Signed Over to Santino Read online

  Catching hold of her chin, he tilted her face. Breathed easier when her eyes connected with his. And then, because he couldn’t help himself, he brushed his finger down her cheek. ‘You can go out, as long as you’re accompanied.’

  ‘And who...?’ She exhaled. ‘You?’

  ‘Me. Especially since I know that one of those fans has been brazen enough to propose to you several times. I believe he’s even gone a few steps further and sent you some risqué pictures of himself?’

  Her eyes widened. ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘When are you going to get it through your head that I know everything that is relevant to know about you?’

  A shadow fleeted through her eyes. ‘At least you’re not purporting to know absolutely everything.’

  ‘Sadly, carina, if we knew everything about each other, we wouldn’t be here now, would we?’

  The shadows deepened. When she tried to turn her head away, he held her still.

  ‘Has he done anything beyond the pictures and the placards?’

  Distaste showed on her face. ‘He sent a few horrible letters when he was banned from going on my fan webpage.’

  The surge of protectiveness took him by surprise. ‘I’ll make sure he gets the message about keeping clear boundaries.’

  Her soft breath feathered over his hand. Despite his every instinct warning him against it, he drew her closer, the mingled scent of her perfume and shampoo washing over his senses.

  ‘He makes me uncomfortable but I think he’s harmless.’

  ‘If he makes you uncomfortable then he’s already overstepped his mark.’

  Her eyes met his, surprise mingling with another emotion he couldn’t read. ‘Careful, Javier, or I’ll confuse you with someone who actually cares one iota about me.’

  His fingers slipped around her nape and tightened in her hair. The action lifted her head up further, exposing the flawless, sleek line of her neck. His senses pounded with the need to taste. He barely managed to restrain himself. ‘Your confusion would be unfortunate. I’m merely protecting my investment.’

  He ignored the hurt that blinked through her eyes. He couldn’t lose sight of the repercussions of her and her father’s previous actions. Because of them, his beloved mother’s last resting place was among strangers, and each day Javier was unable to right that particular wrong was a day too long.

  Sliding his fingers from her hair, he stood and shoved his fist in his pocket. ‘You want to go out, be ready in half an hour. I have a video conference later.’

  ‘I thought you were taking the day off?’ she replied.

  ‘Sadly I’m addicted to the urge to hammer down the next seemingly impossible deal.’

  ‘You mean, the temptation to torture another human being until they buckle under your will?’

  His smile felt as if it could crack ice. ‘Same difference. So unless you want to be the recipient of my torture tactics, you’ll do as I say.’

  She muttered under her breath in Italian, the very unladylike statement bringing a reluctant smile to his lips as she hurried out of the room.

  A second later, he frowned, dragging his mind from the sylph-like form of the woman whose presence in his life was anything but a laughing matter, to the reason he’d taken a rare day off.

  Any trace of mirth evaporated as he contemplated the reason for his videoconference. As usual, his father hadn’t given him advance warning nor any assurance that the call Javier had requested would actually take place. The banked rage that resided just beneath his skin every time he thought of the man whose blood ran through his veins threatened to resurge. The knowledge that it was because of Carla that he continued to have to deal with Fernando made him curse inwardly as he paced to the window.

  Looking out to the street below, he caught sight of the clutch of Carla’s fans across the street, and another form of rage took hold. She might have downplayed the seriousness of her fan’s actions, but Javier knew the side-effects of hero worship and the unfortunate decisions that could unfold because of it.

  He was a product of such a misstep.

  Had his own mother not been blinded by stars in her eyes, she wouldn’t have been taken advantage of by an unscrupulous man who saw no harm in ruining an innocent. She wouldn’t have wasted her life pining for and chasing a dream that had been unattainable from the start.

  Juliana Santino had died long before her time. The official cause had been cancer, but Javier knew sadness and bitter disappointment had played a huge part in his mother’s demise. And the man responsible for those debilitating emotions still had a form of power over Javier because of a woman who commanded more power than was permitted over him.

  He needed to end it once and for all.

  ‘I’m ready.’

  He whirled, disturbed that he’d been so lost in contemplation he’d been unaware of her return. His gaze raked over her and his senses leaped.

  Her white skinny jeans moulded her hips and thighs, heeled boots and a white oversized top that insisted on falling off one shoulder drawing attention to her body. With her newly regained weight and better health had come a vibrancy to her skin.

  Something hot and urgent jerked within him.

  She looked a perfect picture of innocence, but it was deceptive innocence, he reminded himself.

  He forced his gaze up from her endless legs. ‘Why are you wearing your hair up?’ he demanded before he could think the question through.

  She held up her cast-encased hand and wriggled her half concealed fingers with a hint of triumph. ‘I can move my fingers without it hurting too much now. The brushing took longer than I wanted and the knot isn’t the tidiest, but I’m sure it’ll stay up.’

  He didn’t want it to. He wanted her hair flowing over her shoulders, catching the light and making him guess what colour it really was, not scraped up into a careless bun, making her eyes seem huger and her flawless bone structure fracturing his ability to think coherently.

  Dios, he was losing it. He growled under his breath.

  Casting a searching glance on his desk, he caught up his car keys. ‘Let’s go.’

  She grimaced at the keys. ‘We’re driving? I thought we were going for a walk?’

  ‘You thought wrong.’

  Her eyes sparked green fire. ‘I’d much rather walk—’

  ‘Your mob has increased threefold in the last hour. There’s no way I’m subjecting you to that. So it’s the car or the penthouse. Your choice.’

  He knew his tone didn’t indicate it was much of one, but he didn’t care.

  ‘Can we walk? Once we’re away from here, I mean?’ she asked.

  He clenched his fist around the metal keys, knowing that if he gritted his teeth any harder his jaw would snap, and headed for the door. ‘I’ll think about it.’

  Her mouth pursed, but she didn’t protest further. They rode the lift in silence. As they passed the front desk, she greeted the concierge by name and smiled at the hapless fool, who melted into a puddle of adoration. Javier turned away from the nauseating scene, his mood darkening further when he glanced out into the morning sunshine.

  She sighed as he handed his keys to the valet to have his car brought up. ‘I’d rather brave it outside on my own if you’re going to be this grouchy.’

  He despised the bolt of alarm that went through him. ‘You’d rather contend with that than be with me?’ He jerked his thumb at the mob.

  She tilted her head to see past him. He watched her eyes widen. The placards had grown bolder since yesterday. One in particular, from her avid fan, made Javier’s skin crawl.

  ‘“Essere il mio, anima e corpo,”’ she muttered the words in her mother tongue. ‘Wow, it seems like everyone wants something from me. It doesn’t matter that I don’t wish to give it. Or that I want something else for myself.�
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  ‘It that a dig at me?’

  A small, sad smile curved her lips and he couldn’t look away from her expression. ‘It’s an inescapable truth,’ she murmured.

  ‘Don’t worry, querida, I’ve no intention of letting you be owned by anyone else, either in body or in soul,’ he paraphrased the words on the placard.

  He expected a quick comeback or at least a demand for him to keep his possessive threats to himself. But a glance showed the shadows were back again. The eyes that met his were subdued, her mouth pinched.

  ‘Por el amor de Dios,’ he grated. ‘If you need fresh air that badly, come on.’

  Sliding his hand around her waist, he guided her through the double doors leading to the underground garage. The valet accepted the tip eagerly, but his gaze stayed on Carla, another victim of her charms.

  He hurried her into the sports car, marginally appeased when she came to life, pulling her seat belt across her body to secure it. He shut her door and was rounding the hood when his phone pinged.

  Activating the app, Javier read the message once, then again. The piercing disappointment that lanced him was unwelcome evidence that he’d allowed himself to hope his father would talk to him this time. Controlling the need to smash his fist through the nearest wall, he yanked open his door and slid behind the wheel, acknowledging that perhaps the drive had come at an opportune time. He revved the engine mercilessly and earned a furtive glance from his passenger.

  ‘Can I ask if something’s wrong without getting my head bitten off?’

  ‘Besides the unexpected and unwanted gift of having my afternoon freer than I wished it to be, no, I don’t wish to discuss what’s wrong.’ He aimed the car at the exit. For his own peace of mind, he didn’t glance at the screaming fans who surged for the car as soon as they spotted their idol. Luckily the mid-morning traffic was clear and he breathed a sigh of relief when the lights turned green. As he put miles between them and his apartment, she relaxed.

  ‘Was the video conference important?’ she asked after a few minutes.

  His laugh was abrasive. ‘Since it’s one I’ve been waiting five long years to have, you could say that.’ He changed lanes, the abrupt move jerking her body against his. Her shoulder bumped his and her scent filled his nostrils. Hunger he didn’t want or completely understand tore through him. His grip tightened on the wheel.

  ‘Can’t you reschedule it?’

  As a touchy subject, it was singularly effective in dousing a little bit of his hunger. ‘When it comes to my father, I find myself in the unique position of being on the back foot.’

  He cursed himself the moment the words spilled out.

  ‘Your father?’ she echoed, wariness flaring in her eyes. ‘He’s the one you were supposed to conference with?’

  ‘Until he cancelled on me for the fourth time this month.’

  He sped through an amber light and onto Madison Avenue.

  ‘Speaking from personal experience, you don’t strike me as the type to sit back and let events unfold the way they want to. I’m assuming you know where your father is?’ she asked.

  Exhaling, he nodded. ‘Yes, I do. But before you make the obvious suggestion, perhaps you should know that the last time my father and I were in the same room, we nearly came to blows.’

  She gasped. ‘What?’

  ‘Sí, querida. He’s the only person, besides you, who arouses distinctly primitive feelings in me.’

  Her lips parted, a look of bewilderment crossing her face before she looked out of her window. ‘I won’t take that as a compliment.’

  ‘My blood rarely gets this fired up so perhaps you should.’

  ‘Not if it incites violent feelings within you.’

  ‘Fired up doesn’t necessarily mean violent. I can think of a few ways to express my more nascent emotions.’

  Colour flared into her cheeks. ‘I don’t see how expressing yourself that way helps with anything.’

  ‘Spare me the false naiveté, Carla.’

  She shook her head, and the careless knot of her hair wobbled. He resisted the urge to hasten its demise and parked on a leafy street.

  ‘I only meant that the problems wouldn’t disappear simply because you...indulged yourself in another way.’

  ‘But if I can regress to my baser instincts and make love not war, wouldn’t that put me in a better frame of mind?’

  ‘You don’t truly believe that, or I wouldn’t be here.’

  A rare chuckle ripped free. ‘Touché.’ He flung his door open and went round to help her out. Turning from him, she gazed up at the three-storey brownstone, one of many on the street.

  ‘Where are we?’

  He shrugged. ‘Somewhere you’re guaranteed privacy. Come on.’ He walked round the side to a high, wrought-iron gate and entered the security code. The lock sprang open, and he led her through an ivy-laced trellised arch.

  For a split second, Javier asked himself why he’d brought her here. There were many quiet parks he could’ve taken her to. Hell, with his afternoon suddenly free, he could’ve driven her to Connecticut or the Hamptons for her precious walk.

  Her loud, pleased gasp pulled him from his short rumination.

  ‘Wow, this place is stunning!’

  He turned and watched her reaction to the place his mother had loved, albeit never wholeheartedly, her deep attachment to her homeland overshadowing any other place on earth.

  The smile Carla had so far only bestowed on others shone his way before she rushed past him to the large fountain and waterfall that trickled into an oval pond that still held fat koi. Miniature bonsai trees that his mother had loved to prune were dotted in pots around the garden and almost every type of rose bush budded, ready for the springtime bloom.

  Still puzzling why he’d brought her here, he crossed his arms. ‘What’s the big deal about fresh air, anyway? Air is air. Fresh air is overrated.’ He was well aware he sounded like a grumpy ape.

  She didn’t answer for a full minute, and Javier was sure she hadn’t heard his question since she’d stopped at a white rose bush and bent low to inhale the heady scent. Hell, she even took her time to caress a flower. As if she had all the time in the world to stop and smell the roses. He dragged his eyes from her delectable backside as she straightened.

  ‘I used to go for long walks with my mother when I was a child. Sometimes we’d be gone for hours. We’d compete to see who could name the most flowers. I secretly knew she was letting me win more often than not.’ The memory brought a sad smile.

  It sounded idyllic. The ideal pastime for a perfect princess. Bitterness dredged up his gut. Something must’ve shown on his face because she swallowed, and let go of the delicate bud.

  ‘So, who does this garden belong to?’

  ‘My mother.’

  She stared wide-eyed at him for several heartbeats before her gaze swung to the brownstone. ‘Is she here?’

  ‘No. She died five years ago.’

  Her green eyes clouded as they returned to him. ‘Mi dispiace. Le mie condoglianze.’ Realising she’d spoken her condolences on his loss in her native tongue, she quickly amended. ‘I meant—’

  ‘Va bene, dolce principessa, I know what you meant. Grazie.’

  ‘Why do you call me that? I’m not a princess.’

  ‘Are you not?’

  Her mouth pursed. ‘Please don’t spoil the moment, Javier.’

  He wanted to point out that they weren’t having a moment. That he’d chosen this place because it’d been the better alternative to her being spotted in a public park.

  The words remained locked in his throat.

  Instead he watched her stroll from flower to tree, bench to climbing plant, her shoulders visibly relaxing as she watched a butterfly flit from one petal to the other. He followed
her down the stairs to the lower level of the garden, then leaned against an old oak tree as she continued her gentle inspection. She finally sat down at a bench and turned her almost regal face up to the sun. The rays caressed her features, bathing her skin in adoring light. A sight he couldn’t pull his gaze from.

  ‘Thank you for bringing me here.’

  She didn’t see his shrug because her eyes had drifted shut, the delicate lids fluttering. He knew because he was suddenly seated next to her, having had no recollection of moving from the tree.

  Sí, he was really losing it.

  ‘De nada,’ he murmured, absurdly reluctant to spoil the moment with talk.

  Seconds ticked by. His restlessness and bitter frustration abated a touch.

  When she smiled, he found his own lips curving in response.

  ‘Your mother must have loved it here. Complete peace in the middle of such a full-on, vibrant city is a rare gift.’

  His smile evaporated. ‘She...tolerated it. Anywhere that wasn’t her home wasn’t ever good enough.’

  She opened her eyes and glanced at him. Wisps of silkily caramel hair caressed her cheek, and he fought the drive to add his touch to her skin. ‘It wasn’t enough that you were here?’ she enquired.

  Having asked himself the same question a few disturbingly low times, he should’ve been prepared for the muffled ache in his chest that had never quite gone away. But hearing the query from her lips sharpened the sting of knowing that he hadn’t quite been enough. Nothing and no one had come close to the draw of his mother’s dilapidated Northern Spanish home.

  He shrugged the pain away, more than a little bewildered at how the conversation had ended up here. How they had ended up here. ‘She cared for me, in her own way.’

  Keen eyes probed. ‘But?’

  ‘Anywhere that wasn’t Menor Compostela wouldn’t have done for her.’ Because of one man. And his dangerous influence. An influence that meant his mother hadn’t been able to rest in peace even in death.

  ‘Is that where your father is? Menor Compostela?’