Secrets and Seduction Las Vegas (Sexy Italian Imports Book 1) (15 page)

“What feeling? Love?” Monica crossed her legs and tapped air with her foot. “That takes time. It’s only been a month.”

“The problem is, I do have those feelings for someone else.”

“You met someone already?” Her sister’s voice squeaked like a rusty gate.

“Um, no, not exactly.” Valerie walked to the refrigerator and filled two glasses with ice and water.

“You knew him before?”

Valerie set a glass in front of Monica. “We’ve been working on a project together, and we just sort of connected.”

“What? When?” Monica’s voice grew louder.

“The first time was at Caesar’s for the Big Brothers/Big Sisters gala. We—”

“Whoa.” She held up a hand. “Not the long-haired guy you were dancing with.”

Valerie nodded. She may as well get all the bad stuff out right now. “You might remember him from the dog park in Henderson.” She sipped her water and waited for the explosion.

“Blackmailer?” Monica’s face flushed bright red.

“He’s not the blackmailer. He was telling the truth when he said he’s also being blackmailed.” Valerie’s voice sounded more confident about that statement than she actually felt.

Monica rubbed her forehead. “So, let me get this straight. You were at Caesar’s with Troy, and you hooked up with the guy you thought was Betina’s blackmailer?”

That did sound pretty bad. “Kind of, but it’s a long story. Since then, we’ve been seeing each other, and I ended it with Troy.”

“But Troy is a sure thing.” Monica’s voice boomed through the kitchen.

Valerie bit down her frustration. “Why would I stay with him if I didn’t love him?”

“You want a family one day. Troy might have been the man to give that to you. And I don’t see that happening with this writer. He’s not your type.”

Type, to Monica, meant social equal. She’d heard the same thing a dozen times before, drilled into her and Monica by their mother. Valerie breathed rhythmically to keep her temper under control. She was not going to get into an argument with her sister about social order. “You do realize, don’t you
Monica
, that any chance I might have had for a normal relationship with Troy was sabotaged by
you
even before we started dating?”

“By me?” Monica shouted and put her hand over her heart. “I’m the one who set you up. Why would I want to sabotage the relationship?”

Valerie let herself shout right back. “By telling him I’ve only been with one man. That’s not sabotage in your thought process?”

Monica slammed her palms on the countertop again. “That idiot told you?” She heaved a sigh and shook her head. “I only told him to protect you.”

“Protect me? Why do you think I need protecting?”

“Because you’re so dense…” Monica yelled. “You think guys don’t care if you’re practically a virgin.”

Valerie shook her head, her teeth clenched. “Monica, you are so damn frustrating!” She pointed to her chest. “Shouldn’t it be
my
decision whether or not to tell a man that—”

“Uh, sorry, ladies.” Antonio stood in the kitchen doorway. “The front door was standing open, and I heard shouting.” He stared at Valerie. “I’ve evidently interrupted something, so I’ll come back later.”

Valerie and Monica exchanged looks, both of them breathing fast as a different kind of heat—embarrassment—crept from her neck up her face. How much had he heard?

“No.” Valerie stepped around the counter and walked over to him. “Please stay. This is just a disagreement. I think we’re finished anyway, right, Monica?” She didn’t look at her sister, not wanting to see the look on her face.

“We’re finished, for now.” Monica’s voice came out even and calm.

Valerie looked over at her.

Monica smiled, her face as red as Valerie’s had to be, but her sister was covering her anger well. And Valerie didn’t trust her.

“Monica, this is Antonio Daniato. Antonio, my sister, Monica.” They shook hands, and Valerie gestured to a barstool. “Have a seat.”

“I brought beer.” He handed her a six-pack of Corona with a lime stuck between the bottles.

“Thank you. Monica?”

“Sure. I could use a beer.”

Valerie walked to the other side of the island and took out a cutting board and a knife. “Monica just returned from Temecula.”

“How was it?” He sat on the stool next to Monica.

“Beautiful. We took a limo tour of the wineries and shared the most romantic dinner at an amazing new restaurant.”

“You and your boyfriend?”

“Yes. Joe. He’s a physician in LA. It was our first date.”

Antonio hummed for a second. “First dates can be a lot of fun.” He winked at Valerie, who smiled and cut the lime in slices small enough to fit in the beer bottles.

Monica swiveled in her stool to face him. “They can if you find that you have a lot in common. But what if you don’t? What if you find out you come from different society levels?”

Valerie’s knife missed the lime and came down hard on the glass cutting board, the sound echoing sharply in the silent room. She took a second to draw a deep breath then glanced at Antonio.

He looked at her with an unreadable expression on his face. Her cheeks must be flaming red again. She carefully set down the knife and faced her sister, her eyes wide in warning. “Monica. Seriously. That is totally inappropriate.”

Monica lifted her eyebrows innocently. “It’s just a question. I wanted to hear Antonio’s point of view.”

Valerie put a slice of lime in a Corona and handed it to Antonio. She met his gaze. “Please excuse her. She has a tendency to blurt out ridiculous questions.”

Monica’s voice swung back to loud and angry. “Not so ridiculous, sis. Don’t you think it’s an important topic? For the two of you?”

Valerie forced calm into her voice. “Would you like your beer to go?
Sis
.”

Monica stood and slung her purse on her shoulder. “I can take a hint. But…” She looked pointedly at Valerie. “This conversation is not over.”

Valerie’s jaw had grown so tight from holding back the fight inside her, she could barely open her lips. “Oh, don’t think for a moment I’m not going to finish this with you.”

“I’m looking forward to it,
sister
.” Monica said “sister” like it was a bad thing. She turned to look at Antonio. “It’s nice to meet you. Perhaps we’ll bump into you again sometime.”

“Thank you. The pleasure was all mine.” He watched Monica leave, waiting for the front door to close, then turned back to Valerie, a look of amusement in his eyes. “I have two sisters, so your conversation is nothing new.”

She busied herself putting the beer in the refrigerator. How could Monica embarrass her that way?

“Come over here.”

Glancing at him, she warmed at the irresistible smile lighting his face. He turned the barstool. She shut the refrigerator door, walked around the island, and stood in front of him. He pulled her between his legs and squeezed her hips with his knees. His gaze locked with hers but he didn’t speak.

There would be no explaining away her sister’s comments. “I’m so sorry, Antonio. I expected that kind of crap from my parents, but my sister is really not that way.” She had just been ridiculously mad about Troy.

“Your cheeks are still red.” He brushed a finger softly over her blush. “Did she embarrass you?”

“She always embarrasses me.”

“Maybe she’s right.”

Her jaw tightened. “She’s not right. Neither are my parents. They’re comparing you to Troy and Bryce, and because you’re different, they think you’re not our social equal.”

He kissed her, and she tasted beer and lime on his tongue. Her blood heated in her veins.

“I’m not your social equal, Valerie.”

His statement chilled her.

Antonio’s face grew hard. “And if that’s important to you, tell me now, and you’ll never hear from me again.”

Chapter Thirteen

Valerie backed up and looked at his handsome face. His gaze bore intensely into hers. “Do you really think I’m a snob?” Hurt and anger threatened to make her overreact, but she held her emotions in check.

“Of course not. But if you’re getting shit from your family—”

“I don’t care what they think, Antonio.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “They’ve been too involved in my life for too long. I need to cut my own path.”

“Your mother asked you if you were dating me to rebel against them.”

Valerie looked down. “She’s passive aggressive. She said that because she knew you’d hear it.”

He stood and put his hands on her upper arms.

She looked up at him.

“Yeah, I heard it. What better way to declare your independence than to date a bad boy.”

She stepped closer and put her hands on his chest. “That’s not what this is about, Antonio. If I gave you the impression that it was, I’m sorry.” She swallowed. “This is more to me. More than I’ve felt for anyone.”

“Damn.” He set his hands on the sides of her face. “I guess I feel the same.”

“God, listen to us.” She laughed. “Scary, isn’t it?”

His brow furrowed. “Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “Okay, I need some air. Let’s take a drive.” He handed her the beer. “Drink this and grab your purse.”

She took the bottle. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere you haven’t been before. My condo. And I’m going to cook for you.”

“Mac and cheese and hot dogs?” She sipped the beer.

“No, wise ass, I can cook. Drink. Let’s go.” He jingled his car keys.

She headed toward the stairs. “Let me grab a few things.”

“Bring your bikini.”

“You want to swim?” She climbed the stairs, finishing her beer.

“Or just see you in your bikini.”

“You’re a hound,” she called from the top of the steps.

She heard him growl. She packed a beach bag and included a toothbrush—just in case she got lucky.

They rode in his Ferrari. She loved the feel of the powerful machine. Watching him drive the sleek car was an aphrodisiac. He handled it confidently, masterfully.

She put her hand on his shoulder and felt his muscles flex as he shifted gears. Tipping his head, he kissed her hand. His eyes met hers for a second before he looked back to the road.

In that quick glance she saw desire, and the reaction tingled through her.

They pulled into the underground parking ramp of one of the Turnberry Place towers. He mentioned he lived in a high-rise on The Strip, but she didn’t realize he lived in this luxury community.

“I’ve only been here once before. I’m excited to see your condo.”

He pulled into a garage next to his motorcycle.

“Garages? This is so fancy.”

“It’s a little overkill.”

She liked how he played down the extravagance. “What floor do you live on?”

He came around the car and opened the door for her. “Are you afraid of heights?”

“No, not at all.”

“Top.”

He acted nonchalant about owning a prime piece of Las Vegas real estate. Taking her elbow, he led her to an elevator and punched in a code. The doors opened, and once inside, he entered another code to set the elevator in motion.

She looked at the call buttons. “There are only three buttons on this elevator. Garage, Ground, and Penthouse. Is this seriously your own personal elevator?” Her voice came out excited, like a kid at Disney World.

“I guess you could call it that. Do you have a pen?”

She dug in her purse and handed him one.

He pulled a business card out of his wallet and wrote two numbers on the back. “These are the codes for the elevator.” Then he wrote another number. “This is the code to get into the parking garage. I have a guest parking space next to the garage you can use any time.”

He’d taken her completely by surprise. She fought for breath, her chest filling with a sweet emotion.

Laying his hands on her shoulders, he bent to look at her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Antonio. I’m so happy.” She blinked rapidly, afraid she might cry.

He kissed her cheek. “You don’t seem happy.”

She looked down, just realizing she held his card against her heart. “It’s just unexpected. I’m a little overwhelmed.” Her eyes misted.

“Let me get you into my home, give you a glass of wine, and start hitting on you. Hard. You’ll feel like yourself again in no time.”

She laughed, a little unsteadily. “How considerate of you.”

Antonio opened a locked box on the elevator and pulled out his mail. He held up a cardboard envelope. “Ah, good. Surveillance footage. From that night we first met.” He winked at her. “We can watch this while we eat.”

She nodded, a little nervous about his seeing her doing the blackmailers’ work. Would it raise questions about her integrity again?

The elevator doors opened into his shadowy penthouse.

She drew in a stunned breath. “It’s magnificent.” She stepped out into the foyer. Hardwood floors, high ceilings, and a wall of glass overlooking The Strip. She walked to the windows and looked out then looked back at him. “It’s magnificent.”

“You said that already.” He moved to stand behind her, his arms around her waist. “But I’m glad you like it.”

“Amazing. I can see why you’re so creative. It’s a perfect place to write.” She looked at his leather furniture then at the painting above the fireplace. She stepped out of his arms and walked up to it. “This is beautiful.”

“My brother, Dante. The artist. Let me show you the rest of the place.” He held out his hand to her.

She slid hers into his warm grasp, and he took her into the kitchen. “Wow. I expected a hotplate and a dorm fridge.” She looked in the bronze double ovens and touched the huge stove’s grill top. “Sorry. I’m being too nosy.”

He gestured around the room. “Go ahead. It’s a pleasure watching you snoop.”

She opened the maple appliance garages. “You’ve got everything. You weren’t kidding. You do cook, don’t you?”

He leaned his hip on the tan marble countertop. “I do.” Reaching over, he opened a cupboard. “But I had my housekeeper buy these spices when you told me you like to cook. I’m a salt and pepper guy, so I hope when you come over to make a meal for us, you’ll have what you need here.”

She looked at him, totally surprised by his thoughtfulness. “This is great. How nice of you.”