Brazilian Revenge (The Brazilians) (2 page)

The last few years of her life had been focused on working, studying, and saving money so she wouldn’t have to depend on Harry financially ever again. One-night stands and casual flings never appealed to her, for they clashed with her dream of forming a meaningful relationship and having a family someday. Her own family.

He stopped kissing her for a moment, and they both panted. Goals and dreams could certainly take a night off, right? Her heart beat fast and furious, warning her that she had no say in the matter. “My place or yours?” he asked.

“I have a room in the hotel.”

The next few minutes were a blur in her head. They sprinted out of the ballroom toward the hallway elevators. For a moment, she had the eerie sensation someone was watching them. Glancing over her shoulders, she looked for Harry, but saw no sign of him.
Maybe he got lucky as well.

“You want this?” Leonardo asked, and she didn’t miss how he inhaled and looked at her, his eyes so warm that fire could have brewed inside their depths.

“Yes,” she said, and he offered her his hand, the endearment bringing a smile to her face. Even though it was just sex, she wasn’t alone in this. “Am I crazy?”

“You’re not the only one.”

Like Sam Smith’s song.
The second she took his hand in hers, warmth engulfed her. He flashed her a smile as they stepped into the crowded elevator, and his face brightened. They seemed to be part of a secret society, as if they were the only man and woman to share such a deep sexual connection. Heat spread across her neck and cheeks. When the violin
ping
indicated they had arrived at her floor, her pulse spiked. Never letting go of her hand, he walked alongside her, and her fingers trembled as she fumbled to get the keycard from her purse and into the slot.

He nipped the back of her neck, and currents of excitement seared her nerve endings. She leaned into the door and plastered her hands over it for support. Her shoulders sagged as if she was losing strength, which was weird because a sense of empowerment also swept through her. “Let me do it for you,
minha princesa.
” His voice dropped an octave, and he slipped his hand under hers and got the keycard.
God.

“Queen. I’m supposed to be a queen.”

She let out a breath that was longer than the Brazilian coastline. Within seconds they stumbled into her hotel room, crashing against the console tables, and she barely flicked on the floor lamp when he slammed her against the wall.
Wow.
She wrapped her legs around him, her sweet spot throbbing with need.

Their tongues intertwined in a kiss that heightened her addiction to him rather than satiated her desire for him. She heard some objects falling to the floor as he cleared the heavy vanity chest and placed her on it. She reached for her back to unhook her cropped top, and her breasts bounced into view.

He dipped his head to kiss them, but she pushed him away. “No, sir. You take something off, too.”

“What would you like off first?”

“This inconvenient shirt–black tie–jacket combo.”

Chuckling, he peeled off his jacket and tossed it on the floor. As he undid the buttons of his shirt and removed it, she blinked. The man’s body could have been on a freaking
Men’s Fitness
cover. “Are you a bodybuilder or personal trainer?”

He grinned. “Human rights lawyer.”

Lawyer. She squared her shoulders.

“Not as sexy as a bodybuilder?”

“Just a reminder I better behave,” she said, and she wished that it were only a joke. Still, the man was an attorney in Brazil, and until tonight, he had never heard of her and probably knew nothing about Harry Clemonte. Why would he? Besides, Harry had promised her that he no longer schemed.

“Not tonight.”

…

Not tonight.
Leonardo nibbled her full upper lip until she let out a moan, and he released it. Tonight he would put aside all the nonsense involving his father’s health. His sister Camila had practically forced him to attend the gala, and now he was glad that he had.

He peered at the gorgeous woman in front of him. Her impossibly green eyes reminded him of the color of the sun-dappled Brazilian sea. Flecks of sunshine surrounded her intense jade irises. Satyanna would help him forget about his father’s looming death, and the annoying calls he had been getting about people interested in his coveted sculpture. A particular British fellow seemed adamant on seeing Pasquale’s last masterpiece before his death. For one night, he’d put all his gloomy reality behind. Satyanna Darling represented life, laughter, and fun. Maybe Camila was right—he needed more of those things.

Enough thinking. Cupping her jaw, he kissed her deep. Hard. Fast. Nibbling her bottom lip, he lowered his hands to her breasts. The tight peaks begged for his attention, and when he cupped them, he felt rather than heard her sigh of satisfaction.

“Fuck yeah,” he whispered, unsure he’d be able to keep from burying himself into her for much longer. She ran her hands along his shoulders, scratching her nails on his back. His cock throbbed.

A primeval need, as vital as breathing and eating, encouraged him to slide his hand under her pants. She bucked toward him, and he broke the kiss only to trail a path down her jaw and neckline. His tongue glided over her soft skin, his teeth grazing her flesh.

“Oh, yes,” she said, when he inserted two fingers inside her to find her sex drenched and lips swollen. “Don’t stop,” she added, and shifted on the dresser to help him remove her flowing trousers and her G-string.

There’s no stopping tonight.
Flicking her clit with his thumb, he continued to tease her while his tongue found one of her perky breasts. She squirmed under his teasing, and thrust her hands into his hair, sensitizing his entire scalp. Little currents of excitement surged through him. Each time she moaned, they became more powerful.

By the time she lowered her hand to his pants, his cock was about to burst. Not since he was a teenager had he come inside his pants. The woman whose little growls filled the air was robbing him of any finesse. All he wanted was to impale her again and again.

“Do you have a condom?” she asked.

“Yes.” Straightening his shoulders, he jammed his hand into his pants and grabbed his wallet. Although he couldn’t quite remember when he had even put the damn thing in there, he fetched it and threw his wallet on the floor.

She winked at him and helped him pull down his pants. “Such a rush.” Although her tone was playful, the way she gazed at his cock in awe and approval was nothing but serious.
Meu Deus.

“I could say the same thing.” He pointed at her hand, stroking his cock as she helped him roll on the condom. Hot blood pounded down his veins, and pre-cum coated his tip. She gave him a coy smile, and he stopped to look at her. The pink spreading across her cheeks added a touch of vulnerability to her super-sexy vibe.

Scarlet colored curls framed her face, and he imagined what they’d be like in the morning. Wild and tousled? Wavy and smooth? She kissed him, and he pressed her against the wall and plunged into her. Groaning, he took a moment to enjoy her tight sex wrapping around him. She let out a couple moans and nipped his shoulder.

That did it. Throwing his head back, he focused on not coming right then and on pleasuring her first. He moved again, withdrawing only to thrust into her, this time deeper. She wrapped her arms around him, sweat slicking her body.

He kissed her, and she matched his urgency stroke by stroke. At every thrust, she dug her nails into his skin, and the pang of pain only intensified the streams of pleasure already building inside him. If she continued, he wouldn’t last long. He grabbed both her hands and put them above her head. She glanced at him, and her eyes darkened to a forest green. Grinning, he used his free hand to hold her waist, and intensified the rhythm. She parted her lips, panting, not averting her gaze from his for a second.

Satyanna rocked her hips into him, encouraging him to keep going. How could he resist her? Or even pretend to? Taking a deep breath, he slipped out his length, and when she protested with a groan, he rammed his cock into her several times. Hard. Strong. Moans of pleasure filled the air. Her body started shaking, and he loosened the grip of his hand on her wrists until her arms dropped to her sides. She called out his name, and before the aftermath of orgasm hit her, he finally let go.

He drove into her one more time. Twice. His pelvic muscles contracted, and he found himself obeying a rhythm that wasn’t his to control. Spilling himself into her, he smiled.

Sim.
He was damn glad he made it to the ball.

Chapter Two

A year later…

“They get rowdy when there’s a man on the premises. Just ignore them,
senhor
,” the prison guard said.

The clinking of metal bars reverberated through him. Leonardo Duarte had been to many jails in his life as a human rights lawyer, but this one…he clenched and unclenched his fists. Following the short guard dressed in beige khakis and shirt, he strode on the stained floors and covered his mouth with his hand. Bile rose to the back of his throat. The blend of urine and body odor pushed into his nostrils. A string of catcalls started, and he slanted the women a look. Prisoners mounted over each other like rats inside a cage.

“
Gostoso
!” one of them yelled.

“Nice ass. You can come see me any time,” another one said. Whistles ensued.

He’d made a career of fighting against the Brazilian incarceration system. By using his high-profile contacts and giving out considerable donations, he had improved some prisons throughout the country. However, many didn’t share the concept that felons should leave the bars better human beings than when they had entered.

Leonardo gave them another glance, and a few women shouted obscenities at him and rubbed themselves against the bars. None of them deserved to be in those degrading conditions. Not even…

“There she is.” The guard pointed at a cell on the end of the hallway.

The woman sitting on a mat, with long legs stretching over the dirty floor, hardly reminded him of the hot seductress from a year ago. The thief who stole his beloved sculpture. The bitch who stripped him of his pride. Satyanna Darling.

He’d never forget that day when he woke up to an empty bed and learned she had fled not only her suite, but Rio. He’d asked the hotel clerks and learned Satyanna had left with an older man. Since she never mentioned Clemonte during their time together, he knew something was wrong.

When Leonardo had checked his home safe, the sculpture was missing. Didn’t take long for him to have a private detective deliver bad news—Clemonte was a masterful con-artist, and Satyanna his partner. She had distracted him, slept with him in
her
hotel room while Clemonte stole his sculpture from his place.

Leonardo had searched for her for an entire year. Yet, it had been all for nothing. That was until a phone call he had received earlier that day—from the sheriff in a small prison in Rio. Satyanna had been found with a fake Brazilian driver’s license. Since she wasn’t a Brazilian citizen, they should have called the American Embassy and let them deal with her, however she had begged for them to call Leonardo instead.

She knew I would come.
This time, though…he swallowed the lump in his dry throat. He was painfully aware of all she had done and caused. His father was dead, and he had been buried without the heirloom Leonardo had bought years ago that symbolized his mother. Any lust he’d felt for the redheaded vixen in front of him was well and truly cooled.

The guard struck his cane on the metal bar. “Hey,
Gringa.
You have a visitor.”

She shivered, and he imagined she must have been so far away from that place, at least in her mind. Well, he couldn’t blame her.

“I’ll make sure the other ones are quiet. I’ll be at the end of the hall. Call if you need me,
senhor
.” The guard turned on his heels and proceeded to shush the women whose voices faded into the background.

Leonardo stretched to his full height, and as Satyanna stood, every tiny hair on the back of his neck sizzled. Instead of the sexy
Scheherazade
costume she had on when they met, she was wearing a dirty gray shirt, dust-caked jeans, and flip-flops.

His gut clenched. She turned to him, her foot kicking the metal dish on the floor. The moment her gaze landed on his he drew in a sharp breath. A few bruises blemished her face, and the redness near her eye he imagined had been caused by a slap. Dry blood clung to a corner of her swollen lips.

A blend of betraying emotions welled up inside him. A year ago he had met her at a party Camila insisted he attend. What had started as innocent flirting became the hottest, most incredible weekend of his life.

Not just the sex. The tightness in his stomach loosened, and a warm sensation swept through him. In a way, she had helped him deal with the hardest news yet when his father had been diagnosed with brain cancer. Had she known she helped him at the time? No. Would she ever know? Never.

She peered at him, and he recognized the spark of life in those deep, emerald eyes. He took a step back. No. She wouldn’t persuade him to make the same mistake twice. Besides, the woman was bruised, for crying out loud. Her color was pale, without the glow from before. He had yearned for revenge, to see her at her worst. Yet, somehow the picture he painted was a tad different. This…woman walking toward him, her hands clenching against the bars, wasn’t the same one that haunted his dreams at night. Or was she?

“You came,” she said, her voice strangely steady. Wasn’t she scared of what could happen to her?

“What kind of trouble are you into now?” he asked, even though the sheriff had briefed him on the phone. She had been stopped for speeding, and when the highway patrol checked her Brazilian driver’s license, he recognized it as fake. She clumsily tried to bribe the man who was one of the few incorruptible officers, and had been taken to the local prison.

“I need to come clean, Leonardo. I want to go back to the States more than anything, but not while you think I stole the sculpture.”

A chuckle floated up his throat. “You want a first-class upgrade? Satyanna Darling, you broke the laws. You stole from me. And while I’m rejoicing at seeing you jailed like you deserve, I want what’s mine. You’re going to tell me right now what happened to the sculpture, otherwise you will rot in here.” He threw his words at her like an arrowhead at a wild animal. A cold wave swept through him. Would he really do it? Let her rot there?

“Please help me out of here. I swear I didn’t steal from you. Harry Clemonte did,” she said, mentioning her middle-aged partner in crime.

Blood boiled in his veins. Did she think he was that stupid? To think he would let her loose, only for her to dash and meet that sketchy old man, the one she had some sort of sick relationship with? “I’m not an idiot. You fooled me once, when I was too distracted and reckless,” he said, his eyes trailing down her body. “You do nothing for me today. Nothing,” he repeated, raising his voice.

She parted her bow-shaped lips, and he couldn’t help but watch her. “Good. I’m not interested in fucking you, Leonardo. I wanna have a chat with you so you won’t press charges against me. I wanna go back to the States, and I knew if I used my real ID I would be caught before I left the country. Besides, if I knew anything about reliable people to buy fake IDs from, I wouldn’t be here to begin with. Some daughter of a criminal I am.”

“No kidding,” he said, even though they both knew Harry wasn’t her father, biological or otherwise. Leonardo had high-profile contacts at the federal police, and had sent her picture and information out months ago. There was no way she’d make it past passport control.

“When we met, I was set up. I didn’t know it at the time, but Harry used me to steal from you.”

“Did he also instruct you to sleep with me?” he asked, and hoped his cool smile masked the frustration choking him inside. She had misled him for an entire weekend, and stupid idiot that he was, he fell for it.
Shit
. Fell for her, even though he didn’t usually believe in that kind of crap. Real, everlasting love couldn’t brew from lies and deception. And, after having witnessed his parents’ wonderful marriage, he could never settle for simple physical attraction.

“No.” She lifted her chin. “That mistake was mine alone.”

Mistake. The little hairs on the back of his neck stood up, charged. She parted her mouth, and he watched her dry flesh. His fingers tingled with need to trace her lips, to stroke her blemished skin with the back of his hand. To take care of her wounds. Nonsense.

Balling his fist into a curl, he swallowed. Hard. “I don’t believe you, Satyanna.” He pronounced her name like it was a damn curse. Even though he stood in front of her, he was breathless as if he had done some hardcore exercising. “I have no reason to help you.”

Her weight shifted from foot to foot. “I’ll give you one. You owe me that.”

“Why?”

“Because I was pregnant with your baby, goddamn it,” she said, and for the first time during that conversation, her voice wavered.

…

Satyanna clenched the cold metal bar so hard her palm cramped. Pain swept over her, and her shoulders started to sag, but she immediately lifted her chin and willed herself to keep composure.

Her body hurt. The beating from earlier still seared her skin, the bruises fresh and the pain throbbing, but none of it surpassed the emotion suffocating her. Ever since she lost Lyanna, the baby girl she never got to hold or nuzzle against her skin, this was the first time she spoke about her out loud. It had been three months since that dreadful day, but she just knew her life would never be the same.

She needed to go back to the US and regroup, start over and enjoy the life her daughter had been denied. That was the least she could do to honor her memory. How could she, though? When she had rebelled against Harry for using her as bait to steal from Leonardo, her once father figure had been clear. She would never be able to leave Brazil without him, and his fake IDs and contacts.
You are nothing without me.
He had been upset about her adamant decision to keep her pregnancy and also not use it to their benefit.

What an idiot she had been to believe he had stopped scheming and actually worked for a living. That was her fault, wasn’t it? Believing. Well, it had been. Not anymore.

The contours of Leonardo’s face tightened, his lips thinning. She took a deep breath and tried hard not to let his good looks distract her from what was important. Tough task. He towered over her, and even though he still wore a suit, there was a sparky, dangerous edge in his narrowed hazel eyes.

When they had slept together, she had marveled over his muscled physique, and oh, how wonderful it had been to lay her head on his broad, olive shoulders. Strangely enough, the couple of days she shared with him offered her the type of misleading security that could really make a girl wonder. And dream.

A laugh sliced the air, and she blinked out of her reverie. She realized he was the one laughing, though there was no amusement on his stern expression.
Yep. Wonder’s gone.

“You must think I’m stupid to fall for that one. Now, let me guess, you’re going to ask for child support?”

Tears brimmed her eyes, and her grip on the bars loosened. What did she expect? “No.” She lifted her trembling hand to her chest. “The baby is dead.”

“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.