Page 30 of Devil's Claim

A smile finally formed on my face as I buttoned my jacket and wrapped my arm around Christine’s waist. While I’d be wise to leave her as soon as feasible, that didn’t mean I couldn’t ensure aspects of comfort were added to her life. “Excellent.”

With the conversation ended, we moved to the front door and were immediately greeted.

“Business?” she whispered. In her hand was the present she’d carefully wrapped.

“Always.”

She shook her head. “I told you this party was going to be excessive. My gift will pale in comparison. Look at all the glorious presents.”

“Your friend will appreciate whatever you purchased.”

“Yeah, she will. Thankfully, they aren’t opened at the party. By the way, I hope you can enjoy yourself for a little while. You spent such a ludicrous amount of money today that you should allow yourself to indulge in the free drinks and food.” She laughed and the sound captured more than just my attention.

“Are you complaining?” I asked and resisted pinching her taut nipple. What would the guests think?

Her entire face pinched. “You didn’t need to do that, but I can’t lie and say I didn’t enjoy myself.”

“As if you haven’t noticed, I only do things that I wish to do. With you by my side, I’m certain to have a good time just like we did earlier today.”

She sighed and waved at someone. I sensed she was pretending and doing a damn good job of it. “You are so bad. Don’t think flattery will get you anywhere, Kruz. I should ask. What do I say to people if they want to know your last name?”

I’d thought about that very thing more than once. If the Torres reputation had made its way to Miami, why not allow a small level of the fear of God to slither into people’s minds? Being here was nothing more than leaving my calling card. Doing so could eventually aid in garnering important information, especially if mistakes were made. “Blanco.”

“Kruz Blanco,” she repeated. “Very romantic. You’re either an arms dealer or a hired assassin. I haven’t determined that yet.”

“Keep trying, my beautiful companion.”

“Oh, I plan to.”

We strolled through the living room and I was drawn in by the impressive views as well as the square footage. I noticed a pool that wrapped around on two sides of the property and with the sun just beginning to slide into the ocean, twinkling lights in various palm trees added to the festive atmosphere.

“Thank you for having the cake delivered earlier today,” she told me. “I don’t know you at all, but you surprise me and that’s rare.” As soon as we passed by one of two tables holding presents, sheput hers down, hiding it under two others. The woman intrigued me more and more.

“You’re not a servant, Christine. It was the least I could do.”

There was nothing worse in my mind than being at a party attended by the repulsively rich and opportunistic vultures commanding time and space. Demanding Christine make the cake. In my mind, Tonya was doing nothing more than attempting to make Christine look bad. Women could be petty, but my instinct told me there was a very personal reason for the woman’s frontal attack.

I was a rich man myself, so I understood the craving for power, the lure that greed controlled, but when I was nothing more than a bystander, I was truly disgusted by the pomp and circumstance. I was here to play the dutiful boyfriend while observing Tonya so I could determine if Fassi was even in town.

Or if his men had discovered our travel plans and decided to crash my party. My soldiers had discussed the drug and slave trade activity in Miami and bordering countries with the necessary allies. That could be the reason for the discovery of our position and the subsequent attempted shakedown, but the jury was still out. I’d thought about rousting the pig who’d potentially led us on a wild goose chase, but knew nothing good would come from it.

If I discovered Tonya Cordello had anything to do with Fassi’s men coming ridiculously close to ending my life, I’d need to break the promise made to my lovely companion.

I’d kill her.

And I’d feel zero remorse about it.

In the meantime, I could be a dutiful watchdog to Christine as well.

I glanced around the room, noticing the cake positioned in the back of a long conference room-style table. Other dishes had been pushed in front, the ability to even get to the cake limited. Hissing, I pulled Christine closer. The crowd was large, the guests glistening in jewels and expensive fabrics, the women perfectly coiffed while the men exuded power.

The surroundings were luxurious, the open estate located on a pristine jetty in the most fashionable part of Miami Beach. Water lapped the edge of the property, yachts easily seen from one side, a spectacular view of several neon-clad businesses from another.

“Oh, lookie. There’s my disgusting cake hiding behind some fancy truffles. At least it wasn’t trashed. No doubt Tonya will have something to say about my piss poor baking skills.”

“Then she’ll be forced to endure a conversation with me. I doubt she’ll like it very much.”

“You aren’t going to hurt her. Correct? I know what you said before, but I’m double checking. I don’t like when people lie to me. I’ve had enough of that in my life to last forever.”

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