Mi Carino - Risky Love Page 23

  When he lifted his head she opened her eyes, her questioning gaze held by the gathering storm in his. “I have missed you,” he rasped.

  “Is that all?”

  “Is that enough?”

  “Yes, it’s exactly what I needed to hear.”

  The rest died on her lips with his finger pressed there. “Can’t you feel it Marcella? Don’t you know by now what that feeling means?” he asked. He bent his head before she could say any more and kissed the objection from her lips, and predictably her doubts fled under the ravishing eroticism of his kiss. Against her mouth he whispered the words: “I adore you.”

  His hands slid up to cup her neck. She trembled as the slightly roughened skin of his fingers and his thumbs stroked slowly over the vulnerable hollow in her throat. His gaze darkened with desire when her pulse vibrated under his fingertips, before letting them drift back down her throat. She’d never known that her skin there had been so acutely sensitive. His slow caresses sent shivers of want scuttling down her spine. He drew back just an inch. Diego’s smile taut, he measured the width of her shoulders, his touch seeking, gentle yet masterful in controlling her responses.

  “Welcome home nena, I’ve been waiting.” He led her away from the dancing candle flames to the stairs.

  ***

  Marcella left the bathroom when she heard the door close. She crossed the room to the dresser and picked up her cell phone. She hurried in her heels down the stairs to the front of the beach house. She moved the curtain and peeked out. Diego’s dark trench blew behind him as he approached the waiting open limo door then slipped inside, that was her cue to dial her friend immediately.

  “Hey?”

  “He just left.”

  “Wait. Wait. I see him. I’m on him. Where are you?” Susan asked.

  “On my way out the door. Stay on the phone.”

  “Okay.”

  Marcella hurried back through the house to get her purse and coat. She tripped over Ginger and cursed. “Damn it!”

  “What?”

  “Nothing, nothing.” Dressed in black slacks and a black silk blouse her hair was smoothed back into a chignon. No time to curl it or get stylish. She arrived late last night. But he was up. He surprised her with flowers, candles, and a warm silky bath. Together they stayed up sipping wine under a thick afghan blanket to weather the high winds coming in off the sea. They sat on the deck watching the sea. He asked her a few questions about the funeral and Susan. She answered. It was more like he wanted her to talk, to keep from talking himself. She even managed to mention her mother, how much the funeral affected her, and her need to call her before they went to bed, to help ease her anxiety. Diego whispered to her in Spanish a prayer he said for Susan. It lulled her to sleep.

  Though she burned for him, when she opened her heart and shared about her relationship with her mother, something in him changed. He showed her a different kind of tenderness. He made her feel loved, and surprisingly they didn’t make love. Every night since she had moved in they had made love, whether she had been fully in the mood or not, the man was relentless. But on this night, he just held her, touched her everywhere. He went to sleep with his hand cupping her sex and his face buried in her neck. But not once did he try to make love to her.

  The next morning she decided, she had to know. She just had to know why he couldn’t give her more. Her doubts and insecurities had reached the breaking point. She was too invested and too hooked on the man not to try. So she watched him dress in silence, he gave her the perfunctory kiss on the forehead and strolled out. Now it was on.

  “Susan where are they?”

  “East on Harding.”

  “Harding? Already?”

  “Yeah, took Shannon Road up, they turned off on Harding.”

  “Oh okay, over by the warehouses?” she asked, closing the door and locking it.

  “Yeah, where are you?”

  “On my way to my car. Just stay on them.”

  “Shit.” Susan yelped.

  “What!” she stopped, her heart in her throat. Immediately a flash memory of his call when she was snooping surfaced. “What, what is it?”

  “Coffee. I spilled it on my skirt. Damn! This is going to stain, a brown stain!”

  “Susan! Focus!” Marcella said getting behind the wheel. She grabbed the door handle and slammed it shut. “Where is he now?”

  “Moving, but…wait.”

  “What now?” Marcella asked her hand on the key, the key in the ignition.

  “Well I’ll be damned. Two big black SUV’s, cut me off, they’re behind him. Who are they?”

  “SUV’s? So he has a caravan?”

  “Looks like it. I need to fall back don’t I?”

  “Yes, yes, let another car get in between. I…I mean he wouldn’t hurt you or anything, but just pull back okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Marcella turned the key and fired up the ignition. Throwing her car in reverse she backed out too fast, her wheels burned her desperation over the asphalt. She accelerated and the car purred as it coasted into the accelerated speed, handling under her maneuvers. “Okay, I’m on the move tell me where?”

  “We’re now back through the Meat Packing District on...on 24th no… 25th and Crescent further down Harding. You know where the warehouses meet the old train tracks. They redid some of them into lofts and offices.”

  “Yeah, I know it.”

  “Okay well… uh oh.”

  “What? What Susan?”

  “Hold on.”

  Marcella sped through the yellow light trying to catch up. She pressed the phone to her ear to listen hard. “Susan? What is it?”

  “Hi suga, can you um…move your truck? I got turned around and…”

  “Get out of the car.” A deep voice spoke.

  “What? For what?”

  “Get out of the car now. Don’t make me ask again.”

  “Well I…I don’t think…”

  Marcella thought she heard Susan fumbling then gasp. She listened harder waiting for Susan to say anything, but nothing was said, then the phone clicked off. Immediately she dialed again. No answer. “Shit!” She tossed her phone and drove faster, taking the side roads that she knew led to the Meat Packing district. Diego didn’t know Susan. He’d never met her before. What if he thought she was a threat?

  Jeesh! She sounded like he was a criminal or something. He wasn’t. Of course he wasn’t.

  Marcella stopped herself. Susan would be okay. Diego’s a businessman not a gangster. They probably wanted to find out who she was. She’d get there and clear it all up. Marcella’s eyes cut over to her cell phone. She picked it up, her heart lodged in her throat. She thumb dialed her friend again then tried to relax through the voicemail message that now answered. She had turned the phone off.

  “Shit! Shit!”

  “Says her name is Susan Sands, that she knows the boss. What should we do with her?”

  Diego looked up. Lance accepted the woman’s purse, removing the wallet and checking her identification. Susan? Diego immediately recognized the name the hired guard said. He stepped over and Lance looked up. “Want me to handle her?” he handed him the identification. Diego studied the face.

  “Have a talk with her, and send Marcella to me when she arrives,” he said handing the identification back.

  “Boss there is no other woman.” The guard stuttered.

  “There will be,” Diego said, and stepped away. His trench swept the floor, opened and parted with each step. He returned to the loft overhang and looked out below. So Marcella had put her friend on him? He was right, he couldn’t trust her. And to think that he almost did.

  When she doubled back she saw it. His sports car, dark SUVs, all parked by what looked to be a newly renovated warehouse. Marcella spotted Susan’s car and let go a deep sigh of relief. It had only been fifteen minutes, not even that. Where could she be? Gripping the steering wheel she thought it over quickly and decided on the limited choice she had, after all this fe
ll on her shoulders.

  Parking next to her friend’s Mercedes she turned off the ignition. Two men dressed in dark suits and coats stepped out of the front of the warehouse. They stood there observing, neither approached. She reached for her purse and then got out. What a stupid fucking idea this had been.

  One of the men approached. His stony expression drained her of bravery. Her eyes went up to the many windows of the warehouse then back down to the man who wore sunglasses and a displeased scowl.

  “Hi. Um, I need to…see…”

  “The boss wants to see you. Sígueme.”

  Any hope she had of Susan’s cloak and dagger routine going undetected blew out with those words. She nodded, confirming that she would, then walked in through the opened door. He led her through an empty warehouse to the back. Her black peep-toe stilettos echoed softly, the men’s heavy footfalls did not. Her eyes scanned everything, searching for anything telling. Her escort led her up the stairs. She passed offices of workers. His staff’s eyes flipped up repeatedly with vacant stares, watchful. It’s an operation of some sort, a business operation. That calmed her, settled some of her fears. But why this place, and what could so many people be working on at once?

  “In here.” The man gruffly ordered.

  Marcella looked from him to the open door. She had no choice but to enter. When she did the door closed behind her. Polished, but quite empty, the office had a large desk with a chair, a sofa and an end table. She walked through the door, racked with nerves and anxiety. What would Diego say? What would he think? He would have to understand that he drove her to this. No matter how silly it felt.

  Nothing in the office reminded her of him. Just like his home. Then suddenly something did catch her eye. She noticed the wall behind the desk had partitions and a divider in the middle.

  Marcella looked back to the door. It remained closed. She shed her coat and her purse then walked over to drop them on the sofa before approaching the wall. Running her hand over it she found it solid. She tapped it, hit it, pushed at it, nothing.

  “The drawer. Top left.” A voice spoke behind her.

  She looked back to see Diego. He walked in and closed the door. She hadn’t heard him. He stared at her coolly.

  “I…I can explain,” she began.

  “Drawer, top left.”

  She looked to the desk then to him. “Where’s Susan?”

  He just stared at her. Her eyes again went to the drawer. She walked over and drew it open. Inside was a remote. A remote? She removed it and stared at the buttons. There were larger ones to the center that said ‘Open’. Her gaze lifted to Diego then dropped to the remote. She turned it on the cabinet; one push and the partition drew back. Marcella’s eyes stretched at the many monitors on the screen. Some of them from places she recognized on the boardwalk, factory stores, restaurants, and shops. One of them in particular appeared familiar. Her eyes narrowed when Ginger shot past the sofa. It was the beach house. Her heart started to race. She stepped toward the screen, using the arrow buttons to switch from room to room. The screens covered the lower level of the beach house, one of his office.

  “You lied. You do spy on me?” She said. “Explain it Diego!”

  “This used to belong to Juan Juarez. He liked to watch everything. His workers, his wife, his mistresses.” Diego gave her a dark sly smile.

  “You own this? Everything.”

  “I do.”

  “Why? What does this man mean to you?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Where is Susan? Did you hurt her? If you laid a hand on her I swear to God.”

  “Press three.” He answered.

  She did and the monitor to the left flashed on a room. There he was, the handsome black man that once introduced himself as Lance. The man that threatened Richard. Susan grinned up in his face. He stood there staring at her but she knew her friend, she was flirting. Marcella sighed. Busted. With nothing.

  “So you think I’m a monster, capable of hurting your friend?” Diego asked.

  “This is ridiculous. I can explain.”

  “Don’t bother. Get the hell out, and take your friend with you.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No need to apologize. We are done. I just want you gone. And don’t worry nena I won’t come begging with flowers.” He turned to leave but the remote flew past his head, nearly missing his skull, it crashed into the door in front of him. He cut her a look from over his shoulder.

  “What did you expect? What! You don’t tell me anything. You hide everything, everything! Even your damn heart! I told you I loved you and you thought that meant I needed sex? What did you expect me to do? Don’t you see I’m desperate?”

  “I TOLD YOU TO BE PATIENT WITH ME!”

  “No you didn’t. You never said be patient! You never said anything!” she put a hand to her forehead. Sniffing she tried to focus, struggled to keep focus. “You never told me anything Diego, I love you but…you scare me. I didn’t know if you were… married or...”

  “Dangerous?” he asked turning taking a step toward her. “I am, very dangerous, but I’ve never put you in danger.” He walked toward her. “You come here, allow that man in my house, spy on me! I knew I couldn’t trust you, that I shouldn’t have bothered, but you were good… really good at convincing me.”

  Marcella stepped back hurt.

  “Tú traicionar me!”

  “I didn’t betray you. I don’t even know you!” She shouted back.

  He was on her in a flash, backing her up with his presence, his eyes dangerous and dark, his face close. “Do you want to know me Marcella? Do you want me to show you why they fear me? Do you?”

  “Stop.”

  “It’s what you came for.” He said advancing on her forcing her to back up against the screens. “You’re brave nena, you want to know all of me?”

  “Don’t push me this far.” Marcella said.

  His nostrils flared, his face so close she could the feel the warmth of his breath escaping thiem. She tensed all over, not sure if he’d grab her or worse. She couldn’t breathe. “Diego, stop it, please.”

  He didn’t move. He just kept glaring into her eyes, forcing her to look into the caged rage he kept chained, just barely, threatening her with just a look.

  “I didn’t mean to spy. Just calm down.”

  “Take off your skirt.”

  “No!” she said shaking her head. “No! You drove me to this.” She went around him. “I’ll just leave until you calm down.”

  “TAKE OFF YOUR SKIRT!”

  “I’m not going to do it. Stop it, can’t you see what you’re doing to us, to me, how you keep, keep doing this to me. I only want you, not this, not this dammit!”

  He smirked. He grabbed her face, at first his hold was no different than it had ever been, but soon it grew tight as a vice, his fingers pressed hard into her jaw. “You said you were desperate, show me.”

  He stepped back glaring. Marcella let tears fall. “Don’t do this.”

  “Get down on your knees! That’s where those that disobey me belong. It’s where I put Juan Juarez the sniveling bastard! You wanted to know who am I, what I do when I am betrayed? I’ll show you. Now get on your damn knees!”

  “NO!” she shouted through tears.

  He grabbed her by the arm. Though she struggled he proved to be stronger. Everything happened so fast. He was on the sofa and dragging her down to him. She fought for release but he flipped her and put her over his lap. “Diego let me up! What are you doing! Don’t!”

  His hand to her back forced her down. His other hand shoved up her skirt. She froze as he ripped at her panty and tore it from her hips. The coolness of the room covered her bare ass. Her eyes stretched, and he delivered a whack, then another and another. Her mind grappled with the truth. He was spanking her. Marcella struggled to rise but he forced her back down and swatted her ass three consecutive times. She weakened. He rubbed
the sting in with his hot palm. His smooth touch warmed her ass and her sex. Several jolts of heat arched through her channel causing her to tremble all the way to her womb. Inexplicably she felt the delicious sensation pool trough her pelvis bringing her close to climax. He spanked her ass with rapid swats. Each smack grew noisier and noisier. Marcella squeezed her eyes shut and gripped the sofa cushions, her bottom lip quivering. She released the first orgasm with a loud gasp; her essence trickled along her inner thighs.