Beautiful Dangerous Page 2

  “You almost ready?”

  I spin around to see Lucca leaning against the doorpost. “Is everyone here?”

  “They’re starting to arrive. Celine, Rosa and Vik are making sure everyone’s being looked after.”

  Did I mention I also have staff? That one really took some getting used to, but I don’t have time to look after my homes in the way they need to be looked after, I need help on that score. So, I have cooks, cleaners, gardeners, on both of my estates; people who were with Javier long before I came on the scene, so I can trust them. They’re like family to me – kind, caring, loyal people who loved Javier as much as I did. And I look after them as I would any family member. They have the best healthcare, good schools for their children, decent homes to live in and cars to get them to and from work, those who don’t live in. Because I appreciate what they do for me. There’s a mutual respect there.

  “Good. Can you pass me my jewelry box, please? It’s in the closet.”

  Lucca comes into the room, and into the walk-in closet, emerging seconds later with the jewelry box.

  “Thank you.” I take it from him.

  “I know you didn’t want this party.” He steps back into the doorway, and I can’t help but notice how handsome he looks tonight, his hair neater than usual, his strong jaw line covered in a heavy stubble. He’s even swapped jeans for smart black pants and a white shirt, the neck open, the sleeves turned up over his tattooed forearms. But he isn’t at this party to enjoy himself, he’s here to watch. Everyone.

  “I didn’t, want this party. Celebrating birthdays – celebrating anything, it doesn’t feel right, without Javier.” I look down at the delicate platinum wedding band I still wear on my finger, I haven’t taken it off since the day Javier died. And I smile as I remember the exact moment he slipped it on there. “He loved parties.”

  “And he taught you to use them to your advantage, remember?”

  I look back up, my eyes meeting Lucca’s. “Yes. I remember.”

  Lucca Pérez is the Delgado cartel’s second-in-command. My lieutenant – my number two – as he was Javier’s for many years. Which is why I can trust him, he knows this business better than anyone, even me. I came into it blind, he grew up amongst it, in a small town just outside of Tijuana, Mexico; became part of a biker gang that Javier used – that the cartel still uses – to help move drugs over the border, before Javier’s then-lieutenant spotted his potential, and brought him into the cartel. He worked his way up from Falcon – the lowest rank in any cartel, the ‘eyes and ears’ on the streets – to lieutenant in just two years, becoming the closest thing Javier ever had to a brother. He’s smart, quick-thinking, and loyal, and I need him more than I’ll ever admit.

  “Are you happy, Olivia?”

  I frown, because I have no idea what made him ask that question, completely out of the blue.

  “Whether I’m happy or not has no bearing on this business, Lucca.”

  “No, but, Javier – he wanted you to be happy.”

  “Even Javier knew happiness and this way of life don’t always go hand-in-hand.”

  “It’s difficult, yes. But not impossible.”

  I narrow my eyes slightly. “Why are we having this conversation?”

  Lucca shrugs. “No reason.”

  I turn away from him to look in the mirror, checking my carefully applied make-up. “Just do your job, Lucca. I don’t need analyzing.”

  He lets a beat or two go by before he speaks again. “Javier wanted me to look out for you. And I promised him I would do that. He wanted me to protect you, it was his dying wish.”

  “I don’t need protecting.”

  “You do. Don’t be naïve, Olivia, you’re better than that. That defensive shit, it was cute, in the beginning, when you had no fucking clue what kind of world you were getting mixed up in, but now – now that world is a dangerous place, and you need protecting. And deep down, you know that. You know the risks. You know why I have to protect you.”

  I turn back around, and I look at him. But I say nothing.

  “The only thing he wanted was for you to be kept safe, but sometimes – sometimes you make it so hard for me to do the job Javier begged me to do.”

  I go over to him, and I straighten his collar; brush down his shoulders. “Did you want this for yourself? Hmm? Did you want to be the new King?”

  He takes hold of my wrist and gently pushes my hand away. “I want to keep you safe, that’s all.”

  I take a step back and turn around, checking my reflection one last time. “We should go. Everyone will be waiting.”

  “Olivia?”

  His voice is softer now. Less confrontational. Because Lucca has a side to him that others don’t often see, but I know it’s there. Beneath the Sicario exterior he’s a man with a good heart, just like Javier. I guess that’s why they were always so close.

  “You look beautiful tonight.”

  I reach for my bracelet and slide it over my wrist, snapping the clasp shut. “Like I said, we should go downstairs. I need to show my face.”

  Lucca stands aside to let me pass, but I stop in the doorway, and I look up at him; right into his eyes. He’s always been there. Always. And I don’t know what I’d do without him now, but that admission would be seen as a weakness, especially coming from a woman. More so coming from a woman in my position. So I never let him know that. Ever.

  “Happy Birthday, mi reina.”

  My queen. That’s what he calls me. What he’s always called me.

  I reach out to cup his cheek, leaning in to kiss it gently. “Thank you.”

  He smiles, and it changes his whole face, makes him look like a different man, almost, but I’d never tell him that. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  Stepping out into the hallway, I stop at the top of the stairwell and look down on a room full of people – some I know very well, others nothing more than acquaintances. It’s a room full of the darkest, most dangerous figures, whose world I was never meant to inhabit. And now, I run it.

  “Let’s go,” Lucca whispers in my ear as he takes my hand, squeezing it tight.

  His job is to protect me, he’s right. It is.

  His job is to be by my side. He’s there.

  Always…

  Fifteen Years Earlier…

  As a child you’re told never to go anywhere with a stranger. As a grown-up it’s funny how easily that rule can be torn up and forgotten. It’s that thought that keeps going through my head as I sit in the back of the black Jaguar Javier sent to pick me up from the hotel. And as it pulls up outside of a red-walled, Spanish-style villa surrounded by bougainvillea and palm trees and an abundance of bright and beautiful flowers, I take a moment to think about what I’m doing here. I know nothing about this man, except that he owns the hotel I’m staying in. But I think there’s a lot more to him than that. And that’s why I’m more than a little bit nervous. Now. Something I probably should’ve been before I made the somewhat reckless decision to actually get in the car, and let him bring me here.

  The door’s suddenly pulled open, and I step outside, where I’m met by a tall, handsome man with the brightest blue eyes and a somewhat defensive air about him. I’m finding him slightly intimidating, to be honest, he’s doing nothing to ease the growing panic I’m starting to feel. I shouldn’t have come here, what the hell was I thinking? For a moment I’d let myself be swept up in all the attention Javier Delgado was giving me… Why? Because I was feeling let down and not good about myself, after Callum had left me? Really? I get dumped, book a vacation to take my mind off it all; let an enigmatic stranger shower me with flowers and flattering messages, and that’s it? I’m that easily swayed? I swear to god, I thought I was smarter than that.

  “Follow me. Mr. Delgado is inside, he’s waiting for you.”

  I take a deep breath and follow this tall, intimidating man up the tiled steps to a double-fronted door, glancing around me as he pushes it open, and we
head inside the house, into a huge, spacious atrium with a sky-high ceiling and stone floor. It’s wonderfully cool after the heat of outside, which is showing no signs of waning, despite it being late evening now.

  “This way.”

  We walk through the atrium toward the back of the house, into a large, open-plan living area with deep, rust-colored walls, a dark wooden floor, and expensive-looking furniture. It has to be expensive, right? This man owns a hotel, I mean, you can almost smell the money.

  “Have a good evening.”

  The tall, intimidating man turns around and leaves, and I’m suddenly alone, and not quite sure what to do next.

  “Did Lucca not fix you a drink?”

  I spin around to see Javier Delgado standing by the open French doors, dressed much more casually than he had been that first night I saw him, in the hotel. Then, he’d been in a suit, and perfectly groomed, but tonight he looks far more relaxed in jeans and a navy-blue shirt, his hair a little less neat. But there’s still something about him that screams importance. Authority.

  “Forgive him. He isn’t usually so ill-mannered.”

  “It’s fine. Really.”

  Javier shakes his head as he goes over to a sideboard lined with various bottles of liquor. “Guests in this house should always be offered a drink the moment they step inside.” He’s pouring me something without even asking what it is I’d like, but I have no intention of saying anything. I’ll drink it, whatever it is. “But maybe Lucca can be excused his lapse in manners, this one time.” He hands me a cut-glass tumbler half-filled with a golden-colored, strong-smelling liquid. “After all, you’re enough to distract the best of men. Now, try this. The finest aged gold tequila my country has to offer.”

  I take the glass from him, clutching it tightly as he turns to pour one for himself.

  “I’m sorry. That line about you being distracting…” He turns back to face me, and he’s smiling, but all I’m feeling now is anxious. I’m all alone, in a stranger’s home in the middle of nowhere, miles from the safety of my hotel… a hotel this man owns. I don’t do stupid shit like this. Seriously, this was a fucking huge mistake. “I don’t usually come out with such clichéd, antiquated comments, but you, Olivia… you are incredibly distracting.”

  My stomach’s a knot of nerves, and I’m sure my hand’s shaking as I raise the tumbler of tequila to my lips and take a small sip. The alcohol hit is instant, but I’m also acutely aware that this is a situation I have to be in complete control of. So I put the glass down on a nearby table, and take another deep breath.

  “You’re wondering why you’ve come here, am I right?” he asks, and I nod.

  “Yes. I am.”

  “Why you’re here, with this strange man who wouldn’t take no for an answer?”

  He wouldn’t. Those flowers he’d left in my room that night, I had flowers left for me for the next three days. Bottles of champagne. Notes asking if we could meet for a drink: if he could take me to dinner. He was persistent to the point where I felt worn down by his pursuit of me, that’s another reason why I’m here. But, now I’ve stopped to think about it, isn’t that what he wanted? To wear me down? Because men like him, they always get what they want, don’t they? And that thought does nothing to settle my nerves. I’m genuinely scared now. And I think I have every reason to be.

  “I’m a woman, traveling alone, in a country I’ve never visited before. You can’t blame me for being wary.”

  “No. You’re right to be wary, of course you are. But I promise you, Olivia, I have no ulterior motives here. I just want to spend some time with you, that’s all.”

  I should’ve suggested we meet in the hotel. Why didn’t I do that? Why did I agree to meet him here, at his sprawling estate, miles outside of town? Why did I do that?

  “Come. We’re eating outside.”

  I pick up my drink and follow him out onto the terrace. Underneath a fairy-light-decked pergola there’s a table set for two, piled high with food and wine – cold meats and salads; dishes of vegetables and bowls of colorful salsas. The surrounding trees and bushes are also strewn with tiny twinkling lights, it’s a beautiful setting, and not one he created, I’m guessing. This man has staff, it’s obvious.

  There’s a barbecue in the corner which seems to have meat of some description still sizzling away on the grill, and that’s where he heads to first, picking up a pair of tongs and flipping over a couple of large, thick-cut steaks.

  “My father taught me how to barbecue when I was just a boy,” he explains, casting me a quick glance over his shoulder. “It’s something I never forgot. How do you like your steak cooked, Olivia?”

  He’s assuming I eat meat, which I do, but the fact he doesn’t even consider that I might be vegetarian, or even vegan, tells me a lot about him.

  “Medium rare, please.”

  “A woman after my own heart!”

  He lifts the steaks from the grill and lays them down on a white oval plate, carrying them over to the table before pulling out my chair. “Please. Sit. I’ll pour us some wine.”

  He’s the perfect host, and that’s fine. I’ve never really been one for romantic gestures but I’m also not going to pretend I don’t like it. I do. It’s nice to be pampered, for a change, and there’s a tiny part of me that’s quite enjoying it, even if those nerves in my stomach are showing no signs of lessening.

  “I picked this one myself, from my own collection.” He hands me a glass of deep red wine before sitting down at the table. “It goes perfectly with this particular cut of beef. Please, help yourself to salad and vegetables. My housekeeper, Celine, she makes the best roast potatoes this side of the border.”

  I’m not really very hungry, those ever-present nerves are seeing to that, but I’m going to be polite and try to eat something. He’s quite obviously gone to a lot of trouble. Well, someone has, anyway.

  “So, Olivia, what brings you to Mexico?”

  I reach for a bowl of potatoes and spoon a couple onto my plate. “A vacation. A much-needed one.”

  He raises an eyebrow as he fills his plate with green salad. “I see. You needed some time alone, am I right?”

  “Yes. You’re right.”

  It’s been a tough year. This vacation, it’s a treat to myself; some time to get over what’s happened, and think about moving forward.

  “And then I come along, and ruin it.”

  “You haven’t ruined anything.” He hasn’t. Not really. There’s only so much of my own company I can take, in the end.

  He smiles and briefly drops his gaze, reaching for the bowl of potatoes. “So, is there any reason why you need some time alone?” He looks back up at me, his expression almost apologetic. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to ask such an intrusive question. It’s none of my business.”

  “It’s fine. Really. It’s just been a hard few months, that’s all. I lost my father, and my uncle, in a road accident not that long ago and, you know, that kind of floored me.”

  “Oh, Olivia, I am so sorry.”

  It’s my turn to drop my gaze. “It took a while for me to even accept that they’d gone, but you have to move on at some point, don’t you? Life goes on, whether you want it to or not.” I look up, and his eyes are still on me. Kind eyes. He’s making me feel a little more comfortable now, but that wariness is still very much there. “And then, just as I was starting to feel like…” I stop talking, aware that I was only a second away from telling a complete stranger about Callum. He doesn’t need to know about that, he doesn’t need to know anything else about me. “I’m sorry. I just needed a break from the real world for a few days. And Mexico’s been perfect escapism, so far.”

  He smiles again, and I can’t help but smile too. “So far?” His eyebrow arches slightly, and I drop my head, fiddling with the fork by the side of my plate. “You were about to say something else, just then. Did something else happen…?” He shakes his head and takes a sip of wine. “I’m sorry, thi
s really is none of my business.”

  I look up. “No, it’s okay. It’s just – it was nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  I turn my head and stare out at the grounds of his beautiful home, and I’m suddenly feeling horribly out of place. “It was just a break-up. The timing, though… that was the kicker. But…” I shrug. “Break-ups happen.”

  “You’re right. They do. But that doesn’t mean they’re always easy to deal with. Was this person very special to you?”

  I look at him again, my eyes meeting his, and I’m okay now. I think. I don’t know… “It’s hard to say.” I laugh quietly, one of those hollow laughs devoid of any humor, my eyes once more dropping to that fork I’m still fiddling with.

  “A relationship ending, at such a difficult time, it must’ve been hard.”

  “I’d rather someone didn’t stay with me out of pity, no matter how wrong the timing was. But, you’re right, it wasn’t an easy thing to deal with, on top of everything else.”

  “What happened…? Oh, please, forgive me. Again.”

  I glance back up, and his expression is, once more, apologetic. Genuinely so.

  “And, again, it’s fine.” I smile. “He left me for his secretary.”

  There’s a short pause, and then he laughs; so do I, because it’s ridiculously clichéd.

  “I’m so sorry, Olivia.”

  “Don’t be. I found out through a friend, before he ‘officially’ dumped me. By text. I’m well rid of him.”

  “You most definitely are. He didn’t deserve you.”