Signed Over to Santino Read online

  He opened his mouth to respond in a way that would ease her agitation—another first for him—but then his gaze touched on her bound wrist. ‘Your lawyers have been in touch about Blackwell’s trial?’ It wasn’t really a question that required an answer. He’d kept up to date on what was happening with the ex-trainer in Italy.

  She nodded. ‘It’s happening in three weeks. Draco says I don’t need to be there. The video testimony is enough.’

  He squashed the residual jealousy that lingered at the mention of her agent. ‘When did you speak to him?’

  ‘Yesterday.’ A bold but wary glance flicked his way, her green eyes turning a shade darker. ‘Javier?’

  ‘Sí?’ he responded, more than a little perturbed at how much pleasure his name on her lips brought him.

  ‘You two used to be good friends, yes?’

  His jaw tightened. ‘What’s your point?’

  ‘You know what my point is.’

  He shrugged. ‘And I’m trying to be the bigger man here, but you kissed him at your charity event, did you not?’

  She gasped. ‘Surely you can’t still be jealous about that? He’s crazy about his fiancée!’

  Javier’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as he wondered why he couldn’t get control of yet another irrational emotion. ‘You can assess for yourself how I feel when we see Angelis at my party.’

  Her eyes widened with surprise, then a touch of pleasure that made him grit his teeth. ‘They’re coming here?’

  ‘Should I be put out that you’ve already forgotten about my birthday celebration?’

  ‘I didn’t think... I thought it would be just us.’

  He captured her hand and brought it to his lips, his pulse spiking at the touch of her silky skin. ‘As much as I want to keep you all to myself, I need to uphold my party hard reputation. Angelis and his fiancée have already accepted my invitation. You want us to be friends again, make me forget that kiss and I’ll give it a shot,’ he half teased. ‘You see? I can be progressive after all.’

  * * *

  Despite his words, Carla sensed his tension as they pulled up in front of a silver, futuristic-looking building opposite an inner city park. After helping her out, he handed his keys to a hovering valet and pulled her to his side.

  A quick kiss at her temple turned into a trailing caress that ended at the corner of her mouth. Carla’s pulse was dancing wildly by the time he straightened.

  ‘Forgive me for the quick pit stop. I won’t be long.’

  Carla looked around the foyer with interest. Young executives buzzed around, their casual yet frenetic appearance indicating a creative atmosphere. ‘What is this place?’ she asked.

  ‘My production design crew are based here. They have the altered specs for the tequila bottle ready for me to inspect.’

  ‘I thought the design was finalised.’

  A quizzical smile teased his sensual mouth. ‘As did I. But inspiration struck and I went with it.’

  Intrigued and more than a little surprised that he would bring her to inspect what was obviously a special project for him, Carla followed him into the lift. He positioned her in front of him, then proceeded to plant hot, shockingly erotic kisses on her neck.

  When the lift pinged to a stop, he groaned. ‘Perhaps I should’ve postponed this meeting. The timing of this wasn’t the best idea.’

  ‘Perhaps you should have,’ she teased. ‘Although I doubt it would’ve happened.’

  He turned her around in his arms, his eyes narrowed as he scrutinised her face. ‘You trying to make a point, querida?’

  She shrugged, her heart doing a funny little dance at the predatory light in his eyes as his gaze dropped to her mouth. ‘You keep threatening to take a day off, but I’ve yet to see you actually take one.’

  The hands gripping her waist tightened a fraction before he set her free. ‘I need intense stimulation otherwise I get bored. You think you’re up to the task of providing me with such stimulation?’ he rasped.

  Heat flowed up her neck and completely engulfed her cheeks. ‘There’s only one way to find out...caro,’ she countered bravely, unwilling to let on just how out of her element she really felt.

  Dark, mesmeric eyes glinted with a feral light that strangled her breath. The hand that curled around hers was implacable, possessive. The urgent strides that had her trotting to keep up announced that her gauntlet had been accepted.

  Carla was reeling from just what she’d let herself in for when Javier led them through double glass doors into a large room. The circular seating area contained an inner carpeted area with a raised platform. In the middle of it stood a tall object draped with black silk.

  Three executives rose as they entered. All young, all eager to make an impression as they greeted Javier.

  ‘Mr Santino. It’s good to see you again.’ The closest man shook hands with him.

  Javier nodded to the other two, and, without letting go of her hand, walked to the middle of the room. ‘I need to be elsewhere, gentlemen. I’d appreciate us getting on with it?’ The statement was couched as a question, but the order was clear.

  ‘Of course. The specs are just what you asked for.’ The oldest in the group, clearly their leader, pulled back the silk cloth with a flourish.

  What little oxygen remained in Carla’s lungs after glimpsing the raw, predatory hunger in Javier’s eyes evaporated as she stared at the redesigned tequila bottle. Much of the original design had remained the same, but where the neck had been a sleek line tapering to the rounded base, it now flowed in a distinct, unmistakably feminine shape. A shape that grew intimately familiar the more she stared at it.

  Blushing to the roots of her hair, she tried to disentangle her fingers from Javier’s. He held on tight, his eyes riveted to the life-size bottle as he rasped, ‘Thank you for your hard work, gentlemen. Now if you’d be so kind as to leave us.’

  The moment they were alone, she let out a stunned breath. ‘You can’t!’

  He turned sizzling eyes to her. ‘I can’t what, querida?’ he enquired silkily.

  She gestured frantically at the bottle. ‘You can’t do...this.’

  Circling behind her, he caught her around the waist and frogmarched her to the bottle. ‘You belong to me. Give me one good reason why I cannot immortalise you however I wish to.’

  She could think of one. Dio, she could think of several, the paramount of them being she only belonged to him on a temporary basis. None of what was happening between them would last beyond the next few weeks. But all her objections—and the peculiar pang that lanced her heart—vanished as she stared at the stunningly beautiful bottle.

  His hands slipped from her waist, down to capture her hands. Linking her fingers with his, he brought them up to the neck of the bottle to grip the glass. Cool and smooth, the glass quickly warmed beneath her fingers. Or perhaps it was her imagination, and her fevered hormones alone were responsible for heating the bottle. He drew their hands down to rest on the upper curve, his head aligned with hers. She didn’t need to turn her head to know he was staring at their joined hands on his creation.

  ‘Now every time I touch this piece, I’ll think of you,’ he murmured in her ear.

  Carla gave a single shake of her head, unable to comprehend the enormity of his testament. He might no longer hate her as much as she’d imagined he once did, but this...

  She swallowed. ‘Javier...’

  ‘I wish I’d had this brought to the house. Now I need to get myself under control before we can leave.’

  Another blush fired up her cheeks as she caught his meaning. She groaned as he pulled her back against him, the rigid line of his manhood searing into her behind for one charged moment before he set her free.

  When she stumbled a few steps away, he didn’t stop her. His gaze was once more
on the bottle, his scrutiny blessedly clinical as he examined it fully. After a few minutes, he nodded with satisfaction and walked towards her.

  The designers hovered outside and Javier invited them back in. Questions were fired out in rapid succession, most of which flew over her head as her gaze continually strayed to the bottle.

  You belong to me...

  The unyielding possession in those words should’ve frightened her, made her want to strike out for the independence she was desperately seeking in her life. But they reached into the heart of her, claiming a hitherto unknown part of her she hadn’t realised was waiting for such a claiming. A claiming she was ready—

  ‘Carla?’

  She jumped. ‘Yes?’

  Javier smiled with the barest touch of mockery. ‘It’s time to go,’ he intoned.

  She blinked and realised the executives had left. Rising and casting one last glance at the bottle, she slipped a hand into the one he held out.

  Javier led her out into the early afternoon sunshine. Thinking they were about to drive somewhere else, she followed him when he led her across the street and into the park.

  ‘What are we doing here?’

  ‘We’re having lunch.’

  Seeing no restaurant or anything resembling an impromptu picnic, she glanced back at him.

  With a grin, he led her towards a food truck blaring out salsa music. The ruddy-faced chef greeted them in loud, rambling Spanish.

  Javier responded, his graceful hand movements drawing her attention to his strong arms and the ripped body currently clothed in dark jeans and a sea-green rugby shirt. She watched him give an order she had no hope of following before leading her to the small table set for two at the side of the truck. Pulling out a chair for her, he went back to the truck and returned with two wrapped packages, paper plates, and two bottles of water.

  She opened her package to a mouth-watering barrage of flavours. Aware that Javier was watching her, she took her first bite. And groaned.

  ‘Dio mio.’

  His grin widened. ‘Very few things beat a well-prepared Cuban sandwich.’ He passed her a bottle, then unwrapped his before taking a sizeable bite.

  She took another bite. ‘It’s incredible.’

  He nodded. ‘It may be Cuban but it reminds me of a dish my mother used to prepare.’ A slight frown wrinkled his brow, as if the memory was an unexpected one, but it was gone in a flash.

  They’d delved far deeper into each other’s histories than she knew he normally allowed. But she couldn’t stop herself from probing deeper. ‘Is that why you prefer to live here? Because it reminds you of home?’

  His jaw clenched. ‘I never had a home.’

  ‘You know what I mean—’

  He raised dark, intense eyes to her. ‘Do I? I think we’ve got our lines crossed somewhere along the line. You had a home, albeit a brief one until your mother left. I had the equivalent of a prison, where each knock on the door either made my mother jump in fright or sick with inevitably thwarted anticipation. Neither of those two things made for anything resembling a home.’

  ‘But despite all that, you had a parent who loved you. Does that not count for something?’

  He chewed for a long time before he swallowed and pushed the remaining sandwich away. ‘Not when you live in constant fear of being abandoned the moment the long-given promise showed signs of being fulfilled. And my father played his cards just so by keeping my mother from never giving up that her dreams would eventually come true. The end result being that I was always on tenterhooks that the only parent I had could be taken from me in the blink of an eye.’

  She caught his hand in hers before she processed the action. ‘I’m sorry.’

  For a stark moment, he seemed perturbed by her sympathy. Then his lashes swept down. With a nod, he linked his fingers with hers, and grabbed his water bottle with his other hand. ‘Finish your meal, querida. You have an afternoon of stimulating me to be getting on with.’

  His low, deep laugh at her blush fired up her already scorching arousal. He didn’t let up the sweltering possessive looks as he led her back to his car and slid behind the wheel. Nor did he make any bones about giving his staff the afternoon off once they returned home.

  The moment the staff vacated the premises, he slid her dress over her head. Then he finally took her on the sweeping staircase, the way he’d threatened to three years ago.

  * * *

  The rest of the week continued in the same vein, with the exception of Javier working less and less each day. It was almost as if once he got into the rhythm of having time off, he threw himself into it with the same ruthless vigour he pursued every other area of his life. By the end of their first weekend, he’d introduced her to a high-speed trip on his latest speedboat—the JS1—a food tour of Little Havana, and sunbathing in the nude on his private beach. He’d swayed her through sensual salsa moves at an exclusive nightclub, which had abruptly ended when he’d dragged her off the dance floor and into his limo. They hadn’t made it home and Carla had experienced her first, sizzling lovemaking session in the back of a car.

  The only hiccup had arrived when Javier had proclaimed the nightclub to be the ideal venue for the tequila shoot and introduced her to his new, female, creative director. Her guarded query as to Darren’s whereabouts had earned her a hard stare, followed by a terse, ‘He’s been promoted to head up a fascinating new project. In Alaska.’

  Her wince hadn’t gone unnoticed. Luckily, he’d let the moment pass.

  By the middle of their second week, sensing his restlessness, Carla proposed a tentative start to the shoot. Jemma, the creative director, had hinted they could start with some strategic publicity shots that wouldn’t show her cast.

  They arrived at the nightclub just after lunch. The lights were dimmed but, with no customers around, the hexagonal seats and the glittering gold chandeliers lent the place an even more special feel. The crew of ten bustled about setting up the stage, and for the first time in a long time Carla felt a buzz.

  The six costumes comprising three designer gowns and three cocktail dresses chosen for the shoot were sublimely beautiful, and when she took her place on the marker for the photographer, she couldn’t stop the smile that curved her lips.

  Javier came up behind her as she stood on the railing of the balcony that fed two wide, sweeping staircases. ‘You seem pleased, querida.’

  Her smile stretched, just as her heart had begun to expand with joy each time he used that endearment. ‘I didn’t think I’d enjoy this, but now that it’s happening, I like it.’

  ‘Why did you think you wouldn’t enjoy it? You’ve done other sponsored shoots before.’

  She shrugged, her gaze taking in the tiny platinum lights that glittered the dance floor. ‘Yes, but wearing a watch or the latest ski jacket is different than this. This is a whole new experience.’ An experience heightened by the man who stood so close, she could feel his warmth all around her; smell his powerfully unique scent. Both made her want to turn around, burrow into him and drown in that sensation.

  She kept her ground, barely, as his arms rested on the railing on either side of her hips. ‘In that case, enjoy it to the max. But don’t lose sight of the depth of your talent. I’ve seen you skate. You may not have chosen that career for yourself, but you excel at it because it comes from your soul. Take a break if you need to—we’ll work something out—but never forget the gift you’ve been given.’

  Long after he’d walked away and the photos had been taken, his words lingered. And later that night, when the cadence of his lovemaking changed, his hitherto masterful possession gentling into a much more poignant claiming, she was left shaken, unable to separate reality from what her heart suddenly seemed to be yearning for—a sign that Javier saw this cluster of situations that had brought them together in a more meaningful light. B
ut how could he?

  He’d shaped his project after her—literally—but he was a man who collected trophies, who had homes around the world and more expensive toys than any one man could ever enjoy in a lifetime.

  And you’re just one bauble for him to possess briefly until he grows bored...

  The harsh bruising to her heart was so immediate and terrifying, she gasped.

  Javier’s head jerked up from where he’d been trailing post-coital kisses on her shoulder. ‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded.

  Sucking in a breath, she shook her head quickly and raised herself up onto her elbows. ‘Nothing.’ She kissed him, seeking shameful refuge in the melting that filmed the pain. ‘Nothing at all.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  NOTHING AT ALL.

  She continued to recite those three words to herself throughout the frenzy of party preparations over the next three days. Relieved to see that Javier didn’t mind her getting involved, she pulled on hostessing skills learned from an early age after her mother’s departure. Back when her father had wanted to rub shoulders with the well-to-do without incurring the expense of it. Then later it’d been another way to tie her to his side, to control her, while basking in the limelight of her success.

  He’d called them a team, and she’d convinced herself that meant something. Until it’d been far too late.

  She strode out of the dressing room, where she’d been putting finishing touches to her make-up before the party, to the bedside table. Before she picked up her phone she knew there would be no message from her father.

  The promise of funds had been well-received. Not so much the hold Javier had initially placed on the transmission of the money—with her approval—until her father had delivered on his promise to tell her about her mother. Her father’s grim silence was meant to prolong her anguish. In the end, Carla had requested that Javier just release the money to him, but her father still hadn’t called.

  And the tension was succeeding in getting to her—

  ‘Is there a reason you’re staring at your phone when I need you downstairs with me?’ came a semi-brusque query.