Chapter 4
4
A lejandro straightened the collar on his black shirt and stepped back from the mirror. He had left the top two buttons undone to show off his chains. There were four of them, black and granite silver, of different lengths and designs. One held a cross pendant, given to him by his grandmother for protection. The other held a black onyx ring, one of the few possessions he had left from his father.
He stepped out of the room and found Camila standing by the bar that separated the kitchen from the rest of the front of the house, rummaging through a little black purse. Almost immediately his body hummed to life, and he almost swallowed his tongue.
Every time he saw her, it was impossible to look away. When she was younger, she wore her hair curly, but nowadays mostly wore it straight and pulled away from her elegant round features. Not tonight. Tonight, her hair was styled in loose chocolate waves that tumbled to the middle of her back. She was a stunning woman—with womanly curves and D-cup breasts he longed to stroke with his tongue.
She had donned a little purple dress with gold straps, and black slingback heels showed off the arch in her calves. A familiar ache twisted through his balls, which for years he’d fought to diminish by bedding other women, but he was always left wanting because they weren’t her.
Camila looked up as he approached, a smile taking over her face as she did a quick sweep of him from top to bottom.
Her sun-kissed skin was the palest brown, and her sultry eyes sparkled, radiating warmth and mischief. Her lips were ruby-red, and her sweet smile held a teasing edge, as if she knew the effect her beauty and charm had on people and liked to play with it.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Let’s go,” Alejandro said.
The strip at night was a dazzling spectacle of bright lights and energy, transformed into a setting that highlighted the glamor and excess of the city. Neon signs and huge LED billboards illuminated the entire length of the boulevard with their glow.
The towering casinos—such as the Bellagio, with its iconic dancing fountains, and the pyramid-shaped Luxor—promoted their shows with flashing advertisements. People from all over the United States and the world crowded the sidewalks, stopping to snap photos with street performers or take a detour into one of the bars and restaurants that advertised delicious-looking meals.
The combined bachelor and bachelorette party was taking place at the Celestial Palace Hotel and Casino, a newly renovated establishment on the strip. When they arrived, Alejandro stepped out of Camila’s car and waited while the valet took her keys. They walked into the glittering interior together, his ears filling with the sounds of slot machines and the murmur of voices. The air was electric, with all manner of guests roaming around, sitting at the slots, or playing at one of the tables.
The high ceiling was painted with the image of cherubs and harp-playing angels and dotted with large, shimmering chandeliers. Sleek, high-end furnishings in deep blues and rich golds added a luxurious touch.
“So, here’s the agenda for the night,” Camila began. “Dinner first, we attend the ceremony, and then we come back to celebrate at the club, where Miguel and Patrice have a VIP section for us.”
“Sounds good.”
He had downplayed his activities when Camila asked what he’d been up to, but after his last assignment in South America, where he and the team had saved those young women from being trafficked, he was looking forward to partying.
When they entered the restaurant, he fell back so Camila could talk to the hostess. He took that opportunity to capture every detail of her appearance, conducting a visual tour of her petite frame, all the way down to the curve in her waist and the flare of her hips.
Being with Camila was both pleasure and pain. He enjoyed spending time with his friend, but it was torture. He wanted her, and there were times when he thought he saw the same want in her eyes. But even if he did, he couldn’t act on it. He wasn’t a scumbag. Camila was off-limits. Not only because they were friends, but because she was his best friend’s widow.
They followed the hostess into the dining area, where the lights were dimmer, and the walls filled with art depicting abstract designs and scenes from the city’s nightlife. Bars with glass countertops and mirrored backs reflected the lights, with guests crowded around them drinking colorful drinks.
As soon as Miguel saw them, he hopped up from the table. Lean, with obviously freshly cut curls, he wore a suit and tie and a pair of black-framed glasses.
“Alejandro, hermano ! So glad you could make it.”
Alejandro pulled him into a hug, and they patted each other on the back. “Of course. I would not have missed this for the world.”
Miguel stepped back and extended his hand toward a young woman who came to her feet behind him. “This is Patrice, my future bride—the woman who tamed me.”
Alejandro smiled. Miguel had never been wild. Camila had been the wild, reckless one while he had always been studious and careful. It didn’t help that he was younger, so Camila always wanted to protect him, as any older sibling would.
His fiancée extended a hand to Alejandro. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Nice to meet you too.”
Patrice was short and thick and wore a bridal veil and hot pink mini-dress that hugged her voluptuous curves. Her caramel-toned face was blemish-free except for a small mole on her left cheek.
There were six more people at the table—three men and three women. Introductions were made, and then Alejandro and Camila sat across from each other.
Miguel and Patrice had selected a family-style menu for the group. Once everyone was seated, the two waitresses assigned to their table brought out their drink orders and the appetizers.
“What did you do today?” Alejandro asked, stabbing his calamari with a fork.
“Yesterday we went sightseeing, and today we rode ATVs through the desert,” Miguel answered.
“That was this morning. Then we relaxed by the pool until it was time to get ready for dinner,” Patrice added.
“I’ve been looking forward to a vacation, and this was perfect,” said Kia, a friend of Patrice’s. She had spiky blonde hair and an edgy look.
“What about you?” Miguel asked Alejandro.
Camila answered for him. “Remember I told you, he flew in this afternoon. He hasn’t had a chance to do much of anything except rest and get ready for tonight.”
“Oh right. Did you finish your article?” Miguel asked.
Camila nodded. “I’ll let the piece marinate and then review it one more time tomorrow before I send the file to Adrian.”
Miguel sipped his drink, a light frown furrowing his brow. “You seem off, sis. What’s wrong?”
“Do I?” Camila let out an obviously forced laugh. “It’s silly, but I’m a little worried about a friend of mine,” she admitted.
“Who?” Miguel slipped his arm across the back of his fiancée’s chair.
“Doug—the homeless guy whose sister I found. No one has seen him in a while, and the last person who talked to him said he was going to the clinic.”
Alejandro had sensed something was off with her earlier, and now he knew he was right. She was worried about her friend. He respected her relationship with the unhoused population in the city. From a child, she’d always been passionate about helping people who lived on the street. In Jalisco, she had worked closely with the church to feed and clothe the homeless, so it was no surprise that as an adult she championed the same cause.
“He’s probably fine,” Miguel said.
“I wish I knew for sure. He called me, but when I called him back, he didn’t answer. He always answers his phone.” Camila sighed. “Ignore me. I’m sure he’ll turn up. His sister arrives on Sunday, and I know he doesn’t want to miss her.”
The smile on her lips wavered, then disappeared. She suddenly looked lost. She obviously didn’t believe what she said. That was the problem with Camila. She felt too much. She wouldn’t be satisfied until she knew for sure this Doug guy was okay.
“It will be okay.” Alejandro mouthed the words across the table to her, and she smiled gratefully at his effort to put her mind at ease.
The conversation shifted, and soon the group was laughing and teasing each other. Camila told a few funny, embarrassing stories about Miguel, and Kia told a couple about Patrice. The time flew by quickly as they enjoyed themselves, and soon it was time to head to the chapel.
They climbed into a party bus with U-shaped plush leather seating, the interior illuminated by color-changing LED lights and a spinning disco ball suspended from the mirrored ceiling. In the middle was a chrome dance pole Kia took full advantage of, dancing to a bumping hip-hop beat while the group egged her on.
Alejandro sat in the back and watched with his arms resting atop the seat. He enjoyed watching women dance, but the only person he wanted to see gyrate tonight was Camila. His gaze met hers once, and she inclined her head toward the pole and arched an eyebrow, indicating he should give the group a dance. He signaled his displeasure with narrowed his eyes, and a peal of laughter burst from her lips, the beautiful sound carrying the short distance between them and causing a twist of longing in his gut.
The chauffeur took them to the chapel where an officiant waited. Patrice and Miguel wanted to be married at ten-thirty-six because that was the time they’d met on campus at a student party five years ago.
Inside, the eight guests watched the couple exchange vows and rings, and Alejandro shot a surreptitious glance at Camila. Despite the many women he’d slept with over the years, he had never considered marrying any of them. The only woman he would have considered marrying, Camila, had been out of reach. From the moment she and Emilio became a couple, jealousy had eaten through him—that his friend had been lucky enough to capture this magnetic, vivacious creature and call her his own.
The officiant waited until exactly ten-thirty-six before he said the words they’d all been ready to hear: “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
Miguel kissed his wife and dipped her over his arm to the whooping and hollering of their friends. Camila shot Alejandro a pleased look, and he smiled back. But the night was not over.
“Time to party!” Miguel yelled.
With excited cries from all the women, they left the chapel and climbed into the waiting party bus, which returned them to the Celestial Palace. They made their way to the VIP section of The Firmament, the Palace’s popular nightclub. The group of ten gathered together on the soft leather seats, and waitresses brought out champagne, cake, and more food for them.
“To the happy couple! May you have many, many, many happy years together!” Camila stood in the middle of the group, holding up a flute with the golden liquid.
“Amen!”
“Here, here!”
Everyone touched their glasses together and then sipped the flavorful drink.
Camila sank onto her chair, eyeing the spread of heavy hors d’oeuvres before them. She clutched her stomach. “If I eat anything else, I’m going to explode.”
“Same,” Patrice laughed, seated on Miguel’s lap. She was glowing, her rings sparkling on her finger.
“We need to dance off the food and dance off this energy,” Kia suggested.
She jumped up and hauled Patrice and Camila with her, both of them groaning and dragging reluctantly behind. Two of the guys followed while the third male and the other female slinked off to a corner to be alone.
Alejandro changed seats and sat down next to Miguel. From this vantage point, he had a good view of the dance floor and watched Camila shaking her hips with her hands in the air. One of the guys in their group—lanky with coffee-hued skin, sidled up behind her, and Alejandro’s jaw tightened. His whole body became rigid. He couldn’t blame the guy. She was sexy, beautiful, captivating. But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to bash his face in.
Miguel leaned toward him. “Camila won’t say it, but she misses you. You should call more often, and you shouldn’t stay away so long.”
“Has it been long?” Alejandro lit a cigar. Leaning back, legs spread, he never let his eyes drift from Camila and her dance partner. He had inconveniently forgotten the sexual heat that plagued him in her presence, forcing him to act cool while he burned on the inside.
“She hasn’t seen you since you came to Mommy’s funeral,” Miguel reminded him.
Alejandro knew that. Over a year had passed. “Too long,” he admitted in a low voice.
But how could he explain the reason for his absence? The guilt he felt for wanting Camila while knowing nothing would ever happen. Not with the ghost of Emilio between them. Not knowing when given the choice, she had chosen Emilio over him.