Kidnapping His Bride (11 page)

“We’re here,” Cat announced when the car came to a stop in front of the club. She reminded him of an eager child, her face practically pressed to the window as she stared out at the line formed along the side of the building. Though there was nothing remotely child-like about Cat. “It looks busy.”

“Don’t worry,” he reassured when she turned to look at him. “We’ll get right in.”

“It’s almost eleven-thirty and look at the line.” She pointed. “I can’t even tell where it ends.”

“The club’s open ’til four a.m.” The nightlife never ended in Manhattan. “And trust me. I know a way in.”

The driver opened the door for them and Rafe followed Cat out of the car, standing tall so he could survey the scene before him. Immediately he noted the various men standing in line. How most of them blatantly stared at Cat, not that he could blame them.

The sequined scrap of a dress accentuated her sensuous figure, her long, dark brown hair hung in sexy waves beyond her shoulders and when she turned to look at him, offering a shy smile in his direction, his heart nearly tripped over itself.

Standing beside her, he slipped his arm around her slender shoulders and drew her in close, staking his claim.
She’s mine. Don’t waste your time because she belongs to me.

The majority of them looked away, losing interest.

Good.

“Maybe we should go somewhere else,” she suggested, her worried gaze scanning the line of disgruntled wannabe club goers. “Is there another club nearby?”

“I can get us in. Just follow my lead,” he murmured close to her ear, the scent of her hair driving him wild. “And don’t say a word. Let me do all the talking. I have everything under control.”

She gave a subtle nod as he led her toward the two gentlemen who stood in front of the closed door, casting their disapproving gazes upon everyone nearby. A red velvet rope swung across the imposing, black-lacquered double doors, blocking everyone from coming inside unless they were specifically admitted. Rafe could hear the muttered protests when he approached the door hosts, knew that everyone most likely thought he was cutting in line.

Which he was. But he had connections. He knew the owner through his sister. Renaldi Accessories had held a jewelry line launch at the location a little over three months ago. Not that he would reveal that little tidbit of information to Cat yet.

For whatever stupid reason, he wanted to impress her tonight. Wanted her to think he could pull strings, make things happen, make things fun for her. That he would do anything to ensure she had a good time.

Absolutely juvenile of him, but when it came to Cat, she made him act a little crazy.

“Evening,” he said to the two very muscular, very stylishly dressed men standing in front of the door. Their expressions were made of pure disinterest, their thick arms crossed in front of their chests, their matching smirks almost disconcerting in how similar they appeared.

Rafe couldn’t help but wonder if they were brothers—or linebackers.

“Line’s back there,” one of them said, flicking his chin. “I suggest you get in it and wait your turn like everyone else.”

Cat glanced over her shoulder, her eyes widening. The line wound around the building. He heard it was like this every night. Stasia had told him more than once that Crimson was the hot spot to see and be seen.

Considering he’d come to New York to do nothing but work, he’d had to trust her on that knowledge, despite his playboy, man-about-town image. It was all just that for the most part—an image. One he’d cultivated gladly since it got him and the business plenty of press. He helped divert the media from questioning Stasia and her rather scandalous past too.

So he’d never discouraged the dating-a-bazillion-women-at-once image he had. Never thinking it could hurt his future marriage, which proved he was an idiot for never considering Cat’s feelings.

He was so stupid. It hurt him to know he hurt her. How he hated that.

But truly, there had only been one woman for him. Despite earlier dalliances, the occasional date with a beautiful woman, he knew Catalina was for him and no other.

Then she went and dumped him. Luckily enough, she dumped him and then promptly gave him a second chance at convincing her they could make this work.

Over the next few days, that was his plan. Convincing her they could work.

This night, this very moment, was the first of many steps.

Pushing his thoughts out of Cat out of his head, Rafe focused on the skeptical men in front of him. “I’m a friend of Terry’s,” he said, hoping like hell his name appeared on that magical list he’d heard Stasia refer to. She’d told him the night of the jewelry line reveal that all Renaldis had been put on the permanent entrance list. He hadn’t cared then.

He sure as hell cared now.

“Yeah, right,” the other doorman said with a snort. “You and everyone else is his friend. Stop wasting your breath, bro. Get in the back of the line.” He jerked his thumb toward the restless crowd.

“My name is Rafe Renaldi.” He tilted his head toward the clipboard the guy held. “Check your list.”

Growling irritably, the man flipped through the papers on his clipboard, running his finger down the list of names until it stopped…and he looked up at Rafe once more, his expression contrite. “You’re on the list.”

“I know,” Rafe said calmly, all the while feeling Cat staring at him.

“Guess we’ll let you in, then,” the man said almost reluctantly.

“Guess you will.” Letting his arm drop from Cat’s shoulders, he took her hand, entwining their fingers as he glanced at her pretty face. “Let’s go, sweetheart.”

The little smile curving her lips was unmistakable. He had a feeling she’d enjoyed that display of power. And he’d done it all for her.

The silent door host unhooked the red velvet rope and let them enter, offering a reluctant, “Have a good night,” punctuated with a low grunt.

“We will,” Cat said brightly, shining her smile upon the man before she turned it on Rafe.

Wrecking his heart completely in the most delicious way.

Cat had believed for sure that Rafe wouldn’t be able to get them into the nightclub. She should’ve never doubted him because he’d gone and proven her wrong, what with his name on the entrance list. The two grumpy doormen had no choice but to let them enter, and she’d felt special as she’d eagerly walked through those black-lacquered doors, Rafe clutching her hand tightly as they strode inside.

The place was packed, multicolored strobe lights flashing in time with the beat of the music, the dance floor crowded with an interesting mix of people. Young, old, not one of them sloppily dressed. A DJ stood behind a table on a platform on the opposite side of the room, spinning his beats and clutching his headphones to his ear.

She’d seen things like this on television or in magazine photos, but never in her life had she experienced it firsthand.

“Want a drink?” Rafe yelled in her ear.

“Sure,” she yelled back. She could hardly hear herself, what with how loud the music was.

He led her to a bar that took up the entire left side of the room. Mirrors lined the wall, a variety of liquor bottles sat on shelves in front of the mirrors and three gorgeous men worked behind the counter. The one closest to where they stood flashed her a breathtaking smile, and she couldn’t help but return it.

Earning a glare from Rafe in her direction for her efforts.

“What can I get ya, pretty lady?” the bartender asked with a wink.

Rafe practically growled his answer, ordering for her some sort of complicated drink she’d never heard of before and a beer for him.

“You drink beer?” she asked the moment the bartender turned away from them.

“I do.” Rafe frowned at her. “You act surprised.”

“I figured you were more the type who drank scotch, neat.” She shrugged and he smiled, grasping her hand once more and pulling her in so close, her body molded to his.

“You think you had me all figured out, didn’t you?” His mouth was at her ear yet again and she shivered when his lips brushed her sensitive flesh. He took advantage of the loud music by doing this sort of thing every chance he got. She didn’t know if she’d be able to stand it the rest of the night, it felt so good. So deliciously intimate. “When really you know nothing about me.”

“You know nothing about me either,” she returned, her gaze meeting his when he tilted his head down to study her. They stared at each other for a moment, quiet and still, as if frozen in time while life carried on around them. The song changed, this one even louder, generating an excited roar from the crowd moving on the dance floor. The lights stilled, casting a red glow across Rafe’s handsome features, and she realized in that very second that she wanted to know more about him.

Wanted to learn everything about him. Forget the past, the confusion and her mistaken assumptions. She’d pegged him as one type of man—the sort of man her father was, when really, she hadn’t a clue who Rafael Renaldi was.

She judged him based on her own—and her sister’s—assumptions and that was completely unfair.

“I want to learn,” he murmured and somehow, she heard him. Understood him. Her heart fluttered at the look in his eyes, the way he studied her face. “I want to know everything about you, Cat. Will you let me in?”

His gaze, his words seemed so sincere. She wanted to let him in, but fear held her voice captive. Licking her lips, she parted them, ready to speak, ready to offer him a tentative answer.

“Here’re your drinks.” The bartender’s sharp voice broke the spell and she jolted away from Rafe, felt the loss keenly when he let go of her hand to reach for his wallet.

He paid for their drinks and she took the glass he offered, sipping from it carefully, pleasantly surprised at the delicious taste. “It’s good,” she said when he sent her a questioning look.

“I wouldn’t steer you wrong,” he said, drinking from his beer bottle, and she wondered if there was double meaning in his words.

Their intimate conversation forgotten, they drank silently, Cat taking everything in. The majority of the people crowded around them were young, in their twenties. All of them gleaming and polished, laughing and smiling at each other as if they were having the time of their lives.

It looked almost…exhausting. She wondered if many of them came here often. Perhaps every weekend, looking for whatever they were missing in their lives.

Cat could relate. She’d felt like a piece of her was missing for years.

Maybe that piece was standing next to her, quietly drinking his beer while he kept his gaze on her.

“You’re staring at me,” she finally said when she turned to look at him.

He shrugged those impossibly broad shoulders, which were encased in a midnight blue button-down shirt. “I like watching you watch everyone else. I’ve heard the term ‘wide-eyed wonder’ before, but never believed it existed. Until now.”

Her cheeks heated. He must think her a naïve fool. “I’m sure my wide-eyed wonder is amusing to your jaded, worldly ways.”

Rafe laughed, reaching out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re assuming I’m something that I’m not again.”

She dropped her gaze, ashamed. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” He slipped his fingers beneath her chin, lifting so her gaze met his. “I’m not angry. There’s no need to apologize.”

He was kind. Gentle. Why had she believed the various media reports? Worse, why had she believed her angry, slightly crazed sister? “Let’s dance,” she suggested. “Will you dance with me, Rafe?”

Slowly, he nodded, his thumb stroking across her chin. Tingles swept her skin, making her lightheaded. “Yes. As long as you don’t laugh and point while I make a spectacle of myself.”

His words made her laugh and he grinned in return. “See? You’re already laughing.”

“Stop.” She stepped closer to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He was easier to reach, what with the incredibly high heels she wore. “Thank you,” she whispered against his bristly skin.

Turning his head, he aligned their lips almost perfectly. “For what?”

“For being so sweet.” She grew lightheaded, having him so close. His arm slipped around her waist, holding her to him, and she rested her hands against his chest, enjoying the intimacy of their position.

“You make it easy.” He kissed her, a light brushing of lips she could almost believe didn’t happen at all. “Don’t let anyone else know, though.”

She laughed again, squeaked when he kissed her once more. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and a slow song is next.”

“That would be perfect.” He led her onto the dance floor, the song ending the moment they found a spot. As if on cue, a slow song started next, the lights dimming intimately. A third of the crowd vacated the floor, leaving them plenty of room to dance.
 

“I think you arranged this,” he told her as he slipped his arms around her waist, his big hands resting at the small of her back, his fingers nearly brushing her backside.

Cat almost wished they would. The thought of those strong, capable hands sliding over her butt made her shiver. “Oh yes, I have secret connections here, just like you.”