Match Point

Chapter 1

ONE

Brielle Riley loved the heat. The sticky suffocating kind when the air felt like liquid and sweat hung on skin like cellophane.

She had played some of the best tennis of her career in weather like this, and she’d give anything to be on the court right now.

But the sling on her left arm reminded her that a return to the game was still a while off, and having breakfast with her father told her she had way too much time on her hands.

Any time spent with Big Frank had more to do with “business” than pleasure, which was why she’d been sitting in the parking lot of Giovanni’s Restaurante for twenty minutes.

She slid her Dior shades over her eyes and practiced her smile.

Not the sexy vixen one she used on magazine covers, but the wholesome daddy’s-little-girl kind that made her cheeks ache.

Supplying a mental drum roll, she shoved the heavy Porsche door open.

The pale pink dress was shorter than she realized and probably low cut enough to earn a lecture.

So, what else was new? Big Frank liked flashy women, but preferred his daughter to dress for convent dwelling.

She could tie the sling higher on her chest for modesty’s sake but she didn’t want to risk it.

Eight months on the “Disabled List” was an eternity in the sports world.

No way was she taking a chance on making her recovery longer.

She tossed her blonde braid over her shoulder and raised her chin in forced bravery.

Game on.

Heat swam across the blacktop like a cloud.

People in their Sunday best filtered to the front entrance of the elegant stucco building, but Brielle headed toward the path that hugged the side of it.

Daddy and his “colleagues” always used the back door.

Partly because it was hidden from the road, but mostly because he liked people to gush over the acre plus of exotic gardens they’d pass by on the way.

Frank didn’t own Giovanni’s, but, in a matter of speaking, he did own the owner, and both spent top dollar indulging their interests of exotic flora.

But on a day like this, the heavy-petaled flowers cowered in the heat, which was fine. She was too nervous to enjoy them.

Her kitten heels clicked on the limestone path, summoning her heart to keep pace. It was still and quiet. In a way that used to be soothing to her, but now only invited fear.

She wasn’t alone.

She broke into a jog. Maybe this was the plan all along? Go to breakfast with Daddy and come in through the secret entrance so some knife wielding maniac could finish what he’d started. She ran faster. Almost there.

“Hey baby, slow down.”

The sharp strain of a man’s voice stopped her just as she rounded the corner to the hidden doorway. She braced herself for something, anything, but nothing happened. When she realized her eyes were shut, she forced them open.

And couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

Amid the leaves and vibrant blossoms was not just a man but a couple, engaged in the most aggressive and passionate blowjob Brielle ever dared to imagine.

“Excuse me,” Brielle finally managed half laughing. “I’m truly sorry to interrupt…”

They still didn’t stop. Maybe they didn’t hear her.

That wouldn’t be surprising because they seemed very…

focused. The woman was a redhead and a waitress judging by the uniform.

The man, tall, broad-shouldered, short dark hair.

He wore a dark blazer over a crisp white button-down.

Tailored trousers gathered around his knees, as the woman’s head bobbed frantically.

His large hand gripped the back of her head to encourage her while her chipped red nails dug into his tight bare ass.

“Hey guys!” Brielle tried again. “Do you two mind moving so I can get through the door?”

The waitress kept going. Maybe even enhancing her efforts. The man turned his head locking his gaze directly on Brielle.

“Oh yeah,” he breathed, fisting his hand in the waitress’s hair. “You’re fucking incredible.”

For a split second, everything narrowed to that look. His sunglasses hid his eyes, but Brielle felt the weight of his attention anyway. Cool, assessing, lingering a fraction too long.

“Do you think you two could move please?” Brielle blurted.

This time they did pause, and the waitress groaned in disappointment when she slowly slipped his dick from her mouth. Brielle averted her eyes, but not fast enough that she couldn’t appreciate not just the size of him, but also the obvious depth of the woman’s throat.

He just smiled. “Sorry. Didn’t know we had an audience.”

“I didn’t mean to be one,” Brielle replied. “You know, the Flamingo Hotel is across the street. You could go there.”

“Really?” The guy smirked as he rezipped and tucked. “The place nice?”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t make a practice of staying at establishments that charge by the hour.”

That caught a chuckle from him but the redhead was less amused. She flipped Brielle off and disappeared somewhere toward the loading dock.

Brielle shrugged. “Sorry to be a cold shower.”

“Believe me, you’re not.” He took a step towards her making a show of giving her a once over. “What are you doing back here anyway, sweetheart? Pretty girls like you usually use the main entrance.”

“Really, Magellan? Thanks. Guess no one sent me directions.”

“You kiss your boyfriend with that sharp mouth?”

“Your girlfriend know you’re such a flirt?”

Brielle wished she could see his eyes. The dark sunglasses were designer, Armani maybe, and they flattered his dark angular features like six-hundred-dollar glasses should.

But even with his eyes hidden, she could tell the man was sexy and, if she had to guess, they were probably dark like his hair, but bright like his smile.

“No really, why are you heading into Frank Riley’s private dining room?” he asked. “You a friend of his?”

“Are you?”

He produced a cigarette and lit it with a sterling silver lighter. Taking a long drag, he exhaled then let the smoke slither out slowly. “Could be. Depends on who’s asking.”

Of course.

The cute letch was one of Frank’s stooges.

“Excuse me,” she snapped and attempted to push him aside. But with only one hand, her leverage was ridiculously limited. Sort of like trying to move the Rock of Gibraltar. “Hello! You’re still in front of the door.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said stepping away. “I thought we were still chatting.”

“Nope, this conversation’s over.” She grabbed the handle but the door wouldn’t budge. She tried again. And again.

“Hey,” the guy said softly, placing his hand over hers. “It opens to the inside.”

His large, tanned fingers lingered and she responded with the meanest look she could muster. Regardless of how sexy the little wrinkles were on the sides of his mouth, charm would not work. She barreled through the door toward Frank’s private dining room. Thankfully, the asshole didn’t follow.

She made her way directly to the heavy-set, dark-haired older man at the head of a long mahogany table. “Well, look who just strolled through the door!” Her father bellowed, making a dramatic show of checking his Rolex. “Fashionably late as always.”

“Sorry, I should have called.” She bent over to kiss his cheek.

“You know if your driver can’t get you where you need to go on time you should get rid of him.”

“I drove myself, Daddy.”

“Figures. Hey guys, push around. The girl needs to sit.”

A table full of men with bulging bellies and napkin bibs looked up at her with impatient smiles. They resumed eating when Frank did, each digging into their bacon and eggs in pathetic unison.

“I hope you at least got your fiancé to the airport okay.” Frank winked, then patted her on the back. “Geoffrey’s off to Bermuda with that Nila Norcova girl, right?”

“Yeah, big photo shoot with Sports Illustrated,” Brielle sighed. “He’ll be gone for a few weeks.”

“If that’s green I see in your eyes, don’t bother. There’s no reason to be jealous of her. He’s the one who should be hot and bothered. You won’t even wear his engagement ring.”

“The stone snags on my sling, and I’m not jealous.”

“He’s your future husband and any money he makes off that broad is more in your pocket. Besides, with you on the sidelines a little extra income never hurts.” He motioned to the stooge a few seats down from the butter. “You’ve always got to remember the bottom line.”

She didn’t reply, learning long ago Frank always had the last word no matter what. Instead she just smiled, letting his words roll over her like she never heard them at all.

“You look stronger every time I see you.” Frank said as if it was a demand. “I’m glad to see that. Everyone is worried about you.”

“Thank you. I‘m feeling stronger.”

“You know you can take that off all together if you want.” He pointed to her sling with his knife. “Geoffrey told me the trainer encouraged it.”

She smiled sweetly and let the subject drop. Pouring herself a glass of orange juice, she spied the racing form lying conspicuously beside his plate. “So is today your day off?” she asked, holding out hope that maybe for once her father would visit the track just for fun rather than “business.”

“Bite your tongue. You know Daddy never takes a vacation.” He lifted up the paper in front of him.

“I know a certain jockey who’ll have some time on his hands after today, but not me.

I’m always working.” He elbowed the arm of the man beside him as if sharing a secret.

“Hey look, enough about me. I’m glad you could clear your schedule to meet me this morning. ”

Like she had the option. “No problem.”

“I suppose Geoffrey told you I’m concerned about the direction of the investigation into your attack.”

Brielle balled her napkin in her lap. She chose her words with the precision of someone diffusing a live bomb. One false move… “I don’t know much about it, Daddy,” she offered. “But it’s nothing for you to bother yourself about.”