At His Mercy (5 page)

My gaze picked out a familiar face that derailed this train of thought, and I squinted through the dim party lighting until I recognized Luiz. He was dressed in a simple but nice white button-front shirt and dark slacks. A wise choice—to keep the clothing tasteful but simple, and let people mistake modest means for modern elegance. That always helped us pass among our socioeconomic
betters
. The boy cleaned up well, as two young female guests would have attested, and he was flirting skillfully with both before he inadvertently backed into one of the buffet tables—and Manuela, as the cook directed the staff refreshing the supply of teas and coffee.

Ouch. I bit my lip watching the matron, looking more Katharine Hepburn tonight than Audrey, snatch the glass of champagne from Luiz’s hand and drag her grandson by an inconspicuous but unbreakable grip on his forearm into the shadows for a good old-fashioned tongue-lashing. I couldn’t even begin to follow the furious buzz of hushed Portuguese, but a scolding sounded like a scolding in any language. And when Manuela straightened her arm out stiff and pointed to the service door back into the resort… That needed no translation.

Had a waiter not distracted Manuela with questions, she would surely have noticed Luiz shuffling reluctantly toward the exit, watching her over his shoulder and veering from his appointed path at the first opportunity. He was scanning the crowd, probably for the young ladies Manuela had scared away, when he caught sight of me.

With a sweep of his hand through his cropped black hair and a little extra swagger to his stride, Luiz made his way to my side. I just managed not to chuckle at him as he arched a brow and stole the remaining half of my honey cake, gnawing on it slowly as he leaned beside me, shoulder to shoulder. Even at that age, I don’t think I ever had a young man flirt so hard with me. Once he had a few more years on him and mellowed, he’d be dangerous.

When I eyed the stolen cake, Luiz peered at me from under those thick, dark lashes and gave me an affected shrug. “Avό… My grandmother… She never makes these for me anymore.”

“Never?”

This drew a guilty smile from him. “Not as much as I want.”

“Is that even possible?”

“Maybe not,” Luiz admitted, then motioned with a nod across the balcony toward Adrian. Knight stood with his fingertips pressed to his forehead before a portly, gesticulating little man. “He’s trying to talk Knight into selling the island. Deus, I wish he would!”

I snatched the last piece of cake back from the teen and popped it into my mouth while he gaped at me. “Why don’t you like Adrian?” I asked, still chewing, which made Luiz laugh. “He gave you a way to work off your community service, and he’s supportive of you going to school. And your grandmother likes him.”

Luiz sounded off with a sort of derisive snort and shook his head. “He’s just trying to make himself feel good. Rich man. He’ll help the poor natives. My grandmother thinks he is a saint because he lets her have a job most people wouldn’t give her. And he helps with the cost of school, if I take the classes he wants me to and get the grades he thinks I should.”

Glancing at Adrian, trying to imagine him taking a mentor role with the boy, I asked, “What part of that makes him the bad guy, Luiz?” Not that I was sure I wanted to be in the position of defending Adrian Knight right now, with the mixed feelings he’d been generating inside me from the moment we met, but there it was.

The teen snorted again. “Trying to run my life. Getting me arrested in the first place. He thinks I don’t know that. My avό called him because I wouldn’t come home, and she told him where I was, what she thought I was doing.”

“Was she right?”

Luiz frowned. “It’s not his business. He’s not family. He’s not my father.”

And that was the real issue, I suspected. Luiz and I settled into an uneasy silence as we watched the guests dancing and mingling, and I tried not to be too obvious about studying him out of the corner of my eye. I wondered if he knew Adrian had lost a parent when he was a boy. It was unlikely, I thought, that either of them would see themselves as having anything in common. One a product of breeding and wealth, the other coming from modest means. One compulsively controlling, the other brash and reckless to a fault. But was the impetus behind the behavior the same, to cope with the crippling insecurity of losing what should have been a comfort and a constant in their lives?

I stopped following that train of thought when my father came to mind. Mine wasn’t dead, though I’d sometimes wished it on him, especially after he’d left my mother crying and alone
again
to carry on with another woman.

Glancing up, I recognized Adrian extricating himself from the grip of the island broker and starting this way one polite but impatient half-step at a time. I nudged Luiz. “Knight is coming this way. You’d better go.”

His brows shot up in surprise. “Porro, that’s all I need.” When Luiz blushed so furiously that I could see it even in this light, I felt confident guessing he’d cussed in front of me without intending it. “Descuple. Excuse me,” he begged before touching my arm and starting away.  Then he paused to steal a kiss on my cheek.

I tried not to smile. “Go, Luiz! He’s coming.”

When Adrian took Luiz’s place leaning on the balustrade, he pressed against me, tall and solid and tempting enough to kindle a flutter in the pit of my stomach. “You know, you really should be careful about associating with that young man, Miss Bloom.”

Caught, I smiled pleasantly at passing guests as I asked, “Why is that? Because he’s been in trouble with the law, or because he despises you?”

Knight turned his head, and his breath steamed against my temple and flowed warm down my cheek. “Because he’s impulsive. It might rub off.”

Leaning harder against Adrian, I assured him, “There’s not an impulsive bone in my body, Mr. Knight.” It was all calculated risk.

“That’s sir to you, Miss Bloom. Need I
correct
you on that point?”

The whole side of my body tingled as he growled this against my ear, to my mild irritation. Despite the exhilaration of such overpowering desire, of feeling so much of it so often for so long, it could also make me feel like Adrian was playing with me, almost idly.

“That’s not for me to say,…sir.”

“Mm, back to the villa with you then, Miss Bloom. I will be along presently.”

“Yes, sir.”

He caught my arm as I started to walk away without looking at him. His fingertips skimmed down my forearm before curling around my wrist, leaving trails of goose bumps on my prickling skin. I had to wonder if it was healthy, feeling…feeding and indulging such a strong hunger for a man I didn’t love and who didn’t love me. Without the context of romance, without the structure of everyday life, it felt wild, uncontrollable, straining me at the seams.

Adrian let go when I looked up into his eyes and gave him the flirtatious suggestion of a smile. I took the opportunity to hurry away, through the service door, down the path to the villa. It was impossible not to think of doing this last night, in such a recklessly playful mood, before finding Nina Talbot in Adrian’s bedroom. Was I ever going to let that go? I knew now it wasn’t what it had appeared, but it still drew the taste of bile to the back of my throat. Maybe, after what happened between my parents, I’d just never be the trusting sort, the kind of woman who could shrug off a man’s causal comments and past associations instead of seeing them as signs and portents of betrayals to come.

Just inside the door of the villa, I started to reach for the zipper in the back of my dress, as I noticed the shutter from the living room to the patio standing open. I was certain it had been closed when we left for dinner. Without turning on a light, I slipped out of my heels and padded quietly to the door. Daniel Vaz, in an even nicer black suit than the one he’d worn before, was standing beside the pool nursing a bottle of expensive imported beer. I tried to step out of the doorway without drawing his notice.

“Olá?Miss?” No luck.

I came back around the shutter and stepped through onto the patio, the stone surprisingly cool under my bare feet. Vaz reacted by brightening, smiling broadly and loosening his tie just a bit.

“Mr. Vaz, I believe. Good evening.”

The man gave me a little bow. “Muito plazer. You are?”

“Chloe.” Keeping my distance, I asked, “You’re looking for Mr. Knight?”

“I am.” He produced his cell phone from his breast pocket and held it up. “In fact, I had just sent a message asking me to meet me here.”

Eyeing Vaz warily, but trying not to be obvious about it, I took a few steps closer. The wind that had come up from the ocean was shaking the leaves and rustling the boughs, making our exchange sound like a conversation cutting out over a bad connection.

“What did you think of the eco park plans?” I tried to ask, getting it into my head that I might be able to talk up the project to the investigator, if he was anything shy of an outright con man. But the wind hissed over me, even when I stepped closer to Vaz and tried to repeat myself.

The man shrugged helplessly at the interruption and smiled. I motioned with on finger for him to follow me and led him back into the villa, the flurry playing havoc with the layered skirts of my dress all the while. Inside I closed the shutter and flicked on a small lamp.

Turning, I began again, “I was asking—”

I found Vaz an inch from me, almost upon me. His grin was not exactly a leer, but his dark eyes glinted with a distressing level of interest. “Even after his generosity today, I was not expecting Knight to send yet another…” Vaz’s fingers came up under my chin. “Rare delicacy. The man knows how to impress.”

My hasty step back resulted in me awkwardly stumbling against the shutter. “Mr. Vaz, I think you have to wrong idea.”

“Do I?” His fingertips were toying with one shoulder of my dress, testing the feel of the chiffon. “About this project? Mr. Knight? Or you?”

I breathed out a nervous giggle, shrugging off his touch. “Perhaps all three.”

“Shh,” Vaz hissed gently and tried to caress my face, sending cold, creepy chills down my neck and panic through my spine in a rush of adrenaline. “I know how this works, Miss Chloe. You soften me up for the negotiations before Knight and I speak, and perhaps you even propose a few points yourself. Let’s be done with the dance.”

His lips fastened to my neck, and threads crackled and complained as he pulled roughly on my dress at both shoulders. The smell of beer, even good beer, on his breath made me gag and twist away.

“No, Mr. Vaz.” I shoved him away hard, grunting with the effort, but I couldn’t break his grip on my sleeves.

Vaz hauled me back against him as I ground my teeth and struggled to get my forearms up between us. “I insist we play the game my way, little cat. Leave the business to the men. We have other concerns.”

“There is no “we”, Mr. Vaz,” I snapped and angled my arms to grind my elbows into his body.

“Mm, will you fight me, little cat? Will you scream?” The darkening edge to his voice felt like a caress of filth, and I tried to stem it by shoving the heel of my hand hard against his throat. Wrestling with him, my position was wrong, and I only grazed his neck. But he did step away, one hand holding me by the front of my dress. The other he balled into a fist and slammed into the side of my head.

My knees hit the floor as I went down with embarrassing ease. No one had ever struck me like this. I wouldn’t have imagined the feeling of sudden dumbstruck languor, like my brain was sloshing around inside my head and I couldn’t steady myself until it stopped. Everything around me, including the room itself, tilted slightly, moved in slow motion and muted tones. Vaz yanked my head back by the hair and tore the neckline of my dress.

Then, just as quickly, the world righted itself and the sound came back on, as Vaz straightened up over me and clutched at his throat. Behind him, Adrian had him by the collar, pulling him backward and tossing him against the arm of the loveseat. A steady growl of guttural Portuguese emphasized the force Knight used to roll Vaz to the floor and smack the man’s head into the textured concrete. The first time Adrian did this, I watched with satisfaction. The second time, when I saw drops of blood spatter against the light cowhide rug beside them, I lurched forward to grab Knight by the tail of his jacket and pull him off Vaz. The flurry of threats didn’t fade for five or six more seconds.

Vaz was pressing his hand to a broken nose, rivulets of blood streaming between his fingers and onto his black tie and expensive linen shirt. “Porro!” he swore in a voice considerably higher and more nasally than he’d had when he arrived. “I’ll see you—!”

“Don’t!” I barked, standing over Vaz, straddling his knees and stabbing my finger at him. “Don’t you finish that sentence. I tried to tell you I wasn’t who you thought I was. You go back to your little office, Mr. Vaz, and you look up Ferris & Hale Environmental, offices in New York, Boston, and Washington, D.C. My photo is there among the junior partners. I’m not some call girl, and I think you’ll find the police take it a little more seriously when an American
lawyer
on vacation says you tried to force yourself on her.” I stepped back from him in a wave of angry chiffon and pointed at the door. “Get out. Your visit to Ilha de Flor is over, and so is your investigation.”

With eyes stretch wide, Vaz recoiled from my screaming rant. His feet shuffled against the floor as he got his knees back under him. “Crazy woman!” he whined as he stumbled for the door.

Turning toward Adrian, I found him still panting with rage, tie torn loose, hair over his eyes. This time I gave in to the urge to smooth it back, and he wrapped one arm around my back, the other hand smoothing my hair over the throbbing spot where Vaz had struck me.

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” I lied, because it didn’t hurt that much, not enough to chance feeding Adrian’s anger at Vaz and escalating the situation.

“We should have called the police.”

I shook my head no. “Just have security stick to him until he’s off the island and hope Vaz doesn’t realize he has more evidence of an assault than I do.”