Page 3 of Thiago (Family Ties #6)

Chapter Three

I ndia silently cursed as she marched toward the front door of Beppe’s Cucina Italiana.

She was running behind because she had left the office later than planned.

She was usually good about leaving on time on Fridays, but she’d gotten sidetracked pulling together more information for the Santiago Migos plan.

She had plenty of other work to do running the marketing department of an international conglomerate’s largest territory, but Thiago had given them a ridiculously short timeline, and she was going to damn well meet it.

In less than thirty minutes, she was at her building, parking in the below-ground garage. She took the elevator to her floor, anxiously tapping her feet the entire time. When she entered her apartment, the tension drained from her body, and a smile touched her face.

This always happened when she arrived at home.

She decompressed and relaxed. Her one-bedroom apartment was, in essence, her escape from the world.

Much different from the dingy apartments she and her mother had lived in or the decades-old house she had moved to when her grandmother became her guardian.

Not for the first time, she wished her mother had lived to see how well her life had turned out, but she took comfort in knowing her Grandma Selah had lived long enough to enjoy the fruits of her success.

She crossed the polished hardwood floors to the kitchen, which was hardly used since she didn’t know how to cook.

One day she hoped to use it more, but for now, the quartz countertops and stainless steel appliances were in pristine condition.

A trio of pendant lights hung above the small island in the middle, where a bowl of fake lemons added a splash of color.

Several feet away, the layout opened to a dining area before stepping down into the sunken living room.

Because of the size of the living room, India had set up a home office on one end, with framed charcoal drawings—the cityscape outside her window, a Jaguar hiding in tall grass, and an eagle soaring over mountains—hanging on the wall above her desk.

Elsewhere, abstract pieces dominated with hints of gold, blue, and red.

Her furnishings were all high-end, consisting of clean lines coupled with comfortable, plush chairs in cream and maroon.

The high ceilings and tall windows allowed in plenty of light and gave the space an open, airy feeling.

India unpacked the food she had bought, removing the paper cover with the restaurant’s name from the pan of lasagna and covering it with aluminum foil. Next, she placed the container in the oven to stay warm and stuffed the bag and other evidence of her food purchase into the trash.

She hurried into her bedroom, where soft lighting encouraged relaxation, but she couldn’t relax at the moment since she was short on time.

She hurriedly undressed and then slipped into the shower, letting the warm water beat down on her skin.

After a long day, the soothing spray was a welcome relief for her achy joints, but she couldn’t stay under the spray very long.

It was almost seven o’clock. Thiago would arrive soon.

She hopped out of the glass stall and rubbed scented lotion on her skin.

Then she donned a sheer black teddy with strategically placed rose petals that covered her nipples and a thong that slid between her butt cheeks.

She examined her body from different angles in the mirror, adjusting the strap on her shoulder before smiling with satisfaction and smacking her own ass.

Of course, it was always better when Thiago did it.

She was standing in front of the closet, searching for something to wear, when the doorbell rang.

Shoot! That had to be him.

India picked up her phone and checked the live feed to the hallway outside. Sure enough, he stood in front of the door. He looked up at the camera and stared right at her, as if he could see her, quietly demanding she open the door.

The camera feed always distorted the appearance of visitors, but not Thiago.

A while back, he had told her that he’d done some modeling in the past but hated having his looks constantly picked over and, in general, found the work to be boring.

He also hated the spotlight, which was better suited to his younger brother, Ignacio, who had followed in their parents’ footsteps and become an actor.

But if Thiago ever changed his mind, he’d have management companies beating down his door to represent him.

India retrieved her kimono from the closet and slipped her arms through the voluminous sleeves. Short and lavender, it hit midthigh and showed off her smooth legs. Since Thiago was early, she’d let him in, but then he’d have to wait while she finished getting dressed.

She padded barefoot down the hallway and opened the door. Without a word, Thiago entered slowly.

“You’re early,” she said, closing the door and heading to the kitchen to turn off the oven.

“I decided to knock off a little earlier than usual.”

From the nearness of his voice, she could tell he had followed her to the kitchen. Though they’d been seeing each other for seven months, his deep, accented voice still sent a thrill through her.

India turned to face him, arching an eyebrow. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Long week. I needed to get out of there, I suppose.”

Interesting. She always got the impression that he was exactly like her, getting a high from working hard and winning. He rarely took off—even on the weekends.

But she understood. More often, she looked forward to her weekends off.

There was something to be said for downtime.

Work-life balance, the modern gurus called it, though the term only seemed to apply to people in their positions.

Did anyone care about work-life balance for people with two or three jobs trying to make ends meet?

“You can’t continue at the pace you’re going,” she remarked, though she doubted he’d listen. He hadn’t listened any other time she pointed out he needed to slow down.

“I have too much to do, and I will not be satisfied until the numbers for next quarter come in.”

She should have known. He had a goal he was aiming for, and as she’d learned since getting to know him, failure was not an option.

Using oven mitts, India removed the food from the oven and set it on top of the ceramic stovetop.

“Smells amazing,” Thiago said.

“It’s lasagna tonight,” she said, removing the gloves and placing them on the counter.

“When did you find time to make that?”

She smiled through the twinge of guilt nicking her chest. “I made it last night, and then all I had to do was warm it up in the oven when I came home.”

“Smart,” he said, sounding impressed.

Again, there was a niggle of guilt for lying.

The deception had started by accident. One night, she had bought dinner and served the meal on ceramic plates. When Thiago saw the plates, he assumed she had cooked the meal. He had been deeply appreciative and surprised she had gone to so much trouble for him.

She hadn’t had the heart to tell him that she’d bought takeout, and so the deception continued every Friday night they had spent together since then.

India poured a glass of wine and handed it to Thiago.

“Thank you,” he murmured, tugging on his tie.

“I have to finish getting dressed, so?—”

“Finished getting dressed? Are you naked under there?” He tilted his head to one side, examining her intensely, as if he was trying to see through the lavender kimono.

India decided to tease him. “Not completely. I’m wearing this.” She pulled aside the robe and exposed her thigh and a hint of black lace up to her waist.

“Is that new?”

Thiago put down his glass and reached for her, but she slapped away his hand and backed up. He arched an eyebrow.

“I don’t know if we should have sex tonight,” she said, though her body was already craving his touch. She had been angry earlier in the day, but in a way, arguing was like foreplay for them.

Thiago smirked. “You are not still upset about what happened at work, are you?”

“As a matter of fact, I am. So I’m going to get dressed and decide how the evening will proceed.” She spoke with calculated coolness but didn’t move an inch.

He slowly walked toward her, like the predator he was.

“Thiago,” India warned, backing up.

He ignored her, moving closer until she hit the wall.

Locking eyes with her, Thiago loosened the knot at her waist and let the robe fall open.

The black teddy covered the important bits, but barely. Her nipples and the space between her thighs were hidden, but the sheer lace clung to her curves, leaving little to the imagination and putting her rich brown skin on full, tantalizing display.

India straightened her back so her full breasts sat up higher, holding her breath as she awaited his response.

Thiago’s nostrils flared, his eyes trailing down her body in male appreciation.

“This is new, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice thick and husky as his fingers trailed along the edge of lace stretched over her breasts.

“I like this design. I see you, but I don’t see you.

” The tip of his finger smoothed over her nipple.

He bent his head and kissed the crest of her breast, his beard brushing her soft skin and making her breath catch.

India pressed a hand in the middle of his chest, pushing him back. “I didn’t say you could kiss me.”

“You did not say I couldn’t.” He caught both her wrists in one hand and stretched them above her head. “You don’t have to bother getting dressed,” he informed her in a low voice.

“Oh? And why not?” India whispered, her breathing shallow as sexual excitement coursed through her like liquid fire.

“We have more important things to take care of.”

“Which are?” India whispered, unable to look away, captured by the intensity in his dark eyes.

“My need for you. Your need for me.” He pressed his arousal against her stomach, and desire throbbed at her core.

Thiago kissed the tip of her nose and then teased her with a swipe of his tongue across her lips.

India lifted one leg to grind against his hardness. Her breathing labored as she savored this erotic dance with him, she panted, “Don’t tear this like you did the last one.”

Thiago wasn’t exactly known for his patience, and he had torn her last piece of lingerie.

Matter of fact, one of the first times they had made love, he had torn her panties off her hips.

No man had ever behaved in such an animalistic way toward her, and his reaction had been both shocking and thrilling.

“I cannot promise that.” He smoothed his hands down her stretched arms to her back, then let them glide lower beneath the kimono to squeeze her butt cheeks.

A whimpery moan escaped her throat. His touch already had her helpless, moisture seeping between her thighs. Her cold, indifferent act easily crumbled beneath his caress.

A slow smile crossed Thiago’s lips. “I think you will agree that dinner can wait, yes?”

He lifted her from the floor, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Her fingers climbed into his soft hair as she eagerly pressed her lips to his, hungry for the pleasure only he could give.

With his hands cradling her bottom, Thiago marched toward the bedroom. Once inside, he kicked the door closed.