against the softness of her belly.
“Cassius,” she warned again, but her beloved would not be dissuaded.
He inched closer and bent his head, bringing his lips to her neck. He dropped a line of kisses up to the shell of her ear where he whispered, “I have something I want to show you.”
Stacia shivered as he tugged on her earlobe, desire awakening despite her better sense. There was something different about Cassius lately. In the past few weeks, ever since he had spent time with some new friends out in the country, he had been …
Sexier.
More demanding.
Infinitely darker, with a dangerous air he had not possessed before.
He must have sensed she was weakening, since he reached down, cupped her breast and unerringly found the tip, rotating it between his fingers and dragging a strangled moan from her.
“You are so beautiful. Let me show you how beautiful, my wife,” he said huskily, the low tones of his voice strumming alive greater need within her.
“Wife now, is it?” she teased and pulled on a longish lock of his dark hair to draw him away.
“Tonight you are my wife. Tomorrow is only a matter of ceremony, no?” He smiled, his deep brown eyes glowing with a strange new light, the paleness of his skin a startling contrast to the darkness of his jet-black hair.
Had his skin always been that bloodless or was it an illusion from the moonlight? she wondered for a moment before he tightened his fingers on her breast, creating a sympathetic tug between her legs. The pull of desire was so intense she had to close her eyes against the strength of it, which just caused Cassius to chuckle.
“Do not deny yourself, Stacia. You are a woman of immense passion. I can show you great pleasure tonight. The kind of pleasure we will share forever, my wife.”
Forever, she thought, imagining the life she would be starting with Cassius come the morning. Eager to begin a new phase since she had gotten bored with the mundane tasks of helping her mother run their household. It was long past time that she should have a home of her own and a husband to warm her bed.
“Show me,” she said, and he chuckled once more, grasped her hand and led her into the baths.
Stacia dragged herself away from the painful memories of her once-beloved Cassius.
As something wet trickled down the side of her face, she brushed it away, but was surprised as she encountered the salt of her tears and not the bathwater.
Dashing away the tears, she rose from the bath and dressed quickly, needing to leave before the reminiscences brought more pain and disillusionment. She had no desire to let those emotions cloud the bright Miami days she had escaped Manhattan to enjoy.
As she dressed and shot one last look in the mirror, imagining how she might appear, another image pulled at her memory. The vision of her tall, handsome Latino—the one she had connected with briefly at the club the night before.
Yet again it occurred to her that there had been something familiar about his face, much as his expression had given away that there had been something recognizable about her. As she finally left her hotel room and escaped into the night, she tried time and again to place the man, but each attempt failed.
The identity of her mystery man would have to wait until later. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have an eternity of nights to find him, although she hoped it wouldn’t take her too long.
Something about him whispered to her that he might be able to fill the nights that loomed before her, eternal and empty.
Predictably boring.
Recalling the determined glitter in his eyes, she decided that the handsome Latino would be anything but boring.
Because of that, Stacia hastened her pace, eager for the night to begin.
Chapter 3
Alex handed the artist’s sketch to Miranda, the final one of Andrea’s friends he had to interview. The very last person who had seen Andrea entering the private area with the man they called “the Sheik.” Miranda had agreed to meet him at one of the cafés along the Ocean Drive strip where they sat at an intimate table for two tucked beneath an umbrella.
Miranda took but a cursory glance at the sketch and immediately shoved the drawing back in Alex’s direction. “This is the guy.”
With shaky hands she reached into her purse, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered him one.
He held up his hand. “No, thanks.”
She lit up and took a deep drag, her actions skittish. Her eyes were hidden from him by the sunglasses she wore. She blew out a breath of smoke, and he watched it drift into the darkening Miami sky.
“You’re sure Andrea was with this man at the Widget?” he pressed, just to confirm.
Miranda bent forward and perused the sketch again before nodding and taking another nervous drag from her cigarette.
“I’m sure. We had seen him there before. He always had a harem and lots of money, so we nicknamed him ‘the Sheik.’”
“Do you know his real name?” Alex picked up his espresso cup and blew across its surface before taking a tentative sip.
Miranda glanced around, almost as if fearful to answer.
Alex tracked her gaze but observed nothing suspicious.
“Are you afraid, Miranda? Do you think—”
“He’ll come get me?” Miranda took a long pull on her cigarette before forcefully blowing out a plume of smoke.
“So, are you afraid?” he repeated when she delayed.
Miranda shrugged. “I don’t plan on going back to the Widget. Ever.”
“No one asked you to do that, Miranda. I just need you to tell me a little something more about that night and this man.” Alex flipped the sketch around so Miranda could not avoid seeing it.
Another shrug came in answer, shifting the strap of the loose black tank top she wore. The shirt dipped to reveal the curves of her breasts and no bra.
Miranda pulled the strap back into place as she said, “We went. We saw. She conquered.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “She, as in Andrea?”
Miranda nodded. “Andrea had been intrigued by the Sheik more than the rest of us. That night she was determined to meet him, so she was dressed to kill. It seemed like it was her lucky night.”
“Why’s that?” Alex leaned toward her so he could read the nuances in her body language. He wished she would remove her damned sunglasses so he could see her eyes.
Eyes could definitely tell you a hell of a lot more than words alone.
Amazingly she did as he had wished, tossing aside the sunglasses before dragging a hand through the long locks of her dark hair.
She had old eyes, he decided. Aged beyond her twentysomething years. A sure sign of a hard life, but given what he knew of Andrea’s past, he supposed her friend’s eyes mirrored that. Drugs and other problems had taken their toll.
“The Sheik was alone that night. Drinking at the bar all by his lonesome. Andrea jumped on the opportunity to meet him.”
And to jump on him, Alex suspected but didn’t say. “So they spent time together at the club?”
Miranda nodded. “Dancing. Drinking. After, he took her to the video-game area.”
“You saw her there? In the video-game area?”
Another quick bob of Miranda’s head confirmed it before she said, “For an hour or so. Then she went with him into the private rooms. We thought she was going