Revenge in Rio

  The uniformed concierge opened her door of the sleek black limousine and welcomed her with a warm smile as he extended a hand to her. “Senhora, boa noite.”

  She was on display to the world and his friend and judging gazes would be on her as soon as she stepped inside of the building.

  The off-white, almost cream-colored building caught her eye as she quickly thanked the man. It was stunning. She knew exactly where she was, instantly recognizing the magnificent architecture and its 1920’s art deco style, but still her eyes gravitated toward the sign above the entrance. Copacabana Palace.

  The palace was actually a hotel, and one of Rio’s finest. She knew it attracted some of the top A-listers and wealthiest socialites in the world. Rich, beautiful, and elegant folk made up the guest list. What it didn’t attract was the ordinary person like her, the widow of a twisted criminal who was now eight months pregnant and without a cent to her name. The Copacabana Palace did not make a habit of welcoming her type.

  “Relax, you are meant to be enjoying yourself.” Luca was beside her again, squeezing her hand and placing a soft kiss on the back of it.

  “I really don’t belong here.” There were bound to be hundreds of extremely wealthy men and women present, all discussing business and their bank accounts whilst blatantly judging one another. Sheer panic took hold of her, closing tightly around her throat, and her hand trembled under his strong grip.

  “Who says so? You are with me. You are my guest, and I say who does and who does not attend.”

  “People are going to gossip. They’re going to ask who I am, and when they find out I’m just your sister-in-law, they—”

  “Parà-lo!”

  He stopped and faced her square on and looked down into her eyes. He’d created that magnetic hold over her once more, the same as he had back in her dingy kitchen the day of Miguel’s funeral. The day he had finally come back into her life. Damn, how did he do it?

  “You know you will always be more than just that to me.” Luca touched the loose curl beside her cheek. Tucking it behind her ear, he whispered, “You always have been.”

  Daniella released the breath she’d been holding and felt her muscles relax. His breath on her neck sent a shiver down her spine and goose bumps rose on her arms. The evening air was humid and warm; she had no reason to be shivering. She knew it was his hot breath and masculine cologne teasing her senses and making her giddy.

  Luca’s gaze traveled across her face, down her neck, and over the swell of her breasts. He frowned and traced a finger down the same trail and outlined her breast. Leaning in close to her, he firmly placed his hand just above her buttocks. “Tonight I will have you, Daniella.”

  His words fired hot sparks of electricity through her as if lighting a switch for the first time. There was confidence in his tone, a certainty she had never witnessed until now. Was she ready for this to happen? She’d asked for time, and he’d patiently given her just that.

  Of course you want it! Her subconscious rudely overrode her thoughts. Just a few days ago you wanted him in the back of his car. Stop lying to yourself. Denying yourself.

  She was right.

  Of course I’m right!

  Before she could organize her thoughts and stop the crazy dialogue in her head, Luca had hold of her hand and was leading her up half a dozen steps.

  His words echoed in her head as she let herself be chaperoned by his hands. Tonight I will have you.

  * * * *

  A sexual hunger surged through Luca at full speed as he took Daniella’s hand and led her toward the hotel’s entrance. He needed to have her now, take her body and use it however he wanted, but the gala was in the way of taking what was rightfully his.

  As they approached the glass doors, two gentlemen immediately opened them.

  “Boa noite, Senhor e senhora.” One of the men welcomed them as they walked through the doorway.

  Daniella’s heels clicked against the aesthetic marble flooring as she kept up with his strides. Slow down, the woman is near to giving birth!

  He cast a sideways glance at her and sucked in a breath—he wasn’t sure he could wait the entire evening. Part of him wanted to take her there and then in the hallway, not having a care in the world about who was nearby. Her eyes were opened wide—hesitant and nervous, like a deer caught in the headlights—her emerald green irises looked up at him. Before he could question the emotion he thought he’d seen, a woman serving slim flutes of champagne approached them.

  “Good evening, Senhor Venancio e Senhora.” Her eye contact was solely on Luca as she greeted them both and offered a crystal flute of the expensive, honey-colored liquid laced with tiny bubbles.

  Luca reached for two glasses, one of which had a golden rim. He extended the unique, standalone glass to Daniella.

  “You know I can’t drink alcohol.” She smiled and raised her hand in front of her.

  “See the gold rim? They had this specially made for my guest.” He held the flute close to her fingertips and waited for her to accept. “You don’t need to worry, it’s non-alcoholic.”

  Daniella took the crystal from him, and bewilderment and inquisitiveness crossed her face as she raised it to her lips.

  “Thank you.” She beamed at him and took a sip.

  “You are very welcome.”

  “The last time I had real champagne was with…” Her words stopped short.

  “With who? Miguel?” Luca inquired softly.

  He watched as the curves of her smile slowly faded. “Oh no, I don’t think Miguel even knew what champagne was.”

  “So, who was it with?”

  Luca kept his gaze fixed on her face, watching the anxious bite of her lips and the slight rosy glow spread across her cheeks. She slowly tilted her head to look up at him again, her long, dark eyelashes framing her eyes.

  Did she realize just how expressive her eyes were? The bite of her lip, the blushing…

  Having both a Brazilian and an American parent had given her the most perfectly complimentary features and they still managed to captivate him as if it was the first time he was meeting her.

  “It was with you…on our engagement.”

  Luca reminisced back to their short, but intense, eight months together and clearly recalled the occasion Daniella was referring to. How could he forget? The night he’d proposed at the peak on Sugarloaf Mountain, all of Rio’s spectacular scenery as their witness whilst he presented her with an intricately patterned platinum band, iced with a square, polished diamond. Inside he’d had the words Always thankful for faulty bags and runaway oranges. All my love. L. inscribed around the inner rim of the precious metal. They’d toasted alone at a small and intimate restaurant at the base of the Pao de Acucar and embraced their wedded future with fine Dom Perignon champagne.

  “I remember.” He stared down at her, unblinking as the images resonated in his mind. The ring had shone on her finger, as delicate and precious as her. He coughed to clear his throat and to break the intense picture forming in his mind. “What happened to the ring?

  He knew perfectly well what had happened, but probed for her side of the story. The private investigator he’d hired the day after Daniella had walked away from him reported back that he’d witnessed Miguel snatching the ring from her finger and entering a pawnbroker’s store. Luca had transferred sufficient funds to his PI and demanded he wasn’t to leave the brokers until that ring was safely in his pocket. Days later, Luca had met with him to be handed the ring, which had since lain safely in his office vault in New York. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d gone to extreme measures to ensure the possession of the ring. Because you love her, you fool.

  Daniella ran her fingertip along the rim of the crystal flute. “Miguel pawned it.”

  “For what in return?”

  “You really want to know?”

  “Probably not.” He shrugged.

  She took a sip of the fruity liquid before she answered. “He made a nice profit on it, but it was soon waste
d on drugs, alcohol, weapons, things like that.”

  Luca closed his eyes for a second and then opened them, meeting with her pained look. Her glow had faded and sadness filled her eyes. He pushed the memories as far away as possible and squeezed her hand. “Come, let’s go in. But on this occasion you have to stick to just non-alcoholic fruit infused champagne, querida.” He shot her a tight smile and then led her further into the hotel.

  A set of grand oak doors were opened ahead of them in anticipation and revealed a tasteful and elegant room. Soft musical tones filled the atmosphere with a relax-and-unwind vibe.

  “Welcome to the Copacabana Piano Bar, Senhor Venancio.” The manager of the bar extended his hand to Luca.

  He accepted the man’s welcome gesture and pulled Daniella slightly closer toward him.

  “For now, please enjoy the reception cocktails and aperitifs. You may start to make your way to Antique Casino Room at nine o’clock for the banquet and entertainment.”

  The event planner had surpassed her task tenfold. The soft glow of the bar’s lighting illumed the aqua blue pool outside and the subtle, jazzy beats of the pianist filled Luca with an edge of excitement.

  The room was filled with over three hundred guests, all pleasantly pretending to socialize with each other. The class in which he now moved was a ball game of its own. It was dog-eat-dog and he had to remain top of the pack. It was funny how his present lifestyle mirrored the behaviors of his favela years.

  “Oh, I can’t do this.” Daniella tried to pull her hand away, but he had a firm hold.

  He could almost see her heart pounding in her chest, the soft silky fabric of her dress ever so slightly vibrating against her skin with each breath. His eyes were intently on hers, which were darting between him and the now wide open doorway ahead.

  Luca was used to such environments, elaborate events where all eyes were on him, but she wasn’t, not even in the slightest. Even when they had been together before, she hadn’t attended anything like this. Most of the invited guests who attended had a disposition to begin the evening with sober business-related chitchat and progress to alcohol-fuelled garbage, Luca thought to himself. Over the years, he had built up a thick skin, resilient to dealing with the rich and pompous. He knew what it was like to be a regular penny in the pocket boy and never forgot the tough streets where he’d come from; it was his being. It ran through his blood like the air he breathed.

  “Yes, you can. I want you here with me and nobody else.”

  It was partly true, he consoled himself. He knew it would turn the evening into a game of Chinese whispers for his guests, but he found himself not bothered.

  What was new?

  He regularly made the front cover of the New York magazines and papers with different women on his arm. They would believe Daniella to be just another victim of his charm and bed. Yet, a natural, warm sensation surged through him and he knew that could never be the case with Daniella. She had always been his world.

  Swallowing hard, as if tasting something foul, he remembered this was not part of the plan, for him at least. His boundaries were crossing and he needed to remain focused. He had to stay determined, stay cold inside, but it was difficult because she meant more to him than any other woman ever could. Flurries of guilt rose from the pit of his stomach again. Could he go through with this plan?

  Get a grip. Remember what she did to you. What they both did to you, Miguel and Daniella.

  Pushing the memories to the back of his mind, he forced a smile and said, “I promise I won’t leave your side.”

  Chapter 9

  Daniella entwined her fingers even tighter into Luca’s already strong hold, praying he wouldn’t let go of her for fear of falling to the floor and embarrassing both of them. Her legs were quivering like jelly, and the damn heels, even though they were only two inches high, were not helping with her balance. She had enough to concentrate on with making eye contact, smiling, and trying to suck in her impressive baby bump, let alone worrying about keeping her balance.

  Damn, why hadn’t she worn flats? Flats would have given her one less thing to—

  “Luca. Splendid location. What made you change from the usual?”

  Daniella cautiously raised her head and her gaze settled on the middle-aged man who had interrupted her thoughts. A twenty-something-year-old girl clung to his arm, and his face displayed a self-righteous arrogance. He extended his free hand toward Luca who accepted it with a firm shake.

  “Marcus, how are you, old friend?” His greeting of an obvious business associate was pleasant. “I thought it was about time people had a taste of my birthplace, and besides, what is there not to like about Brazil?”

  “Less of the ‘old’, please,” replied the graying man as he cast another curious glance from Luca to her. “And who might you be, Miss?”

  Luca’s gaze flicked from Marcus’s face to her pregnant belly and then back to his guest, and Daniella placed a protective hand over her bump. She knew Luca had changed his whole annual gala arrangements for her. Her alone.

  He knew she couldn’t fly being so far into her pregnancy, so he’d invited his associates to wine and dine in Rio de Janeiro—one of the most vibrant cities in the world.

  Daniella wanted to jump behind Luca and cling on to him for dear life. She hated everything about this environment—the pomposity, the arrogance, the two-faced façade, and much more. She leaned against Luca for support.

  “I…I’m…” She stumbled over her words and her mind went blank as fear grabbed at her throat.

  “Please, let me. This is Ms. Daniella Marie Venancio.”

  She exhaled quickly. Luca had rescued her with his effortless conversation and demeanor. It was another action which showed his ease within the high flying circle of socialites. Marcus reached for Daniella’s hand and placed a small kiss on the back of it.

  Smiling through gritted teeth, she wondered if she should introduce herself properly, explain who she really was. “I’m Luca’s—”

  “Honorary guest.” He swiftly cut off her explanation and took her hand in his. He rubbed the back of it gently with the pad of his thumb, his gaze fixed heavily on hers for a moment before he looked back to Marcus.

  She bit her lip and took the hint to keep her explanations to herself. Was Luca embarrassed about who she really was? Heat flamed her cheeks and all she could do was nod in Marcus’s direction.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said.

  “No, Ms. Venancio, the pleasure is certainly all mine.”

  Daniella heard the slight emphasis on her name, as if he was purposely drawing attention to her married surname and silently questioning who and where her husband was. His steel-gray eyes flicked over her midriff and back to Luca. He tilted one eyebrow quizzically and opened his mouth as if ready to ask questions, but was brought to a halt by the young woman who hung off his arm. She was starting to get fidgety.

  “I need another drink,” she whined.

  The couple departed and Marcus threw a last curious glance over his shoulder.

  “Are you embarrassed by me?” Daniella couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth.

  “Que? No! Of course not.” Luca dropped her hand and snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. “Why on earth do you say that?”

  “Why couldn’t you tell him who I really am…who we both are?” She acknowledged the round tummy between them.

  “For one thing, I don’t think it is anyone else’s business apart from ours.”

  “And the second thing?”

  “Secondly, I don’t want to have to introduce you as my sister-in-law nor my ex-fiancée. I want to be able to announce you as my wife,” Luca replied calmly, placing a finger under her chin and turning her to face him.

  Adrenalin and exhilaration flooded through her veins and the anxiety that had been knotting in her stomach since leaving home was replaced with excitement.

  Was he going to propose? Was he for real? Of course he was, w
hy on earth would he lie?

  His hooded, moody eyes held hers in a hypnotic thrall and made her stomach flutter. His mocha-colored skin was smooth-shaven and clear, his jet-black hair and long lashes contributed to a face which could have graced the cover of a fashion magazine.

  Her love for him intensified each day. There was no more room inside of her to suppress her feelings, desires. Her heart physically ached as she tried to break away from him. I love you. I always have.

  Daniella was suddenly aware of her dry throat and it was difficult to swallow. She lifted the personalized flute to her lips and sipped at the liquid. The fruity mix of papaya and lime soothed her parched throat.

  “Daniella.”

  “Monsieur Venancio…” A male voice interrupted their private and intense moment, and before she could say anything, Luca was initiating further handshakes.

  Luca maneuvered her around the room, almost in succession with the pianist’s flawless playing, and shook each gentleman’s hand firmly and placed one kiss on each of the female guests’ cheeks, but there was minimal sincerity in his greetings. It appeared even the gala, which was organized to bring together businessmen and women alike to socialize, was still a highly structured game within itself. The look-down-the-nose etiquette was false, and Daniella knew as soon as they turned away, the backstabbing conversations would begin.

  Luca let go of her hand and placed his on the small of her back, letting her know he was right behind her. The heat radiated from his palm through the thin silk of her dress and she was sure it seared a burning red mark on her skin.

  As the gala got underway, she had to admit she was enjoying herself. Although the company wasn’t her first choice, the cuisine and the glamorous venue were incredible. As was the constant touch and attention from Luca.

  The 1920’s art deco and fine décor created an ambience as though they had stepped back in time to the decade of Hollywood glamour, rubbing shoulders with past and present A-listers. She devoured her appetizer Caesar salad, and main course of Picadinho Copacabana along with all of its side dishes. Although, glancing around her table, she noticed that the majority of female guests left the food after pushing it around the plate.