High Stakes Seduction - Book 5 Page 2

  Then I remembered he’d asked whether or not I was just seeing him as a way to get information. It was part of the reason, but, admiring the quirk of his lips as he watched me, I had to admit there was definitely something more here. He slid his tongue slowly over the gelato again

  All right, mister, I thought. Two can play this game.

  Mango dribbled over my index finger, so I lifted it to my lips, watching him as I carefully licked my finger clean.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, a little voice was asking me what in the world happened to that sweet, innocent little girl I used to be. But the rest of my mind, at least for the moment, was focused on Ryan.

  "Yes," I said. "I’m pretty sure you did." I smiled, nibbling at my ice cream.

  Ryan accepted this as an invitation and pulled his chair around to sit closer to me. "How about this," he said, finishing the last bite of his dessert. "A trade."

  "Excuse me?"

  He leaned in closer. "I give you something you want, and in return, I get something I want." His voice had taken on a deep tone and a corner of his mouth lifted into his sexy grin that showed off a little dimple. His eyes gazed deeply into mine.

  I raised my eyebrows and his face changed again. I smirked slightly at the sudden shift from calculating to shy that came over his features.

  "Oh, nothing too serious," he assured me. "A kiss? That seems fair to me… in exchange for the information."

  Needless to say, that surprised me. But it didn’t impress or amuse me, if that’s what he was going for.

  "How do I know your information is worth such a price?" I drawled, consciously trying to keep the edge out of my tone.

  He smiled then. Reaching over, he took my hand by the wrist, gently laying aside my ice cream cone as he leaned in toward me.

  This close, feeling the warmth of his breath, the subtle, sultry scent of his cologne, my annoyance vanished as I closed my eyes and leaned in to press my lips to his.

  His lips parted to accept mine and his tongue glided silkily into my mouth. His hand slid along my throat, into my hair. I let my hand fall to his leg, feeling the impressively toned muscles beneath his jeans.

  It was a sweet, sexy kiss, and it should have sparked something in me, but—

  Ryan pulled away first.

  "I’m sorry," I said.

  Ryan shook his head. "No, it’s my fault," He took my hand in both of his. "I shouldn’t have pushed you."

  "No, no it’s—"

  "Whoever he is, he’s let go of something really special," Ryan said, raising my hand and kissing my palm.

  I stared at him, suddenly wanting to cry. I managed to swallow the lump in my throat, even if I couldn’t quite find my tongue to speak.

  "It's okay. Now, let me be fair. I did say I had some information," he said, changing the subject. "But I’m afraid it’s not much that will help you."

  "Well, it must be something, right?" I managed.

  "Angela, you didn’t give me a whole lot to go on, and, there’s not a lot of information I could share with you anyway. What I did find is pretty high level, confidential stuff. I don’t have access to many of the files. But I can tell you that, basically, you’re right. There's something up with the South Side Children’s Academy. From all the restricted access, I suspect an investigation is already underway, but I don't have any hard evidence and there's really nothing else I can say for sure, at least, not at this moment."

  "Oh," I said, sorting through my thoughts. "That's not much, but still…." If an investigation was already under way, what did that mean for Antonio?

  Then, a stunning new thought struck me. If Antonio was getting himself into trouble, what did that mean for his business?

  And… what did that mean for my job… my security… or, honestly, for me?

  Chapter Six

  ANGELA

  Antonio had summoned me to his office but I wasn't so sure I wanted to talk with him today—especially one-on-one. What choice did I have? I trudged to the elevator, unconsciously checking my face in the mirrored door. I dropped my hand when I realized I was primping for the man.

  "Hello Angela," he greeted me as I stepped through his office door.

  I spotted Priscilla standing at the desk. I hoped that was a good sign, and that my sigh of relief at not having to see him alone wasn’t too obvious. Then I noticed she was pouring over the portfolio I had dropped off the day before.

  Suddenly, my nerves began to dance under my skin as I realized why I was here. I took a deep, calming breath and smiled.

  "So, what do you think?" I asked.

  "Very impressive," Priscilla said, giving me the hint of a smile.

  That was high praise indeed, coming from someone as stoic as Priscilla, and it went a long way toward alleviating my nervousness.

  "These bridal shots are stunning, Angela."

  I blushed at Antonio's compliment.

  "Thank you," I managed, grateful again that Maria had not only helped to pick out the photos, but had mounted them professionally as well.

  "Priscilla was right, you have a really good eye for composition," Antonio said. He leaned back against his desk, standing next to Priscilla. "I can see your talents becoming very useful for our studio."

  "Oh, it's not so much…" I started, but he waved my protest away.

  "Over time, not right this moment. There are many ways to improve on natural talent." He grinned at me. "Courses and mentorship can provide the polish, but nothing can replace the artist's eye."

  "Thank you," I repeated, not quite sure where this conversation was headed.

  "Now, in the meantime, the Carlo and Poula project needs to get moving."

  "Of course," I said. Was he unhappy with my progress so far?

  He turned his head, "Thank you, Priscilla."

  She nodded and left.

  "Have a seat, Angela," he said, gesturing toward the leather couch. He moved around to sit in the chair alongside his desk.

  Keeping it formal. That helped a little.

  "Priscilla continues to praise your work at the store," he said, getting right to business. "And we are very pleased with your portfolio."

  "But I’m not quite 'professional photographer' level?" I stated more than asked, not sure of his point but also trying not to sound disappointed.

  "Not yet," he said holding my gaze, "but that will change, if and when time permits. For now, I would like to talk with you about something a little different. How are the twins doing?"

  "Well, they're excited about their new designs, and looking forward to seeing us… you." I told him.

  "Any problems I should know about?"

  "Not that I can tell, but they do sound a little stressed with their manager."

  He nodded thoughtfully. "You seem to get along with them very well. They trust you."

  "I think so. They're very open with me, anyway."

  "Good. I'd like to propose a bit of a change for you. Oh, don't look so startled," he laughed. "It's nothing bad. I have a preference for placing employees into positions where their natural abilities can grow and develop into skills that make them more useful for the company."

  "So you're moving me?"

  "Not far. I like that you've established rapport with the twins. It's obvious they trust you and confide in you. But even more than that, you have an artist's eye. The location shots you took on the cruise demonstrate a subtle knack for the importance of staging. You're a good enough photographer that you'll be able to communicate your ideas to the rest of the team. So, I'd like to put you totally in charge of Carlo and Poula, to make you the Creative Director for their clothing line."

  "Creative Director?"

  He smiled. "I know that's not a full time job. Not right now. And I'd like to keep you under Priscilla's direction for the time being. But in regards to the Carlo and Poula shoot in Europe, you will have full autonomy. That means I'll want you to be involved in all aspects of the project, from selecting the photographers, the models, the location
s, to coordinating travel for us… in other words, you'll have oversight for everything."

  I was at a loss for words. Creative Director? I was excited and terrified—all at the same time.

  "Cat got your tongue?"

  I looked up at him, swallowing hard. "All by myself?" I asked.

  He laughed that warm, deep laugh of his. "Not hardly. Priscilla will give you the contact information you need. And Hilary can help with the details. But you'll be the one coordinating everything. And everyone."

  My gaze shifted to the windows behind his head. In my mind's eye I imagined myself with a clipboard, pointing and directing a small crew of photographers and make-up artists, all hovering around beautiful women with gorgeous, flowing gowns. I grinned, enjoying the images.

  He tilted his head. "So, is that a yes?"

  "Yes!" I answered, bringing my attention back to the man sitting in front of me. "But I'll still be working with Priscilla?"

  He nodded. "There's still a lot for you to learn."

  "Clearly." I laughed.

  "So, tell me, what arrangements have you made so far?"

  "We’ve been exchanging ideas. I think we’ve narrowed it down to three possible locations for three different lines. I should have the preliminary photos any day now."

  "You’ll need the agency contacts soon, then," he said. "So you can start screening models and arranging availability."

  "Yes, I was thinking I’d like models with a classic look to complement their Neptune line, and maybe even contrast with the youthful style of their Euro Transit designs."

  "Sooo," he drawled, "I take it you're ready to take on the role?"

  I'm sure I blushed.

  Chapter Seven

  ANTONIO

  I sent Angela out to coordinate with Hilary about setting up one of the free offices on the third floor. I'd already alerted HR, and they were processing the necessary pay contracts and documents.

  I grinned. Ange had been so excited by the offer that she hadn't even asked, but any increase in duties deserved an increase in pay. If things worked out as I thought they would, she'd likely end up with an even bigger promotion.

  Not that this would seem much of a change to anyone from the outside. Priscilla had agreed to cut Angela's floor hours to half. That should give her enough time to pull together the pieces for the upcoming shoot. But, she needed her own dedicated workspace—some place where she could keep track of the details.

  I was feeling good about my decision. I had always taken a certain amount of pride in recognizing potential, and I liked placing deserving employees into positions where they could show their talents and grow into valuable assets. Besides, this mini-promotion was deserved. And it filled a gap in our organization. So I didn't think it was too self-serving to offer it to Angela—after all Priscilla had been the one to suggest it in the first place.

  "Hilary," I stuck my head out the door, "can you call Thompson? Have him come up."

  ***

  "Sir?"

  I turned, realizing Thompson had stepped into the room.

  "Sorry, Thompson. Lost in my thoughts."

  "Happening a lot lately, Sir," he said in that quiet, stoic way that was not an accusation, yet more than just an observation.

  I laughed. "You never fail to surprise me, Thompson."

  "How so, Sir?"

  "You're highly competent. And loyal. More observant than anyone I've ever known. A highly decorated ex-military hero. Yet from the outside you're so quiet and mild mannered, no one would ever guess what you’ve been through, let alone the talents you possess."

  "Just blending in and all. My military days are long behind me, Sir."

  I thought about how much and yet how little I knew about my driver. Few people would have been privy to the things he'd shared with me. And I knew there were many more layers than even I had seen.

  "Do you miss it?" I asked.

  He looked at me, his eyes the most serious I've ever seen them. "You don't have to be in the military, or even a different country, to face the enemy across a battlefield."

  I nodded, thinking about the hell he'd been through. His military decorations for the risks he took in saving countless others. The mental and emotional scars of coming home to an unfaithful and dysfunctional wife he thought he could trust. And then, his daughter…

  "How's Emily?" I asked.

  "She’s with her mother tonight, Sir."

  "Got time for a drink then?"

  He glanced at his watch, then looked back at me. "I still have another hour on the clock."

  "Don't worry about that. I’ll pay you for it, Thompson, but right now I could use the company."

  "Then certainly, Sir." He stepped forward and took off his cap.

  "Have a seat," I motioned toward the couch. I shed my jacket and loosened my tie as I headed for my little corner bar. I knew Thompson’s relaxed demeanor would only go so far. "What can I get you?" I asked, already reaching for a can of Coke in the fridge.

  "Just a Coke on ice, if that’s alright."

  I chuckled as I handed him the glass, then turned to pour myself a Jack Daniels on ice.

  "So what’s new with you, Thompson?" I asked, eager to take my mind off of, well, everything on my mind.

  "Nothing much, Sir. While you were gone I got to spend a lot more time with my daughter. But other than that, just the usual."

  "The usual?" I asked, grinning. Thompson had been with me a long time—well, long for me anyway. He was about as loyal as they come, and I was lucky to have him in my employ. "I saw some of Maria Tilson’s work the other day. She showed me some drawings she'd done with your Emily. They were quite lively."

  If I didn’t know better, I’d say Thompson hid a smile and a blush behind the next sip of his drink. "Miss Maria has been working with my daughter on some stories. My girl has quite an imagination."

  "So I noticed! The three of you are spending time together, then?"

  "Well, yes, Sir. That is, when Miss Maria got hurt that one time, well, you did tell me to help out. So, while you were gone… I hope I'm not overstepping any boundaries?"

  I laughed. "Oh, not at all. They are quite a pair, the sisters, aren't they?"

  Thompson smiled, "A lovely pair, if I may say so, Sir."

  "A lovely pair, indeed. And quite talented, too."

  "Yes. It's a pleasure to watch the two of them together—Miss Maria and my Emily. I haven't seen her so excited in a long time. Emily tells the stories and Miss Maria brings them to life with her drawings. I don't know how she does it. But Emily insists the drawings look like the pictures in her head."

  He smiled down at his drink. When he looked up, his eyes were shining. "It means a lot to me that my girl has something to look forward to. Not long ago, someone in the park thought the stories might be good enough to make a children's book."

  "Nice." Quiet on the outside, heart of gold on the inside, I thought as I watched his face.

  "Miss Maria met with the woman in her office. She says she's interested and wants to talk about publishing.”

  I smiled, holding up my glass to him. "Well, congratulations."

  "Emily and Miss Maria do all the work, Sir. I just watch it all happen in amazement."

  "To Emily and Maria then," I said, clinking glasses with him.

  "Miss Maria is very talented. More people should see her paintings," he said as he lowered his glass.

  "Has she ever had her work on display? Do you know?"

  Thompson shook his head.

  I looked at him thoughtfully, finishing my drink and setting it on the table.

  "Let me make some calls," I said.

  Chapter Eight

  MARIA

  Thompson pulled up promptly at eleven in the morning, just as he said he would. I don’t think it was possible for this man to ever be late. Or to do anything that wasn’t completely sweet, honest, and honorable.

  What wasn’t to love about him? I nearly hugged myself at the thought, wondering where it had
come from, but liking it all the same.

  I was waiting outside, wanting to take in some of the beautiful sunshine. When he drove up, I waved and wheeled down the ramp to greet him.

  "Good afternoon, Miss Maria," he said, opening the passenger side door for me. "Are you all set?"

  I put my hand in his, and with a gentle tug, he scooped me up and into the car in a deft, fluid motion that made me feel like a princess, rather than someone who’d lost the use of her legs.

  "So what is this all about?"

  Thompson shrugged. "Mr. Mancini didn’t tell me any more than he's told you, Miss."

  "Just Maria," I said for the millionth time but Thompson ignored me. Not impolitely—like I said, anything like that was impossible for him. The day he called me "just" Maria, my jaw would probably hit the floor.

  "Sorry Miss Maria," he said with a tiny smile. He smoothly pulled the car back onto the road.

  As it was, Antonio hadn’t told me much, just that he had an idea he wanted to discuss with me over lunch. Without Angela. A million thoughts wandered through my head about what that might mean, but I still had no clue.

  So I covered my curiosity by chatting with Thompson about Emily. I knew that would bring a smile to his face and in turn, bring a smile to mine.

  A short while later, we pulled into the parking lot of the five-star restaurant. I’d seen it on the cooking channel—complete with its award winning chef—but I would never have dreamed of coming here myself.

  Thompson retrieved my chair from the trunk and helped me out.

  "Wow," I said when he wheeled me inside. I whispered though. I didn’t want to make it obvious how completely I didn’t fit in here.

  The maître d’ greeted us with a professional smile that became noticeably more genuine the moment Thompson mentioned we were guests of Antonio Mancini. That seemed to flip some kind of switch, and the man practically jumped to accommodate us, ordering a busboy to remove a chair for me when I got to the table.

  Antonio stood to greet me, coming around the table to take my hand and bend to kiss it. He was accompanied by a dusky skinned man with warm eyes almost hidden behind thick glasses.