Kidnapping His Bride by Karen Erickson Page A

Crimson was the hot spot to see and be seen.
    Considering he’d come to New York to do nothing but work, he’d had to trust her on that knowledge, despite his playboy, man-about-town image. It was all just that for the most part—an image. One he’d cultivated gladly since it got him and the business plenty of press. He helped divert the media from questioning Stasia and her rather scandalous past too.
    So he’d never discouraged the dating-a-bazillion-women-at-once image he had. Never thinking it could hurt his future marriage, which proved he was an idiot for never considering Cat’s feelings.
    He was so stupid. It hurt him to know he hurt her. How he hated that.
    But truly, there had only been one woman for him. Despite earlier dalliances, the occasional date with a beautiful woman, he knew Catalina was for him and no other.
    Then she went and dumped him. Luckily enough, she dumped him and then promptly gave him a second chance at convincing her they could make this work.
    Over the next few days, that was his plan. Convincing her they could work.
    This night, this very moment, was the first of many steps.
    Pushing his thoughts out of Cat out of his head, Rafe focused on the skeptical men in front of him. “I’m a friend of Terry’s,” he said, hoping like hell his name appeared on that magical list he’d heard Stasia refer to. She’d told him the night of the jewelry line reveal that all Renaldis had been put on the permanent entrance list. He hadn’t cared then.
    He sure as hell cared now.
    “Yeah, right,” the other doorman said with a snort. “You and everyone else is his friend. Stop wasting your breath, bro. Get in the back of the line.” He jerked his thumb toward the restless crowd.
    “My name is Rafe Renaldi.” He tilted his head toward the clipboard the guy held. “Check your list.”
    Growling irritably, the man flipped through the papers on his clipboard, running his finger down the list of names until it stopped…and he looked up at Rafe once more, his expression contrite. “You’re on the list.”
    “I know,” Rafe said calmly, all the while feeling Cat staring at him.
    “Guess we’ll let you in, then,” the man said almost reluctantly.
    “Guess you will.” Letting his arm drop from Cat’s shoulders, he took her hand, entwining their fingers as he glanced at her pretty face. “Let’s go, sweetheart.”
    The little smile curving her lips was unmistakable. He had a feeling she’d enjoyed that display of power. And he’d done it all for her.
    The silent door host unhooked the red velvet rope and let them enter, offering a reluctant, “Have a good night,” punctuated with a low grunt.
    “We will,” Cat said brightly, shining her smile upon the man before she turned it on Rafe.
    Wrecking his heart completely in the most delicious way.
     
     
    Cat had believed for sure that Rafe wouldn’t be able to get them into the nightclub. She should’ve never doubted him because he’d gone and proven her wrong, what with his name on the entrance list. The two grumpy doormen had no choice but to let them enter, and she’d felt special as she’d eagerly walked through those black-lacquered doors, Rafe clutching her hand tightly as they strode inside.
    The place was packed, multicolored strobe lights flashing in time with the beat of the music, the dance floor crowded with an interesting mix of people. Young, old, not one of them sloppily dressed. A DJ stood behind a table on a platform on the opposite side of the room, spinning his beats and clutching his headphones to his ear.
    She’d seen things like this on television or in magazine photos, but never in her life had she experienced it firsthand.
    “Want a drink?” Rafe yelled in her ear.
    “Sure,” she yelled back. She could hardly hear herself, what with how loud the music was.
    He led her to a bar that took up the entire left side of the room. Mirrors lined the wall, a variety of liquor bottles sat on shelves in front of the