Читать книгу Path To Passion - Nana Prah - Страница 15

Chapter 4

Miguel got out of the most unobtrusive car he owned, a black Mercedes sedan, after parking half a block away from Tanya’s nightclub. Her tears had shattered his heart yesterday. Making things better for her had been his only goal. If he could make her club a success, then he’d do it. No matter what.

Not only had she turned out to be even more beautiful than she’d been in college, she also had the inner strength to do anything she put her mind to. Something they had in common.

Holding her had felt right. Sure, she’d been bawling, but having her body melt against his brought back the memory of the incredible kiss they’d shared in college. The one kiss he’d compared all first kisses to. They’d all fallen short. Referring her to one of his outstanding marketing officers would’ve been the most logical action to take to rebrand The Palace, with the added benefit of keeping him away from her. Away from being enticed by her beauty and the temptation of leaning in to smell her light honeysuckle perfume every chance he could get.

While they’d been in his office, he’d fought his attraction to her and won. Who was he kidding? If it wasn’t for the fact that she was related to Josh, he would’ve had her in his bed last night. Or at least tried to get her there. Normally running on instinct, he’d had difficulty reading her. One minute, she’d stared at him with the same desire in her gaze he remembered and his stomach would flip. The next moment, she’d seem to remember how much he’d disappointed her by choosing her brother’s friendship over her professed love, and she’d become cold.

Both aspects of her intrigued him. That’s why he should turn away from the cool metal door handle beneath his palm, hustle to the car and leave skid marks on the road as he raced away. A good sense of self-preservation would’ve had him doing just that. He opened the door.

The full house of patrons enjoying a meal in the downstairs restaurant piqued his interest. The club might be doing abysmally, but the restaurant conducted a brisk business. The tables were filled with people who may have felt too old to party the night away but who still wanted to have a good time in a trendy atmosphere.

The hostess didn’t recognize Miguel in his disguise of a hat, full beard and stooped stature. He’d learned to be a chameleon over the past few months in order to be incognito in his personal life. His father’s ultimatum still didn’t sit right with him, but if he wanted the job of Executive Public Relations Officer, he had to stay out of the media as the poster boy of partying for at least another month and a half. His parents wanted to see that he could represent the Astacio companies in a responsible manner, so that’s what he’d give them.

Did he need the position? With the trust fund being handed over to him when he hit thirty within the next six weeks, he’d never have to work again. Yet he couldn’t imagine not working for a living. His parents had set an example and he meant to follow it. He didn’t appreciate having to give up his partying lifestyle, or at least partying as Miguel Astacio. He’d developed aliases to keep the groove going without the media getting a whiff of him. He kept their interest by showing up at red-carpet and charity events because it wouldn’t do to lose them from his tail.

He sat at a table, switched on his tablet and scribbled his observations. The restaurant might improve its patronage by serving microbrew. The waitress fairly skipped over to him. Someone loved her job. “Welcome to The Palace Restaurant. Can I get you a drink while you decide on your order?”

He smiled at the chipper young woman, enjoying the cool loft-like ambiance of the space. “Nothing to drink, but I’ll take the house special to go.”

“We have grilled rib eye steak and blackened trout fillet. Both are served with a fresh salad, potatoes and vegetables.”

“I’ll take the trout fillet, please.”

She gathered up his menu as she bobbed on her toes. How much was Tanya paying her to do this job? “Your food will be out soon.”

“Thank you.”

Not telling Tanya he’d be stopping by gave him freedom to assess the place without her unique ability to distract him. He stood and trooped up the stairs to the empty second-floor club, took in the open area with a bar along each wall and then went up to the top floor to snoop around. He smiled at the thought of transforming the space into an exclusive VIP seating area. It would be perfect, considering the people partying up there could see down to the main dance level and be seen if they stood or danced by the railing. Otherwise, they’d have their own private party where the others would want to be but couldn’t access.

He jogged down the stairs more excited than when he’d stepped into the building and sat at his table. The place had potential. And as the ideas formulated, he realized just how much of a success he could make of it. Of course it would take a heavy investment, but he’d figure out a way around that. Excited, he pulled out his phone to dial the number Tanya had given him reluctantly before leaving his office yesterday. How many times had he stared at the digits on his phone, wanting to call just to hear her voice?

He slid his phone into his coat pocket. He needed a plan before speaking to her again. Revealing to her how he felt wouldn’t be a good idea, considering how angry she still was at him. Had he ever stopped loving her?

No. His feelings for her hadn’t been enough to destroy a friendship with her brother.

Maybe he could treat her as if she were nothing but a sister. That might work, especially if he found someone to get serious about before they met again. He scoffed at the idea. It had been months since he’d dated anyone seriously, and he’d even use the term loosely. Had consistent sex with the same person would be more accurate. If two people date for months and the feelings don’t deepen, can it ever be considered serious? He’d tried on several occasions over the past few years to become emotionally vested, but something always seemed to be missing with the women he dated.

The waitress set his to-go bag in front of him and he handed her the cash for the food, including a large tip. He left the restaurant, stepping onto the cold Cleveland street. The lingering effect of being taken by surprise yesterday by Tanya wouldn’t rule him the next time they met face-to-face. Neither would his attraction to her.

* * *

Tanya watched the security monitor from her office and could’ve sworn she didn’t breathe until Miguel left the vicinity. She’d frozen when she’d turned to face the CCTV screen and seen his stooped frame with his face hidden behind a fake beard and a hat. He hadn’t called to inform her of the visit. What had he been writing so enthusiastically?

He’d taken it upon himself to help her improve the club, and she’d watched him as if it were all some sort of television show. Why hadn’t she gone to see him?

Fear alone could take the blame for her inaction.

She dialed her best friend. “Becca, I’m so screwed.”

“What’s wrong?”

She rubbed the heel of her palm against her forehead. “I’m an idiot.”

Becca snorted. “Is this about Broderick? How could you have known he was gay? I definitely didn’t. He had us all fooled.”

Tanya stood and paced the perimeter of the space her ex had set up as an office. From the lushness of the black-and-white leather furniture, she’d ventured to guess it had doubled as his illicit love den. “For once, it’s not about him. I went to see Miguel Astacio yesterday.”

She snatched the phone away from her ear at Becca’s shriek. “No. You will not do this to me over the phone. Either you get over here or I come to the club, where I know you are. You spend too much time in that place. Considering how dead it’s been there, we’ll have privacy either way.”

“Not funny.” But absolutely correct. “Let me make sure things are set up and I’ll stop by.”

“Bring a bottle of white zinfandel with you. Wait, we’re talking about Astacio—bring two.”

Tanya got off the phone thinking Jack Daniel’s would serve her better. She tracked down her club manager to check that everything was set for the night. Clint Davis had recently been promoted to manager from bartender under Broderick a few months before he’d asked for a divorce.

Out of all of the people Broderick had been close to, Clint had been her friend, too, and she trusted him. He’d been supportive by providing more than one listening ear during the most difficult times after her divorce. While she’d been struggling as the new owner of the club, he’d proved himself to be loyal by working just as hard as her to return it to its previous status. None of their promotions, advertising or specials had had lasting effects, leaving them to flounder.

She popped into his office. “Hey, Clint. I’m headed out. Anything you need me to do tomorrow?”

In some ways, it was as if she worked for him. She’d paid very little attention to Broderick’s involvement in the club, so she knew less than nothing about running it and it showed in the downhill progression of patronage. Clubs were more volatile than restaurants, and once people discovered that Broderick no longer owned the place, their numbers had declined. She lacked the ability to schmooze anywhere near as well as her ex. She’d prefer to be in flannel pajamas on a Friday night rather than speaking to strangers and making sure they were having a good time.

Her head throbbed with the thought of losing everything and dealing with the failure, but now that Miguel was on her team, soon she’d be the one bragging while raking in the money.

She still hadn’t forgiven Miguel, but she could enjoy a man’s powerful presence and comforting touch without liking him, right?

Clint’s handsome light brown face looked up at her and his white teeth gleamed when he smiled. “We’re good to go. DJ Slide will be here in an hour to set it off.”

Tanya held back a grimace. The DJ wasn’t her favorite. Slide liked to play only techno music, which Tanya didn’t appreciate because she found it hard to dance to. “Do you suppose we could get someone else?” At Clint’s narrowed dark-eyed gaze, she backed up a step. He didn’t care for her opinion of DJ Slide and would always defend her saying she’d been one of the main reasons they’d been so hot for so long. She recalled Broderick hiring other DJs, but she’d rather slit her throat than ask him. “Not for this weekend, but maybe she could change up the techno with some house, reggae and Top 40 hits. Or stop playing the same twenty songs over and over again.” She mumbled the last. Cowering went against her nature, but she couldn’t afford to annoy Clint when she needed him most. Where would she get a trusted club manager if he left her?

“Nothing for you to do tomorrow,” he said in a haughtier voice than she appreciated. “You’ve been here every weekend since taking over. Not even Broderick was here that much.”

She stiffened. Was he trying to remind her of where her ex-husband had spent his time when he’d said he’d been at the club? No matter—their relationship had been doomed from the moment she’d left Miguel’s arms and cried on Broderick’s shoulder back in college. He’d been so understanding and had a way of making her feel good about herself. They’d stayed friends over the years and when he’d returned to Cleveland after working in the Boston club scene, he’d looked her up and they’d started dating. Three months later, they were married.

Everyone had told her she’d moved into the relationship too fast, but it wasn’t as if she’d had a plethora of choices. The handful of relationships she’d had over the past six years had all gone nowhere. Broderick had liked her even though she’d outweighed him by sixty pounds and she would wince whenever he pulled her onto his lap.

“I’ll take time off when we start making money again,” she responded.

What was the expression that passed over his face? He’d looked almost pained before grinning. Lately, something had been off about Clint, but she couldn’t put her finger on it, so she blamed it on her distrust of all men.

“We’ll get there,” he affirmed.

She didn’t quite feel his conviction as she nodded and pumped her fist. “Yes, we will. Have a good night.”

“You, too.”

She ignored the temptation to grab a bottle of wine from the club’s stock so she could head straight to Becca’s place. A quick stop at the supermarket wouldn’t kill her. A brownie pick-me-up would be nice, too. No. Absolutely no brownies. She’d done so well to keep the stress eating at bay. Dealing with Miguel would not make her gain weight again.

She refused to let him have any kind of effect on her. She’d merely been in shock after not having seen him for so long. More like overwhelmed. Now that she had control over her reactions, she’d be able to deal with him to make her business successful. No emotion.