Page 5 of Burning Beauty

"Okay," she said softly, trying to think her way out of this situation. "If you know who I am, then you know I'm not really part of this. An innocent bystander really." Okay, she was pushing the truth with her role in all this, but if it got her out of being murdered then awesome.

Those amber eyes pinned her to the spot more effectively than his hand. "I don't care how small your part is, Maria. The fact that you are the bait in a trap meant to embarrass and extort me seals your fate."

"Extort?" she repeated weakly. Oh shit, this was bad. She had no idea what the particulars of this plot were, only her role in it.

"Yes," he said grimly, facing forward again as the elevator came to a halt on the executive floor where the fancy suites were.

"I can explain," she said breathlessly when he hauled her off the elevator and pulled her down the hall toward the end suite.

He unlocked the door to his room and pushed it open. Shoving her inside, he said, "You'll have all night to explain to me, Maria. You aren't going anywhere."

Chapter Three

Maria looked around for an escape, but she knew better. There was only one way in and out of these rooms and she'd have to go through the tall, angry Italian to get out. He made a point of standing between her and the door.

But despite her desperate situation, she couldn't help but be drawn to the massive floor to ceiling glass windows facing out onto the Vegas strip. She'd been in Franco's penthouse suite but hadn't taken time to appreciate the view as Franco had thoroughly creeped her the fuck out while she was there.

She stood gazing down at the gorgeous brightly lit strip, her eyes caressing each and every little thing they landed on. This was the Vegas she'd longed to see, the reason she agreed to come here with her brother when he said he had a contact.

When she and Ruiz left Mexico, they had no money and nowhere to go. After her trial they tried to stay in Guadalajara, pick up the pieces of Maria’s life and move on. But the Carrero family had thrown a huge wrench into that plan. They blocked her every move, stopping her from getting a job, an apartment, and alienating her from former friends, ensuring she had to leave the city she grew up in. During the ensuing years, Maria and Ruiz moved from town to town, trying to start over, but everywhere they went, every time Maria turned around, the Carrero family was right behind them, harassing them, driving them further and further into destitution. Finally, they decided to cross the border, come to America.

It had been her fault that they had to flee Mexico with only the clothes on their backs and a few dollars in their pockets, so she felt she owed it to Ruiz to try to make a little money before they settled on their next step. The modern beauty of Las Vegas was her idea of the United States. Glittery, rich, fast-paced. She wanted it all, but she'd gotten exactly one day before her world imploded.

"You were going to explain your part in Delgado's trap?" Nic's deep voice demanded her attention, interrupting the enchanting stillness of her first real view of Las Vegas. She turned and dropped her purse on a nearby table.

Nic watched her with unwavering intensity. "Drink?" he asked, rounding the bar.

She nodded. "Tequila."

His eyes flicked to her face in surprise. "Nasty stuff."

She laughed, despite her situation. "Maybe, but it's better than anything else right now."

He poured two drinks and walked toward her holding one out. She reached for it automatically, frowning when she realized it was wine. She sniffed at it. It didn't smell as bad as other wines she'd tried. She took an experimental sip and then spat it back into the glass.

"No, I'm sorry, that's disgusting. It's gone bad." She set her glass down on the table with a thunk and stepped back as though it would attack her and force itself down her throat. It wasn't the wine she feared though, but the man watching her intently.

"You don't like wine?" he asked, and when she confirmed that she did not, he continued. "You've clearly not tried the right wines then. You'll need to start with a decent Italian Lambrusco, milder than this, get used to the flavour before moving to the full-bodied wines." Then he shook his head and frowned. She'd bet money he hadn't meant to be so open with her. Odd, the man looked in complete control of himself, like every word, every action was preordained.

"Uh huh," she said, her tone non-committal. She had no intention of ever getting used to wine or taking this man's advice on how to become a wine connoisseur. "Anyway, back to your reason for kidnapping me."

He frowned darkly before smoothing his expression, once more looking somewhat bewildered by his reaction. She was unbalancing him. That had to be good, right? She could use it against him. Then he took a threatening step toward her and she decided messing with his emotions wasn't going to be an option. Too scary. The man looked like he etched a body count into his bedpost instead of female conquests.

"How about I give you five minutes to explain your part in Delgado's plan, and if I'm satisfied with your answer, you may live beyond this night. Sound good, hmm?" he asked with a raised brow.

No, that did not sound good, but it also didn't sound like she had much of an option. She narrowed her eyes and studied him. She knew for a fact that Franco Delgado was dangerous. Not just dangerous, but stupid too, from what she'd seen of his operations so far. He was like a grown-up child with too much money and power, assuming he was untouchable, sitting in his glitzy hotel.

Meanwhile, this towering, darkly handsome and terrifying Italian hadn't yet done anything to her beyond forcing her into his hotel room and pouring a drink for her. Maybe she should lie and take her chances, side with Delgado since she knew for a fact the man had a hold on her. He had her brother in an undisclosed location and wouldn't release him unless Maria agreed to work for him.

"Four minutes," Nic said calmly.

She swallowed. His calm unnerved her. It was like he was biding his time before he pounced and couldn't be bothered one way or the other whether or not he killed her. Nope, lying to this man seemed like a really terrible idea.

"Okay, I'll talk," she said quietly, her eyes darting around the room. She figured there was a camera in there somewhere to record the unfolding of Franco’s nefarious plan. Would it pick up sound too? She smoothed her skirt underneath her as she sat on a chair and crossed her legs. His eyes followed the movement, as she'd hoped. If she had one thing working for her during this whole tense situation, it was her body. She'd been blessed with some truly awesome Latina curves, a natural hourglass that drew the attention of men and women alike. Though sometimes she thought there was a little too much sand in the glass, she still loved what she saw in the mirror.

Niccolo DeLuca sat opposite her, leaning forward to rest his arms on his legs. He watched her with such intensity that she had trouble remembering what she was going to say at first.

"I came here from Mexico," she started lamely.

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