Letting go of her wrists, he looked up at her from the valley of her thighs. ‘Take off your dress.’
She slid the material over one shoulder, then the other, drawing it down to her waist. Duarte pulled it the rest of the way, biting down on his lower lip as her perfect porcelain skin was revealed to him inch by inch. Her small firm breasts were tipped with rose, the skin leading down to the lush curves of her waist and hips flawless, with only the lightest silver streaks on her hips to give any hint that she’d been swollen with a child six weeks before.
His eyes fell to the thin pink scar at the bottom of her stomach, his fingers reaching out to caress it. She froze, her hands covering her stomach with a grimace. Duarte frowned, lowering his lips to kiss her navel through her fingers, distracting her and easing the tension away until she was molten beneath him once more.
The idea that she might want her to hide her body from him was ridiculous. Did she not see what he saw? She was beautiful. More than beautiful—she was intoxicating.
He remembered that once, a long time ago, he had believed himself to be an accomplished lover, but right now he felt as if he was drunk on her beauty, his senses overwhelmed and uncoordinated.
Using her responses as his map, he slowly found his rhythm again, leaning down to kiss the inside of one knee and moving slowly upwards. His hands held her hips in place and she gyrated against his grip, begging him to move faster. To take her where she wanted to go.
‘Please, Duarte,’ she breathed, her hands moving down to tangle in his hair once more.
Her words seemed to echo in his mind, and there was something so familiar in them, something so right. He felt as if he had been waiting a lifetime to claim her this way, as if something deep within him craved having her body under his command.
He focused on the slow torture of removing the delicate white silk that was the only barrier left between them. His lips moved slowly along her soft flesh to where a silken thatch of red curls was the last barrier to the heart of her. He knew exactly what she wanted, what she needed, as he set about stroking and kissing her exactly where she needed him most.
Her low, drawn-out moan of pleasure was almost enough to send him over the edge himself. He focused on her, on the erotic breathless sounds she made as she crested towards the release she needed, and prayed that he wouldn’t lose himself in such torture.
She looked down at him, meeting his eyes just as she neared the peak.
‘Come for me, Nora,’ he growled against her, feeling heat pulse in his groin as she followed his command with a brutal arching of her back and a sound that sent him wild.
He was over her in seconds, readying himself at her entrance.
Nora took him into the cradle of her thighs, her heart on the verge of bursting open with pleasure and emotion sweeping through her body. The way he looked down at her as he braced his powerful arms either side of her head... She almost came all over again.
Neither of them spoke as he pressed the tip of himself against her, but his eyes remained focused on her face as he slowly joined them, inch by glorious inch.
She felt a delicious stretch that almost bordered on pain at his more than sizeable girth. She looked away, embarrassed that she was not used to the sensation, and her body seemed to clench momentarily against the invasion.
He frowned, one hand cupping her cheek, forcing her to look up and see the silent question in his golden eyes. She covered his hand with her own, moving slowly against him, testing the sensation and feeling her inner muscles relax and pulse against the heat of him. He followed her lead, withdrawing slowly, then angling himself to move back inside in a slow stroke.
The sudden pulse of electricity that tightened inside her made her gasp, then smile up at him. That was all the encouragement he needed and he slowly moved against her, closing his eyes and letting out a low growl of pure animal pleasure. She moved too, her nails digging into his shoulders as he kept his rhythm slow but firm.
Her body remembered what to do, her hips seeming to arch against him of their own volition, her legs winding around him and pulling him closer. His thrusts became a delicious brutal force against her core, sending her towards a second release.
She didn’t think her body could withstand any more pleasure, but she was wrong. This climax felt completely different from the first, so intense she felt a knot in her throat as he looked down at her and twined his fingers through hers. She had the strongest urge to close her eyes against the intimacy of the moment, fearing she might ruin everything by crying. But if this was the last time he would look at her this way, she didn’t want to hide.
She watched him move, feeling him grind the pleasure between them higher than she’d even thought possible. Just as her pleasure broke, and she heard an earth-shattering moan escape her own lips, he kissed her. His mouth captured the sound as he shuddered, growling into the kiss as he finally gave in and found his own release.
Nora wished they could have stayed lying side by side on the beautiful antique yacht for hours. The gentle sway of the water beneath them made it feel even more like a dream, but like all fairy-tales the magic had a time limit.
When she reluctantly announced that it was time to get back to the house and relieve Inés of her duties, Duarte agreed, helping her to dress. But his attempts at help quickly turned into another frantic lovemaking session, with her pressed against the stern of the ship, looking out at the lights of the town glittering across the black glass of the Atlantic.
Breathless, and drunk on passion, she smiled for the entire drive back to the house.
Inés was waiting in the kitchen and chuckled knowingly at Nora’s rumpled dress, before quickly updating her on Liam’s thoroughly uneventful sleep and leaving them alone.
Nora went upstairs, checking on her son and tucking his covers around him. When she turned around, Duarte was in the doorway of the balcony watching her.
She bit her lower lip, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on her. She walked towards him, and once more the words she knew she needed to say stuck in her throat, choking her. When she finally reached his side, his fingers came up to her lips.
‘I see that serious look creeping back in,’ he whispered. ‘But the night isn’t over yet.’
He gathered her up against him, taking her across the balcony and through the doors to his bedroom.
Nora shut off her mind, focusing on showing him the love she felt with every touch of her lips and her body against his.
CHAPTER EIGHT
DUARTE AWOKE TO an empty bed.
Sunlight streamed in through the balcony doors and a single look at the time on his watch had his brows raising. He hadn’t slept for this long or this peacefully...ever. Not a single nightmare had plagued his sleep and his dreams had been filled with Nora. Vivid depictions of them together that had been so realistic they’d almost seemed real.
He ignored the strain of his own desire against the sheets, showering and dressing in clothing fit for sailing. He had a mountain of emails that needed his attention before the Florida opening, but he felt a deep longing to get out on the waves. He felt an urge to grab his sketchbooks and disappear into his ideas—but, strangely, he didn’t want to be alone.
His mind conjured up an image of red curls flowing in the sea breeze and sultry silver eyes watching him as he commanded the ship to move over the waves. No, he didn’t want to be alone today. He’d take them all out on O Dançarina for the afternoon.
His light mood followed him downstairs, where he stopped in the doorway that led out onto the terrace and took in the simple sight of Nora below, dangling her legs in the water of the swimming pool, Liam in her arms. She looked beautiful, her glossy red waves seeming to glow around her face in the mid-morning sunlight.
He was hit with a sudden erotic image of wrapping her hair around his fist as he made love to her from behind—one of the moments in his
strange dreams the night before. She’d been different in the dream...her hair shorter. They’d been in the back seat of a car, with mountains all around them. The image had been intense...
As though she sensed him, she turned—and the look on her face was not what he’d expected. She looked miserable.
Something heavy twisted within him as he moved to walk towards her, but the gentle clearing of a throat behind him stopped him in his tracks.
Angelus Fiero stood just inside the archway of the dining room, his expression sombre and agitated.
‘Angelus. It’s good to see you.’
Duarte tried and failed to keep the annoyance from his voice. For once he hadn’t been thinking of his investigation. He hadn’t been consumed with revenge. But Duarte shook his hand, dropping the customary two kisses on his cheeks.
His father’s oldest friend was a thin man, but today he looked even thinner since the last time Duarte had seen him, a few weeks previously. He leaned heavily on his cane—a recent addition after the gunshot wound that had almost ended him.
‘You’ve always been a terrible liar.’ Angelus chuckled, a strange tightness in his gaze. ‘I’m sorry to bother you here, with your lovely guest...’
In his peripheral vision Duarte saw Nora stand up next to the pool, Inés at her side, the two women chatting animatedly.
He guided Angelus away from the windows and down the long hall to his barely used study at the back of the house. It was a dark room, lined with dusty bookcases, and it had an air of bleakness about it. He’d always hated the room, even when his father had used it as his study during their long summers here.
He sat on one of the high-backed armchairs and motioned for Angelus to take the other, frowning when the man refused his offer of coffee or any other refreshment.
A tightness settled into his gut.
‘I have news.’ Angelus snapped open the slim file he carried, a look of mild discomfort on his face. ‘The evidence on the thumb drive was...fruitful.’
‘Excellent.’ Duarte reached for the file, only to have Angelus pull it back, a look of warning in his eyes.
‘It involves your parents.’
The older man’s eyes shone suspiciously as he glanced away, out of the window, towards the view of the front courtyard beyond. When he finally met his eyes again, they were suspiciously misty.
‘Their deaths were not an accident, Duarte.’
The world stopped for a moment.
Duarte felt himself stand up, felt his hand snatch the file from Angelus’s fingers. He saw the old man’s pained look as though through a fog.
His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he read the detailed report outlining the various anonymous hitmen on Lionel Cabo’s payroll and the jobs they’d been paid to complete. One item had been highlighted, dated seven years previously in London, England. Targets: Guilhermo and Rose Avelar.
He closed his eyes against the awful truth, willing it to disappear.
His parents had been good people. His father had been sole heir to his family fortune and had made the difficult decision to risk it all on a better future for his home city. The Avelar Foundation’s development projects and charity efforts in Rio were world-famous. To think that their vision and refusal to bow to corruption had led to their deaths, just as it had almost led to his own...
‘This was on the thumb drive Nora gave me?’ He heard himself speak.
Fiero let out a heaving sigh. ‘That’s the next thing.’ He stood up, his mouth tightening into a line. ‘We pulled in a few of Cabo’s associates for questioning. It didn’t take much for them to start talking once they saw how much evidence we had against them. And they seemed to know exactly who our informant was: the only person Lionel Cabo had ever allowed to leave his organisation alive—the only person who had access to such secure information because she lived under the same roof. Duarte, she’s his daughter. He had her identity kept secret, but we found it all.’
Another file was shoved into his hands. Images of countless passports and identities on each page. A couple of arrests under fake names. But there was a name at the top, on an original birth certificate that had been hidden from public record: Eleanora Cabo.
Duarte felt the world tilt on its axis for a moment.
Eleanora Cabo.
That name...
He stared from his old friend to the serious, frowning photograph of the woman he’d just made love to for half the night, feeling shock turn him to stone. ‘How can this be?’
‘Her mother is an Irish ecologist, currently running a wildlife sanctuary in Manaus. She divorced Lionel Cabo after less than a year of marriage, a divorce most likely linked to severe injuries sustained by her at the hands of a male she refused to name. Her anonymity was part of a legal agreement. As was changing her daughter’s name and barring him from all access to her until she was an adult. It seems she reconnected with her father the moment she turned eighteen.’
Duarte felt nausea burn his gut.
Lionel Cabo’s daughter.
Cabo. The man who had killed his parents. Who had tried to have him killed.
Disbelief and rage fought within him. His temples throbbed and he rubbed circles against his skin, trying to calm the rising sensation.
A flash of memory struck, the picture in his mind so clear it made him dizzy. He saw himself standing in the grand entrance hall of a house he’d only ever seen before in pictures from his investigations: the Cabo mansion. He was looking down at the woman in front of him, cruel words spilling from his lips.
Nora’s hair was shorter, blow-dried into a perfect style. She grabbed his wrist as he walked past her. ‘Duarte. Please...don’t leave me with him.’
It was definitely a memory... Dear God!
Suddenly all his vivid dreams made sense. They were memories. Memories of the weeks he’d spent falling for a mysterious redhead in Rio, only to have his life become a living nightmare.
He turned away from Angelus’s worried face, striding to the window and bracing his hands on the cold marble ledge for support. He crushed his fist against his forehead as more memories came rushing back.
The first time he’d seen her...the way he’d been drawn to her like a moth to a flame across the dance floor in a crowded samba club.
He’d been taken from that first glance. She’d been sexy, yet shy, fiercely intelligent and adventurous. Only having her for stolen hours at a time had been a thrill. She’d been shockingly inexperienced, but eager and honest in her pleasure, and of course he’d risen to the delicious challenge of initiating her into the world of lovemaking in every way he’d been able to think of.
She’d become an obsession. He’d even thought himself halfway in love with her until Cabo had approached him and revealed everything.
It had all made terrible sense. He’d been her mark. She’d been playing the part of his perfect woman.
And when the opportunity had come to play her at her own game he’d taken it—meeting with Lionel Cabo right under her nose and letting him offer his own daughter as a reward, only to throw it back in the man’s face.
Angelus’s words rang in his ears. A secret.
On their last night together they’d fallen asleep and she’d awoken in a panic. He’d had to run after her and convince her to let him drive her home. She’d refused, saying her father was overprotective. Their hours together were stolen because she had to sneak out. She wasn’t allowed to leave the house alone.
He’d thought perhaps it was a religious thing, but then he’d found out the truth.
To know that her mother had gone so far as to get a court order against her child’s father suggested something more than normal marital discord.
That haunting image of Nora’s face in her father’s entrance hall replayed in his mind again.
‘Please, don’t leave me with him.’
The No
ra he knew would never beg. Not unless she was desperate. She’d been a prisoner in her own home and he’d left her there. He’d used her just as badly as her own father had done.
The memory of it made him tense with guilt.
No, not guilt.
He stood up, fisting his hands through his hair. She’d made a fool of him. She’d had the evidence that could prove her father’s guilt all this time. She’d been a guest in his home, eaten meals with him, made love to him, and never once thought to reveal all this. She’d said she’d had that thumb drive for months, that it had been her insurance. Surely that meant she had read it? Had seen his parents’ names on that hit list?
He closed his eyes against the thought, the pain in his temples almost unbearable. The resurgence of his buried memories was like being hit in the head with that bullet all over again. He felt unbalanced and nauseated.
‘I understand that this is a lot to take in,’ said Angelus, sighing and shaking his head solemnly. ‘What do you plan to do with her?’
‘What do you mean?’ Duarte frowned.
‘Well, I came here to talk to you first. To warn you that the police want to move to arrest both Cabo and his daughter immediately.’
‘No.’ The word emerged as little more than a growl from his lips.
Angelus pursed his lips, eyeing him speculatively. ‘She was part of Cabo’s mobster family, Duarte. Possibly she knew that your parents were murdered and kept it to herself.’
‘She gave me that evidence willingly. Surely that is in her favour?’
‘Are you involved with her?’
When Duarte merely scowled, the old man let out a harsh frustrated sigh.
‘This could be another part of Cabo’s plan. Slithering her in here unnoticed and getting her under your skin. As the saying goes, “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”’
‘Don’t talk about her like that.’ Duarte bared his teeth, shocking himself.
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