Brazilian Revenge (The Brazilians)

by Carmen Falcone

  “I don’t believe you. We used condoms.”

  “I think we, er, got too distracted in the hot tub,” she said, and wrestled with the memories flashing through her mind. Damn, she had been distracted, too, hadn’t she? The man had the most gorgeous V on his waist any guy had the right to. The smallest hint of smile curled at his lips, and she wondered if he, too, had any nice recollection from their sinful fling?

  He reared back, hands on his waist, assessing her. She ran her fingers through her kinky, stubborn hair, and wished she had a rubber band handy or something. Of course Leonardo looked like he had just stepped out of a Dolce & Gabbana fashion show, and after two days in that dingy cell, she could really do with a shower and fresh clothes. “No. You’re lying.”

  She drew in a breath. What a stubborn man. He believed she stole from him, and she had associated with one of the world’s most prolific scoundrels. So, yeah, maybe Leonardo had a point. If she wanted a life outside prison she would have to try harder. If he sent her to the US and she was prosecuted over there, she’d be toast. By the time she was fifteen and fled the youth house with Harry, she should have known better. When he told her he knew who her birth parents were but he’d only reveal if she helped him with one scheme, posing as his daughter so he could pretend to be a rich widower and scheme an old lady… She had been young and naive. Who cared if for the past few years she had insisted on a righteous life?

  Biting her lower lip, she unzipped her jeans and pulled them down. Even though she hadn’t eaten in two days—the gross dog food she had been offered only brought bile to her throat—the lack of air conditioning and the scorching heat had glued the denim to her waist like a second skin. Chewing her lower lip, she tugged at her underwear.

  “What are you—”

  He stopped talking when his gaze slid down her shirt toward her belly, and she could tell by the clenching of his jaw the instant he spotted her scar. The surgeon hadn’t done a good job, even though they said it would eventually diminish and become less noticeable.

  “At eight months pregnant I had eclampsia. My blood pressure spiked, and I needed an emergency C-section. I had brain bleed and fell into a two-week medically induced coma. The baby never made it.”

  “If this is true, why didn’t you ever look for me and tell me you were pregnant?”

  “Because I wanted to have the baby first. I thought I could keep it a secret until she was born. I knew you blamed me for the theft, and I figured having a baby in my arms would make you stop and talk to me at the very least. You could run paternity tests easily.” And hopefully not throw me in jail, she added inwardly. A taste of sourness and irony clung to her palate. How wrong had she been?

  He scratched his chin, his eyes gleaming. “What is there to convince me you aren’t in it with Clemonte? That you didn’t make up this story just so you can get me and try to achieve whatever you think I will be dumb enough to hand over?”

  She hardened her gaze at him. “Are you for real? No one gets a C-section for fun. You can call the clinic and ask. Confirm what I told you. Ask them about Lyanna.”

  For the first time since he’d arrived, the contours of his handsome face softened, if only for a moment. “Lyanna?” he repeated, his voice deep.

  She cleared her throat. “That’s what I called her, as in Leonardo and Satyanna. I thought she should have a little bit of you.” Although what bit she wasn’t sure. The man she remembered had a smile that could rival the sun. The one in front of her was as gloomy as a winter’s night.

  He nodded. Was he finally believing her? She wiped the beads of cold sweat from her forehead, tried hard to swallow, but her tongue almost glued to the roof of her mouth.

  “How did you leave the clinic? Who paid for the bills?”

  “Harry did. I suppose he felt bad, as we had a discussion when my blood pressure went off the charts and I was sent to the hospital.” Not that he caused her disease. The doctors had told her it could have been hereditary, although that didn’t help much. According to the documents Harry provided, her father had died from an overdose, and her reckless mother had lost parental rights and refused to straighten up. As a child, Satyanna was adopted by a widow who had always wanted a baby girl. But by the time Satyanna turned nine, Carol died and she ended up in the hands of her abusive stepfather, George, the man Carol had married a year before. Satyanna ran from his place countless times, until she ended up in the system again. A few more foster homes with no prospects of adoption—no one wanted an older, damaged kid—and she ended up at the youth house. A couple years later, court-ordered volunteer work had sent Harry to the same institution.

  “Then?”

  “I ran from the hospital. Grabbed some cash I carried in my bag for emergencies, and left before he picked me up.”

  “Why?”

  Because I was so desperate to have a family, I settled for the worst example anyone could get. Because she wanted to break free, even if at twenty-six that seemed long overdue. This time for good. No guilt, no regrets. No more believing in empty promises. Didn’t matter that he was a crook and she was not—associating with him would only bring her trouble. “I didn’t want any contact with him again.”

  Harry had fed her guilt and gratitude since she was a young girl anxious to leave the institution.

  Leonardo’s jaw tightened. She saw the muscle flicker. “He stole from me.”

  She chewed on her lower lip. “He did. When he took me on this trip to Brazil, he sold me on the idea we’d spend some time together and have fun. I came along because I wanted to believe him, and I did. Even though he wasn’t the best role model, he cared for me in his way. Or so I thought.” She took a deep breath. “Will you help me get out?”

  He stepped toward the bars, and she toyed with the metal. The atmosphere around her shifted, and keeping the stare proved difficult. There was a strange gleam in his eyes. Her entire body roared, her flesh a lot weaker than her resolve. There was no way in hell she would give in to that attraction again; she just had to leash her hormones.

  “Under one condition. If I take you out of this place and keep you from being accused of the crime I know you committed, you are mine,” he said, his voice dropping an octave when he pronounced the last word. His rich, unforgiving Brazilian accent was like the cherry on a hot fudge sundae.

  She blinked. “Yours?”

  His jaw clenched. “You will help me find Harry. You will stay under my watch until I find him and get my sculpture back. If not, I guarantee you this dirty prison won’t be the worst thing that happens to you.”

  Chapter Three

  Leonardo grabbed his Mont Blanc pen from his inside pocket and handed it to her, along with the document the sheriff had just printed. “Sign it.”

  “What is this?” she asked, inside the small office.

  The sheriff, a bald, stocky man, rocked back in his chair. A prison guard stood next to her. Despite Leonardo’s conversation with the sheriff a few minutes earlier, Satyanna was still not a free woman, and wouldn’t be unless she helped him find Harry.

  “I explained to the sheriff you’ve been through some traumatizing events lately and acted a tad out of character, such as the driver’s license and the expired tourist visa.”

  “You lied.”

  “So did you, but I attached a promise to invest money to improve this place.”

  “Are you going to do it?”

  “Of course,” he said, even though the thought to help the prisoners get better infrastructure had occurred to him the second he walked into the hellhole. Despite whatever those women had done to be incarcerated, how was there ever a chance for redemption if they lived like caged animals?

  She gave him a small smile. “I guess good things can come from lies sometimes.”

  “I wouldn’t expect a different rationalization from you,” he said, his voice more bitter than intended. He watched her as she leaned and tried to read the paper; her conversational Portuguese didn’t stand a chance against the hardcore
legalese. “Your tourist visa has expired, so the sheriff should deport you immediately, but I told him I’d make sure to solve your situation.” He made a mental list of the people he’d need to call to fix that one.

  “And are you?”

  “We’ve talked about this.”

  She sighed.

  “All done, senhor?” the sheriff asked in Portuguese.

  “All done.” Leonardo cocked his head to the side, and she gave the sheriff the signed papers. When she returned him his pen, his finger brushed against her. A strange sensation shot up his arm. Clenching his pen, he swallowed hard. To go ahead with his plan he had to remember the Satyanna he thought he knew during that weekend never existed. Until he found Harry, he’d need to keep his hormones in check, and the ghost of lurking old feelings dormant.

  “Are you done?” he yelled.

  She opened the bathroom door, and a cloud of steam swirled around her like a seductive dance.

  Moisture evaporated from his throat. His gaze slid from her damp, burgundy hair, down the oversize fluffy towel that seemed even larger on her, all the way to her toes, which curled against the white marbled floor.

  His heart squeezed for no good reason. What a stupid body he had, with stupid reactions. What other explanation was there?

  She shrugged. “I had to make up for lost time. What can I wear?” She glanced around, and he wished the high four-poster bed were in a different room. His sister had insisted at least one room should be less minimalist and more romantic, and he wished now Camila hadn’t been good friends with the interior designer and hadn’t influenced her a bit. It would save him the hassle of imagining Satyanna on that bed.

  “My assistant Laura is bringing you some clothes,” he said, looking away. She wasn’t naked, goddamn it, but memory of her in her birthday suit rose unbidden, anyway. He cleared his throat. “She must be running late.”

  “Is there anything I can wear in the mean time?”

  He headed to the antique five-drawer chest, opened the top drawer, and retrieved a red, fluffy robe he kept for guests. His housekeeper had thought it would be a good idea, even though he rarely entertained. Never in a million years did he imagine Satyanna Darling wearing it in his duplex apartment in Rio. “There.”

  The moment he handed her the robe, his fingers brushed hers, and a sizzling sensation ignited through him. As if he had been burned, he took a couple steps back. Avoidance was key.

  A mischievous smile spread across her face. “Did you steal this from Hugh Hefner’s closet?”

  He frowned at her light humor, and caught himself smiling before it was too late. “Blame it on Julia, my housekeeper. I give her carte blanche to buy whatever she needs, and that’s what happens.”

  She flashed him the loveliest of smiles. “You’re lucky she doesn’t buy your clothes.”

  Clearing his throat, he drummed his fingers on his black leather belt. “Laura should be here soon so you can change.” Yes. Keep it professional. She had deceived him with a smile before. Was he really that irresponsible to fall for it again? No.

  Satyanna was so sexy it should be illegal, but that was all. She didn’t have any of the qualities he looked for in a lifelong mate. In fact, because of her untrustworthy nature, finding nonsexual qualities in her was almost impossible.

  She slid on the robe, and he cursed himself for paying attention to the towel that she dropped and tossed on the bed. “Will she bring food? That sandwich you gave me—”

  Enough small talk. Her deep, sexy voice was a liability. If he kept listening, her drawl could disarm him and eventually be the death of him, like male victims of mythological mermaids. “Listen, woman—”

  “Woman?” She chuckled, the sound a tad lighter than the atmosphere between them. “Where did you get that from, your annual Neanderthal conference?”

  Tension crackled in the air. Why would she try to humor him? The situation was nothing but serious. He wanted to make Harry pay for what he’d stolen. Would she really hand him her partner on a silver platter?

  Doubtful. She chewed on her lower lip, shoulders lifted. The idea of slamming her against the wall and capturing her lips with his was tempting. His blood thickened and pounded. Maybe that’s part of her plan. Resist her.

  “You are skating on thin ice, Satyanna. Don’t forget.”

  “How could I? I have you to keep me honest.” She tightened the belt of her robe.

  “I’m smart, but I can’t make miracles.” He paced in a couple small circles, the sole of his designer shoes squeaking against the marbled floor. Time to talk about what really mattered. “Where did you give birth?”

  She threaded her fingers through her hair, doing that scrunching thing women did when they wanted to fix their curls. “At a small women’s clinic just outside Rio, in Niterói.”

  Had she stayed there the entire time, so relatively close to him? While he searched for her in different states? “We’ll be visiting the clinic soon.”

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “Because I need to know if what happened is true. I’m going to talk to the clinic director and you need to be with me, to request your medical chart. I need evidence what you said happened isn’t just another scheme.”

  “You still don’t believe me.”

  “No,” he said without a blink. Why waste time lying? That was her game, not his. She had lied the second she walked into his life…and another lie had brought her back. Had she been able to fool the highway patrol, they wouldn’t be having this conversation. He still needed her to get his sculpture back, though, and confirming she either had the baby or not was the first step in dismantling her.

  She folded her arms as if searching for a layer of protection. “I don’t wanna go back.”

  Because it’s all a lie. What could she want from him this time, with this Mickey Mouse tale? “Why the hell not?”

  “Why do I have to go with you?”

  Glancing at his watch, he cursed his assistant in silence. Did it really take that long to pick up some clothes and head to his place? “Because you were the patient, not me. Besides, until we find Harry Clemonte, my dear, you aren’t leaving my sight.”

  She leaned forward, her lips curling into a mocking smile. “You make it sound so…enticing.”

  Was she mocking him? Before he counted to ten or reminded himself to stay away, he pushed her against the wall. It was like his body acted without any common sense. “Enough.”

  She gasped. He dipped his head down, hating himself for being unable to yank his gaze off her. God, she was beautiful. Even with the bruises on her soft skin. Against his better judgment, he lifted his index finger to her mouth, and traced over her parted lips. A wild, untamable spark lit her jade eyes.

  “What happened here?” he whispered, when he felt the cut on her bottom lip.

  Satyanna tried to move, but he held her chin up. “A woman from prison wanted to claim me as her girlfriend,” she said in a casual tone.

  His gut clenched. An intrusive wave of tenderness swept over him. His fingers tingled, and he found himself stroking her jaw line. “You fought her?”

  With a sigh, she leaned into his caress. “I fought her and her friends.”

  He bit back a smile. He learned from Ulisses, his detective, that Satyanna was no damsel in distress. She had excelled at karate, and now he was damn glad for it. Pride threaded down his spine. “Do you need to see a doctor?”

  She peered at his lips. “No.”

  Drawing a long breath, he pondered. How easy would this be to have his way with her, and get rid of the frustrating sexual tension for good? No. That wasn’t right. Not only was there little he could offer her, but taking her like this—bruised, overwhelmed, even if she acted like she was ready for another round—was plain wrong.

  The sound of the downstairs door pulled him from his thoughts. Disengaging from her, he withdrew and exhaled.

  “Leonardo?” called his assistant from the first floor.

  “Come,” he said, a
nd didn’t worry about waiting for her reply. His main goal was to escape the confines of the guest room.

  He took the flight of stairs and met Laura in the hallway. She waited for him with a smile on her pretty face as she played with her short black hair. Besides his trusted assistant, Laura was also a dear friend, one of the few people he listened to, even though she often told him he didn’t listen to her enough.

  “Hey.” She nudged his elbow. “So what’s the deal with the clothes?” She handed him a few bags.

  “Personal stuff. I’ll explain later.”

  “How about now?” Laura asked.

  He felt, rather than heard, Satyanna coming down the stairs, her hands toying with the curvy railing.

  “Satyanna, this is Laura. Laura, meet Satyanna,” he said, and gave Satyanna the bags.

  “Interesting.” Laura grinned, her gaze sliding from him to Satyanna. “Nice to meet you.” She offered Satyanna her hand.

  Satyanna smiled a little and shook her hand. “Same here.”

  “So what’s the story?”

  “No story. Thanks for doing this,” he said. She had a company credit card for miscellaneous items, so he didn’t bother going into detail. “I won’t be going to the office today. Reschedule all my appointments.” He walked toward the door and gestured for her to do the same.

  Laura made a face, and he could tell she was dying to know what was going on. After he closed the door behind him, he found Satyanna on the first step, her hand clasped around the bags.

  “She has the key to your place?”

  He nodded.

  “She’s not just your assistant, is she?”

  Since when did he owe her any explanations? “Does it matter?” Maybe she was more interested in the fact someone had the key to his place than what that person meant. Made sense. If she had any ulterior reasons for coming back into his life…

  She wrinkled her nose and waved him off. “No. Of course it doesn’t.”

  He toyed with the idea of mentioning Laura had a live-in girlfriend. Why bother, though? “Good. Then change so we can go.”