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“She had a restraining order taken out against both Carl and Tiffany. It includes any representative working for, or on retainer from, them.”
“How did she manage that?” Basilio wondered aloud.
“It’s insane, I know.”
That was not what Basilio had meant. For Miranda Weber to obtain such a thing, serious threats had to have been made. Cursed with a deep-seated sense of entitlement, his brother could be a hothead, as well. Carlos had never had to save a company, or put the hours into shoring up his family’s name in the international community as Basilio had done. When their father split with Carlos and Gracia’s mother, she’d remarried quickly and both of Basilio’s older siblings had embraced their new American family wholeheartedly, taking their stepfather’s last name and rejecting their Spanish heritage for their American mother’s way of life.
While Basilio was not sure he could blame Carlos, considering the current circumstances, clearly the older man’s temper and certainty he could do as he pleased had cost him access to Miranda.
When Basilio didn’t say anything right away, Gracia added, “I think it might have been her brother-in-law or something.”
“She has a sister?” He didn’t remember that. He’d thought the woman who put his nephew into a coma was an only child.
“Apparently. Only a half sister, but still...”
“Yes, still.” Basilio knew just how little regard his sister and brother had for the concept of a half sibling.
“Oh, get off it, Baz. I didn’t mean you.”
“As you say.”
Gracia leaned forward. “You need to do something.”
“What would you have me do?”
“Well, Carl’s company doesn’t have quite the sway yours does.”
That was an understatement. Basilio had ruthlessly built Perez Holdings into a powerful multibillion-dollar international entity, while his brother’s realty group was worth mere millions. “The Madison Realty Group is hardly a global concern” was all Basilio said, though.
“Exactly.”
“So?” Basilio prompted.
Gracia’s expression turned crafty. “So, maybe you can convince the brother-in-law to withdraw his support.”
“Who is this in-law?”
“His name is Andreas Kostas. That’s Greek, isn’t it? I don’t remember the name of his company.”
Surprise made Basilio sit up straighter in his chair. “Yes, it is Greek, and I know exactly who he is. My company uses his company’s security software, or what used to be his company. I believe he recently merged with Hawk Enterprises.”
Andreas Kostas was a shark’s shark and he was now in business with one of the biggest sharks swimming in their waters. No wonder Carlos needed help dealing with Miranda’s family.
Gracia waved that information away. “Whatever. He didn’t respond well when Carl contacted him, hoping to convince him to talk Miranda out of doing the interview.”
“If he threatened him, I don’t imagine so.” Kostas wasn’t known for tolerating fools or blowhards. Unfortunately, Carlos had played both on occasion.
“Who said Carl threatened anybody?” Gracia sounded indignant, but her guilty expression didn’t jibe with her words.
Basilio just gave his sister a look until she squirmed in her chair.
“Okay, he may have said some things he didn’t mean, but come on.” Gracia waved her hands in agitation. “He and Tiffany went through enough five years ago.”
“On that we can agree.”
“So, you’ll do something?”
“I will come to the States and look into the situation.” That was all he would promise.
If it came down to it, Basilio wasn’t above using his influence and power to push either Andreas Kostas or his sister-in-law into doing what was best for Basilio’s family because for him family came first, last and always. However, first he would get some real answers about what was going on.
“You have to hurry. She’s slated to do her interview in three weeks. The recent media storm is just starting to die down, and if she does that interview, it’s bound to blow everything up again.”
“Understood. What name does she go by now?”
“She kept her first name, but changed Weber to Smith.”
“Very anonymous.”
Gracia’s lips twisted in distaste. “Yes.”
Well, Weber or Smith, Basilio had every intention of finding the woman who had already cost his family so much. Whatever it took, he would protect the brother and sister-in-law who had suffered enough.
CHAPTER ONE (#u789dfcc6-03d2-56f6-83f3-94cdf48f0faa)
LATE FOR DINNER with her newfound sister and recently acquired brother-in-law, Randi rushed out of her even more recently acquired office.
She’d been shocked and delighted when Kayla asked Randi if she was interested in taking over managing responsibilities for Kayla’s for Kids, the shelter her sister had founded for at-risk children and youth. The opportunity to do what Randi loved while living near enough to get to know her long-lost sister had been too good to pass up. Besides, she got to use both her degree in business and adjunct degree in social services.
Part of her new job would include launching a second site in the western suburbs of Portland. Apparently, Andreas had donated enough for the expansion as a wedding gift, in addition to designating his new company’s charitable contributions all to Kayla’s for Kids, making fund-raising efforts a lot less stressful for Randi’s team.
It was Randi’s dream job and she adored her sister and brother-in-law for making it possible.
Collision with a hard, muscular wall on the sidewalk abruptly halted Randi’s headlong flight to her car.
She cried out and then immediately started apologizing, even as she felt her balance waver. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you.”
Big, strong hands on her upper arms stopped her bounce backward that would have landed Randi on her backside. “Is that a common occurrence, running into people you didn’t see?” he asked, a foreign accent subtle but unmistakable.
Randi winced. The man could not know the old wound his words bled yet again.
She pulled herself together with a firm mental yank and shrugged. “I’d love to say no, but I have a tendency toward klutziness, especially when I’m in a rush.”
Why she was admitting that particular failing to this gorgeous man, she did not know. Because man, total hottie alert. Easily as tall as her brother-in-law, who stood at six feet four inches, the black-haired man with sexy stubble on his face towered over Randi’s own five feet five inches.
Espresso-brown eyes locked on hers. “I see. Are you in a rush often?”
For whatever reason, she didn’t step back from him. “Not really, just sometimes. Though it’s usually walls I run into, or doorjambs, or you know, furniture. I hardly ever bump into people.”
Even, white teeth flashed in a smile that didn’t quite reach his dark brown eyes. “I’m special, then.”
“You could take it that way, yes.”
He released her arms. Finally, but he did not step out of her personal space. “I believe I will.”
“Okay.” Heat climbed up her neck and into her cheeks that Randi could do nothing about.
He offered his hand. “Basilio Perez.”
“Oh, um, Randi Smith.” She laid her palm against his.
Instead of shaking hands, he lifted hers to his lips, brushing a barely there kiss on the backs of her knuckles. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Smith.”
Randi finally understood what it meant to be electrified by a man’s touch. His lips against her skin sent frissons of sensation throughout her body and she gasped.
“Ms. Smith? Are you all right?” There was something in his too-knowing gaze that said he was perfectly aware of the effect he was having on her.
She tried to speak, then cleared her throat and tried again. “Randi, please.”
“Randi is short for?”
“Oh, um, no one ever asks. They just ask stuff like if I enjoy having a boy’s name.”
“So?” He hadn’t let go of her hand and he now brushed his thumb over her knuckles, where his lips had been.
She had no thought of not answering. “Miranda.”
“Lovely name.”
“You think so?” She’d always found it old-fashioned.
“I do.”
“Basilio is pretty neat, too. Spanish?” she guessed.
“You got it in one. My friends call me Baz.”
“My friends call me Randi.”
“I prefer Miranda.”
Did that mean he didn’t want to be friends? Only he’d implied she should call him Baz. “Are we going to be friends?”
“I would like that.”
Good. “Me, too. I mean...” But she wasn’t sure what she’d meant to say, the sexual chemistry between them playing havoc with the efficient firing of synapses in her brain.
“I hope you mean just that.”
“Yes, okay.”
“So, dinner tonight?” he asked, still caressing her hand.
“I have plans with my sister and brother-in-law.” And as much as she wanted to spend time with her sister, giving up a date with such a delicious man was hard.
“After-dinner drinks?”
“Really?” Oh, man, why had she asked that? “I mean, that would be great. Fine.”
She was just going to sink into the sidewalk right now.
“When and where?”
She thought about the location of the restaurant she was supposed to meet her family at and a likely spot near it. “How about the piano bar at the Heathman?”
It was quiet, with lots of places to sit in an intimate tête-à-tête.
“Fine. What time?” Basilio asked.
“Eight o’clock?” She was having an early dinner with Kayla and Andreas.
“Perfect. I will get my own dinner and meet you there.”
Taking a risk, Randi asked, “You could join us?”
“You are sure I would not be an unwelcome intrusion?”
She loved the formal cadence of his speech, so different from her own. “Not at all. I’m sure Kayla and Andreas would not mind at all.”
But she’d better call and give a heads-up on her way over.
“Then I would be pleased to accept.”
“Great. Um, you can meet me there?”
“Naturally. I would not expect you to get into a car with a stranger after such short acquaintance.”
And why she wished she could, she wasn’t even going to think about. Ever since the trouble five years before, Randi had become very wary of new people and even making friends, much less dating. But no way was this man a grubby reporter, looking for lascivious details from the years-old tragedy.
Not in his five-thousand-dollar suit and shoes that probably cost more than she made in a week.
They made arrangements to meet at the restaurant in twenty minutes. Then Randi was running for her car, even later than she had been.
* * *
Basilio pulled into the valet parking for the Heathman.
A walk from the restaurant to the piano bar would be further opportunity to draw out Miranda Smith née Weber. Bumping into her on purpose had made two things very clear. One, the picture in the file he’d had compiled on her did not capture the sweet naïveté she wore like a cloak, nor her unconscious sensuality. Two, seduction might well be his best course of action in achieving the goal his family needed.
