Postcards From Buenos Aires: The Playboy of Argentina / Kept at the Argentine's Command / One Night, Twin Consequences

Rocco smiled and raised an eyebrow at Carmel. He’d never seen anyone take her on before—never mind trump her.

Frankie slid her arm around his waist, swivelled back to Carmel. ‘And, for the record, my date has all he needs right here.’

Carmel put her hands on her abundant hips and stuck her head forward, looking for all the world like a turkey in a burlesque show. She started gabbling in Spanish, clearly thinking Frankie wouldn’t understand, and she was totally unprepared for the volley that was fired right back at her. Even he was surprised at the colour of the words Frankie was using.

‘Come. Enough,’ he said, putting his arm around her and dragging her outside as she continued to sling one shocking insult after another.

Her feet shuffled to keep up as he quickened his pace, and then he spun her right round, framing them in the French windows.

‘Stop, now. Enough! Where did you even learn those words?’

He held her possessively, and when she still poured forward mouthfuls of cheek he had no other option. He gripped her jaw and angled her mouth just where he wanted it. Heard the swell of gasps and gossip, saw the flashes of cameras as he lowered his head and kissed her quiet.

She gripped onto his arms, wavered on her tiptoes, until he felt the anger and fight ooze out of her. Fury died in her mouth to be replaced by the soothing heat that only they could build.

He pulled back and smiled at her. ‘Finished?’

As her eyes fluttered open there was a lull in the music and he heard the noise of a helicopter’s rotors in the distance. He looked up. Dante? He trained his eyes on the lights from its belly as it loomed closer.

What had he found out? Surely they were closer? Surely someone knew something about Martinez? He desperately wanted to know the details—still couldn’t believe it was completely a dead end—but that would have to wait until they were alone. Right now he owed it to Frankie to soothe her tension and get her well away from Carmel and the rest of this circus.

He led her down through air thick with pulsing music and events that were yet to happen.

‘Is there anyone you won’t take on, hermosa?’

He smiled softly at her. She was still tense and tight-lipped, rigid shoulders still not relaxed under his arm.

She shrugged. ‘She deserved it.’

He couldn’t disagree with that.

‘I mean—is it a party in her honour? Because that’s how she was acting!’

He ran his hand up to her neck, rubbed softly, his fingers bumping against the heavy earrings that even in the gloom caught scattering light.

Suddenly she swung round. ‘Are you mad at me?’

He frowned. ‘Why would I be mad?’

She swung away. ‘I don’t know—for running my mouth off? But I can’t take those kind of women. Acting as if they’ve got a mandate on life just because they’re every man’s fantasy.’

‘You believe that? Even if I tell you that some of those curves feel like leather balloons and they’re no more real than the those fake emeralds you’ve got hanging from your ears.’

She fired her hands up to touch them and framed her own face in shock. ‘Are you serious? I thought these were legit! I’ve been terrified all night that I’d lose one.’

He laughed out loud. Put his hands on her shoulders, pulled her in and hugged her.

‘I love that about you,’ he said. ‘Of course they’re real. Totally genuine. Just like you.’

She mock punched his chest and he held her close. There was so much about her that he loved. Even apart from the way she felt in his arms and in his bed. He loved her total lack of artifice—seeing her next to Carmel had been such a startling contrast, suddenly making him see her own Achilles’ heel, making him feel so protective of her.

Maybe there was more than sex between them.

Maybe they should talk it through—cards on the table.

Or maybe that would just get her thinking in ways that wouldn’t be all that helpful. And he had so much of his own thinking to do now.

He lifted his head to the helicopter that was now thundering closer, recognised it as Dante’s. Its lights lit up the lawn, the tennis courts and finally the helipad itself.

‘Here comes Dante.’

They stood on the terrace, watched as he jumped out under the copter’s whirring blades in a black tux, white shirt and black tie, blond hair slicked back. His moviestar looks were striking. He jogged up, hand raised in greeting, but as he climbed the steps and got closer Rocco saw the usual million-dollar smile was slightly subdued.

Dante glanced to Frankie in acknowledgement and in question.

Rocco shook his head—a warning to say nothing.

Dante nodded. ‘Hey! How’s the party?’ He was an expert, slipping right into charm mode. ‘May I say how beautiful you look?’

He took Frankie’s hands, scanned her, kissed her cheek. Rocco tried not to care.

‘Well said. There’s a whole crowd of women in there, waiting for you to say that to them. Starting with Carmel. We’ve got more important things to do.’

Dante looked mildly amused.

‘Of course you have. Life just keeps getting in the way, doesn’t it?’

‘Take it easy in there, handsome.’

‘I’ll call you. Later.’

They grabbed hands, slapped backs. Then Rocco watched him go. Straight back, easy stride, head high, holding knowledge he burned to know.

Three girls—tiny dresses, long legs—threw up their arms and ran to him. Dante slid them all under his shoulder, not missing a step. Rocco slid his own arms around Frankie, pulled her flush against him. Stood there. Just held her.

Once more the lure of music and dancing and hardcore partying held no interest. He couldn’t wait to get himself and his toxic thoughts away—to lose himself in this woman. To mindlessly make love to her until he didn’t feel any pain, until he had cleared a path to what he had to do next.

‘You want to stay much longer?’

He nodded to the valets and cars crawling slowly by, dropping, parking, leaving.

‘I think Dante’s got it covered.’

He nodded, tucked her in close again, slid his hand up through the soft skein of her hair.

One thing and one thing only was clear to him now. He was going to tell her that she’d better arrange a leave of absence for a while, because he needed her here. He wanted her in his bed and in his life. He wanted to wake up beside her and come home to her for longer than just this weekend.

And, just like Martinez being held to account, it was non-negotiable.