Scandalous Heroes Box Set (13 page)

“Tell me about you,” he said, before taking a bite of his cucumber salad.

“Me? What do you want to know?” she asked.

“Shoes. Why do you love them?” he asked.

Kyra felt her chest tighten with anger. When he said ‘why’ it sounded so much like her father she couldn’t look at him. She ate and ignored the question.

“Forgive me. I say it wrong,” he struggled to find the words. “What makes you make this choice to be a shoe maker and not a doctor?” he clarified.

She glanced up at him. The question felt sincere. So she tried to come up with a sincere answer. “All my life I’ve done what I’ve been told. Or at least pretended at doing what I’ve been told. My family is not from here. My parents are first generation immigrants who really wanted their children to excel here in the States, and they’ve worked hard to make it happen. But they also made me believe I could be anything in the world I wanted to be. I love shoes. I always have. I love making them. Wearing them. Dancing in them. I love everything about them. It’s my dream.”

Renaldo lifted the tablecloth and stole a peek at her feet under the table. “You make those?”

“Yes!” Kyra grinned. “This is why I want to meet with Catalina. I have an entire room full of shoes I’ve made myself.”

“But you answer phones.” Renaldo dismissed, he picked up his wine and sipped. Kyra gave an eye roll. She knew his speech was abrupt because of the language barriers but he was killing his sexy with his cold hard facts.

“Yes. I answer the phones. I also make my bed every morning, doesn’t mean I want to be a maid.”

He choked.

Kyra smiled. Renaldo dabbed his mouth and shook his head smiling. He stared into her eyes and the look impaled her. She couldn’t bring her fork back up to her mouth. “Do you make shoes for men?” he asked.

“I do.”

“Will you make them for me?” he asked.

“I can.” She winked.

He chuckled. “Young, beautiful, little shoe maker.”

“Strong, sexy, mysterious enforcer,” she teased.

His smile dimmed a bit. He glanced across the restaurant and then to his watch.

“Excuse me,” he said pushing back from the table. Did she say something wrong? She watched him. He strolled over to the piano player tickling the keys. Curious Kyra narrowed her eyes on the scene. Renaldo spoke to the piano player. The man tickling the ivories nodded repeatedly that he understood the request. Renaldo dropped money into the crystal bowl on top and then walked back over to the table. He stopped at her chair and pulled it back.

“We dance,” he said.

“What? Here? Now?” she gasped. “We haven’t eaten, and last time I checked this isn’t a nightclub.”

“No more talking shoe maker. Dance with me,” he said as if he were asking for permission.

Kyra was never shy, nor one to turn down an offer so appealing. A man stood before her wanting to sweep her off her feet. He smelled like a king, and looked as beautiful as a gladiator in a suit. How could she say no? She took his hand and was helped from her chair. There wasn’t a large dining crowd that evening, a few couples and families at tables. Several heads turned as he guided her to the small area before the piano.

She didn’t recognize the song. It sounded beautiful, and then to her surprise the piano player began to sing in Italian. Before now he’d only tickled the keys for atmosphere and enchantment.

Renaldo spun her out and brought her back into his arms. He held to her with one hand pressed into hers and another wrapped around her waist. She let him take the lead and could not tear her eyes from his. He looked down at her with such intensity she felt light headed. “You are beautiful, shoe maker. I thought of you all day.”

“I bet you say that to all of your women,” she smiled.

“No. I don’t. They may be beautiful, but I never felt the need to say so. With you I feel the need,” he replied.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked. And realized it was a question she dreaded. She never asked him anything and she didn’t understand why. With some people you just got the feeling that they didn’t want to share who or what they were. “Do you have a wife?” she pressed.

“No wife, friends yes, but no wife,” he replied.

“What is it you do for the Battaglias? People say you are… that you are more than a bodyguard. I don’t believe it, but I’m curious.”

She swayed in his arms. He kissed her brow and pressed her closer to him. He felt warm and overwhelmingly male against her. She could spend the night swaying in his arms and he didn’t have to answer.

“I’m a soldier. I do what is necessary,” he replied.

Kyra smiled. She pressed her head against his chest. “Do you have any kids?”

“I have a son,” he admitted. “He is ten. My mother raises him.”

He had a son? She glanced up at him. “Are you a good father?”

“I want to be,” he nodded.

He glanced to their table. “Our dinner has arrived. I don’t want to let you go,” he whispered. “Will you stay the night with me?” he asked. “Tomorrow I take you to ride the carriage, tonight I take you upstairs.”

“I like that,” she confessed.

He took her hand and led her back to the table. A few people clapped as the piano player ended his serenade. To her surprise she was now famished. The pasta dish smelled heavenly. She was helped into her chair and scooted in closer to the table. He sat and they ate in silence at first. When she looked up from her plate he was staring at her.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” she asked.

“I like looking at you,” he replied.

“How old are you, Renaldo?” she asked.

“Twenty-seven,” he replied. “Is that too old?”

“No. Well… I’ve never dated anyone over twenty-five,” she admitted. “We are dating, aren’t we?” she asked between bites.

“
Sì
, this is a date.”

Kyra laughed. “No. What I mean is we are friends with benefits.”

“Benefits? What are these benefits?” he asked.

“If I have to tell you then you won’t get dessert,” she teased.

Renaldo shook his head smiling. “You are very different, Kyra. I like it.”

She grinned.

The hostess arrived. “Excuse me, Mr. Cracchiolo?”

Renaldo looked up.

“You have a phone call,” she said.

He wiped his mouth. “Forgive me,
bella
,”

“Okay.” she said. She ate her food slowly waiting for his return. It took close to twenty minutes. By the time he did she was finished, and had polished off the bottle of wine. Bored she made a game of watching his food congeal.

“I am so sorry,” he said when he arrived at the table. “This is not what I had hoped for.”

“Me either,” she mumbled.

Renaldo sighed. “I have business tonight. It can’t be avoided.”

She glanced up. “So you stand me up for dinner and send me home?”

“I’d like to ask you to stay. Will you stay?” Renaldo asked.

The thought of her apartment and everything that was at stake with her future made her crave a distraction. She glanced up at him. He watched her. “How long will this business take?”

“I’m not sure. I promise to return as soon as I can,” he said.

Kyra sighed. “Sure, I’ll stay.”

Renaldo’s sly smile was cute. She smiled in return. He signaled for the server, signed for their meal and then escorted her out after they retrieved her coat and she slipped it on. He walked her to the elevator holding her hand.

He turned her near the closed doors. He put his room key in her palm. “I promise to return as soon as I can,” he kissed her cheek and breezed away. She stood there holding his key card. Kyra decided not to take her disappointment to heart. When she arrived on the floor she found two men posted in the hall, one at each door of the women’s rooms. Both looked directly at her. Kyra smiled and approached Renaldo’s door. As soon as she eased in the key she heard the door down the hall open. Kyra looked up.

Marietta stepped out of it with an ice bucket. She spoke to one of the men in Italian. Her gaze swung in Kyra’s direction. Kyra quickly used the card and slipped into the room.
Maybe she didn’t see me?
She prayed silently that she didn’t. But something in her said that she had. How would she explain in an interview being seen going into their bodyguard’s bedroom?

Kyra shook her head. She really had no idea why she chose this path. Renaldo was right. She could have asked Mr. Tate for the opportunity. She could have kissed Bette’s ass to put in a word for her. Instead she seduced the mysterious man and tried to pretend it was for anything more than lust.

Kyra removed her coat. She dropped it and her purse on the chair. The place was warm and dark. She started to turn on the lamps and reconsidered. Again she found no evidence of his residence. She entered his bedroom and the rich fragrant aroma of his cologne lingered in the air. This was where it all went down. The bed neat and made brought naughty memories of him on her and her on him to the surface. Kyra walked over to his closet and opened it. The suits were all the same. Black, silk, finely tailored. The shirts were all the same. Black and silk finely pressed threads. Even his shoes were the same and he had four pairs. Everything was neat and in order. Kyra smiled. There had to be a reason he kept his things so organized.

She walked into his bathroom and flipped on the light. A men’s toiletry bag, zipped and left on the sink, was the only thing present. She unzipped it and found his shaving cream, toothpaste, and toothbrush. A few razors and aftershave were in the bottom of the bag. Nothing else.

Kyra flipped off the light and strolled out. At dinner he called himself a soldier. And she got the impression he meant it literally, as if he followed a purpose and lived for the mission not because of it. That didn’t make him a killer or a hit man. Maybe the women truly needed protection and his actions were noble, heroic? But what had called him away in the middle of the night while the women rested comfortably in their suites? She walked past the bed. On the small desk was evidence that Renaldo was much more than he seemed.

Kyra walked over and flipped on the desk lamp. She stood there staring down at twelve golden bullets with shiny copper points. They were lined up in a symmetrical fashion. Each looked polished, clean, free of fingerprints, deadly. She didn’t dare touch them. The odd placement on the desk spoke more volumes to who he was rather than the things in his closet and bathroom.

If he had bullets he had a gun.

If he had a gun he knew how to use it.

If he knew how to use a gun he’s fired it.

If he fired a gun he may have killed a person.

If he killed a person he was much more than an enforcer.

Maybe Bette was right. Kyra walked over to the bed and sat on it. She picked up the phone and called her best friend.

“Hello?” Jamie answered on the first ring.

“Hey, it’s me.” Kyra said.

“Hey you? Are you okay? Haven’t heard from you all day,” Jamie said.

“Guess where I am. Right now,” Kyra said. She scooted back on the pillows in her boots.

“Hmm… Figi?” Jamie answered.

Kyra chuckled. “No. I’m at Renaldo’s suite. In his bed. Staring at twelve golden bullets lined up on his desk.”

“Is that right? And where is the ‘hit-man’?”

“He had to go take care of some business. We had dinner and he was called away. I was asked to stay.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “He’s interesting. There’s something calming about him. I need that right now. I don’t know, I can’t explain it.”

“Listen kid, the man is interesting because he’s dangerous. And you like dancing near the fire. I’ve told you those people aren’t who you think they are,” Jamie said. “Hell they probably aren’t who I think they are.”

“I know what they do, or are allegedly tied to. But they are also business people and Mirabella’s is a reputable fashion house.”

“Maybe, but sleeping with the ‘hit-man’ gets you no closer to that goal. Now does it?” Jamie asked.

Kyra shrugged her shoulders. “What if I told you that I’m not sleeping with him for a job. What if I just like him? Yes. I think… I think I like him. Tonight we danced. We ate and he listened to me. I feel nice and adult when I’m with him. Everyone else, including you, treats me like a baby. Renaldo, from the very first moment sees me as a woman.”

“And Cezar?”

“Don’t mention Cezar! You will not believe what he did.” Kyra closed her eyes feeling rage boil to the surface. “The creep went to my parents and told them we were getting married. Now Auntie wants me out of the apartment in two weeks or to sign a lease and pay a lung and kidney to stay.”

“He did what? That’s it! It’s time to take this seriously, Kyra. We need to get a restraining order.” Jamie said.

“I cussed him out. I told him to not call anymore. It’s handled,” she said.

“You can’t handle crazy, girl. That kind of crazy is straight jacket certifiable,” Jamie warned.

Kyra sighed. “I need to go. I don’t want my date to arrive to find me on the phone.”

“What the hell else are you going to do while you wait?” Jamie chuckled.

“Get ready for him. Mwah!” she air kissed Jamie on the phone and her friend laughed. “
Ciao bella
!” Kyra said and hung up.

Kyra sat up and dropped her feet off the bed. She stood unzipping her dress, and then removed her boots. Getting ready meant she’d wear nothing for him. It was going to be a long night.

Sunday Morning—

Kyra felt him before she fully woke. His warm hard body eased under the covers with her. Pressed into her. One opened, calloused hand caressed down her thigh, a slow seductive rub that cleared her head of sleepy thoughts. “Renaldo?”

“Cara,”
he said brushing his lips over her shoulder.

Kyra frowned. She glanced to the window and through the part in the drapes she saw the sunlight. She turned in bed and looked up at him with confusion. “What time is it?”

“Forgive me.”

Kyra sighed. “I need to get home,” she said turning away from him. He turned her and forced her to her back. His eyes were red rimmed from the lack of sleep. He looked a bit haggard and tired.

“Stay with me. I have made it up to you.”