High Stakes Seduction - Book 1 (5 page)

"Good thing I’m the artist," she laughed. "Now put on the shoes," Maria said, reaching down to hand me the stilettos.

I eyed them skeptically. "I swear if I fall on my face tonight," I muttered, putting them on and wobbling around for a moment before I finally got the hang of the spiky heels.

"You’ll be fine," Maria shook her head at my antics. "It’s almost time to go. Let’s work on those final touches."

I sat on the bed beside Maria. "I think you’re more excited about this than I am."

She smiled, opening a small box and pulling out a sparkling necklace. Our eyes went wide and we both gasped. "Are these real diamonds?" Maria whispered, laying the delicate necklace across her palm with reverence. "Look," she said, "the design is almost the same as the lace on your dress."

"Matching earrings," I said, pointing in the box.

"Turn around," Maria ordered.

I twisted around on the bed and watched our reflections, feeling the coolness of the gems as they settled around my neck. I held out my hand and Maria carefully dropped the dangling earrings into my palm. She plucked at my hair as I put in the earrings, adjusting the sweeping updo she’d pinned in place earlier.

"You look simply amazing," Maria repeated when I stood before her once more, my outfit complete.

"Thank you," I whispered, and found my voice catching with emotion. I felt different in this dress, this jewelry. I felt like a princess going to a ball, just like when I played make-believe as a kid. And I could tell Maria was thinking the same thing. But I couldn’t forget what this was really about. This wasn’t a date. This was about a debt that had to be repaid.

I looked away from Maria, not wanting her to see my sudden hesitation, the frown that surely was playing in my eyes.

Fortunately, the doorbell's ring distracted her. "I’ll get it," she said eagerly. She dragged her wheelchair closer and I helped her into it. I took one last peek at myself in the mirror, then followed her down the hall and into the living room.

Maria opened the door to find a large man dressed in a tidy black suit. "I’m here to pick up Miss Tilson," he said with a scowl that looked permanently etched in his face.

"That’s me," Maria grinned up at him. I chuckled as I gathered my purse. I was so happy to see Maria in such a good mood—especially after last night's dream. It had been ages since she’d smiled so much, and I couldn’t remember the last time she’d joked around with anyone.

"No thank you, ma’am," I heard the chauffeur say, and I looked up to find him shaking his head. His scowl had turned into a look of confusion and I could see his dark face turning darker.

"Maria, are you giving this man a hard time?" I said, coming to his rescue. "Don’t mind my sister, she loves to tease…."

"Mr. Thompson—" Maria began, turning to me with a wink.

"It’s just Thompson, ma’am," he said.

"I was just inviting Thompson in while you finished getting ready."

"I’m all set," I smiled, winking back at her. "Maybe next time Thompson should drop by a bit earlier."

"I’ll be waiting at the car, ma’am," he frowned, then hurried down the driveway.

I watched him go, then turned back to Maria. "Are you sure you’ll be okay?"

"Absolutely," Maria replied. "I'm not totally incapable of taking care of myself, you know! Besides, I checked with Mrs. Jenner next door. She'll be home all evening in case I need anything."

I leaned down and gave my sister a big hug.

"Have a great time, Ange," she whispered in my ear. "Remember to be home by midnight or you'll turn into a pumpkin."

The driver was waiting impatiently at the limousine for me, his scowl firmly set in place again. I thanked him as I got in. He grunted in response and closed the door.

"So," I said when Thompson had secured himself in the driver’s seat. I gazed around the car’s interior, running my hands over the black leather seats. "How long have you been working for Mr. Mancini?"

"Long enough," he replied shortly.

I was taken aback by his cold tone, but I pressed on. Maria had seemed friendly with him, and she was a good judge of character. I even felt it was my sisterly duty to find out what Thompson kept hidden under that glower. Maybe I could find out a little bit more about Antonio, too. "Have you always been his driver?" I asked.

He grunted as the car pulled away from my house. I guessed that meant yes.

"Does Mr. Mancini attend these kinds of events often?"

"Often enough," he replied.

I rolled my eyes and sat back against the plush seats. Classical music drifted softly from the speakers and, despite Thompson’s curt and almost surly attitude, I realized how excited I was about this event. In matter of fact,
I was actually looking forward to it
.

At least, until Thompson smoothly turned the car onto the long drive way of a sprawling mansion. My heart instantly began beating faster. Thompson pulled the car to a stop in front of the wide steps, then stepped out of the car just as the double doors of the house opened. I saw the sharp, distinguished silhouette of Antonio Mancini. When he stepped out into the light, I caught my breath. The man wore a suit like he was born to it and I couldn’t help staring at the crisp clean lines that outlined a perfect body.

Thompson approached him confidently and they greeted each other with a hearty handshake like old friends. The cold, aloof limousine driver was gone. This man laughed openly, and even Antonio was animated as they chatted outside.

As if suddenly remembering I was waiting for him in the car, Antonio turned and looked right at me. I suddenly felt too exposed. Then I laughed, shaking my head at my foolishness. The windows were tinted. He couldn’t see me. Even so, as he and Thompson turned towards the window, my nerves tried to get the better of me. I moved my gaze from the two men, leaning back against the leather seat and closing my eyes.

"Good evening, Angela," Antonio said when the car door opened. He paused, his eyes roaming over me. A strange look came over his face and he licked his lips, reminding me of my recent dream. "You look … incredible," he whispered.

I blushed and stammered a thank you.

He stared at me for a moment longer, then it was as though his eyes shuttered and back came the cool, in-control demeanor I had come to expect. I was once again wary and observant, but a small voice in my head wondered about the whisper and the look in his eyes.

He settled into the seat beside me as Thompson closed the door. Antonio pushed a button and the privacy window rolled up with a quiet hum. "This evening may seem trivial on the surface, but it reflects one of your most important duties…
as my associate
," Antonio said. His tone was all business, even as he reached for a pair of wine glasses from the mini bar, handing one to me. "Consider this the first step in your probation."

I frowned, carefully holding out my glass, hoping he didn’t notice my unsteady hands. "This is some kind of test? I told you I don’t know anything about your industry. How am I supposed—"

"There are usually two or three of these events each month that require my attendance. If you do well tonight, I expect you to be available to attend future events with me."

I took a large sip of wine, feeling the cool sweetness slip down my throat. "As your escort."

"As my
associate
," he said quietly.

I glanced at him, taking in the strong jaw and stately profile. The wine was already calming my nervousness. But now, as I watched him, thinking back to how he had looked at me just moments before, I had to wonder.

"Nothing more?" I asked, feeling brazen.

But that evaporated pretty quickly as he sat there, silently watching me.

I could not have felt more out of place at the gallery. It wasn't the setting so much as the people who were in attendance. The lobby was filled with champagne-drinking models in some of the current designs from Paris. Around the perimeter of the room, mannequins displayed century-specific designs that reflected artists of the periods more than dresses worn by any of the citizenry.

Sure, I looked the part of a fashion representative, as Antonio told me several more times between introductions to various people whose names I could barely keep track of. And, I listened politely as he spoke to businessmen and women, politicians, designers, art curators; still, I couldn’t help but feel that I was little more than decoration. Beyond the basic introductions, he made no effort to include me in the conversations, and though I was picking up things here and there, there wasn't much for me to "learn". I most certainly wasn’t comfortable enough to improvise.

"Excuse me a moment, Antonio," I said when there was a lull in our mingling.

He turned to me, one eyebrow raised.

"I-I’m just going to the ladies room," I stammered. I really just needed to get away from the crowd. It was a convenient excuse to get a moment to myself.

He smiled and nodded.

I made my way to a ladies room, admiring the mannequins dressed in exquisite and elaborate costumes. Inside, several women were gathered in the sitting area, chatting away among themselves. They paused when I entered, watching me in the reflections of the wall-to-wall mirrors. I smiled at them, and one or two smiled back. I even thought I heard my name as I moved to the powder area to retouch my make-up. A moment later, I heard the rustle of bodies as they all got up and left the ladies room.

I stared after them, feeling as though I was back in high school.

"Ah, don’t mind them," said a voice that made me jump a bit. I turned to find a kindly woman sitting in a chair at the other end of the room. "They don’t mean anything by it."

I gave her a warm smile. "I guess they don’t like new people in their little club."

"Something like that," said the woman with a grin. "They’ll warm up when they get used to you. This is a pretty tight circle of folks. Lots of business deals and such that require trust. That’s not an easy thing to give."

"I suppose," I said, riffling around in my purse for some change to drop in the woman’s gilded tip jar. "Thank you."

Antonio was nowhere to be found when I returned to the main room. I wasn't surprised that someone had captured his attention. Certainly he was well known among the guests.

I looked around, but couldn’t find him anywhere. I took a deep breath and decided I could probably handle being on my own for a few minutes. I mean, really, what choice did I have anyway?

I made my way over to the exorbitant buffet table, stacked with all sorts of savory and decadent treats. I selected a tiny tart, flakey pastry topped with ruby red strawberries and a dollop of whipped cream. It was delicious, sweet but not too sweet, with that wonderful fresh fruit flavor. I closed my eyes for a moment as I savored it.

"I dunno, are you sure Mancini will come through?" asked a gravely voice on the other side of the tall plant where I was standing.

I froze, scanning the room surreptitiously to find the face that went with the voice. I found a balding man with a dark, trimmed beard, speaking with two other men.

"You know he's ruthless when it comes to agreements and making money. He knows what he wants," said the tallest of the three, a bespectacled man with a thick head of silvery hair. "And he knows how to give other people what they
think
they want."

"Yeah," said the third man, "once he's on your side, he always comes through, regardless of the cost."

"There’s no point in speculating," said the first man. "Harden is with him now. He's the best bet we have to convince Mancini to accept the deal. Either way, we have nothing to worry about."

"So you say," said the tall man, and all three of them laughed as they walked away from the buffet table.

I put a hand on the table to steady myself, trying to comprehend what I’d just overheard. These men could have been discussing any financial deal, but their tone indicated otherwise. They were counting on Antonio for something that sounded decidedly underhanded to me.

My mind raced back to the documents Mr. Conner's private detective had found for me, trying to make connections with some of the more shadowy details they’d dredged up about his connection with some of the more dubious citizens of our fine city. These men were sure he would come through—"regardless of the cost". What kind of people were these, and what kind of "agreements" was he involved in?

I watched the men as they made their way through the room. They stopped several times to talk with the various politicians and business leaders, laughing and shaking hands. But something felt off. What was their game? 

I noticed the women hanging on their arms were young and beautiful. Much younger than the men. They smiled a lot, but were quiet, and didn't seem to serve any real purpose other than being attractive and nice to look at. They were like ornaments.

I shivered.
The women weren't really any different from me!

I shook my head. What had I gotten myself mixed up in? These men obviously dabbled on the shady side of the law. What did that have to do with Antonio Mancini? How was he connected? Were these the kinds of people Dad used to deal with because of his gambling? I needed to find out the truth about Antonio. And to me, that meant going directly to the source for answers.