And his impending torment of Ferreira would have an abundance of both elements. Disgracing him and oh-so-gradually stripping him of his wealth would only be the beginning.
“Your plot is far more effective than putting a bullet in his brain. I just wish you’d get on with it.”
“So you no longer disapprove of my direct approach?”
Richard shrugged. “A remote one remains better. It would be the perfect setup if he didn’t realize where the blows were coming from. But that’s logic talking. And there’s more than logic involved here. You need the satisfaction of looking that git in the eyes as you stick the knife in and turn it.”
Richard had originally advised against getting close to Ferreira, with the inherent drawbacks and dangers that entailed. It now warmed Rafael that his friend not only understood his need, he empathized. He wanted this for him. This gratification. This closure.
And he would come close. He’d make Ferreira taste everything he’d ever hungered for...before snatching it away. Rafael would have a front-row seat to his betrayal and desperation.
Putting his glass down, he sighed. “But you’re right. It’s time I got that satisfaction. I won’t single Ferreira out tonight, though. I’ll dangle myself, pretend to take pitches, let the mystery around me build a bit more, before...”
Something sizzled at the back of his neck. As if a soft hand stroked him there, or a hot breath blew over his skin.
Frowning, he turned to investigate the source of the disturbance. It couldn’t be someone’s gaze. He wasn’t in anyone’s line of sight.
As expected, no one was looking his way. But those sensations only increased, enveloped his body and...
Everything seemed to fade as his senses converged on the beacon of disruption. A woman.
Framed in the ballroom’s doorway, she stood as if at a loss for what to do. She was swathed in an ethereal off-the-shoulder cream evening gown, gleaming hair swept away from a face that seemed almost unreal before cascading to a tiny waist that...
“Before what?”
He blinked Richard’s question away, resuming his focus on her. Though he’d never suffered anything like this before, he knew what it was. A bolt of attraction. More than that. Recognition...of the woman who translated his every fantasy into glorious reality.
He had to be imagining this. But all his senses told him he wasn’t. This felt real.
One way to find out. Get closer....
“What are you staring at, Numbers?”
This time Richard’s intrusion annoyed him. He realized his reaction was exaggerated, but he didn’t want to talk, couldn’t risk shattering this moment.
As if afraid he’d startle her out of her indecision, which afforded him the leisure to examine her, he whispered, “Her.”
Richard stepped forward. “Who? That woman at the door?”
Surprised, he turned to him. “You see her?”
Richard scowled. “You asleep on your feet again?”
He hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours, but that had nothing to do with his reaction to her. “I’m wide-awake. Though she does belong in a dream. She looks like she’s just stepped out of a fairy tale.”
Richard’s incredulity surpassed his. “You’re serious?”
“I am. I...”
His thoughts stalled. She’d started walking into the ballroom, but her uncertain steps, her darting eyes and the way she fiddled with the long chain of her purse revealed her discomfort. Everything about her unconscious grace and reluctant demeanor made something rev behind his sternum. It intensified with her every step until he had to rub the heel of his hand against it.
“How could this be real?”
“It isn’t.”
Richard’s response startled him. He hadn’t realized he’d spoken out loud. “How can you say that?”
“I can because she’s just another pretty blonde.”
He looked at his friend as if he’d grown a third eye. “She’s not blonde. Are you even talking about the same woman?”
Richard seemed about to argue, then changed his mind. “Whatever. Just go initiate your incursion.”
“It won’t be an incursion. I will approach her with utmost finesse.”
Richard frowned. “I’m talking about Ferreira.”
“Forget Ferreira. I’ll...”
Rafael stopped as he realized something. He couldn’t approach her. He’d been scrupulous about keeping any photos of himself out of the media. But if anyone knew what he looked like, they were down there at the ball. He didn’t want to risk anyone recognizing him, not now that he’d decided against making an appearance. This evening had suddenly become all about establishing contact with this magical being.
He turned to Richard. “Cobra, bring her to me.”
His former handler blinked. “What’s wrong with you, Numbers? You’ve never reacted to a woman like this before.”
“She’s not just ‘a woman.’”
Richard snorted. “Oh, yes, that’s right. She just slithered out of a fairy tale.”
Rafael gritted his teeth, impatience shooting through him. “Just go down and get her up here.”
“You want me—the man famed for putting people at such ease—to approach a woman I don’t know and command her to come with me...to meet another man she doesn’t know? A man who currently looks deranged? You expect this fairy being to be a total moron, too?”
Richard’s derision tripped some still functioning logic circuits. That scenario did seem implausible.
But he had to get that woman alone.
Suddenly, another idea came to him. “I’ll go down with you and stand outside the ballroom. You just get her to me. I’ll take it from there.”
“I’m your protector, not your pimp, Numbers.”
“Oh, shut up. And move it.”
With one last glance as if to a madman, Richard turned and headed downstairs. Rafael dogged his steps, scenarios crowding in his overheated imagination.
What if this excitement fizzled out once he saw her up close? Worse, what if it didn’t...but she didn’t reciprocate it? Or what if she was interested, but like all other women, her attraction was based purely on his looks, wealth and power? Worst of all, what if she was already taken?
No. This last possibility he categorically rejected.
She
