Page 11 of Burning Beauty

Ronson shoved Maria from him. She stumbled and made a grab for the table in front of her, rattling a massive vase and shaking the fake silver flowers inside. She righted herself and pushed away from the table, then followed Ronson from the penthouse lobby into the main suite. At this point she didn't have much choice but to go with him. Like it or not, they were about to face Franco Delgado.

"Maria!" Franco's voice boomed through the room as they entered. He reached for her, taking tight hold of her arms and dragging her in for a kiss on both cheeks. The second he loosened his grip she jumped back and lifted the back of her hand to scrub his touch away from her face.

Franco was his usual flamboyant wealthy casino owner self. He was wearing a pair of flower pattered shorts with a bright orange polo shirt. His had an immaculately groomed mohawk, the hair slicked down the back of his head. He wore multiple gold chains and heavy rings. His tattoos seemed almost ridiculous against the backdrop of his gaudy outfit. Unlike Nic's tattoos, which were dark and tasteful. She suspected each one had meaning to him.

Nic was eyeing the exchange between Franco and Maria with his customary disdain. She hoped he understood just how much she hated Franco by her completely grossed out reaction to the other man.

"Welcome to my home," Franco said to Nic, sweeping his arm around the room.

Nic nodded noncommittally. "I assume you have a reason for demanding our presence."

Maria was amazed at how Nic managed to sound so bored while they were essentially being held in the penthouse against their will. Then again, she didn't know if Nic wanted to be there or not. For some reason, when it came to the Italian insisting that he would play Franco's game, she rather thought he must have a game plan of his own. Which was just fine with Maria. She would excuse herself from their mob war, or whatever it was, collect her brother and move far far away.

"This is Maria's home too. She knows she is always welcome here." Franco stepped to her side and slid an arm around Maria with proprietary familiarity and tipped her face up to his with a finger under her chin. "In fact, I insist she remain under my care. She's had such a tough time since arriving in Las Vegas. I intend to show her the true hospitality of a native."

Maria rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the side. He caught her elbow, his fingers pressing bruisingly into her skin. She was getting really fucking tired of all this manhandling.

"She doesn't appear to want your care, or your hospitality," Nic said with a mild easiness.

She looked at him and caught the hard glint in his eyes before he covered it up. Despite what he said, she didn't think he was okay with the way Franco was touching her. It was odd, but she got the strangest sense of possessiveness from him. From a man she hadn't even known 24 hours.

"Regardless, she’s here now, and she’ll remain in my home," Franco said stubbornly.

Nic waved his hand in the air and said, "I do not care about the woman. Let's get this over with, whatever it is, so I can catch my flight back to Miami."

Maria felt burned by his casually cruel comment. She must've been wrong about the feeling of connection she thought she'd had with Nic. He was a cold bastard through and through, dismissing her in the same breath he used to urge Franco into a business discussion.

"By all means. Have a seat, my friend," Franco said, waving Nic toward his leather couches.

She didn't know if she should follow or try to blend into the kitchen, where she was left standing. She leaned back against the counter and wondered whether she had raccoon eyes since she never got the chance to wipe off her makeup. Her makeup wipes had been left behind in the shitty little motel room she was renting with her brother, several blocks away from the strip where rooms were cheaper.

Then she almost laughed out loud. She should probably be wondering whether she was going to live to see another day, now that her use to Franco was finished, but instead was pondering her appearance. Then, maybe it wasn't such a weird thing. Her mama had always taught her and her brother to be cool under pressure. To be practical. To think through the problem until one could see a way out.

Well, Maria had half the battle. She was certainly calm under pressure, at least until someone pricked her notoriously fiery temper. But she couldn't see a way through this problem. Not yet anyway.

She crossed her arms and watched the two men sit on opposite ends of the leather couch, facing the ungodly giant flatscreen TV that Franco had set up in his living room, against the backdrop of the strip, essentially blocking the view. It was this fact that led her to realize what a complete idiot her captor was the first time she met him. No one, absolutely no one, except for a seriously aesthetically challenged asshole would block that kind of a view.

"I have something for you to see."

Maria sighed, rolled her eyes and shook her head conspiratorially toward Ronson, who was standing, bored and stoic, guarding the entrance to the room like she might make a run for it. She wanted to tell him that it was pretty damn obvious what Franco was about to show Nic, but she didn't think Ronson would appreciate her comment. He seemed attached to his dumbass boss. They were two of a kind. A pair, if you will. Maria had to swallow a snicker at her own internal Vegas joke.

Sure enough, crystal clear video footage of Nic and Maria's interlude of the evening before flashed across the screen. She tensed for a split second until she realized the video had no sound. It did not give away her confession to Nic of Franco's plan, or what little she knew of it. Instead, the video showed her and Nic having what looked like a drink between lovers before the main event. The only part that seemed out of place is when she bolted for the door. Franco's eyes flicked to her at this part, but he didn't seem annoyed, instead he seemed happier that she'd tried to leave Nic's room.

As the video progressed she found herself mesmerized by the action unfolding on the screen. The camera was pointed directly at the bed where it was meant to capture footage of Nic having sex with a random woman. There she was, taking her clothes off in one smooth movement. Her anger in that moment did not transfer to the screen, but became an erotic tease to the men who watched with avid attention.

The Maria of the evening before was facing Nic and Franco as they absorbed the video. Franco leaned forward, his eyes on her body as she stripped, while Nic's posture became tense, his hands shifting restlessly, then clasping each other as he moved to rest his elbows on his thighs, like he was agitated, but trying to appear calm and collected. She wondered why the video was upsetting him, since he knew from the get go that the camera was in his room, recording their every action. He could have kicked her out at any time, denying Franco the much-wanted footage.

"Turn it off," Nic growled. "We've seen enough."

"We're just getting to the good part," Franco said with a grin. "The part where you climb on top of my girl."

And that was exactly what the video showed. Nic sweeping her up and dropping down onto the bed on top of her. Her hands clutching his back, bunching in the expensive cloth of his suit jacket before releasing to grab at the bedspread underneath her.

As the images flashed across the massive screen, the room grew noticeably hotter. They were all avidly watching the sexy, erotic footage. The way Nic handled her so easily, taking what he wanted before stopping just short of fucking her.

Maria held her breath as they all watched Nic pull back, stare down at her naked body with such intensity it was utterly scorching, before rolling off of her, throwing an arm across her middle to hold her down and saying something to her. Neither of them moved after that. She'd been too afraid and he had been tense with pent-up sexual frustration. But he'd stopped when she asked him to. She hadn't expected him to. It had been a stunning moment.

He had stared down at her after pulling back, capturing her frightened gaze and said, "Go to sleep." The words hadn't been angry or harsh, but spoken softly, as though he was speaking to a lover.

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