Desire. Cindy Jacks

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СКАЧАТЬ Really, did one need a special occasion to enjoy a gorgeous vintage such as this?

      Jingling the chain holding the key to his Alpha Romeo 8C Spider, Bacchus turned to Pan. “Are you ready to ride with me to the club?”

      Blanching and turning a little bit green, Pan gave his lord a forlorn look but didn’t object. Instead, he assumed his squat, troll-like human form and walked with his master to the parking garage.

      * * * *

      Going from zero to a hundred kilometers per hour in less than five seconds always gave Bacchus a rush. Even if Pan constantly questioned the wisdom of tearing down Ocean Drive at breakneck speeds.

      At his club, Eliseo, the driving hip-hop beat made Bacchus want to take off his clothes and pulse around the nightclub. How the music captured his fancy remained a mystery, though he wasn’t alone. Glittering, coiffed, and bejeweled revelers pulsed with him. They packed themselves in by the droves, just to flail around to the pure rhythm.

      Bacchus pasted a toothy grin on his face, slinking around the steel and glass fixtures that separated the crush of bodies. Summer in Miami drew all walks of life from hookers to heiresses. Streetwise veterans of the scene to fresh-faced twinks. Every shade of skin color, every nationality represented. He watched them all come together on the burgundy leather of booth benches and scattered chaises. Flashing disco lights erased all flaws until there was nothing but music and lust and drinks. Luscious, colorful drinks that servers in the shape of nymphs and adonises ferried to patrons. A more glorious temple to his gifts had never been built, not even when he had been a god and the alter upon which the most devout worshiped, the VIP lounge.

      Bacchus sauntered up to one of the counters serving the VIPs. “How’s it going tonight, Fede?”

      “Very good, Mr. Sabazios.” The young Cubano bartender filled a tray with shot glasses.

      A stream of nubile cocktail waitresses dropped off orders and ferried a rainbow of mixed drinks to clients.

      Ariana. His dark beauty Ariana. She barely gave him the time of day. One would think, having thrown up on him and all, she’d feel a bit more familiar in their relationship.

      “Hello there, Miss Ariana.” Bacchus bowed.

      “Hello, Mr. Sabazios.” She avoided his gaze and focused on loading glasses on her tray.

      “You’re looking lovely this evening.”

      A simple pink, satin slip dress hugged her curves regally. “Thanks.”

      Bacchus leaned down and spoke into her ear. “You all right, love?”

      Ariana skittered away and cast a shifty look at him. “Everything’s fine.” She hoisted the tray and hurried across the floor to a red velvet chaise where a predatory peacock of a man lounged, surrounded by a group of thugs.

      One of Santos men, the one who’d tried to intimidate Bacchus that night on the yacht. He frequented the club and spent his time shooting dirty looks at Bacchus.

      Bacchus had it on good authority his boss had forbidden him to start any trouble with the new proprietor of Eliseo. Amazing how much respect one point five million dollars could buy.

      The man’s hands roamed all over poor Ariana.

      Bacchus’s stomach churned. Motioning to a member of the VIP security team, he set his jaw.

      A wall of muscle packed into a teal polo shirt appeared at his side. “What’s up, Mr. Sabazios?”

      Bacchus subtly pointed toward the chaise. “Cliff, warn our friend over there to keep his hands to himself, please.”

      “Yes, sir.” Cliff strolled to Ariana’s side.

      Arm hooked around Ariana’s thighs, the man glared at Cliff and pulled her tighter. More words were exchanged, and with a smirk, the man pushed Ariana away.

      When Cliff returned, he folded his arms over his chest. “His name’s Alonso Desiderio, works for Santos and thinks that makes him untouchable. He says she’s his girlfriend, and she confirmed it, but I told him hands off during work hours or he’s out.”

      “Really? He’s her boyfriend?” Well, that explained a lot. He’d never have guessed a relationship existed between the two. She never seemed particularly happy to see him. And if she were his girlfriend, how could he have let his employer treat her like chattel? A vile man, indeed. “How dreadful for her.”

      “True, but not a security issue.” The bouncer took his leave.

      Still and stiff as stone, Ariana stared vacantly at the marble wall.

      Slime ball continued posturing and never spared a glance beyond her shoulders.

      If Ariana responded to this man at all, her quaking would indicate revulsion. And something else—fear maybe? Bacchus couldn’t see her being moved by the man’s looks alone.

      Ariana appeared at the bar and ordered another round of drinks for her section.

      Bacchus scooted next to her. “Now, I know you told me you’re okay, and I don’t mean to pester you, but you don’t seem to be enjoying that man’s company.”

      She wrung her hands. “No, he’s fine. I’m sorry he’s all over me at work. I’ve told him he can’t do that here, but he doesn’t listen.”

      Bacchus placed his hand in the small of her back, but she stiffened, so he pulled it away. “I’m not scolding you, Ariana. I’m concerned.”

      “Thanks, Mr. Sabazios. But really, I’m fine.” She chewed at her bottom lip, her brow furrowed.

      He opened his mouth to say more, but she turned and walked away with her tray of drinks. As soon as she approached Mr. Desiderio, he rose, shouting, and pointed at Bacchus. She shook her head, tried to talk, but her boyfriend snatched her by the wrist, spilling the entire tray of drinks. The entourage around him broke out in mocking laughter.

      Pulling free, she placed a hand to her mouth and hurried toward the back stairwell.

      The man stormed after her.

      Cliff hurried to intervene, but Bacchus stopped him. “I got this. See housekeeping gets to that spill.”

      “Yes, sir.” Bacchus sauntered after the pair.

      Shouting resonated into the hallway leading to the back alley. Bacchus opened the door.

      The weasel was inches from Ariana’s face, spewing insults at her.

      Though every fiber of Bacchus’s being longed to flatten the man, he leaned against the wall, arms folded. The time to act would come.

      “You fucking little whore.” Spittle dripped from his lip onto his black Armani suit.

      “Please, Dezi, calm down.” She peered up at him, eyes wide, whole body trembling. “I didn’t do anything. Mr. Sabazios didn’t do anything. He was checking on me.”

      “You think I’m fucking stupid? I know you fucked him that night on the boat, and don’t give me that bullshit СКАЧАТЬ