For Angelo(43)

As they turned the corner and took the stairs leading to the basement, Dylan said slowly, “It depends why she wants to go.”

“According to Lane, it’s because—” Angelo’s tone took a self-mocking note. “—it’s a part of my life.”

Ah. Dylan glanced at his friend. “You do know what that means, don’t you?”

Angelo frowned. “What?”

The rockstar halted in his tracks. “You clearly don’t.” He shook his head, thinking that Angelo reminded him too much of his old self. “She loves you—”

That word again, Angelo thought.

He said mildly, “Have I mentioned that we’ve only—” He paused, needing to search for the proper word to describe what he had with Lane. “—we’ve only started seeing each other a few days ago?”

But Dylan only shrugged. “Bree knew she loved me the first time we met. I didn’t, but I already knew she was special, even back then.” He looked at his friend. “So you tell me, man. Is she special to you?”

Angelo’s lips tightened.

And that, Dylan thought, was his answer, and whether Angelo knew or not was immaterial. “Just out of curiosity,” Dylan murmured, “how do you stop her from going to your party anyway? You had one last night, right? Do you tell someone at the gates not to let her in?”

“She lives here.”

Dylan was stunned. “I see.”

“And if I don’t want her to go to the party, I lock her up.”

“And she lets you?” When Angelo only looked at him, Dylan’s eyes widened in understanding. That innocent-looking girl was a masochist?

He clapped his hand over Angelo’s back. “You lucky bastard.”

Angelo was bemused. “Lucky for what?”

“For finding the one you’ve been looking for years,” Dylan answered easily. “She’s your perfect match, man. So if she wants to go to your party, I say let her, and she might surprise you.”





Chapter Thirteen





“This is such a bad idea,” Julieta said direly for the fifth time in the past twenty minutes. Granted, it wasn’t as bad as the time Signor V locked Lane in her room and stood her up, but—

It was still bad.

Feeling sick to her stomach at the look on her friend’s face, Lane protested, “You’re making things worse.”

Julieta stared stonily at her friend, who for once did not look like she had been styled by a blind, man-hating prude. In her pretty silk dress, Lane’s beauty was actually allowed to shine, her dark curls tumbling down her bare back, her brown eyes made bigger and deeper by her mascara.

It was just too bad Lane could only see her date through security cameras.

The thought made Lane’s scowl worsen.

Damn you, Angelo Valencia.

“Can’t you just smile,” Lane begged. “Please?”

Julieta bared her teeth.

“Umm, never mind.” Lane nervously shifted in her seat, using her feet to swivel her chair from left to right. The guards normally manning the mansion’s control room had been temporarily reassigned, allowing Julieta and Lane to view tonight’s party in private.

Twelve sixty-four-inch screens were mounted on the wall in rows of four. They showed every section of the house, with the camera in the receiving area revealing Angelo standing tall and gorgeous in a dark suit while he spoke with his secretary.

Hopeless, Julieta thought as she watched Lane sigh like a lovesick fool at TV-version-Angelo.

Lane suddenly shot up in her seat, exclaiming nervously, “The gates are starting to open!”

And so they were, she thought darkly, which meant tonight’s party had officially begun.

She crossed her arms over her chest, and thought for the nth time, This is such a bad idea.

Limousines, sports cars, and high-end SUVs filled the driveway, offloading their passengers one by one.

Her first glimpse of the kind of guests that Angelo welcomed had her sighing in relief. Oh my gosh, thank you. She closed her eyes in brief prayer.

Everyone looked so decent, like A-list celebrities dressed for the Oscars, chatting lightly and laughing with each other. A magnificent red carpet had been rolled out on the stairway, and the guests followed the trail until they reached the basement, which had been set up tonight to resemble an Egyptian courtroom.

Masks covered in gold dust were handed to the guests, and everyone – everyone – murmured their thanks with warm smiles.

“They’re all so polite,” Lane marveled. She had nothing to worry about, after all.

Realizing that the other had been deceived by the guests’ glamorous appearance, Julieta started to tell Lane the truth but changed her mind the last second.

Chi ama me, ama il mio cane, Julieta thought. Love me, love my dog, and like it or not, all of this was now an integral part of who Angelo Valencia was.

Julieta didn’t really like it, but then she didn’t have to.

She wasn’t the one in love with her boss.

Several long tables had been set up in the basement, layers of gold and blue silk covering their surfaces. The dinnerware was a mix of porcelain plates and black utensils, complemented by miniature Sphinx centerpieces.

“The staff did a great job, didn’t they?” Lane beamed proudly.