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I don’t say any more, because I want him to feel like he can come to me about anything—say anything. But he needs to be respectful.
“Is my brother with him?”
“I believe so. I’ll send a couple of my men to meet the plane when it lands back in Porto, and you have guards with you. This isn’t a good time to have a showdown with Tomas, but you don’t need to put up with any shit from him either.”
For a few seconds, I contemplate telling him I’ll go along so he doesn’t have to face those bastards alone. It would be the easiest way to manage the situation—for both of us. But easy doesn’t mean good. If I go with Rafael, he’ll think I don’t have faith in him to take care of business, and he’ll start to lose confidence in himself. We worked too damn hard to rebuild the confidence his father stole from him for me to throw it away now.
“What am I supposed to say to a dying man who I hate with every fiber of my being?” he demands. “‘I hope you rot in hell for murdering my mother and spreading filthy lies about her running off with another man.’Is that what I’m supposed to say, Antonio?”
My heart clenches for the tortured little boy I hear in his voice.
“If that’s what you want to say, say it. This visit isn’t for him. It’s for you. It doesn’t matter what words you use. None of it matters. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
I don’t regret the words, but in my soul I know they’re a lie. Bad genes follow you forever. Boys who grow up with abusive fathers, without a lick of honor, suffer for a lifetime. That’s the truth. It’s my truth, just like it’s Rafael’s, but there’s no way in hell I’m sharing that with him.
“Send the babe home. Pack a bag and get on the plane. Plan to stay a few days. I miss your ugly face, and there’s someone staying at the house I want you to meet.”
“What, you got yourself a live-in babe?” He snickers, like it’s a far-fetched idea.
“Something like that.”
“I was kidding. You serious?”
“We’ll talk when you get home.”
29
Antonio
After we say goodbye, I toss my phone aside and run my fingers through my hair. Between Daniela and Rafa, my balls have been busted pretty good today.
“You’re going to introduce Daniela to him?” Cristiano asks, looking up from his laptop.
“I don’t want to wait any longer to tell him that we’re adding another member to the family. He’ll keep it quiet.”
“I’m not worried about him. What about her? She gave me an earful the other day.”
I rub my hands over my face. I’ve tried to teach Rafa that women aren’t objects put on Earth to satisfy men’s needs. And now I have this woman staying in my house—against her wishes. I wouldn’t put it past Daniela to spill her guts to him. Not that he could do a damn thing to help her.
Maybe I’ll do a little bartering.
“How are we doing with a phone for Daniela?”
Lucas lifts a phone off his desk. “All set. Safeguards are in place. You want it?”
“Yeah.”
He tosses it over.
“How did dinner go?”
I glare at Cristiano. “The house is still standing. But that’s only because she’d never risk Victor getting hurt.”
How did dinner go?
Daniela’s torn—about everything. I felt the indecision swirling inside her all night. She sent nothing but mixed signals—hot, cold, happy, angry…sometimes within the span of seconds. The only time she wasn’t battling was when my hands and mouth were on her.
She’d deny it vehemently, but she kissed me, dug her fingers into my shoulders, and let her tongue tangle with mine. She swayed into my cock, grinding her pussy against the bulge until it took everything I had not to sink my dick into her. But when she bucked off the table, hair matted to her damp skin, eyes unfocused, whimpering my name, that’s when I knew it was more than just a deal for her. She can pretend if it helps her sleep at night, but she wanted me as badly as I wanted her.
