Page 3 of Burning Beauty

Nic slowly nodded and waved a hand lazily toward the file. "I assume this contains information on the set-up, yeah?"

Luke inclined his head.

"Explain it to me," Nic invited, waving his second toward a chair.

Luke settled his bulky, muscular frame into one of the plush guest chairs in Nic’s opulent office.

Nic could see why Cassandra liked the younger man so much. He was good-looking, loyal and far easier to be around than the foreboding Italian boss. He searched the blackness of his heart for a spark of response for his wife’s preference toward another man. Nothing. He couldn’t bring himself to care what the two got up to, so long as it didn’t interfere with either Nic’s reputation or Luke’s work.

"Tell me," Nic drawled, leaning back in his leather chair and reaching for a cigar, one of the few indulgences he allowed himself. "What does Franco Delgado have planned for me?"

Luke cleared his throat and shifted in an attempt to get more comfortable. Nic knew it was him and not the chair that was making his subordinate squirm. Nic was a cold man. He had little desire to be known or liked by anyone as more than their boss or executioner. Anyone that claimed him as more wanted something from him.

"According to our Vegas source, Franco plans on using a honey trap to lure you into giving up key assets," Luke said gruffly, shifting again, placing an ankle over his knee.

Nic frowned and tapped his index finger against the file. He wore a heavy, gold masculine ring on that finger. It was large, but not large enough to cover the scrawling tattoo under it. It read nell’oscurita or "into the dark."

When he spoke, the impatience was clear, giving his accent a sharper edge. "And he thinks, what... that I will fall in love with his honey and willingly spill all my secrets?" He snorted and flipped the file open, his dark brown eyes glacial as they swept the text within. "He must know me better than this. I have never before succumbed to a vice; woman or otherwise. Why should I start now?"

Nic tossed the first page aside and scanned the second page, his nostrils flaring. He was insulted, whoever conceived this trap was seriously lacking in intelligence. It had Franco’s signature all over it – the man was an idiot. Of that, there could be no doubt. This plan... it was ludicrous. How could anyone think a man of Niccolo DeLuca’s standing could be brought low by a woman? Utterly ridiculous.

He would burn Delgado’s castle to the ground, with him in it, slit the honey bitch’s throat and take the competition for himself. It was exactly as Franco had feared he would do, which was why the little pussy was trying to play him. He flipped the page. His hand hovered and froze. A large photograph sat on the desk in front of him. A woman. For the first time in his life he couldn’t seem to move. And this from a simple picture.

He was unable to tear his eyes from her face, to go through the rest of the documents. "Her name," he demanded.

"Maria Sanchez."

Maria.

It would appear that Franco Delgado was not such an idiot after all. Somehow the raging fool knew exactly how to bring Nic to his knees. There was no question now of slitting this woman’s throat. He memorized every part of her that he could, every nuance from the photograph and instantly craved more. Her thick, dark eyebrows winged in mischief while her brown eyes snapped angry intelligence for the camera she somehow spotted over the curve of her shoulder. Her long, wavy black hair begged for his fist as it flowed down her back. Her body... fuck her body was a curvaceous work of art.

He wanted her in his hands, beneath his body and under his control so bad he damn near shook with the need. A partial smile had him gritting his teeth. Both she and that fucker Delgado were handing him the means to put her firmly in his house. Exactly the way he wanted her. On her knees, begging for mercy. Because she was a bad girl, doing bad things, going up against a man like him. Under normal circumstances the thought wouldn’t so much as raise a brow. He would simply wave his hand and have the bitch dealt with. Now... he felt a mix of emotions; anger, curiosity, elation and lust. He intended to punish this woman, whoever she was, for however long this fascination lasted.

Then she could go the way of everyone else that crossed him. But for now... he would explore this temporary anomaly. Because nothing had peaked his cold, dead heart, nor his interest in more years than he cared to count.

It was everything Nic could do to bring his pulse back under control and make sure he wasn’t panting like a dog while his second-in-command watched from across the desk as he lusted after a woman in a photograph. He lifted dark, empty eyes and tapped the center of the picture over her chest, pinning her in place. "This woman is mine."

Luke nodded sharply and rose from his seat. They needed no further conversation. Though Nic had never before claimed a woman beyond a night or two in an anonymous hotel room, Luke would ensure his plans for Maria Sanchez went smoothly. He knew better than to fuck with anything that Nic deemed important enough to lay claim to.

Chapter Two

Maria tapped her fingers on the counter while she tapped her toe against the floor. She had to stop herself from checking the lounge every five seconds for the man she was supposed to be meeting. God, she was nervous.

Why was she so nervous? She had this. She was in perfect command of the situation. All she had to do was exactly what Franco told her to do, seduce the rich Italian, save her brother and get the fuck out of Las Vegas. Yeah, she had this.

Maria picked up the shot glass in front of her and downed the tequila. She signalled for another and set the glass back down as the fiery liquid slid down her throat. When the bartender approached, reaching for the glass, she waved him closer.

"Top shelf this time," she said coolly, then winked to take the edge off her words. "Liquid courage."

The bartender grinned at her. He reached a little higher and grabbed a bottle of the good stuff, Casamigos. As she waited, she studied her fingers, made longer by the red paint on her nails so dark that it was nearly brown. Diamonds glittered enticingly on her hands, wrists and throat, and the dress she was wearing hugged her like she’d been born in it. If the bartender’s heated glances were any indication, she had succeeded in her efforts to be breathtaking and irresistible.

He filled a new shot glass and set it in front of her. She picked it up and downed it in one smooth move, baring her long tan throat. She set the glass down and said, "Thanks, please charge it to the penthouse." Franco had added her name to some kind of register so she wouldn’t have to pay for anything in his hotel.

"Hey, where you from?" the bartender asked as she walked away.

She threw a wave and another wink over her shoulder. Who knows when and where a girl might need an ally? She made a point of making friends with the staff wherever she went. They were more like her than the rich folk that frequented these places.

She was about to scan the room for a table where she could sit and collect herself, prepare for the upcoming meeting, when someone stepped in her path. She slammed into a very tall, very broad chest and bounced back. She might have fallen except he took hold of her arm at the elbow to steady her. Instead of removing his hand though, he slid it down her arm and encircled her wrist, tightening his grip. His touch against her skin was warm, electric and shocking.

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