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Nora felt slightly nervous at leaving the house for the first time, but Inés had practically pushed her out through the door, assuring her that Liam would be fine for a couple of hours.
He had begun sleeping for longer stretches of the night now, she reassured herself, trying to ignore the almost painful tug of anxiety as Duarte’s car moved away from the house and along the dirt road.
As though he sensed her anxiety, Duarte began filling the silence with commentary, telling her about the small town of Paraty and its rich history dating back to the time of the gold rush.
The historic centre of town was a bustling labyrinth of pedestrianised cobbled streets, with pretty whitewashed buildings and a surprisingly cosmopolitan array of restaurants. Duarte had booked a table in a small modern-looking eatery near the pier, where the ambience was like stepping into a warm golden cavern.
True to his word, the moqueca was the best she’d ever tasted. The traditional fish stew melted in her mouth and was washed down by a local wine. For a dinner with a billionaire, it was surprisingly low-key and cosy. She found herself slowly relaxing as she tried not to think of the words she had rehearsed all day.
All day she had been tortured with anxiety. She didn’t want to lose him all over again. She’d made bad choices in her life and allowed herself to be controlled by her father, but she did not believe she was truly bad.
After the last of their food had been cleared, Duarte suggested they take a walk down the stone-walled pier to where he had something he wanted to show her. Nora walked alongside him, keeping her eyes ahead and trying to control the swirl of butterflies flapping around her stomach.
The way he looked at her and listened to her, his curiosity unmarred by the hatred she’d once seen... It was as if she’d been given a true second chance with him—with the Duarte she’d known before his betrayal and all the ugliness with her father.
‘It’s just down here.’ Duarte smiled as he took her hand and led her down one of the narrow wooden walkways of the marina. Small fishing boats bobbed gently on either side, gradually getting bigger and more expensive-looking as they walked further on.
Duarte came to a stop at the end, gesturing to a gigantic dark-painted ship that looked completely out of place amongst the more modern white and grey giants that surrounded it. It had several tall sails and an elegant golden trim. A large painted sign along the side read O Dançarina. The Dancer.
‘This was the first ship I ever set foot on. My father’s pride and joy.’ Duarte spoke quietly beside her. ‘It’s been in storage for seven years...ever since their accident.’
Seven years. Nora closed her eyes
briefly. She knew exactly when his parents had died, and felt sadness on his behalf.
Duarte pulled down the gangplank and gestured for her to follow him on board. She’d bet the deck alone was longer than her entire apartment back in Rio. It was polished teak and spotlessly clean, as though it had just come back from a week at sea with its wealthy owners. She half expected staff to be teeming below-deck, ready to offer refreshments and hors d’oeuvres.
‘I had it cleaned. It still looks exactly the same.’
Duarte smiled, taking his time as he ran his hands along the wooden handrail that lined the sides. He reached down to a small panel and with one flick of a switch the entire ship was lit up with golden light.
‘It’s...beautiful...’ Nora breathed. ‘I always knew that you own a yacht empire, and that you design your own ships, but this is the first time I’ve seen you on one.’
He laughed, a glorious smile touching his full lips. ‘I was thinking I might take her out on the water tomorrow, but for tonight we’ll have to make do with a champagne picnic right here in port.’
He poured her a glass from the bottle waiting for them.
‘This is...magical...’ Nora mused, feeling the bubbles warm her throat as she swallowed. ‘Thank you for tonight. For being such a kind host.’
He raised a brow in her direction, leaning forward to sweep a lock of hair from her face. ‘I’m not here as your host tonight, Nora. I thought that was pretty clear.’
She blushed, turning her face away from him and feeling warmth spread down her body. When she looked up, she saw the twinkling lights of the marina reflected in his golden eyes. His arms circled her waist, pulling her closer so they stood barely an inch apart.
‘I’ve thought about nothing but kissing you all day,’ he purred, his fingers softly sweeping along her cheek and down to cup either side of her neck. ‘You almost made me sign half my paperwork with your name.’
‘I’m sorry.’ She smiled, shivering at the sensation of his touch branding her skin. She felt caged in by his large body and his leonine eyes. Trapped in the most sensual meaning of the word. She’d never felt happier.
‘You don’t sound sorry,’ he growled. ‘You sound quite delighted at the thought of me in my office, half mad with lust, hardly able to wait to get back to you.’
‘I thought of you too,’ she whispered. ‘I... I missed you.’
Her voice broke on the words, on their heartbreaking truth. She had missed him so much. She needed to tell him everything—needed to take a leap of faith and believe that he wouldn’t punish her—or their son—for her hesitation.
But then his lips were on hers, his hands sweeping down to caress her hips and the small of her back. As she sighed into the kiss, sliding her tongue against his, she felt her control begin to unravel. He pressed himself and his hard length against her and she had to fight not to groan against his mouth. Her body remembered his hands and seemed to heat up on command, until the fire within her threatened to consume her entirely.
As though he suddenly realised he was grinding himself against her, he broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against hers. ‘I’m sorry... It’s been a while for me. I swear I’ve never felt so out of control.’
‘I know the feeling...’ she breathed, her mind a tangle of desire.
