Returning To Claim His Heir
Page 13
She flinched as though he’d struck her with his words. ‘You could trust me.’
He laughed—a harsh, low sound in his throat. ‘Like you have trusted me so far?’
‘Liam has Cabo blood too. Will you hold that over him? Blood is not the making of a person.’ Her eyes met his, fire burning in their grey depths.
‘How do I know you won’t disappear the moment I leave this house? Where did you plan to go?’
‘I grew up in Manaus on a small wildlife sanctuary.’ She shrugged. ‘I didn’t like being so secluded then. But I wanted to make a fresh start for Liam somewhere safe, far away from the reach of my father.’
‘If I hadn’t brought you here...if we hadn’t got close...would you ever have told me?’
She pressed her lips together. ‘I don’t know.’
She met his eyes without hesitation, but he couldn’t hold her gaze. He couldn’t look at her without thinking of what she’d planned to do, without imagining her choosing to keep something so important from him.
The thought that she might even have left Brazil with his son made something roar within him. The anger he felt was too much; he needed to get away from here—from her. He felt as if he was walking a razor-thin edge between control and madness.
A small cry sounded from the monitor at her hip and Duarte felt his chest tighten as Nora met his eyes again. He gestured for her to go, turning away from her to pinch the bridge of his nose.
He hesitated for a moment, then found himself following her, unable to stop his feet from moving in the direction of the infant’s cries.
The windows of the room were closed, the shutters keeping the heat of the day out. Nora stood there in the dim light, holding the child to her chest as his cries softened. Duarte took a step closer, looking at the tiny face and wondering how he had ever missed it. The child had Nora’s wide eyes, but that was where the resemblance ended. Everything else, from the colour of his skin to the dimple in the centre of his chin...
He reached out, touching his pinkie finger to that miniature dimple, and remembered that first moment in the hospital room, when a tiny hand had reached out to grip his finger. He wondered if Liam had sensed that he was safe with his papai? Would he have any memory of his first couple of months of uncertainty?
Duarte knew there and then that he didn’t need a paternity test to tell him what he felt.
This was his son.
He looked up to see Nora watching him, a suspicious sheen in her silver eyes.
Clearing his throat, he stepped back from the intimacy of the moment. ‘The Fort Lauderdale opening is in a few days. I see no reason to delay travelling.’ Duarte kept his voice low. ‘Be ready to fly in the morning.’
‘You want to take us with you?’ Nora’s voice was calm, but he saw the sudden flash of defiance in her eyes, a bristling at the authority in his tone.
‘I don’t want to leave either of you anywhere in Brazil while your father is being taken into custody.’
He fought the urge to reach out and touch the child again, to memorise each tiny detail of his face. Something within his chest tightened again, almost painfully.
‘I said I would protect you and that has not changed.’
‘Okay.’ She breathed. ‘Duarte, I’m so sorry.’
He pressed his lips together, unable to look at her without feeling that roar within him starting up all over again.
‘I have phone calls to make.’
He ignored the pain in her eyes and forced himself to leave the room. To leave behind the sudden need within him for the child who was such an integral part of him. To leave the woman who had made him feel as if he was finally glued back together only to tear him apart all over again.
He kept walking even after he reached the ground floor and went outside, passing the pool and moving down the length of the garden towards the sea. When his feet hit the sand, he left his shoes and shirt by the trees and broke into a run, taking out all his anger and pain on his body and pushing himself to his limits.
Nora had barely slept all night, and spent the eight-hour flight to Fort Lauderdale on tenterhooks because of the complete silence of the man by her side.
He seemed flat, somehow, as if all the colour had faded from him. He was helpful, checking if there was anything he could do to help with Liam, but there was a tightness to his eyes when he held him.
Eventually she stopped trying to talk at all and quietly watched a movie on her screen while he worked on his computer. The result was that she was practically delirious with tiredness by the time the warm Florida sun kissed her face.
When she saw a private SUV awaiting them on the Tarmac, she inwardly groaned with relief. She had never been more grateful for Duarte’s ridiculous wealth, even if every other passenger on their flight did gawk at them as they were guided off the aircraft first.
When their driver finally came to a stop at the marina, she stepped out into the warm, humid air with shaky legs. Fort Lauderdale was very different from Brazil. The air was almost as heavy as the Amazonian climate in Manaus, but without the sounds of nature, and there were people everywhere. Well-dressed, wealthy people, who drove expensive cars and dripped with luxury brands.
She fought the urge to look down at her own three-year-old sandals and well-worn blue jeans.
Duarte pushed the pram across the wooden promenade, oblivious to the hordes of women who followed him with their eyes. He looked effortlessly gorgeous, in simple charcoal-coloured chinos and a silver-grey polo shirt. Even without the expensive watch on his wrist and the designer labels of his clothes, his entire being just screamed wealth.
Now he was turning that devastating smile on a well-dressed woman who introduced herself as one of his employees, and instructing a young man to bring the rest of their things as he confidently strode ahead towards the gigantic ship at the end of the pier.
Onboard the Sirinetta II superyacht, the staff jumped to attention around him, greeting Nora with wide smiles and curiosity. She knew that the Avelar family were practically royalty in Brazil, because of all their charity work, but clearly he was adored among his staff here too.
She avoided their gazes, wondering what they thought of the shabbily dressed woman walking onboard with a man like him.
Duarte took the lead, placing Liam down in a crib that had been set up in one of the cabins and ordering dinner to be served in the spacious dining area. He told her he would go for a swim first—the daily physiotherapy that he needed to keep his injuries at bay.
Nora debated going to lie down in bed herself, exhaustion warring with her need to speak with him alone. But in the end, she poured herself a glass of wine and waited.
He walked into the dining room still wet from his shower, his chest bare and wearing only a low-slung pair of jeans. Nora groaned under her breath.
Over dinner she made an effort to ask him about his company’s expansion and how it had come to pass, but his answers were short and clipped, and eventually she let the silence sit between them, the food having lost its flavour.
‘Are we done?’ he asked roughly, once he’d finished his meal and excused the staff for the night.
‘I thought we might talk,’ she said.
‘I have no interest in talking with you tonight.’ He rubbed a hand over the growth on his face, and there was a coldness in his eyes that made her cringe inwardly.
‘Duarte, I know I have made mistakes...’ She steeled herself against the flash of anger on his face. ‘But I won’t be kept on this yacht alone and punished with your silence. I came with you to see if we could try to find common ground.’
‘There is only one piece of common ground between us that we’ve shared without dishonesty.’ He sat back in his seat, a cruel twist to his lips as he surveyed her with obvious interest. ‘If you’re interested in communicating again in that way, I won’t protest.’
‘Only if you beg me to, querida.’
Duarte felt himself reacting to the fire in her more than he’d have liked. She was furious, her cheeks turning pink once she’d gathered his meaning.
He could have groaned as she braced her hands on the table and glared down at him.
‘Hell would freeze over before I beg you for anything.’ She spoke with deliberate sweetness. ‘But, please, feel free to continue using my mistakes to avoid admitting your own part in this.’
‘What part is that, exactly.’
‘You told me you had never felt anything like what we shared in Rio. I was a virgin, and you didn’t treat it like something to shy away from. You made me feel like I owned my body and my choices for the first time in my life. And yet when you discovered the truth you discarded me like old trash and discussed my worth over cachaça at Lionel Cabo’s dining table.’
‘You might have been inexperienced, but you were not innocent,’ he drawled, leaning back in his chair. ‘You are just as wicked as I am—in every way.’
She licked her lower lip, her eyes darkening. He waited for her response, knowing it was cruel to spar with her this way, but helpless to stop.
But she only frowned, turning away from him with a sigh. ‘Stop trying to punish me, Duarte.’
He was behind her in a moment, gripping her wrist and pulling her towards him. He waited for her to move, to bridge the gap between them. Sure enough, her lips sought his without hesitation, giving him permission. He growled low in his throat at the heat of her mouth on his, as if he’d been starving for it. As if it had been months rather than a mere day since he’d last held her.
They both felt it—the current between them that pulsed and demanded attention. He’d hardly been able to concentrate during his swim, with images of the night they’d spent together playing in his mind, torturing him. It infuriated him how much he thought of her, of how she’d felt in his arms. Despite the revelations of the past twenty-four hours, he could concentrate on little else.
He turned her around, pushing her against the wall of the dining room and removing her worn jeans with one ferocious swipe of his hands. He hiked one of her thighs up over his hip, so he could angle himself against her through her underwear. She shivered, her hand reaching up to cup his jaw, a sudden tenderness in her eyes.
He pushed her hand away, grasping her wrist as he deepened the kiss for a long moment and then pulled back. ‘If I wanted to punish you I know exactly where I’d start.’ He moved his mouth to her neck, nipping softly as his hand moved down to pull the hem of her T-shirt up with a sharp tug. ‘And believe me, Nora, you’d beg.’
She froze, placing her hands on his shoulders. ‘What are we doing,’ she whispered.
‘I’m about to take you, hard and fast, against this wall.’ He nuzzled her neck.
‘I can’t do this.’ She pushed against him and he pulled away from her instantly. He watched as she pulled at the hem of her T-shirt, studiously avoiding his eyes. ‘I can’t be this for you...for whatever anger you’re feeling. I won’t be used.’
‘I’m not...’
He struggled to find words, knowing she wasn’t wrong. He was angry. He was using her body because it was easier to lose himself in his physical attraction to her than it was to look at all the rest of the things he felt when he thought of her betrayal. When he tried to align the Nora he’d come to know in Paraty with the one he’d met all those months ago as part of her father’s schemes.
She moved away from him, her eyes filled with sadness, and he let her go, knowing he needed to put some space between them.
He needed to get a handle on himself.
CHAPTER TEN
NORA AWOKE WITH a start, the light streaming through the open curtains showing it was well past dawn. She reached out to the crib by the side of her bed only to find it empty. In a blind panic, she rushed out into the main saloon, only to find it silent.
She looked around, eventually hearing a low snore coming from one of the larger cabins at the end of the corridor. What she found there made her freeze, rooted to the spot, afraid to breathe lest she disturb the unbelievable scene before her.
Duarte lay on his back, one arm flung over his head as he slept on the large bed of the master cabin. Liam lay asleep by his side, in an almost identical pose, safely guarded by a nest of pillows. Nora placed a hand on her chest, feeling as though her heart might break at the beauty and pain of what she was looking at.
She wasn’t sure how long she watched, how long her mind fought between happiness and despair over their uncertain future, but when she looked back to the bed Duarte’s eyes were open, watching her. She waited for another flash of anger or reproach, but his face was utterly unreadable.
He rose gently, pressing a finger to his lips and motioning for her to follow him from the cabin.
‘I never even heard him cry during the night,’ she spoke quickly, once the door was closed between them and the sleeping infant.
‘I was still awake when I heard him get restless and I wanted to let you sleep.’
He stretched both arms above his head, unintentionally showcasing his impressively naked torso. The jeans he wore were slung dangerously low on his hips and Nora felt a sudden swift kick of desire so hard she was forced to avert her eyes.
‘I didn’t expect you to be comfortable with him so soon,’ she said without thinking, her rational mind seeming to have gone out of the window at the sight of this gorgeous half-naked man being so caring for a small child.
‘I’m full of surprises.’ There was no humour in his gaze.
Nora swallowed the lump in her throat, wishing she had a cup of coffee to busy her suddenly trembling hands. Suddenly she was painfully aware of the fact that she wore her comfortable old pyjamas and her hair was likely a tangled mess.
‘He’ll sleep for a while more, I think.’ Duarte handed her the small digital baby monitor. ‘I’ll order breakfast to be served up on the top deck. I’d like to discuss some things with you.’
She felt her chest tighten at his words and tried not to conjure up every terrible scenario she’d already thought of. Instead, she nodded once. ‘I just need to freshen up first. I don’t think your fancy staff would appreciate being made to serve me looking like this.’
‘On the contrary. I find this look to be one of my favourites.’
His eyes swept briefly downwards to take in her worn flannel pyjama bottoms and white tank top before he shrugged one bare shoulder and leaned lazily against the panelled wall of the narrow corridor.
‘However, if you need some help showering I will gladly play the kind host.’
Nora’s mind showed her an image of him helping her to shower, his hands sliding slowly over her body...
They both seemed frozen in time for a moment, and she wondered if he could hear her heartbeat thundering against her ribs. He waited a breath, then let out a low whistle of amused laughter as he walked away.
‘Don’t say I didn’t offer.’
She went into the cabin she’d claimed for herself and leaned back heavily against the door, exhaling long and hard with frustration. Was this how it would be between them now? Barely veiled anger followed by meaningless flirtation? Would she ever be able to have a conversation with him without remembering everything they’d shared?
They hadn’t spoken yet about any plans for the future, but she knew it was coming. She knew Duarte was already analysing every angle and coming up with a plan.
She pulled a crinkled shirt over her head and looked at herself in the mirror. Even with the sleep she’d had, her eyes were still bruised underneath. She looked as exhausted and weak as she felt inside. She knew that if she had any chance of standing her ground with Duarte Avelar and his po
werful world, she had to get back in control of herself. The idea that she’d need to dress to fit in with her surroundings chafed, but she knew how these circles worked.
She looked at herself in the mirror, closing her eyes against the dream she’d harboured of a simple life in the quiet peace of her mother’s animal sanctuary. A life free of ridiculous rules and unwanted attention. A life free of deception and threats.
The more she thought of her mother’s choices, the more she understood. But she was not her mother. She knew what came from hiding your child away from the world. She would not make that same mistake.
Duarte was not going to allow his son to be raised away from the privileged life he led. So she would do well to stop fighting him. She would have to overcome her emotions and put them behind her so that they could find a way to co-exist.
They had to.
She would not fight, but she would still remind him that she was not weak. She was not going to be ordered around, held to ransom under the weight of his unending anger towards her. She would hold her head high and stand her ground. If there was one good thing she’d learned from living under the tyrannical rule of her despicable father it was how to put on a show of strength even when she felt like crumbling inside.
She would not crumble—not for anyone.
Duarte had just sat down at a table on the open-air deck to pour himself a cup of coffee when he heard heels on the steps. His hand froze on its way to his mouth as Nora emerged into the morning sunshine. She carried Liam in one arm and in the other one of the colourful cushioned mats Duarte had ordered. She unrolled the mat in a shaded corner near the seating area and laid the infant down gently. He immediately began kicking his legs.
She looked up and met Duarte’s gaze, a polite smile on her lips as she stood to her full height and walked over to the breakfast table.
His eyes devoured the jade-green dress she wore. Her long red hair was twisted into a neat coil at the base of her neck and he spotted the glint of delicate pearl earrings in her ears as she moved towards a seat and glanced back at Liam.