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“I’ll be happy to answer the question for the detective, Sante. What does it feel like? As good as sensing the wetness formed underneath that silk blouse of yours and knowing that tonight, you’ll have dreams about being this close to me. Won’t you, Detective Crenshaw?”
I allowed a huge smile to cross my face and I knew I’d crossed a line, but I’d been unable to help myself.
“Let’s go, Francois,” Sante encouraged.
I moved away from her, and she took a deep breath, waiting until I’d reached the door before addressing what I’d said. “Don’t attempt to leave town, Mr. Thibodeaux, and I assure you that I find you repulsing.”
At least she made me laugh, which was surprising. As I headed out, I could tell Sante was cursing in Spanish.
“What the fuck was that?” he barked.
“Just ensuring that they knew what they were dealing with.”
“I hate when you get like this.”
“Yeah? Well, you might as well get used to it. No one threatens my family. No one.”
“I’m surprised you wanted to walk to the restaurant,” Delaney said from beside me. She had her arm linked in mine as we walked. While no reporters had attempted to interrupt our late afternoon lunch, that was probably due to the fact I had an entourage of soldiers trailing behind us.
“It’s a beautiful afternoon and I’m with a lovely lady. Why would it bother me?”
“Haven’t you seen the number of people staring at us?” She glanced over her shoulder, obviously uncomfortable. “I could swear it’s like the press are waiting for something to happen, just hovering like vultures.” When she flicked at least one of them the bird I had to chuckle.
“Let them stare, baby. That comes with the territory. Certainly, you know what that’s like?”
She laughed. “Are you kidding me? When I walked the runways or was in all those photoshoots that you have locked away on that laptop of yours, I was a different person, a complete fantasy.No one knew who I was on the street. I wasn’t pretty enough or famous enough for anyone to care about.”
“Is that what you really want? To be famous?”
Her exhale was exaggerated. “Honestly, not in the least. I thought so at first. Then I realized that I’m not cut out to be told I’m too fat. Too ugly. Too short. Too tall. Too curvy. Too much of a pain in the ass.”
The fact she’d been fired by the pompous jerk continued to piss me off. I would make the man’s life immortal hell when I had the opportunity. “You do realize you’re perfect.”
“No one is perfect, but around you I feel like a queen.” She pulled away, twirling in a circle, the bright red dress catching every man’s eye on the street. A part of me had wanted nothing more than to keep her locked inside the condo, but I doubted anyone would be so stupid as to attempt something in broad daylight.
“You are a queen.” I issued a growl, giving her a stern look. What bothered me was that Brandon had all but disappeared. However, Rocco had confirmed that Alturo’s men had arrived on a ship over a week before via a stop in Cuba. They’d had plenty of time to make plans, sabotaging the ship when it was docked there. Still, Alturo’s actions had been brazen.
Arman had also called. It would seem he had plans on initiating contact, trying to set up a meeting, which I’d objected to. The last thing we needed to do was to appear as if we were concerned in the least.
“If you could do anything else other than modeling, what would it be?” I asked her, suddenly cognizant that she was right. The reporters weren’t bothering to hide their identities. As we continued our walk, now about eight blocks from the condo, Inoticed a van from one of the news stations pulled onto a side street. My hackles were suddenly raised.
“I’ve given that some thought. I think I’m going to try and work with my dad. Heck. Maybe I’ll learn all about racetracks and teams.” She laughed at the funny expression I made, dancing around me as if she was enthused by my sudden discomfort.
“An interesting idea.”
“You hate it. I knew you would. I can’t be your girlfriend and work with you.”
“You can be anything you want to be, baby.”
She planted her hands on her hips, stopping short and forcing me to do the same. “Then what’s wrong? I can tell.”
I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Something is going on with your father that I’m concerned about.”
“What do you mean something?”
“He’s not in Europe.”
“Why were you checking on him?”
