Chapter 11
Emmeline
Photographs.
I was forty-five-hundred miles away from home. It had taken me a full day to get to the tropical location. I even had the best-looking bodyguard in the business and what was I worried about?
Some ridiculous photographs that could be out there in the cloud taken by an actual photographer instead of Donatello. I’d thought for certain I’d seen him standing outside. Of course, I’d been intoxicated and furious about being followed earlier. Naturally, I assumed the worst.
And in doing so, I likely soiled my reputation.
After taking another sip of my drink, I figured what good would it do to worry about it. Instead, I did what I could to get into the tribal rhythm of the music.
Dancing the night away.
The few times I’d joined my friends at the family’s sizzling dance club in New Orleans, I’d thoroughly enjoyed myself. I’d been proud to highlight the sexiest club in the south. But enjoyment had been short lived.
Especially when Donatello had intervened.
Thinking about the men who’d almost immediately sought me and my friends out on the night in question yanked at my instincts.
To learn about the bomb planted in Donatello’s home and that those same men had been murdered certainly indicated a dangerous situation.
There were no coincidences in the underground world of dark corruption and control.
Even if the family was mostly legitimate.
Then there was the asshole from speed dating. My instincts had told me the guy had been bad news, yet I’d been so dead set on doing what I wanted, I’d ignored my gut. I could only imagine what would have happened had Donatello not intervened.
But I wasn’t going to admit that to him.
Coming to Rio had seemed like the perfect opportunity to shove aside my tightly woven world for a little while. But with all good things there were consequences to bear. I’d yet to ask but had already wondered whether the surly Italian had contacted my family to let them know I was safe and sound.
Or that he’d be bringing me home in handcuffs soon enough.
The thought was both riveting and annoying. Which held the greater percentage? Well, I would never tell.
As I weaved my way through a throng of garishly dressed people, I continued to try to push aside all thoughts about my real life. It was very difficult to do given I was being shadowed by a burly giant of a man determined to keep me safe.
Casa da Matriz certainly lived up to its name. Very much on the wild side, the music was pumping, the DJ mixing music like the days of old, which I adored. The drinks were potent, the atmosphere electric, and the people all eager and willing to party.
There’d been a street vendor selling detailed, artistic masks, which of course had drawn my attention. I’d purchased a tight little pink dress and the painted mask of fuchsia and violet, covered in rhinestones and pink feathers was a perfect addition.
I could be anyone I wanted to be, uninhibited. The situation was perfect and I was already enjoying the groove.
While I was getting a lot of looks as well as compliments, there was one tiny problem.
Donatello refused to stay a reasonable distance. With a man as tall and muscular as he was, to be dressed in a dark suit with a black shirt while wearing an evil-looking dark mask was highly threatening.
At least he was nursing a drink.
When another guy made a beeline for me, the same thing happened again. This time, I threw out my arm, wagging my finger.
There was no denying every emotion Donatello was experiencing at least tonight. He was pissed anyone was daring to come closer.
At least he backed away, so the air was less suffocating. Sadly, I could tell this was a bad move on my part. He was never going to allow me to enjoy my evening. There was no escaping him, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t go deeper into the club.
I danced away from him, doing my best to ignore his presence, but as with every time Donatello had been in any room, in some sense of proximity, his very presence was oppressive.
I had to get him off my mind. He was on duty as he always was and after hearing what happened to him, all the bravado in the world wouldn’t keep me from feeling anxiety.
Not just for him but also for me.
Pushing my way through the crowd, I enjoyed the way men were getting closer.
There were several I’d consider extremely handsome.
What I’d shared with my bodyguard was true.
I craved going on a date, enjoying a night or two of passion.
What was wrong with that? The last time I’d even bothered trying had been disastrous, the guy walking out and never wanting to see me again.
Thoughts of the speed date flashed into my mind.
Then there were the naughty images of the sexy Italian from earlier in the day.
Wow. The suits he wore, while nicely tailored, had managed to hide his intensely hot physique.
Okay, I needed to stop driving myself into a hunger frenzy.
That wasn’t going to help with finding someone to spend time with tonight.
On the edge of the dance floor, I couldn’t seem to help myself, glancing toward Donatello. He was there, hiding in the shadows across the room.
Only now he wasn’t alone. There were three girls hovering around him.
I wasn’t prone to acts of jealousy because I’d never needed to worry about any boyfriend being the object of anyone else’s desires. Why? Because I hadn’t had a boyfriend since college. Even then, when my brothers had come to visit, they’d terrified him and he’d broken it off.
I’d been devastated.
So why was I remotely jealous that women were paying Donatello any attention?
Because he was cute. In a big bouncer kind of way.
Who was I kidding? He was much better looking than anyone in the club I’d seen so far.
I purposely turned away, running into someone almost immediately. “Oh, I’m sorry.” I’d forgotten I was going to pretend to be local, speaking only Portuguese.
The man’s eyes lit up and he gave me a onceover. “An American girl.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Would you like to dance?”
“You know what? I would.” I finished my drink, placing the glass on a table and allowed him to lead me to the dance floor. The beat was fast, the crowd a little wilder than before and soon, the neon lights drifted into strobe mode.
“You’re a hot girl.”
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
The moment was somewhat thrilling and I was finally able to let go, spinning around him while undulating my hips.
I should have known better. As soon as I turned around, Donatello was standing only a few feet away.
My dancing partner noticed him immediately, showing signs of being uncomfortable. He tried to ignore that we were being watched. So did I.
But the hot Brazilian leaned forward, trying to act nonchalant. “Do you always take your bodyguard with you?”
“Him?” I pointed and the guy barely glanced over his shoulder before nodding. “He’s not with me. Whoever he is, just ignore him.”
I’d give the guy some credit. He did try to do exactly as I said. We danced to another song, even laughing as we did until Donatello changed positions, his dark and dangerous appearance putting a damper on everyone dancing around us.
“You know what?” the guy finally said. “I don’t think this is going to work out.”
With that, he walked away, even disappearing into the crowd. I stood staring after him and in truth, all I could do was laugh. The same situation had followed me from New Orleans. I would never officially be able to get away from who I was.
Maybe a huge part of me wasn’t trying too hard. I just wanted to find something special like my brothers had found. Was that too much to freaking ask?
After taking several deep breaths, I realized I could play this one of two ways.
I could get very angry, demanding Donatello leave now or else.
Whatever my threat might mean to a man of his stature.
Or I could turn the tables. The way I figured it, he owed me.
For breaking into my house in New Orleans as well as the one in Rio.
For going through my private things, including the hiding spot I’d developed. For chasing me down like some fugitive. For treating me like a child. For spanking me.
And for making it impossible for me to have a normal date of any kind.
Alright. That meant I had to change tactics. Fine with me.
When the beat turned more tribal, I started dancing toward where Donatello was standing. He pretended as if he wasn’t paying any attention at first. But when I swished my hips, the tiny sequins in the dress shimmered in the strobe.
He turned his head in my direction, stoic as I’d ever seen him but also never blinking. The closer I came, the more his eyes seemed to be hooded. By the time I was a foot away, his chest was heaving.
I was enjoying myself, moving to the music, taking my time to revel in feeling freer than I had in a long time. Maybe the reason was I’d gotten out of town. Or perhaps it was because of the handsome company who refused to leave me alone. I guess I should be flattered. Right?
When I dared dance around him in a circle, he shifted his head from one side to the other. By the time I’d danced my way back in front of him, every muscle in his body was tense. I continued dancing, inching closer and closer.
He brought his drink to his lips, but before he had a chance to take a sip, I took the glass from his hand.
Now I backed away, shifting back and forth as I brought the rim to my lips.
His gaze was dark and foreboding, a promise of all things dark and dangerous.
I was enthralled by the way he was studying me, his features even more chiseled than normal.
After tossing back almost every drop and bringing the glass down with a dramatic flair, I offered what had to appear as an evil smile.
“What are you doing, Emmeline?”
“Dancing. I prefer that over lurking, which is exactly what you’re doing. Or perhaps stalking. You used to do a lot of that.”
“Stalking? I never stalked you.”