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Shaking off the frustration, he opened his phone and dialled Angelus Fiero’s number for an update. Upon hearing that the two criminal henchmen had escaped and gone straight back to Novos Lideres and Cabo, he clenched his fists on the table.
‘Filho da mãe!’ he cursed, banging his fists hard against the wood.
He quickly recovered and forced himself to think logically. Those men would never have testified against him anyway; it was a part of the sick code of the Novos Lideres. Men quite literally pledged their life to their patrao—their boss. And Lionel Cabo got to sit at the top of the pecking order, watching them all fall like good soldiers.
He wasn’t prepared to tell Angelus any details about the woman staying under his protection. He simply said that he was working with a witness who was possibly willing to assist in their case. The older man’s voice brightened substantially, and he assured Duarte that witness testimony would be enough to get an arrest warrant at least, but they still needed solid evidence to make the charges stick.
The idea of finally putting Lionel Cabo behind bars for his crimes was immensely satisfying. But what would he do if Nora decided not to do the right thing? What if fear won out over that tiny spark of fury he’d seen in her eyes when he’d told her the depth of the mobster’s crimes?
Once she could leave, he wouldn’t be able to stop her.
In an ideal world, he’d simply offer her a large sum of money in return for information—but he had a feeling that bribery would only send her running faster. She had seemed uncomfortable with his purchases for her and the baby, continuously offering to repay him.
His father had taught him to follow his instincts in business and he’d honed that skill to a fine art, using it to his advantage in all areas of his life. He needed to stay, to get under her skin and find out what she was holding back and why.
Nora Beckett was proving to be quite a perplexing distraction, but if there was one thing Duarte Avelar relished above all else, it was a challenge.
Nora waited patiently for her distractingly handsome host to disappear back to his busy life, as he had done while they’d been in Rio, but he surprised her by staying put at the villa. Shockingly, he didn’t attempt to question her further about her revelations. Nor did he mention their kiss.
He spent most mornings doing laps of the pool at a punishing pace, while she tried to focus on tending to Liam, trying not to catch glimpses of his powerful body slicing through the water, or heading off bare-chested for a jog along the beach. The middle hours of the day were spent working, but she soon found that he was not the kind of man who holed himself up in an office all day in front of a screen. Instead, he took conference calls out on the terrace, as he paced back and forth like a lion in his den, issuing orders and asking questions in more languages than she could count.
He’d taken over the large dining table that overlooked the sea, filling it with complicated blueprints and large heavy books filled with technical information. Sometimes when she woke at night, to pad to the kitchen for milk for Liam, he would still be there, frowning as he fitted together odd-shaped plastic pieces and transferred calculations to technical-looking documents.
His yacht designs, she presumed, remembering how passionately he’d once spoken of his creative projects.
They had eaten dinner together for four nights in a row, and the conversation had been far from boring. He was a deeply intelligent, well-travelled man, and yet he didn’t try to make her feel inferior because she didn’t know about worldly things due to her sheltered life.
At their first dinner she had briefly mentioned she loved to swim, and the next day she’d found a brand-new powder-blue swimsuit in a package outside her bedroom door.
The next night Duarte had surprised her by showcasing his cooking skills, and had prepared a delicious platter of barbecued picanha, the meat so tender it had made her moan with delight. Afterwards, Inés had offered to rock Liam to sleep, and Nora had accepted Duarte’s offer of a short walk down to the beach.
As she’d stared out at the wide expanse of the ocean, spread out ahead of them, she had found herself confessing to him her dream of travelling, of seeing in real life all the amazing places in her architecture textbooks.
He’d seemed genuinely interested, and impressed that she’d completed a degree during such a turbulent time in her life, and he had frowned when she’d revealed that she’d had to abandon all her books back in Rio.
The next day there had been an entire shelf of thick hardbacks installed in the formal study at the back of the house, along with a note from him instructing her not to give up on her dream.
He somehow managed to make her feel on edge and completely at ease all at the same time.
On the sixth day after their arrival, she found herself sitting outside in the sunshine with Liam peacefully asleep in his pram by her side. When she felt a strange prickle on her neck she turned to see a familiar pair of golden eyes watching her. Quickly he turned away, going back to his work, as though chagrined at being ca
ught looking her way.
Nora bit her bottom lip, wondering if he felt the unbearable chemistry simmering between them just as much as she did.
That evening, Duarte passed a message through Inés that he had to leave for the city. Nora tried not to be hurt by his lack of a goodbye, reminding herself that she was a guest in his home and nothing more. But she had got used to their evenings together and felt silly for being disappointed.
The next morning she awoke, ready for the nurse’s daily check-up, and was shocked when the woman reminded her that it was the day of Liam’s six-week check-up.
She waited with bated breath until the nurse announced that her son had grown and developed at a typical rate over the past six weeks and congratulated her on a job well done.
Her own check-up was just as detailed, and ended with another smiling declaration that she had healed perfectly and the pre-eclampsia would have no lasting effects. She watched in silence as they were both officially declared fit for travel, and then gave the nurse a long hug as she bade the woman goodbye for the last time.
Duarte had kept his word and booked her flight, the details for which were printed out and safely stashed in the hidden compartment of her case.
There was nothing to stop her from leaving, she thought sombrely as she stood on the balcony and watched the helicopter recede into the clouds above. And yet she had already decided she would stay.
Her complicated feelings for her son’s father had clouded her mind, making it impossible for her to come to a decision about trusting him. But really she knew she had to tell him. Even if he had treated her terribly all those months ago and broken her heart, was that enough of a reason for her to deny him the right to see his own son?
