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‘Believe me, you really don’t want to go in there,’ she heard him say in smoothly amused cultivated English which brought forth a fluttering flirtatious female laugh that for some silly reason flooded her eyes with hot tears.
When he turned on that voice he could charm anyone, she remembered. He’d charmed her into his life and into his bed without having to try very hard.
For an impressionable young woman up from the country used only to meeting the dow old friends of her father or solitary gauchos out on the plains, Luis had been like a fairytale figure to her—young, handsome, light-hearted, passionate, and so exciting to be with he’d turned her escape to Rio into the most magical time of her life.
And she’d loved him totally. Still loved him like that, she admitted as a second wave of pained tears burnt her eyes. When she’d thrown Luis away so callously she’d thrown her heart away with him, and lived the last six years without one.
The shared laughter on the other side of the door grew quieter as they moved away, then there was silence. With an effort Cristina pulled herself together, turning to check her hair and her make-up in the mirror and hurriedly trying to cover the swollen
evidence of his kiss with a layer of red lipstick. It was not successful—how could it be when her lips continued to pulse, her eyes shone too brightly and her skin wore a flush that was not all to do with humiliation and shame?
She looked away, turned away, then took in a deep breath and made herself go back to the party—to hear from a disgruntled Gabriel that Luis had already left with his beautiful companion.
‘Where do you know him from? How did you meet him?’ he demanded to know. ‘Do you know who he is? He owns big stakes in just about every banking house between here and the moon, and if I had known you knew him we could have used the connection. But the way you just walked away has probably blown that opportunity.’
‘Sorry,’ she murmured, not sorry at all. ‘I felt ill suddenly. I thought you would prefer it if I didn’t embarrass you by throwing up on his shoes.’
The begging bowl remained empty. By the time Gabriel saw Cristina into his car, the mood between them had turned very grim. As he drove them towards his apartment the silence grew like a heavy weight around both of them.
Then he told her why. ‘The word is out, Cristina. You are untouchable. Most of the people there tonight have a stake in the Alagoas Consortium. They want you to surrender and sell.’
Strangely enough, she was not surprised—though she did wonder how big a stake Luis was holding.
It was the first question she asked him when she rang him from the privacy of the bedroom Gabriel had loaned her for her stay in Rio. She’d left Gabriel stretched out on a chair in his living room, brooding about the evening over a glass of brandy before going out again to meet up with his lover.
‘Is it relevant?’ Luis countered.
‘If you want to see me fail as much as everyone else does, then yes,’ she said. ‘It is relevant.’
‘Be here at my suite at twelve o’clock sharp,’ was all he said. ‘And don’t bother to bring the lover along with you.’
‘Lover?’ she echoed blankly.
‘The handsome blond with the very white teeth,’ he extended with a sarcastic bite from his own white teeth.
‘You mean Gabriel?’
‘Yes, I mean Gabriel,’ he mocked her.
‘But he is—’
‘Out, querida,’ Anton said coldly. ‘And I mean right out—of your life and the business loop. If you want me to save your precious Santa Rosa then from now on you deal only and exclusively with me.’
The line went dead. Anton let the receiver fall onto his naked chest and released a surprised laugh.
She’d cut him off, the reckless little witch!
The laugh changed into a smile as he relaxed back on to the pillows to stare at the ceiling while he imagined the way her eyes would be flashing with fury right now. He might have her cornered, shocked and frightened, but he had not scared her enough to make her behave herself when she was angry.
Nobody told Cristina Marques what to do. The moment anyone attempted to lay down the law with her she turned into a she-devil with bite. She got fiery and feisty and sometimes totally, excitingly unmanageable. They’d had rows in their twelve months together that had made Rio shake. She’d slammed doors, spat insults and all but lit up with defiance—while he had remained so laid back and cool about everything it had used to send her wilder still.
He’d used to love her wildness. He’d used to stand back and calmly goad her on, then wait for the moment when she would fly at him with her angry claws drawn. Fielding her with the ease of a man virtually born on an English rugby field had been a delight and a provocation in itself. She would kick, she would bite, she would scratch—or try to, without a hope of wounding him. And he would urge her on with taunts from his eyes and provoking comments while he went looking for the nearest horizontal surface on which to safely drop her.
And himself. Of course himself. A wide naked shoulder gave a shrug as if that was a given. You didn’t catch yourself a wild thing without enjoying all of that fire and passion. You tapped into it. You provoked it further. You let it drive you crazy until that defining moment arrived when—
The phone rang again, vibrating against the smattering of dark hair on his chest. He lifted it to his ear.
‘You will not dictate to me, Luis!’ Her voice came shrill, packed with those sensationally sexy vowel sounds that littered her English. ‘This is business, and in business anyone would be a complete fool to meet with you without their lawyer present also!’
