Lonzo: Book 1 (Tycoon Series Book 1) (14 page)

She probably thought she was so clever. Well, he’d let her think that she had the upper hand.

He would decide their endgame. He would be the victor. He’d give her a masterclass on why she shouldn’t mess with men like him.

The thought relaxed him. His mind began to whir with action plans as he stepped on the gas of the Ferrari.

Jordana was on tenterhooks
when she heard the rumble of the Ferrari’s engine at the parking lot. Without turning, she knew Lonzo had arrived. She was so rattled that she failed to catch Chris’ question.

“I’m sorry…uhm…what was that?” she casually asked.

He glanced past her shoulder before subjecting her a quizzing look. He grinned knowingly.

“Are you and Lonzo—?”

“No!” she denied, her face flushing.

Chris held her gaze as he weighed her words.

“Then why is he looking at me like he wants to murder me?” Chris continued.

She shrugged. “Beats me.”

“Interesting.”

He clearly didn’t believe her but thankfully he didn’t pursue the subject. He was even tactful enough to change the topic as he accompanied her to one of the tables. Their chosen spot was near the specially-built podium, where the newlyweds now sat.

A waiter hovered as soon as they were seated. The attendant offered them flutes of champagne and recited a delectable array of rustic Italian fare that Jordana couldn’t process at the moment. She decided to play it safe and stuck to pasta. Anything heavier than pasta would probably make her throw up. Chris chose lamb and
risotto
. Both of them begged off at having dessert.

Service was quick and within three minutes, they were both eating dinner. She was only half-listening to Chris’ anecdote about his cousin Rocco. Her mind was still trying to devise a way to avoid Lonzo for the entirety of the reception.

Good thing Chris, or more popularly known to soccerdom as Cristiano Rafael Falcone, was beside her. He would deter that obnoxious man as she performed her maid-of-honor duties later.

She knew Chris was definitely interested. He had been like white on rice since she agreed to ride with him. But she felt a little bit bad for using him as a shield.

She glanced at him to apologize but he spoke first.

“Hey, I totally get it. I’m cool with it,” he said with amusement.

She was relieved to hear that. He was really being nice to her. Which surprised her.

She knew him by reputation, of course. Who wouldn’t? Career-wise, they were on the same speed. Even if she wasn’t a footy fanatic, she was aware that he was one of the highest-paid jocks ever to walk this earth. He was included in Fortune Magazine’s 20 richest athletes for the past three years. He also got all sorts of sports endorsements. It would be hard not to notice his huge Nike Pro billboard at Times Square or not to catch his latest Coca-Cola TV ads while channel-surfing. He was a global superstar.

Chris was a huge catch for most women. Aside from being related to one of Europe’s oldest and moneyed family, he was considered by sports analysts as this generation’s Pele, with drop-dead good looks to match.

The fact that he was trying his best to win her attention and flashing that heartthrob smile should have brought her unimaginable elation.

It didn’t. Oh, she found him attractive all right but that was about it.

And that bugged her.

What is the matter with her?

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lonzo approach.

It annoyed her when he chose to sit at the table nearest to theirs, his seat facing her seat.

Their eyes clashed and she bristled at his countenance. His green ones wandered over Chris before it settled back on her. He need not say the words out loud but he communicated his thoughts clearly enough. That they had unfinished business and if push came to shove, Chris or any guy can’t stop him.

That raised her hackles to new heights.

The man just won’t let up! The ass!

She broke eye contact and shifted her attention back to Chris. Chris, on the other hand, seemed blissfully unaware of the growing animosity between her and the bestman.

She was so determined to ignore Lonzo that she failed to notice Mel and Rocco standing beside their table.

“Chris, I hope you don’t mind but I have to steal my maid-of-honor,” Mel told her escort.

Chris gave the bride one of his boyish, lop-sided smiles.

“I am heartbroken,
amore,
but I’ll try to survive,” he said gallantly.

As Mel led her from the table, she noted that Lonzo also stood up. Her heart began to beat faster and faster.

She quickly drew her gaze away from him. But not quick enough.

Mel saw everything and inquired with narrowed eyes.

She shrugged and mouthed,
what?

Her bestfriend gave her a speculative look which she disregarded by rolling her eyes.

“Did my mother-in-law tell you about the program?”

“What program?”

“After the our first dance as a couple, you and Lonzo have to join us on the dance floor—”

What?! No, no, no, no…!
Her mind wailed.

“Mel…does it really have to be
uhm
…your husband’s bestfriend? Lonzo, I mean.”

A mischievous smile played on her friend’s lips.
Great
, Jordana thought in dismay. The bride was in the mood to play cupid.

Mel’s arched a brow at her.

“You didn’t hit it off with him?! My oh my! This is a first! You? The model of congeniality?!”

Tell me about it
, she thought mutinously.

If they had met under normal circumstances, she would, at the very least, be civil with the guy. Mel was right on that score. She was the anti-thesis of most models. She was the peacemaker, never the hothead. And she had the patience of a saint. She always saw the good in people. She was too damned
nice.

Well…until she met Lonzo.

She’d never felt like hitting anyone right in the ballsack before now.

Being called a gold digger and something short of a money-grabbing slut in the same breath can do that to a person.

The man was deranged. He was vile. A slimeball. No! He was even lower. He was gunk.

And the greatest mystery was, despite his assholery, she was attracted to the douche. How was that even possible?

“Well…?” Mel prompted.

“He was not..uhm…very nice, Mel…” she said diplomatically.

Mel’s eyebrows went up another notch. “Wow…that’s pretty strong coming from you, hon,” her friend’s tone turned inquisitive. “Did he proposition you? When? Have you met him before?!”

She suddenly found herself in a tight spot. How could she explain to her friend that she slept with the guy?

Fortunately she was spared from expounding when Rocco materialized and swept his new wife off.

The chamber orchestra began to play music—a slow ballad that spoke of love, passion and commitment.

Jordana’s eyes were glued to the provisional dance floor built in the heart of the
castello
’s garden. Her friend and her new husband were dancing for the first time as a married couple. Their love for each other was undeniable that for a moment she felt a bit envious and lonely.

When their dance came to an end, she applauded along with the rest of the guests. She was so absorbed with the newly-weds that she shrieked when Lonzo spoke behind her.

“Our turn.”

She whipped her head around, their eyes meeting. She was transfixed as his laser-like eyes probed hers. For several electric minutes, everything around them became a blur. Her mouth became parched, every pore of her skin felt tight and keenly aware. Of him. Her heart pounded so hard and so loud that she was sure he heard every beat.

This was her chance to slap him for his earlier insult but she just stood there. Like a statue. Unable to do anything but stare back at his handsome face.

Without breaking their staring contest, he took her right hand and led her to the dance floor.

The man didn’t even ask for her permission! He knew she’d balk at making a scene. Damn him!

“Hey!” she yelped when he pulled her tightly against him as the orchestra began playing a sexy, jazzed-up version of “When a Man Loves a Woman”.

“Dance,” he commanded, his eyes not leaving her face as the hard planes of his pelvis grounded against hers, urging her hips to sway and be seduced by the music. Images flashed inside her head. Unwanted snapshots of her entwined in bed with this man. Naked.

Her sixth sense told her that he had exactly the same thing on his mind.

Other couples joined them on the dance floor. Instead of loosening his arms, he held her tighter, her soft breasts now pushed against his hard chest. He took one of her hands and placed it behind his neck while he intertwined his fingers in the other.

It so was blatantly possessive.

She should be outraged. Instead, she found herself melting against his maleness.

He led her body masterfully, unerringly. The man had rhythm—in the bedroom and on the dance floor. She knew that first hand.

Angry at the direction of her thoughts, she forced her gaze at his throat to curb her growing agitation.

Avoid his eyes. Picture something else. Breathe evenly. Stay focused for the next two minutes, Dana. This dance will soon be over. You can do this…

But he had other ideas. She should have known that he was too arrogant to be ignored.

He tipped her chin with his hand.

She glared at him.

His intense eyes searched hers, making her nervous.

What? Her? Nervous? She was never fidgety around guys!
She always had the upper hand around them.

Well, obviously Lonzo Vitale was the exception.

She wanted to slap herself for showing weakness around him.

“Why?” he prodded.

“Why what?” she snapped.

“Why me?”

“I was asking myself the same question.”

“The wide-eyed act won’t work with me,
cara
.”

“I am not—”

“I won’t marry you. If that’s what you’re after, forget it. Not happening.”

“I’m after what?!” she spluttered. She was at a loss for words.

“It takes more than a cherry to make me cough up a wedding ring, “ he said with thinly veiled derision. “You should’ve done your homework. Marriage? Not in my cards. Ever.”

Clearly, the man was a lunatic!

She was so angry, she was visibly trembling.

That’s it!
She reached the end of her rope. She won’t take any more abuse!

“Wow. I’ve been around punks, douchebags and asshats. But you? You take the grand prize. You’re a new breed of asshole!
Cuzão
!” she spewed in disgust.

His eyebrows rose, surprised at her verbal attack.

“You should be on your knees begging for my forgiveness. You’re the one who took advantage of me!” she accused.

That got his attention.

“I took advantage? Then your memory must be faulty, cara. You climbed
my
bed. We ended up fucking and you enjoyed it as much as I did.” There was an edge of barely-restrained steel in his voice.

“I was drugged!” she charged at him, her amber eyes stormy. “By you!”

His eyes grew hard and cold . “Be careful with your accusations, cara.”

“I remembered sleeping on my bed last night and the next thing I knew, you were pawing me!” she insisted heatedly.

He didn’t answer. He just continued staring at her, frowning at what she said.

“I don’t have to resort to mind-altering drugs to have pussy,
cara
.” There was pure conviction when he said this. His face mirrored his distaste. “And if you plan to accuse me of that to wheedle more money, you’re gravely mistaken.”

Her jaw dropped to the floor. She wanted to bash his head with something. Preferably hard.

She looked at her nemesis in the eye.

“I’m going to say this just once, so you better listen to me,
safado
: I may never understand what really happened this morning but don’t you dare accuse me of targeting you for your money. I worked hard for what I have. Each cent I earned through honest labor,
signore
. Bored and oversexed playboys like you are so overrated. So screw your money. May it keep you happy at night, ” she said icily.

He was taken aback.

Take that!

He opened his mouth to say something but the music stopped.
Thank heavens!

He still held her and wouldn’t let her leave.

“We’re done dancing.”

“So you’re telling me that someone drugged you and placed you on my bed while I slept?” he said, obviously disbelieving.