Page 4 of Thiago (Family Ties #6)

Chapter Four

T hiago dabbed his mouth and placed the napkin on the table. “Delicious.”

“Thank you,” India said.

Months ago, when a protein snack wrapper had fallen out of his pocket at her apartment, she learned during the ensuing conversation that he had come straight from the office. That was why she had started providing dinner at her place.

She watched him take the dishes to the kitchen, now wearing only a shirt and slacks, looking more relaxed than when he had arrived in his suit. His minimal attire didn’t diminish his presence, however.

Two inches above six feet, he was the kind of man women fantasized about.

He moved with the effortless confidence of someone accustomed to demanding attention, with his swarthy skin and appealing features.

A neatly trimmed beard framed his strong jawline, the dark hairs lending a rugged edge to his facial structure—high cheekbones, a straight nose, and sinfully sculpted lips that had wreaked havoc on her skin earlier.

His dark-brown eyes were often unreadable, but when she and he were alone, they carried a simmering heat when he looked at her, making the rest of the world fall away.

And damn, his body. India bit the corner of her lip as she relived the heated moments they had spent in her bedroom.

It was a sculpted work of art from years of sports and martial arts.

As a boy, he had excelled at soccer, boxing, and martial arts before settling on martial arts in his late teens.

He was proficient in kickboxing, having earned a second-degree black belt in the sport, a third-degree black belt in taekwondo, and held a white belt in capoeira.

His body was a machine made up of tight muscle, with six-pack abs beneath the dark hair on his torso, powerful, muscular thighs, and a firm bottom she enjoyed gripping as he thrust into her.

While Thiago placed the dishes in the dishwasher, she went to sit on the maroon sofa. Minutes later, he joined her, carrying two fresh glasses of wine.

He sat down with a heavy sigh, stretching an arm across the back of the sofa. Turning in his direction, she took in his striking profile as she curled her bare feet under her bottom and sipped her wine.

Since the start of their... relationship? Situationship? Affair, maybe? Whatever it was, much had changed since the first night he came to her apartment.

In the beginning, he used to show up, they had sex, and then he left.

Once she started feeding him, they ate dinner, had sex, then he left.

In their current stage, they ate dinner, had sex—or the reverse, like tonight—and he stayed for a while and they talked, often about business where he confided in her, and they brainstormed ideas.

Sometimes they discussed other topics, sharing bits of information with each other but not too much, as if they couldn’t risk getting too close.

Conversation was fine. Intimacy was not.

India took another sip of the full-bodied wine. “Did you recognize that bottle?” she asked.

“Of course. I brought it for you a few weeks ago. I’m glad we’re finally getting a chance to enjoy it.”

“You have good taste. Stop frowning,” she said in a teasing voice, gently smoothing her fingers across his forehead to remove the frown lines.

He grunted and then graced her with a faint smile.

“I have a question for you. Why the hard push for next quarter results? You want to see improvements, which I understand, but we have time.”

Thiago didn’t answer right away. “The truth?”

“Always.”

“I have a specific goal in mind.”

“I figured. Which is?”

“I want to hit a billion dollars in revenue.”

“We’re almost there, Thiago. We’ve seen astronomical growth since you took over. The expansion in Asia had a few hiccups but went mostly well. I’m sure by the end of the third quarter?—”

He shook his head decisively. “Not by the end of the third quarter. By the end of next quarter, I want to see that number reflected, and the Santiago Migos fiasco practically fell in our lap and will allow us to achieve it. I ran the numbers. If we can take twenty percent of their market share and keep all our other businesses running as smoothly as they have been, we will reach the goal I’ve set, which will look very good when we… go public.”

India drew in a silent breath at the bombshell he dropped.

Now everything made sense. The big push.

The fact that he was seldom satisfied with their initial proposals.

The reason why he worked so hard every single day.

She thought his dedication was because he needed to prove to everyone his father had made the right decision in turning over the company to him, but he had his own agenda, which made her respect him more.

This was self-inflicted pressure, which she understood.

Thiago was self-motivated, and she wanted him to achieve his goal. Not only for him, but for herself as well, to prove she was capable of hitting the milestones set before her. It would be another accomplishment she could add to a long list of achievements.

“How long have you been working on this?”

“I’ve had the idea since I was based in Brazil, but when my father stepped down as CEO, I saw the opportunity to make a stock launch a reality. I brought in a consultant to help with the prep work, but my father is not yet convinced going public is a good idea.”

“You’re the one in charge now. You can move forward if you want.”

“I can, but I respect his opinion. He spent decades building this company, and though I am now the one in charge, I do not want to ignore his concerns. Only my father and the COO know about my plans—and now you. I will make a formal announcement to the rest of the executive team at next week’s meeting. ”

India felt honored he had trusted her with such confidential information. “I won’t say a word before you’re ready to announce.”

“Do you think you can help me meet my goal by the end of next quarter?” Thiago asked.

“Have I ever let you down?”

“No, which is why I know I can count on you.” He drained his glass and rested it on the table in front of them. “By the way, I won’t be coming by next week. My sister is getting married, and the family is having an engagement party for her and her fiancé.”

“Oh. Monica, right?”

He nodded, running his fingers through his hair. “The reminder popped up on my phone today, and I haven’t bought a gift yet.”

“You need an assistant to handle those details for you. I’ve told you so a thousand times,” India chided.

“I have an assistant.”

“A personal assistant who knows you and your needs. Not that concierge service.”

“I will be fine. I will ask my sister Audra to buy the gift. She has great taste and knows what Monica would like.” Thiago stood, obviously not planning to stay long tonight.

India placed her glass on the table beside his. “I’ll get your jacket and tie,” she said.

She padded to the bedroom and picked up his clothes from the chair in the corner.

On her way to the door, she paused, lifting the collar of his jacket to her nose.

Her eyes drifted closed. His scent clung to the material.

Notes of bergamot, leather, and something dark and smoky made her chest tighten in an inconvenient way.

Embarrassed, she quickly lowered the clothing.

She found him waiting by the door and handed over his clothes.

“Thank you,” he said, folding both items over his arm.

“You’re not planning to go back to work tonight, are you?” she asked.

He checked the Rolex Land-Dweller on his wrist. The timepiece was sleek, with a platinum band and an ice-blue honeycomb motif on its face. Cool and elegant, like its owner.

“I will be working but not at the office. I have a few calls to make.”

Thiago cradled the back of her neck with a possessive hand and pulled her into his firm body. He kissed her, his lips lingering and making heat coil low in her belly. He seemed reluctant to leave, and deep down, she wished he’d stay.

“If I didn’t have to go…” He whispered the words of regret against her lips.

India trailed her fingers through his soft hair. “You can make it up to me in two weeks,” she said, hoping her voice and expression suggested playfulness, instead of the disappointment lying heavy in her chest.

“I will.” He plucked her bottom lip between his teeth for a gentle tug before kissing her lips again. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

India closed the door and used the monitor in the entryway to watch him.

He glanced up at the camera with a faint smile before striding down the hallway with his broad shoulders and purposeful gait.

When he disappeared from view, she turned and faced the stillness of her apartment, in stark contrast to the energy he brought whenever he walked through the door.

Thiago always filled any space he entered, and though he was no longer there, his scent lingered in her nostrils. A scent she had no business missing.

A sharp, unwelcome thought flicked through her mind.

He didn’t invite me.

He was going to his sister’s engagement party and had mentioned the event so casually and, just as casually, let her know he wouldn’t see her next week.

Did he at any point think to invite her?

Of course not , she thought with quiet disgust. They didn’t have that kind of arrangement. What they had was no promises. No expectations. Only Friday nights, quiet dinners, and the invisible wall between them.

Still, disappointment curled hot and bitter in her throat. Which didn’t make sense. She appreciated this arrangement. It was casual. Detached. Safe. She was just off tonight. Not only tonight, if she were being honest. Lately.

She had become soft. She used to be “that bitch” in her relationships, but now… now she only ordered the honeycomb-scented soap from Europe that he liked, bought sexy lingerie in the style and colors he preferred, and made sure he had a meal to eat whenever he came by.

“India, girl, what is wrong with you?” she muttered.

She collected the glasses from the living room and placed them in the dishwasher.

Then she poured herself a glass of water, turned out the light, and padded down the hall to her bedroom, where she opened the drawer of her dresser to take out one of several prescription bottles.

She tapped a pill into her palm and swallowed it down with the water.

She changed into her nightgown and went into the bathroom. She washed her face, moisturized, and then turned out the light. In the dark, the apartment seemed even more quiet.

Climbing under the covers, bergamot and leather once again teased her nose, filling her mind with images of her and Thiago in sexual poses, each one passionate and demanding.

Up against the wall. Bent over the arm of the sofa.

They most frequently made love in the bedroom but had christened every room in her apartment to satisfy their boundless desire for each other.

India restlessly shifted positions. She should get up and change the sheets but was too lazy at the moment. She’d leave a note for the housekeeper who came in on the weekends and ask her to do it.

She wouldn’t be able to handle another night of Thiago’s scent clinging to her bed, which was a sobering reminder of his absence.