughed at that and from thereon, an easy friendship developed between them. He opened up one time that she reminded him of someone.

“Who?” she asked.

He smiled sadly. “She…passed away.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah. I am, too.”

She felt comfortable around him. It wasn’t brotherly like what she felt for Leandro. She was attracted with Chris Falcone but it wasn’t the all-consuming kind she felt for the bastard she fell for. Their friendly dates did spark the gossip mills but at least the indecent proposals were now a thing of the past.

The frenzied cries and constant barrage of flash from the photographers left her a little disconcerted.

Then she felt
it.
That instant awareness that she only felt around him. She stiffened.

Chris’ arm encircled her waist.

“Don’t look at three o’clock, babe. Lonzo’s here with Helene Harwood—” Chris whispered in her ear, looking lover-like. “—smile your most beautiful smile for me, sweetheart. Don’t let him get to you.”

And she did. It rekindled her fighting spirit, letting it take control. She looked sideways at her friend and gave him her most come hither smile worthy of a photo spread, before kissing him on the lips, in full view of the media. It drove the press crazier.

Take a good look at what you lost, Lonzo Vitale.

Chris clearly didn’t mind as he beamed down at her. “Now, that’s the spirit! Please feel free to kiss and fondle me in public, woman.”

“Shut up, Falcone. I just might do.”

“I knew it! You want my body, too.”

“You’re…all right.”

“Ouch! Careful! You’re trampling my ego!”

“Don’t worry. It’s still big.”

He winked down at her. “Let’s get inside, saucy wench, and let’s show Lonzo what he’s missing.”

Her heart plummeted a bit.

She had convinced herself she wouldn’t get affected seeing him with another woman.

But being in the same roof as him was too much.

So what if he’s here? It’s done. Get over it. Civility is the key.

She can be civil.

Her pep-talk came crumbling down when she learned they would be seated in the same row as Lonzo and his current piece.

She gave Chris a nervous look.
Did you know about this?
Her eyes conveyed.

“I had no idea Helene knew him, babe. My publicist told me she’s coming with a different guy…a director. Must’ve changed dates the last minute. Apparently, she likes high drama,” he whispered.

She couldn’t speak, all the resentment toward the man who ripped her heart into pieces resurfaced. He still walked like he owned the place. On his arm was the stunning Helene, who raptly listened to his every word.

Helene’s face was in a perfect profile as she laughed at what Lonzo had just said, her whole demeanor animated.

The actress was very beautiful. Helene’s face had the glamor of old Hollywood. She made her think of Grace Kelly—with the exception of the bee-stung lips reminiscent of Angelina Jolie. The award-winning thespian can also rival Salma Hayek’s spectacular curves. Tonight that banging body was showcased in a royal blue silk sheath that shouted Gucci a mile away.

Now I can understand what Jennifer Aniston went through after Brad dropped her for Angie, she mused.

But she wasn’t a Jennifer Aniston. She wouldn’t let anyone…not even this talented, moneyed and beautiful creature outshine her.

Nah-ah.

Her self-pride kicked in and went on high gear. She straightened her back, her shoulders thrown back, her head held fiercely high.

Jordana Almueda ruled runways and the red carpet. She was born for it. She got paid big bucks for it.

Fuck you, Lonzo Vitale! You will not cower me!

Chris patted her hand, reassuring her as they neared their respected seats.

She gave him a glance.

“It’s okay, Chris.”

Then she resumed their tête-à-tête until they reached their seats. She feigned that nothing unsettled her. She got an admiring look from Chris for it.

“You sure you’re okay?” he murmured.

“Damned sure.”

She did her absolute best to block Lonzo from her mind. She looked through him and pretended he wasn’t seated a few seats away.

All this time, she felt Lonzo’s disapproving gaze on them. She didn’t give him any mind. It made her more determined to enjoy and have fun that evening.

She gave Chris her full attention, applauded the speeches the speakers made and smiled at her date’s witty comments about some of the celebrity guests who were there just to get photographed, not really caring about AIDS and making a difference.

At last the event was over.

“We can skip the benefit dinner. Don’t want to be in the same room with a whole lot of plastic-faces. You can smell the silicone from these people,” Chris said.

She couldn’t agree more. She wondered if Helene’s lips were natural.

“Me, too.”

“How about dinner somewhere? There’s this restaurant a couple of blocks from your hotel. They serve great steak.”

She smiled at him gratefully. The strain of keeping a happy face was beginning to wear her down.

“Take me away, soccer prince.”

“Hey, it’s football. What is it with you Americans? You keep on messing up the beautiful game.”

She giggled. “Sorry. Whisk me away,
futbol
prince,” she amended in her thickest Brazilian accent. “That okay with you?”

“Perfetta.”

They were on their way out when Lonzo came out of nowhere. He was walking toward them, the lovely Helene hooked around his arm like a very expensive porcelain doll.

Avoiding him would be a big no-no. That would indicate in big, bold letters that his presence with another woman hurt her. It did, but she’d rather die than let him know that. Her defenses went up as the distance between them closed, as he also made no effort to avoid her and Chris.

Chris’ arm casually went around her. She was glad to have him on her side. She would’ve broken down a long time ago if he wasn’t here. She basked in his protectiveness.

The other attendees began to take interest. It had all the elements of a soap opera scene.

Her eyes clashed with Lonzo, trying to dismiss that the man really looked gorgeous in a tux. She pasted a small, polite smile on her lips when they came face-to-face for the first time in months.

Several tense moments ensued before Chris broke the silence.

“Helene! You look smashing in blue, sweetheart. Congratulations on the Oscar. Watched the film. Hey Lonz!” Chris greeted warmly.

“Chris,” Lonzo grunted his reply, never taking his eyes off her.

“Fancy seeing you here. This isn’t exactly your scene.”

“Same thing can be said to you,
paisan
,” Lonzo replied curtly.

“I don’t believe you’ve introduced us, darling…” Helene’s voice chimed into their little tableau.

“Jordana Almueda and Chris Falcone, Helene Harwood,” Lonzo made the introductions.

“Pleasure to meet you,” she said casually, her polite smile still in place.

“Likewise, darling—” the actress said, eyeing her with curious interest.

“Well…we really have to be going,” Chris said, nodding to Lonzo, who gave him a look that would have seared steak.

“Enjoy the night,” she heard Lonzo say dryly.

She was eager to get away from this place before her mask of civility fell. She could barely hide her annoyance at her former lover’s arrogance.

As they reached the confines of the limo, she gave out a sigh of relief.

Chris gave her a worried look. “You alright?”

She smiled widely, glad not to be sharing the same air as Lonzo. “Yes. Thanks for…well…you know.”

“He was itching to punch me and grab you,” he remarked.

She laughed without humor. “He’s with Helene.”

“But he still wants you.”

She gave a snort. “Why would he do that? He’s got Helene.”

He gave her a smile that displayed his dimples. “Helene? You blind?”

“Oh, come on. You need an optometrist! She’s drop dead gorgeous.”

“I agree—she’s talented and a classy arm candy. Wouldn’t mind dating her myself.”

“Why you disloyal lout—”

“But his eyes were always on you, baby.”

She shook her head. That can’t be true. And she wouldn’t allow herself to hope again. Placing her hope on Lonzo was like swimming in treacherous seas without a lifesaver. She wouldn’t go down that path again. Let him think she was now involved with Chris.

He’s bad for me,
she reminded herself.

“I really don’t know, Dana. I really have a feeling that he will seek you out.”

She frowned at Chris. “Let’s not talk about him. We’re over.”

Chris gave a short laugh. “Hey, I’m your pal here, baby. Use me as you see fit…I really don’t mind. I get a kick out of seeing my cousin’s friend squirm. You’re under his skin and he’s under yours.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Wanna bet? Chemistry doesn’t lie. You two have it.”

She shrugged Chris’ remark even if it hit home.

“You’re on.”

Chemistry would never be enough for her. Besides, he’d been seen with different women barely weeks after she left the picture. That was enough proof where she stood in his universe.

When the limo stopped at the driveway of a swanky fusion restaurant, Chris gave her a wink.

“Pay up, Dana—” Chris said mischievously, while looking past her shoulder. “Seems I won our bet.”

Jordana gave him a quizzing look, confused at first. Then she felt the tell-tale prickling behind her neck. She slowly turned.