Sarah Morgan
Million-Dollar Love-Child

To Kim Young, for being a great friend

and a fantastic editor.

Thank you.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

COMING NEXT MONTH

CHAPTER ONE

SHE’Dnever known fear like it.

Breathing so rapidly that she felt light-headed, Kimberley stood in the imposing glass-walled boardroom on the executive floor of Santoro Investments, staring down at the throbbing, vibrant streets of Rio de Janeiro.

The waiting was torture.

Everything rested on the outcome of this visit—everything—and the knowledge made her legs weaken and her insides knot with vicious tension.

It was ironic, she thought helplessly, that the only person who could help her now was the one man she’d sworn never to see again.

Forcing herself to breathe steadily, she closed her eyes for a moment and tried to modify her expectations. He’d probably refuse to see her.

People didn’t just arrive unannounced and gain access to a man like Luc Santoro.

She was only sitting here now because his personal assistant had taken pity on her. Stammering out her request to see him, Kimberley had been so pale and anxious that the older woman had become quite concerned and had insisted that she should sit and wait in the privacy of the air-conditioned boardroom. Having brought her a large glass of water, the assistant had given her a smile and assured her that Mr Santoro really wasn’t as dangerous as his reputation suggested.

But Kimberley knew differently. Luc Santoro wasn’t just dangerous, he was lethal and she knew that it was going to take more than water to make her face the man on the other side of that door.

What was she going to say?

How was she going to tell him?

Where was she going to start?

She couldn’t appeal to his sense of decency or his conscience because he possessed neither. Helping others wasn’t high on his agenda. He used people and, more especially, he used women. She knew that better than anyone. Pain ripped through her as she remembered just how badly he’d treated her. He was a ruthless, self-seeking billionaire with only one focus in his life. The pursuit of pleasure.

And for a short, blissful time, she’d been his pleasure.

Her heart felt like a heavy weight in her chest. Looking back on it now, she couldn’t believe how naïve she’d been. How trusting. As an idealistic, romantic eighteen-year-old, she’d been willing and eager to share every single part of herself with him. She’d held nothing back because she’d seen no reason to hold anything back. He’d been the one. Her everything. And she’d been his nothing.

She curled her fingers into her palms and reminded herself that the objective of today was not to rehash the past. She was going to have to put aside the memory of the pain, the panic and the bone-deep humiliation she’d suffered as a result of his cruel and careless rejection.

None of that mattered now.

There was only one thing that mattered to her, only one person, and for the sake of that person she was going to bite her tongue, smile, beg or do whatever it took to ingratiate herself with Luc Santoro—because there was no way she was leaving Brazil without the money she needed.

It was a matter of life and death.

She paced the length of the room, trying to formulate some sort of plan in her mind, trying to work out a reasonable way to ask for five million dollars from a man who had absolutely no feelings for her.

How was she going to tackle the subject?

How was she going to tell him that she was in serious trouble?

And how could she make him care?

She felt a shaft of pure panic and then the door opened and he strolled into the room unannounced, the sun glinting on his glossy black hair, his face hard, handsome and unsmiling.

And Kimberley realised that she was in even more trouble than she’d previously thought.

She looked like a baby deer caught in an ambush.

Without revealing any of his thoughts, Luc surveyed the slender, impossibly beautiful redhead who stood shivering and pale on the far side of his boardroom.

She looked so frightened that he almost found it possible to feel sorry for her. Except that he knew too much about her.

And if he were in her position, he’d be shaking, too.

She had one hell of a nerve, coming here!

Seven years.

He hadn’t seen Kimberley Townsend for seven years and still she had the ability to seriously disturb his day.

Endless legs, silken hair, soft mouth and a wide, trusting smile—

For a time she’d truly had him fooled with that loving, giving, generous act that she’d perfected. Accustomed to being with women who were as sophisticated and calculating as himself, he’d been charmed and captivated by Kimberley’s innocence, openness and her almost childlike honesty.

It was the first and only occasion in his adult life when he’d made a serious error of judgement.

She was a greedy little gold-digger.

He knew that now. And she knew that he knew.

So what could possibly have possessed her to throw herself in his path again?

She was either very brave or very, very stupid. He strolled towards her, watching her flinch and tremble and decided that she didn’t look particularly brave.

Which just left stupid.

Or desperate?

Kimberley stood with her back to the wall and wondered how she could have forgotten the impact that Luciano Santoro had on women. How could she ever have thought she could hold a man like him?

Time had somehow dimmed the memory and the reality was enough to stun her into a temporary silence.

She was tall but he was taller. His shoulders were broad, his physique lithe and athletic and his dark, dangerous looks alone were enough to make a woman forget her own name. The truth was that, even among a race renowned for handsome men, Luc stood out from the crowd.

She stared at him with almost agonizing awareness as he strolled towards her, her eyes sliding over the glossy blueblack hair, the high cheekbones, those thick, thick lashes that shielded brooding, night-dark eyes and down to the darkened jaw of a man who seemed to embody everything it meant to be masculine. He was dressed formally in standard business attire but even the tailored perfection of his dark suit couldn’t entirely disguise a nature that bordered on the very edges of civilised. Although he moved in a conventional world, Luc could never be described as ‘safe’ and it was that subtle hint of danger that added to his almost overwhelming appeal.

His attraction to the opposite sex was as powerful as it was predictable and she’d proved herself to be as susceptible as the rest when it came to his particular brand of lethal charm.

Feeling her heart pound against her chest, she wondered whether she’d been mad to come here.

She didn’t move in his league and she never had. They played by a completely different set of rules.

And then she reminded herself firmly that she wasn’t here for herself. Given the choice she never would have come near Luc again. But he was her only hope.

‘Luciano.’

His eyes mocked her in that lazy, almost bored way that she used to find both aggravating and seductive. ‘Very formal. You used to call me Luc.’

He spoke with a cultured male drawl that held just a hint of the dark and dangerous. The staggeringly successful international businessman mingled with the raw, rough boy from the streets.

There was enough of the hard and the tough and the ruthless in him to make her shiver. Of course he was tough and ruthless, she reasoned, trying to control the exaggerated response of her trembling body. Rumour had it that he’d dragged himself from the streets of Rio before building one of the biggest multinational businesses in the world.

‘That’s in the past.’ And she didn’t want to remember the past. Didn’t want to remember the times she’d cried out his name as he’d shown her yet another way to paradise.

He raised an eyebrow and from the look in his dark eyes she knew that he was experiencing the same memories. The temperature in the room rose by several degrees and the air began to crackle and hum. ‘And is that what this meeting is about? The past? You want closure? You have come to beg forgiveness and repay the money you stole?’

It was typical of him that the first thing he mentioned was the money.

For a moment her courage faltered.

‘I know it was wrong to use your credit cards—’ she licked her lips ‘—but I had a good reason—’ She broke off and the carefully prepared speech that she’d rehearsed and rehearsed in her head dissolved into nothing and suddenly she couldn’t think how on earth she was going to say what needed to be said.

Now, she urged herself frantically, tell him now!

But somehow the right words just wouldn’t come.

‘You did give me the cards—’

‘One of the perks of being with me,’ Luc said silkily, ‘but when you spent the money, you were no longer with me. I have to congratulate you. I thought that no woman had the ability to surprise me—’he paced around her, his voice a soft, lethal drawl ‘—and yet you did just that. During our relationship you spent nothing. You showed no interest in my money. At the time I thought you were unique amongst your sex. I found your lack of interest in material things particularly endearing.’ His tone hardened. ‘Now I see that you were in fact just clever. Very clever. You held back on your spending but once you realised that the relationship was over, you showed your true colours.’

Kimberley’s mouth fell open in genuine amazement. What on earth was he implying? It was definitely time to tell him the truth. ‘I can explain where the money went—’ She braced herself for the ultimate confession but he gave a dismissive shrug that indicated nothing short of total indifference.

‘If there is one occupation more boring than watching a woman shop, it’s hearing about it after the event.’ Luc’s tone was bored. ‘I have absolutely no interest in the finer details of feminine indulgence.’

‘Is that what you think it was?’ Kimberley stared at him, aghast. ‘You think I spent your money in some sort of childish female tantrum?’

‘So you cheered yourself up with some new shoes and handbags.’ He gave a sardonic smile. ‘It is typically female behaviour. I can assure you I’m no stranger to the perceived benefits of retail therapy.’

Kimberley gasped. ‘You are unbelievably insensitive!’ Her voice rang with passion, anger and pain and her carefully planned speech flew out of her brain. He thought she’d been shopping? ‘Shopping was the last thing on my mind! This was not retail therapy.’ Her whole body trembled with indignation. ‘This was survival. I needed the money to survive because I gave up everything to be with you. Everything. I gave up my job, my flat—I moved in with you. It was what you demanded.’

His gaze was cool. ‘I don’t recall a significant degree of protest on your part.’

She tilted her head back and struggled with her emotions. ‘I was in love with you, Luc.’ Her voice cracked and she paused for just long enough to regain control. ‘I was so in love with you that being together was the only thing in my life that made sense. I couldn’t see further than what we shared. I certainly couldn’t imagine a time when we wouldn’t be together.’

‘Women do have a tendency to hear wedding bells when they’re around me,’ he observed dryly. ‘In fact I would say, the larger the wallet, the louder the bells.’

‘I’m not talking about marriage. I didn’t care about marriage. I just cared about you.’

A muscle flickered in his lean jaw and his eyes hardened. ‘Obviously you were planning for the long term.’

It took her a moment to understand the implication of his words. ‘You’re suggesting it was an act?’ She gave a tiny laugh of disbelief and lifted a hand to her throat. Beneath the tips of her fingers she felt her pulse beating rapidly. ‘You think I was pretending?’

‘You were very convincing,’ Luc conceded after a moment’s reflection, ‘but then the stakes were high, were they not? The prospect of landing a billionaire is often sufficient to produce the most commendable acting skills in a woman.’

Kimberley stared at him.

How could she ever have been foolish enough to give her love to this man? Was her judgement really that bad?

Tears clogged her throat. ‘I don’t consider you a prize, Luc,’ she choked. ‘In fact I consider you to be the biggest mistake of my life.’

‘Of course you do.’ He spread lean bronzed hands and gave a sympathetic smile, but his eyes were hard as flint. ‘I can understand that you’d be kicking yourself for letting me slip through your fingers. All I can say is, better luck with the next guy.’

She stared into his cold, handsome face and suddenly she just wanted to sob and sob. ‘You deserve to be alone in life, Luc,’ she said flatly, battling not to let the emotion show on her face, ‘and every woman with a grain of sense is going to let you slip right through her fingers. Given the chance, I’d drop you head first on to a tiled floor from a great height.’

He smiled an arrogant, all-male smile that reflected his unshakeable self-confidence. ‘We both know you couldn’t get enough of me.’

She gasped, utterly humiliated by the picture he painted. ‘That was before I knew what an unfeeling, cold-hearted bastard you were!’ She broke off in horror, appalled by her rudeness and uncharacteristic loss of control. What had come over her? ‘I—I’m sorry, that was unforgivable—’

‘Don’t apologise for showing your true colours.’ Far from being offended, he looked mildly amused. ‘Believe it or not, I prefer honesty in a woman. It saves all sorts of misunderstanding.’

She lifted a hand to her forehead in an attempt to relieve the ache between her temples.

It had been so hard for her to come here. So hard to brace herself to tell him the things that he needed to know. And so far none of it had gone as planned.

She had things that had to be said and she just didn’t know how to say them. Instead of talking about the present, they were back in the past and that was the one place she didn’t want to be. Unless she could use the past to remind him of what they’d once shared—

‘You cared, Luc,’ she said softly, her hands dropping to her sides in a helpless gesture. ‘I know you cared. I felt it.’

She appealed to the man that she’d once believed him to be.

‘I was very turned on by the fact I was your first lover,’ he agreed in a smooth tone. ‘In fact I was totally knocked out by the novelty of the experience. Naturally I was keen for you to enjoy it too. You were very shy and it was in both our interests for you to be relaxed. I did what needed to be done and said what needed to be said.’

Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. In other words he was so experienced with women that he knew exactly which buttons to press. In her case he’d sensed that she needed closeness and affection. It hadn’t meant anything to him.

‘So you’re saying it was all an act?’ The pain inside her blossomed. ‘Being loving and gentle was just another of your many seduction methods?’

He shrugged as if he could see no problem with that. ‘I didn’t hear you complaining.’

She closed her eyes. How could she have been so gullible? Yes, she’d been a virgin but that was no excuse for bald stupidity. Sixteen years of living with a man like her father should have taught her everything she needed to know about men. He’d moved from one woman to another, never making a commitment, never giving anything. Just using. Using and discarding. Her mother had walked out just after Kimberley’s fourth birthday and from that moment on she had a series of ‘Aunties’, women who came into her father’s life and then left with a volley of shouts and jealous accusations. Kimberley had promised herself that she was never, ever going to let a man treat her the way her father treated women. She was going to find one man and she was going to love him.

And then she’d met Luc and for a short, crazy period of time she’d thought he was that man. She’d ignored his reputation with women, ignored any similarities to her father, ignored her promise to herself.

She’d broken all her own rules.

And she’d paid the price.

‘What did I ever do to make you treat me so cruelly?’ Suddenly she needed to understand. Wanted to know what had gone wrong—how she could have made such an enormous mistake. ‘Why did you need other women?’

‘I’ve never been a one woman kind of guy,’ he admitted without a trace of apology or regret, ‘and you’re all pretty much the same, as you went on to prove with your truly awesome spending spree.’

She flinched. This would be a perfect time to confess. To tell him exactly why she’d needed the money so badly. She took a deep breath and braced herself for the truth. ‘I spent your money because I needed it for something very important,’ she said hesitantly, ‘and before I tell you exactly what, I want you to know that I did try and talk to you at the time but you wouldn’t see me, and—’

‘Is this conversation going anywhere?’ He glanced at his watch in a gesture of supreme boredom. ‘I’ve already told you that your spending habits don’t interest me. And if you’d needed funds then maybe you should have tapped your other lover for the cash.’

She gasped. ‘I didn’t have other lovers. You know I didn’t.’

There’d only ever been him. Just him.

‘I don’t know anything of the kind.’ His eyes hardened. ‘On two occasions I returned home to be told that you were “out”.’

‘Because I was tired of lying in our bed waiting for you to come home from some other woman’s arms!’ She exploded with exasperation, determined to defend herself. ‘Yes, I went out! And you just couldn’t stand that, could you? And why not? Because you always have to be the one in control.’

‘It wasn’t about control.’ His gaze simmered, dark with all the volatility of his exotic heritage. ‘You didn’t need to leave. You were mine.’

And he thought that wasn’t about control?

‘You make me sound like a possession!’ Her voice rang with pain and frustration. She was trying to say what needed to be said but each time she tried to talk about the present they seemed to end up back in the past. ‘You treat every woman like a possession! To be used and discarded when you’re had enough! That’s why our relationship never would have worked. You’re ruthless, self-seeking and totally without morals or thought for other people. You expected me to lie there and wait for you to finish partying and come home!’

‘Instead of which, you decided to expand your sexual horizons,’ he said coldly and she resisted the temptation to leap at him and claw at his handsome face.

How could such an intelligent, successful man be so dense about women? He couldn’t see past the end of his nose.

‘You went out, so I went out.’ Wisps of hair floated across her face and she brushed them away with an impatient hand. ‘What was I supposed to do when you weren’t there?’

‘You were supposed to get some rest,’ he delivered in silky tones, ‘and wait for me to come home.’

Neanderthal man. She was expected to wait in the cave for the hunter to return.

Exasperated beyond belief, she resisted the temptation to walk out and slam the door. ‘This is the twenty-first century, Luc! Women vote. They run companies. They decide their own social lives.’

‘And they cheat on their partners.’ He gave a sardonic lift of his brows. ‘Progress, indeed.’

‘I did not cheat!’ She stared at him in outrage, wondering how such an intelligent man could be so dense when it came to relationships. She’d loved him so much. ‘You were the one photographed in a restaurant with another woman. Clearly I wasn’t enough for you.’ She gave a casual shrug and tried to keep the pain out of her voice. ‘Naturally I assumed that if you were out seeing other people then I could do the same. But I did not cheat!’

‘I don’t want the details.’

They were closing in on each other. A step here, a slight movement there.

‘Well, perhaps you should, instead of jumping to conclusions,’ she suggested shakily, ‘and if a sin was committed then it was yours, Luc. I was eighteen years old and yet you seduced me without even a flicker of conscience. And then you moved on without a flicker of conscience. Tell me—did you give it any thought? Before you took my virginity and wrecked my life, did you give it any thought?’

His dark gaze swept over her with naked incredulity. ‘You have been back in my life for five minutes and already you are snapping and snarling and hurling accusations. You were only too willing to be seduced, my flame-haired temptress, but if you’ve forgotten that fact then I’m happy to jog your memory.’ Without warning he closed lean brown fingers around her wrist and jerked her hard against him. The connection was immediate and powerful.

‘That first night, in the back of my car, when you wrapped that amazing body of yours around mine—’ his voice was a low, dangerous purr and the warmth of his breath teased her mouth ‘—was that not an invitation?’

The air around them crackled and sparked with tension.

She tugged at her wrist but he held her easily and she remembered just how much she’d loved that about him. His strength. His vibrant, undiluted masculinity. In fact she’d positively relished the differences between them. His dark male power to her feminine softness. Her good to his very, very bad.

He was so strong and she’d always felt incredibly safe when she was with him. At the beginning that had been part of the attraction. Particularly that first night, as he’d just reminded her. ‘I’d been attacked. I was frightened—’

And he’d rescued her. Using street fighting skills that didn’t go with the sleek dinner jacket he’d been wearing, he’d taken on six men and had extracted her with apparently very little damage to himself. As a tactic designed to impress a woman, it had proved a winner.

‘So you wanted comfort.’ His grip on her wrist tightened. ‘So when you slid on to my lap and begged me to kiss you, was that not an invitation? Or was that comfort too?’

Hot colour of mortification flooded her smooth cheeks. ‘I don’t know what happened to me that night—’

She’d taken one look at him and suddenly believed in fairy tales. Knights. Dragons. Maidens in distress. He was the one. Or so she’d thought—

‘You discovered your true self,’ he said roughly. ‘That’s what happened. So don’t accuse me of seducing you when we both know that I only took what you freely offered. You were hot for me and you stayed hot—’

‘I was innocent—’

His breath warmed her mouth and he gave a slow, sexy smile that made her heart thud hard against her chest. ‘You were desperate.’

He was going to kiss her.

She recognised the signs, saw the darkening of his eyes and the lowering of those thick, thick lashes as his heated gaze swept her flushed face.

The tension throbbed and pulsed between them and then suddenly he released her with a soft curse and took a step backwards.

‘So why are you here?’ His tone was suddenly icy cold, and there was anger in the glint of his dark eyes. ‘You wish to reminisce? You are hoping for a repeat performance, perhaps? If so, you should probably know that women only get one chance in my bed and you blew it.’

A repeat performance?

Erotic memories flashed through her brain and she took a step backwards, as if to escape from them. ‘Let’s get this straight.’ Despite all her best efforts, her voice shook slightly. ‘Nothing would induce me to climb back into your bed, Luc. Nothing. That was one life experience I have no intention of repeating. Ever. I’m not that stupid.’

He stilled and a look of masculine speculation flickered across his handsome face. ‘Is that a fact?’

Too late she realised that a man like Luc would probably consider that a challenge. And he was a man who loved a challenge.

She looked at him helplessly, wondering how on earth the conversation had developed into this. For some reason they were right back where they’d left off seven years before and it wasn’t what she’d planned.

She’d intended to be cool and businesslike and to avoid anything remotely personal. Instead of which, their verbal exchange had so far been entirely personal.

And still she hadn’t told him what she needed to tell him.

Still she hadn’t said what needed to be said.

He prowled around her slowly and a slightly mocking smile touched his firm mouth. ‘Still so much passion, Kimberley, and still trying to hold it in check and pretend it doesn’t exist. That it isn’t a part of you and yet how could your nature be anything else?’ He brushed a hand over her hair with a mocking smile. ‘Never get involved with a woman who has hair the colour of dragon’s breath.’

Kimberley lifted her chin and her green eyes flashed. ‘And never get involved with a man who has an ego the size of Brazil.’

He laughed. ‘Ours was never the most tranquil of relationships, was it meu amorzinho?’

Meu amorzinho. He’d always called her that and she’d loved hearing him speak in his native language. It had seemed so much more exotic than the English translation, ‘my little love’.

His unexpected laughter released some of the throbbing tension in the room and she felt the colour flood into her face as she remembered, too late, that she’d promised herself she wasn’t going to fight with him. She couldn’t afford to fight with him. ‘We both need to forget the past.’ Determined not to let him unsettle her, she took a deep breath and tried to find the tranquillity that usually came naturally to her. ‘Both of us have moved on. I’m not the same person any more.’

‘You’re exactly the same person, Kimberley.’ He strolled around her, like a jungle animal assessing its prey. ‘Inside, people never really change. It’s just the packaging that’s different. The way they present themselves to the world.’

Before she could guess his intention, he lifted a lean bronze hand and in a deft, skilful movement removed the clip from her hair.

She gasped a protest and clutched at the fiery mass that tumbled over her shoulders. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

‘Altering the packaging. Reminding you who you really are under the costume you’re wearing.’ His burning gaze slid lazily down her body. ‘You come in here, suitably dressed to teach a class of schoolchildren or sort books in a library, that hot red hair all twisted away and tamed. On the outside you are all buttoned up and locked away, yet we both know what sort of person you are on the inside.’ His dark eyes fixed on hers and his voice was rich and seductive. ‘Passionate. Wild.’

His tongue rolled over the words, his accent more pronounced than usual, and she felt her stomach flip over and her knees weaken.

‘You’re wrong! That’s not who I am! You have no idea who I am.’ Despite her promise to herself that she’d remain cool, she couldn’t hold back the emotion. ‘Did you really think I’d be the same pathetic little girl you seduced all those years ago? Do you really think I haven’t changed?’

Despite her heated denials, she felt a flash of sexual awareness that appalled her and she squashed it down with grim determination.

She wasn’t going to let him do this to her again. She wasn’t going to feel anything.

She’d come here to tell him something she should have told him seven years ago, not to resurrect feelings that she’d taken years to bury.

‘You weren’t pathetic and neither,’ he said softly, touching a curl of fiery red hair, ‘did I seduce you, determined though you seem to be to believe that. Our passion was as mutual as it was hot, meu amorzinho. You were with me all the way.’ He said the words ‘all the way’ with a smooth, erotic emphasis that started a slow burn deep within her pelvis. ‘The only difference between us was that you were ashamed of how you felt. I assumed that maturity would allow you to embrace your passionate nature instead of rejecting it.’

To her horror she felt her body start to melt and her breathing grow shallow and she shrank away from him, desperate to stop the reaction.

How?

How, after all these years and all the thinking time she’d had, could she still react to this man?

Did she never learn?

And then she remembered that she had learned. The hard way. And it didn’t matter how her body responded to this man, this time her brain was in charge. She was older and more experienced and well able to ignore the insidious curl of sexual desire deep in her pelvis.

‘This isn’t what I came here for.’ She lifted a hand to her hair and smoothed it away from her face. ‘What happened between you and me isn’t important.’

‘So you keep saying. So what is important enough to bring you all the way back to Rio de Janeiro when you left and swore never to return, I wonder? Our golden beaches? Our dramatic mountains?’ His rich accent rolled over the words. ‘The addictive beat of the samba? I recall that evening that we danced on my terrace…’

He flicked memories in front of her like a slide show and she looked away for a moment, forcing herself to focus on something bland and inanimate, trying to dilute the disturbing images in her head. The chair drew the full force of her gaze while she composed herself and plucked up the courage to say what she had to say.

‘I want us to stop talking about the past.’ She paused for a moment and felt her knees turn to liquid. It was now. It had to be now. ‘I’m here because—’ Her voice cracked and she licked dry lips and tried again. ‘I’m trying to tell you—w-we had a son together, Luc, and he’s now six years old.’ Her heart pounded and her body trembled. ‘He’s six years old and his life is in danger. I’m here because I need your help. I’ve no one else to turn to.’

CHAPTER TWO

HOWcould silence seem so loud?

Was he ever going to speak?

Relief that she’d finally told him mingled with apprehension. What was he going to say? How was he going to react to the sudden discovery that he was a father?

‘Well, that’s inventive.’ His tone was flat and he sprawled in the nearest chair, his eyes veiled as he watched her, always the one in control, always the one calling the shots. ‘You certainly know how to keep a guy on his toes. I never know what you’re going to come up with next.’

Kimberley blinked, totally taken aback.

He didn’t believe her?

She’d prepared herself for anger and recrimination. She’d braced herself to be on the receiving end of his hot Brazilian temper. She’d been prepared to explain why she hadn’t told him seven years before. But it hadn’t once crossed her mind that he might not believe her.

‘You seriously think I’d joke about something like that?’

He gave a casual shrug. ‘I admit it’s in pretty poor taste, but some women will stoop to just about anything to get a man to fork out. And I presume that’s what you want? More money?’

It was exactly what she wanted but not for any of the reasons he seemed to be implying.

Her mouth opened and shut and she swallowed hard, totally out of her depth. She hadn’t even entertained the possibility that he wouldn’t believe her and she honestly didn’t know what to say next. She’d geared herself up for this moment and it wasn’t going according to her script.

‘Why wouldn’t you believe me?’

‘Possibly because women don’t suddenly turn up after seven years of silence and announce that they’re pregnant.’

‘I didn’t say I was p-pregnant,’ she stammered, appalled and frustrated that he refused to take her seriously. ‘I told you, he’s six. He was born precisely forty weeks after we had—after you—’ She broke off, blushing furiously, and his gaze dropped to her mouth, lingered and then lifted again.

‘After I had my wicked way with you? You’re so repressed you can’t even bring yourself to say the word “sex”.’ His dark eyes mocked her gently and she bit her lip, wishing she was more sophisticated—better equipped to deal with this sort of situation. Verbal sparring wasn’t her forte and yet she was dealing with a master.

He’d wronged her and yet suddenly she felt as though she should be apologising. ‘You’re probably wondering why I didn’t tell you this before—’

‘The thought had crossed my mind.’

‘You threw me out, Luc,’ she reminded him in a shaky voice, ‘and you refused to see me or take my calls. You treated me abominably.’

‘Relationships end every day of the week,’ he drawled in a tone of total indifference. ‘Stop being so dramatic.’

‘I was pregnant!’ She rose to her feet, shaking with emotion, goaded into action by his total lack of remorse. ‘I decided that you ought to know about your child. I tried to tell you so many times but you cut me out of your life. And you hurt me. You hurt me so badly that I decided that no child of mine was going to have you as a father. And that’s why I didn’t tell you.’ She broke off, waiting for an angry reaction on his part, waiting for him to storm and rant that she hadn’t told him sooner.

Instead he raised an eyebrow expectantly. ‘Seven years and this is the best you can come up with?’

She stared at him blankly, unable to comprehend his callous indifference. ‘Do you think I made that decision lightly? Have you any idea what making a decision like that does to a person? I felt screwed up with guilt, Luc! I was depriving my son of a father and I knew that one day I’d have to answer to him for that.’ She broke off and dragged a shuddering breath into her starving lungs. ‘I have felt guilty every single day for the last seven years. Every single day.’

‘Yes, well, that’s another woman thing—guilt,’ Luc said helpfully, ‘and I suppose that all this guilt suddenly overwhelmed you and that’s why you’ve suddenly decided to share your joyous news with me?’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t believe you’re behaving like this. Do you know how hard it was for me to come here today? Have you any idea?’ He was even more unfeeling than she’d believed possible. How could she feel guilt? She should be proud that she’d protected her son from this man. But the time for protection had passed and, unfortunately for everyone, she now needed his help. She couldn’t afford the luxury of cutting him out of her life. ‘What do I have to do to prove that I’m telling the truth?’

Luc turned his head and glanced towards the door expectantly. ‘Produce him.’ He lifted broad shoulders in a careless shrug. ‘That should do the trick.’

She looked at him in disbelief. ‘You seriously think I’d drag a six-year-old all the way to Brazil to meet a man who doesn’t even know he’s a father? This is a huge thing, Luc. We need to discuss how we’re going to handle it. How we’re going to tell him. It needs to be a joint decision.’

There was a sardonic gleam in his dark eyes. ‘Well, that’s going to be a problem, isn’t it? I don’t do joint decisions. Never have, never will. I’m unilateral all the way, meu amorzinho. But in this case it really doesn’t matter because we both know that this so called “son” of yours, oh, sorry—’ he corrected himself with an apologetic smile and a lift of his hand ‘—I should say son of “ours”, shouldn’t I?—is a figment of your greedy, money-grabbing imagination. So it would be impossible for you to produce him. Unless you hired someone to play the part. Have you?’

Kimberley gaped at him.

He was an utter bastard!

How could she have forgotten just how cold and unfeeling he was? What a low opinion of women he had? How could she have thought, even for a moment, that she’d made a mistake in not persisting in her attempts to tell him that she was expecting his child? At the time she’d decided that she could never expose a child of hers to a man like him and, listening to him now, she knew that it had definitely been the right decision.

People had criticised her behind her back, she knew that, but they were people who came from safe, loving homes—homes where the father came home at night and cared about what happened to his family.

Luc wasn’t like that. Luc didn’t care about anything or anyone except himself.

He was just like her father and she knew only too well what it was like to grow up with a parent like that. She’d been right to protect her child from him and if it hadn’t been for her current crisis she would have continued to keep Luc out of his life.

But fate had intervened and she’d decided that she had no choice but to tell him. He had to help her. He had to take some responsibility, however distasteful he found the prospect of parenthood.

But at the moment he didn’t even believe that his son existed—

He seemed to think that their child was some sort of figment of her greedy imagination.

She sank on to the nearest chair, bemused and sickened by his less than flattering assessment of her. ‘Why do you have such a low opinion of me?’

‘Well, let’s see—’he gave a patient smile, as if he was dealing with someone very, very stupid ‘—it could have something to do with the volume of money you spent after we broke up. Or the fact that you’re now stooping to depths previously unheard of in order to sue me for maintenance. Not the actions of someone destined for sainthood, wouldn’t you agree?’

She stared at him blankly. Her mind didn’t work along the same lines as his and she was struggling to keep up. ‘I’m not suing you for maintenance.’

He gave an impatient frown. ‘You want me to pay money for the child.’

She licked her lips. ‘Yes, but not to me and it’s nothing to do with maintenance. I can support our son. I took the money from you because I was pregnant, alone and very scared and I couldn’t think how I could possibly bring a child into the world when I didn’t even have somewhere to live. I used your money to buy a small flat. If I hadn’t done that I would have had to find a job and put the baby into a nursery, and I wanted to care for him myself. And I bought a few essentials.’ She gave a tiny frown, momentarily distracted. ‘I had no idea how many things a baby needed. I bought a cot and a pushchair, bedding, nappies. I didn’t use any of the money on myself. I know that technically it was stealing, but I didn’t know what else to do so I told myself it was maintenance. If I’d chased you through the courts you would have had to pay a lot more to support Rio.’

One dark eyebrow swooped upwards. ‘Rio?’

She blushed. ‘I chose to name him after the city where he was conceived.’

‘How quaint.’ Luc’s tone was a deep, dark drawl loaded with undertones of menace. ‘So if I’ve already paid for the pushchair and the nappies, what else is there? He needs a new school coat, perhaps? His feet have grown and his shoes no longer fit?’

He still didn’t believe her.

‘Last week I received a kidnap threat.’ Her voice shook as she said the words. Perhaps the truth would shake him out of his infuriating cool. ‘Someone out there knows about our son. They know you’re a father. And they’re threatening Rio’s life.’

There was a long silence while he watched her, his dark eyes fixed on her pale face.

They were sitting too close to each other. Much too close.

Her knee brushed against his and she felt the insidious warmth of awareness spread through her body. Against her will, her eyes slid to the silken dark hairs visible on his wrist and then rested on his strong fingers. Those long, clever fingers—

Her body flooded with heat as she remembered how those fingers had introduced her to intimacies that she’d never before imagined and she shifted slightly in her chair. His eyes detected the movement. Instantly his gaze trapped hers and the temperature in the room rose still further.

‘Show me the letter.’

Did she imagine the sudden rough tone to his voice? Relieved that she could finally meet one of his demands, she delved into her bag and dragged out the offending letter, dropping it on the table next to him as if it might bite her.

He extended a hand and lifted the letter, no visible sense of urgency apparent in his movements. He flipped it open and read it, his handsome face inscrutable.

‘Interesting.’ He dropped the letter back on the table. ‘So I’m expected to shell out five million dollars and then everyone lives happily ever after? Have I got that right?’

She stared at him, stunned, more than a little taken aback that he didn’t seem more concerned for the welfare of his son. Still, at least now he’d seen the evidence, he’d know she was telling the truth.

‘Do you think paying is the wrong approach? You think we should go to the police?’ She looked at him anxiously and rubbed her fingers across her forehead, trying to ease the pain that pulsed behind her temples. She’d gone over and over it in her head so many times, trying to do the right thing. ‘I have thought about it, obviously, but you can see from the letter what he threatened to do if I spoke to the police. I know everyone always says you shouldn’t pay blackmailers, but that’s very easy to say when it isn’t your child in danger and—’ her voice cracked ‘—and I can’t play games with his life, Luc. He’s everything I have.’

She looked at the strong, hard lines of Luc’s face and suddenly wanted him to step in and save her the way he’d saved her that first night they’d met. He was hard and ruthless and he had powerful connections and she knew instinctively that he would be able to handle this situation if he chose to. He could make it go away.

‘I think involving the police would not be a good idea,’ he assured her, rising to his feet in a lithe, athletic movement and pacing across the office to the window. ‘Police in any country don’t generally appreciate having their time wasted.’

Her eyes widened. ‘But why would this waste their time?’

He shot her an impatient look. ‘Because we both know that this is all part of your elaborate plan to extract more money from me. I suppose I should just be grateful it took you seven years to work your way through the last lot.’ His voice was harsh and contemptuous. ‘It was a master stroke suggesting we contact the police because it does add credibility to the situation, but we both know that would have proved somewhat embarrassing if they’d agreed to be involved.’

She stared at him in stunned silence. ‘You still think I’m making this whole situation up, don’t you?’

‘Look at it from my point of view,’ he advised silkily. ‘You turn up after seven years, demanding money to help a child I know nothing about and whose existence you cannot prove. If he’s my child, why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant seven years ago?’

‘I’ve already explained!’ She ran a hand over the back of her neck to relieve the tension. ‘Over and over again I rang and came to your office and you refused to see me. You wouldn’t even talk to me.’

He’d cut her dead and she’d thought she’d die from the pain. She’d missed him so much.

‘Our relationship was over and talking about it after the event isn’t my forte.’ Luc gave a careless shrug. ‘Talking is something else that’s more of a woman thing than a man thing. A bit like guilt, I suppose.’

‘Well, just because you’re totally lacking in communication skills, don’t blame me now for the fact you weren’t told about your child!’ Her emotions rumbled like a volcano on the point of eruption. ‘I tried to tell you, but your listening skills need serious attention.’

His eyes hardened. ‘It’s a funny thing, but I always find that I become slightly hard of hearing when people are begging me for money.’

She stared at him helplessly. ‘He’s your son—’

He held out a hand. ‘So show me a photograph.’

‘Sorry?’

‘If he exists, then at least show me a photograph.’

She felt as though she was on the witness stand being questioned by a particularly nasty prosecutor. ‘I—I don’t have one with me. I was in a panic and I didn’t think to bring one.’ But she should have. Should have known Luc would ask to at least see a picture of his child. ‘I wasn’t expecting to have to prove his existence, so no, I don’t have a photograph.’

One dark eyebrow swooped upwards and his hand fell to his side. ‘What a loving mother you must be.’ His tone was dangerously soft. ‘You don’t even carry a photograph of your own child.’

She exploded with exasperation. ‘I don’t need to carry a photograph of him because I’m with him virtually every minute of every day and have been since he was born! I used your money to buy a little flat so that I could stay at home and look after him. And now he’s older I work from home so that I don’t miss a single minute of being with him. I don’t need photographs! I have the real thing!’

He inclined his head and a ghost of a smile touched his firm mouth. ‘Good answer.’

She shook her head slowly, helpless to know what to do to convince him. ‘You think I’m making all this up just to get money for myself?’

‘Frankly?’ The smile vanished. ‘I think you’re a greedy, money-grabbing bitch who wants five million dollars and is prepared to go to most distasteful lengths to achieve that goal.’ His eyes scanned her face. ‘And you can abandon the wounded look—it’s less convincing once you’ve already ripped a guy off big time.’

Her mouth fell open and her body chilled with shock. ‘Why would you think that about me?’

‘Because I already know you’re greedy,’ he said helpfully, checking his watch. ‘And now you’ll have to excuse me because I have a Japanese delegation waiting in another meeting room who are equally eager to drain my bank account. If they’re even half as inventive as you’ve been then I’m in for an interesting afternoon.’

She stared at him in horrified disbelief.

Was that it?

Was he really going to walk out on her?

She knew instinctively that if he left the room now, she wouldn’t see him again. Gaining access to Luciano Santoro was an honour extended only to a privileged few and she sensed that she was on borrowed time.

‘No!’ She stood up quickly and her voice rang with panic. Her feelings didn’t matter any more. Nothing mattered except the safety of her son. ‘You can’t just send me away! I’m telling the truth and I’ll prove it if I have to. I can get Rio on the phone, I can arrange for you to talk to the school, I’ll do anything, absolutely anything, but you have to give me the money. I’m begging you, Luc. Please lend me the money. I’ll pay you back somehow, but if you don’t give it to me I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know where else to turn—’

She broke off, her slim shoulders drooped as the fight drained out of her, and she slumped into a chair.

He wasn’t going to help her. The responsibility of being a single parent had always felt enormous, but never more so than now, when her child’s safety was threatened.

She wanted to lean on someone. She wanted to share the burden.

Luc stilled and his dark eyes narrowed. ‘For five million dollars you’d do absolutely anything?’

There was something in his tone that made her uneasy but she didn’t hesitate. ‘I’m a mother and what mother wouldn’t agree to anything if it meant keeping her child safe?’

‘Well, that’s a very interesting offer.’ His eyes scanned her face thoughtfully. ‘I’ll think about it.’

She bit her lip and clasped her hands in her lap. ‘I need an answer quickly.’

‘This is Brazil, meu amorzinho,’ he reminded gently, stretching lean muscular legs out in front of him, ‘and you of all people should know that we don’t do anything quickly.’

She caught her breath, trapped by the burning heat in his eyes and the tense, pulsing atmosphere in the room. All at once she was transported back to long, lazy afternoons making love on his bed, in the swimming pool—afternoons that had stretched into evenings that had stretched into mornings.

She swallowed as she remembered the slow, throbbing, intense heat of those days.

No, Brazilians certainly didn’t rush anything.

‘The deadline is tomorrow night.’

His eyes gleamed. ‘So many shoes, so little time. You think I will just give you the money and let you go? Is that what you think?’

She swallowed, hypnotised by the look in his eyes. ‘Luc—’

‘Let’s look at the facts, shall we?’ Lean bronzed fingers beat a slow, menacing rhythm on the glass table. ‘You clearly hold me responsible for seducing you seven years ago. You come into my office ignoring the past as though it is a vile disease that you could catch again if you stay close to me for long enough.’ His gaze swept over her. ‘Everything about you is buttoned up. You are wearing your clothes like armour, protecting yourself and the truth is—’ he leaned towards her, his dark eyes mocking ‘—you are afraid of those things I made you feel, are you not? You are afraid of your own response to me. That is why you deny your feelings. It is so much easier to pretend that they don’t exist.’

The breath she’d been about to take lodged in her throat. ‘I don’t feel anything—’

He gave a lethal smile. ‘You forget, minha docura, that I was once intimately acquainted with every delicious inch of you. I know the signs. I recognise that flush on your cheeks, I recognise the way your eyes glaze and your lips part just before you beg me to kiss you.’

Completely unsettled by his words, Kimberley rose to her feet so quickly she almost knocked the chair over. ‘You’re insufferably arrogant!’

Her heart was pounding heavily and everything about her whole body suddenly felt warm and tingly.

‘I’m honest,’ he drawled, swivelling in his seat so that he could survey her from under slightly lowered lids, ‘which is more than you have ever been, I suspect. It is so much easier to blame me, is it not, than to accept responsibility yourself? Why is it that you find sex so shameful, I wonder?’

She couldn’t catch her breath properly. ‘Because sex should be part of a loving relationship,’ she blurted out before she could stop herself and he gave a smile that was totally male.

‘If you believe that then clearly maturity has added nothing to your ability to face facts.’

Tears pricked her eyes. ‘Why are you so cynical?’

He shrugged. ‘I am realistic and, like most men, I don’t need the pretence of love to justify enjoying good sex.’

How had she ever allowed herself to become involved with this man?

They were just so different. ‘I—I hate you—’

‘You don’t hate me—’ his relaxed pose was in complete contrast to her rising tension ‘—but I know you think you do, which makes this whole situation more intriguing by the minute. You would so much rather be anywhere else but here. Which makes your greed all the more deplorable. You must want money very badly to risk walking into the dragon’s den.’

‘I’ve told you why I need the money and this situation has nothing to do with us—we’ve both moved on.’ Her fingers curled into her palms. ‘I know you’re not still interested in me, any more than I’m still interested in you.’

‘Is that a fact?’ His voice was a deep, dark drawl and he lounged in his seat with careless ease, contemplating her with lazy amusement. ‘And what if you’re wrong? What if I am still interested in you?’

Her mouth dried. ‘You’re being ridiculous.’

‘A word of advice—’ His voice was suddenly soft and his eyes glittered, dark and dangerous. ‘When you’re trying to relieve someone of an indecent sum of money, don’t accuse them of being ridiculous.’

She swallowed. How could she ever have thought she was a match for this man? She was a different person around him. Her brain didn’t move and her tongue didn’t form the right words.

She should never have come, she thought helplessly. ‘If you won’t lend me the money then there’s no more to be said.’

She’d failed.

Panic threatened to choke her and she curled her fingers into her palms and walked towards the door.

‘Walk out of that door and you won’t be allowed back in,’ he informed her in silky tones. ‘Come back and sit down.’

Would he be ordering her to sit down if he had no intention of lending her the money?

Hope mingled with caution and she turned, her hand on the door handle and her heart in her mouth.

‘I said, sit down.’ His strong face was expressionless and, with barely any hesitation, she did as he ordered and then immediately hated herself for being that predictable. For doing exactly what he said.

Wasn’t that what her whole life had been like for that one month they’d spent together? He’d commanded and she’d obeyed, too much in love and in lust to even think of resisting. Completely overwhelmed by him in every way. And here she was, seven years on, in his company for less than an hour and still obeying his every command.

Well, it wasn’t going to happen that way again.

She wasn’t that person any more, and being in the same room as him didn’t make her that person.

Her expression was defiant as she looked at him. ‘It’s a simple question, Luc. Yes or no. It doesn’t matter whether I sit or stand and it doesn’t matter whether I leave the room. All the information you need is in that letter in front of you.’

The letter he clearly thought was a fake.

She watched in despair as he gave a casual shrug and pushed it away from him in a gesture of total indifference. ‘I have no interest in the letter or in your stories about phantom pregnancies. What does interest me, meu amorzinho, is the fact that you came to me.’

She froze. ‘I already told you, I—’

‘I heard—’ he interrupted her gently, ‘you came to me to tell me you would do absolutely anything for five million dollars and now I simply have to decide exactly what form absolutely anything is going to take. When I’ve worked it out, you’ll be the first to know.’

CHAPTER THREE

BACK in her hotel room, Kimberley dragged off the jacket of her suit and dropped on to the bed, fighting off tears of frustration and anxiety.

She’d blown it. She’d totally blown it.

She’d planned to be calm and rational, to tell him the facts and explain the reasons for having kept Rio’s birth a secret from him for so long. But from the moment he’d walked into the room her plans had flown out of the window.

She’d been catapulted back into the past.

And she had less than twenty-four hours before the deadline came and went. Less than twenty-four hours in which to persuade a man with no morals or human decency to deposit five million dollars into the blackmailer’s bank account.

The blackmailer he didn’t even believe existed.

She took several deep breaths, struggling to hold herself together emotionally. It had been the hardest thing in the world to leave her child at this point in time, when all her instincts as a mother told her to keep him close. But she had known that to bring him on this trip would have been to expose him to even greater danger. And she’d hoped that she would only be in Rio de Janeiro for two days at the most. And after that—

She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. She hadn’t dared think further than this meeting. Hadn’t dared think what would happen if Luc refused to lend her the money.

Even now, with the letter still lurking in her handbag, she couldn’t quite believe that this was happening. Couldn’t believe that someone, somewhere, had discovered the truth about her child’s parentage. She’d been so careful and yet somehow they knew.

And she’d left her son with the only person in the world that she trusted. The man who was a father figure to him.

As if by telepathy the phone in her bag rang and she answered it swiftly.

‘Is he all right?’

Jason’s voice came back, reassuringly familiar. ‘He’s fine. Stop fussing.’ They’d agreed not to discuss any details on the phone. ‘How are you? Any luck your end?’

Kimberley felt the panic rise again. ‘Not yet.’ She couldn’t bring herself to tell Jason that Luc didn’t believe her. Part of her was still hoping for a miracle.

‘But Luc agreed to see you this time? You met with him?’

Kimberley’s fingers tightened on the phone. ‘Oh, yes.’ And her whole body was still humming and tingling as a result of that encounter. ‘But he won’t give me an answer. He’s playing games.’

‘Did he fall on bended knee and beg your forgiveness for treating you so shoddily?’

Kimberley tipped her head back and struggled with tears as she recalled every detail of their explosive meeting. ‘Not exactly—’

‘I don’t suppose “sorry” is in his vocabulary.’ Jason gave a short laugh that was distinctly lacking in humour. ‘Hang in there. If he doesn’t come banging on your door in the next hour then he isn’t the man I think he is.’

Banging on her door? Why would he do that?

Kimberley gave a sigh. She knew only too well that Luc Santoro didn’t go round banging on women’s doors. Usually they fell at his feet and he just scooped them out of his path and dropped them in his bed until he’d had enough of them.

‘I wish I had your confidence. What if he refuses?’

‘He won’t refuse. Have courage.’ Jason’s voice was firm. ‘But I still think we should talk to the police.’

‘No!’ She sat bolt upright on the bed and swept her tangled hair out of her eyes. ‘Not the police. You saw the note. You know what that man threatened to do—’

‘All right. But if you change your mind—’

‘I won’t change my mind.’ She wouldn’t do anything that would jeopardize the safety of her child. ‘All I want is to deposit the money in his account as he instructed. I don’t want to do anything that might upset him or give him reason to hurt Rio.’

Limp with the heat and exhaustion, Kimberley snapped the phone shut and lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. For a moment she questioned her decision to stay in this small hotel with no air-conditioning in a slightly dubious part of Rio de Janeiro. At the time it had seemed the right thing to do because she didn’t want to squander money, but now, with the perspiration prickling her skin and her head throbbing, she wished she’d chosen somewhere else. She was hot, she was miserable and she hadn’t eaten or slept since the letter had arrived two days previously.

Instead she’d spent the time pacing the floor of her London flat, planning strategy with Jason. It had been hard to act as if nothing was wrong in front of her little boy. Even harder to board a plane to Rio de Janeiro without him, because apart from the time he spent at school or playing with friends, they were hardly ever apart.

She’d stayed at home when he was little and, with the help of Jason, a top fashion photographer who she’d met when she was modelling, she’d started working from home, selling her own designs of jewellery. She’d managed to fit her working hours around caring for her new baby and she’d worked hard to push all thoughts and memories of Luc Santoro out of her system.

And she’d dealt with the enormous guilt by telling herself that there were some men who just weren’t cut out to be fathers and Luc was definitely one of them. He was a man like her father—a man who shifted his attention from one woman to the next without any thought of commitment—and she vowed that no child of hers was ever going to experience the utter misery and chronic insecurity that she’d suffered as a child.

Finding the heat suddenly intolerable, Kimberley sprang to her feet and stripped off the rest of her clothes before padding barefoot into the tiny bathroom in an attempt to seek relief from the unrelenting humidity.

The shower could barely be described as such, but it was sufficient to cool her heated flesh and she washed and dried herself and then slid into clean underwear and collapsed back on to the bed, wishing that the ceiling fan worked.

‘Presumably this is all part of your plan to gain the sympathy vote, staying in a hotel with no air-conditioning in a part of town that even the police avoid.’ His deep, dark drawl came from the doorway and she gave a gasp of shock and sprang off the bed.

She hadn’t even heard the door open.

‘You can’t just walk in here!’ She made a grab for her robe and dragged it around herself, self-conscious and just horrified that he’d caught her in such a vulnerable state. Her hair was hanging in dark, damp coils down her back and she wasn’t wearing any make-up. She felt completely unprepared for a confrontation with a man like him. ‘You should have knocked!’

‘You should have locked the door.’ He strolled into the room and closed the door firmly behind him, turning the key with a smooth, deliberate movement. ‘In this part of town, you can’t be too careful.’

Hands shaking, she tied the robe at the waist, still glaring at him. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I was under the impression that you wanted an urgent answer to your request for funds.’ He strolled across the cramped, airless room and stared out of the smeared window into the grimy, litter infested street below. His broad shoulders all but obliterated the light in the room and she couldn’t see his face. ‘If your finances are in this bad a state, perhaps you ought to be asking me for more than five million.’

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She could hardly breathe, trapped in this tiny, airless room with Luc Santoro, who dominated every inch of available space with his powerful body. He was still wearing the sleek business suit and the jacket moulded to his shoulders, hinting at masculine strength and power. His glossy hair brushed the collar of his white silk shirt, just on the edges of what would be considered respectable in the cut-throat world of corporate finance. His hard jaw betrayed the tell-tale signs of dark stubble and at that precise moment, even dressed in the suit, he looked more bandit than businessman.

He was wickedly, dangerously attractive and with a rush of horror she felt her nipples harden and push against the soft fabric of her robe.

Mortified by her own reaction, she wrapped her arms around her waist and tried to remind herself that none of that mattered. It didn’t matter how her body reacted to this man. This time around, her brain was running the show and all that mattered was her child.

Would he agree to the loan? Would he have come in person if he was going to refuse to help her? Surely he would have sent a minion—one of the thousands of people who worked into the night to ensure that the Santoro empire kept multiplying.

‘I’ve already told you that the money isn’t for me.’ Nervous and self-conscious, she blurted the words out before she could stop herself. ‘I don’t know what else to do to convince you.’

He turned to face her, his voice soft. ‘To be honest, I’m not particularly interested in your reasons for wanting the money. What does interest me is what you intend to give me in return for my—’he lingered over the word thoughtfully ‘—let’s call it an investment, shall we?’

There was something in his eyes that made her suddenly wary and nerves flickered in her stomach, her feminine senses suddenly on full alert. ‘I don’t understand—’

‘No?’ He moved away from the window. ‘Then allow me to give you a basic lesson in business.’ His voice was smooth and he watched her with the unflinching gaze of a hunter studying its prey for weakness. ‘A business deal is an exchange of favours. No more. No less. I have something you want. You have something I want.’

Feeling as though she was missing something important, her heart beat faster and she licked dry lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘I have nothing that you can possibly want. So I assume you’re saying no.’

He lifted a hand and trailed a lean, strong finger down her cheek. ‘I’m saying that I’m willing to negotiate.’ His finger lingered at the corner of her mouth and his smile was disconcerting. ‘I will give you money but I want something in return.’

Not his son.

Dear God, please don’t let him ask for his son.

Trying to ignore the sudden flip of her stomach, she stared at him helplessly, hardly daring to breathe. ‘What?’ What else did she have to offer that could possibly be of interest to him? Her flat in London was ridiculously modest by his standards and she had few other assets. ‘What is it you want?’

Not Rio. Please, not Rio—

His hand slid into her hair and his eyes didn’t shift from hers. ‘You.’ He said the word with simple clarity. ‘I want you, minha docura. Back in my bed. Naked. Until I give you permission to get dressed and leave.’

There was a stunned silence. A stunned silence while parts of her body heated to melting point under the raw sexuality she saw in his dark gaze.

She couldn’t believe she’d heard him correctly.

He wanted her?

Relief that he hadn’t mentioned Rio mingled with a shivering, helpless excitement that she didn’t understand.

Somehow she managed to speak, but her voice was a disbelieving croak. ‘You can’t be serious.’

‘I never joke about sex.’

‘But why?’ The blood pounded in her ears and she felt alarmingly dizzy. She wished he’d move away from her. He was too close. ‘Why would you want me in your bed? We’ve been there, done that—’

His eyes burned into hers. ‘And I want to do it again.’ He gave a lazy, predatory smile. ‘And again. And again—’

The air jammed in her lungs. ‘You can have any woman you want—’

‘Good,’ he said silkily, withdrawing his hand from her hair slowly, as if he were reluctant to let her go. ‘Then that’s settled.’

He stood with his legs planted firmly apart, in full control mode, completely confident that he could manipulate any situation to his advantage.

‘Hold on.’ She wished desperately that she hadn’t taken off the crisp business suit. It was hard to maintain an icy distance dressed in a virtually transparent robe, especially when the conversation was about sex. ‘Are you saying that you’ll give me the money if I agree to—’ she broke off, having difficulty getting her tongue around the words ‘—sleep with you?’

‘Not sleep, no.’ His mouth curved into a slow smile that mocked her hesitation. ‘I can assure you that there will be very little sleeping involved.’

Her mouth dried and she hugged the robe more closely around herself, as if to protect herself from the feelings that shot through her body. ‘It’s a ridiculous suggestion.’

Winged dark brows came together in a sharp frown. ‘What’s ridiculous about it? I’m merely renewing a relationship.’

‘A relationship?’ Her voice rose. ‘We did not have a relationship, Luc, we had sex!’ Relentless, mindless, incredible sex that had neutralized her ability to think straight.

Someone in the next room thumped on the wall and Kimberley closed her eyes in embarrassment.

Luc didn’t even register the interruption, his handsome face as inscrutable as ever. ‘Sex. Relationships.’ He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘It’s all the same thing.’

Her eyes flew wide and she stared at him in appalled dismay. ‘No! It is not the same thing, Luc!’ She was so outraged she could hardly breathe and she barely remembered to lower her voice. ‘It is not the same thing at all! Not that I’d expect a man with your Neanderthal, macho tendencies to understand that.’

He clearly hadn’t changed a bit!

Luc shrugged, supremely indifferent to her opinion. ‘Women want different things from men, it’s an acknowledged fact. I don’t need fluffy romantic to make me feel OK about good sex, but if fluffy romantic makes you feel better then that’s your choice.’

Her jaw dropped. He just didn’t have a clue. ‘I can’t believe you’d think I’d even consider such a proposition. What sort of woman do you think I am?’

‘One who needs five million dollars and is willing to do “absolutely anything” to get it.’ He was brutal in his assessment of the situation. ‘I have something you want. You have something I want. This is a business deal at its most basic.’

It was typical of Luc that he viewed sex as just another commodity, she thought helplessly. Typical that he thought he could just buy whatever he wanted. ‘What you’re suggesting is immoral.’

‘It’s honest. But you’re not that great at being honest about your feelings, are you?’ His gaze locked on hers with burning intent. ‘Tell me that you haven’t lain in your bed at night unable to sleep because you’re thinking about me. Tell me that your body doesn’t burn for my touch. Tell me that you’re not remembering what it was like between us.’

Her breathing grew shallow. She didn’t want to remember something she’d spent seven years learning to forget.

Kimberley licked dry lips and her stomach dropped. ‘You’re prepared to pay to go to bed with a woman, Luc?’ She struggled to keep her tone light, not to betray just how much he’d unsettled her. ‘You must have lost your touch.’

‘You think so?’ He smiled. ‘There is nothing wrong with my touch, meu amorzinho, as you will discover the moment you say yes. And, as for paying—’he gave a dismissive shrug ‘—I can be a very generous lover when I want to be. The money is nothing. Call it a gift. Only this time I will pay you for your services up front to save you the bother of taking the money afterwards.’

Her desperate need for the money warred with her own powerful sense of self-preservation. It had taken her years to recover from the fallout of their relationship. Years to rebuild her life. How could she even contemplate putting herself back in that position?

She knew from bitter experience that he was incapable of connecting with a woman on any level other than the physical. He was incapable of showing or even feeling emotion. He’d break her heart again if she was foolish enough to let him.

Except that this time she wasn’t an idealistic teenager, she reminded herself. Her expectations were realistic. This time round she knew the man she was dealing with. Understood his shortcomings. Understood that he wasn’t capable of a relationship.

And, most of all, this time she would have more sense than to fall in love with him.

She almost laughed at her own thoughts. She was weighing up the facts as if she had a decision to make but the truth was there was no decision to make. What choice did she have?

Given the circumstances, how could she say no?

The only thing that mattered was her son.

So what were Luc’s reasons? Why would he want her back when he’d been so determined to end their relationship all those years before?

‘Why do you want this when our relationship was over years ago?’ She just couldn’t bring herself to refer to it as sex, even though that was what it had been. ‘I just don’t understand.’

‘Don’t you?’ His gaze dropped to her mouth and his dark eyes heated with molten sexuality. ‘We have unfinished business, meu amorzinho, as you well know.’

Her heart thudded hard against her chest. ‘I need time to think about it.’ Time to talk herself into doing something that left her almost breathless with panic.

‘You can have ten seconds,’ he offered in a smooth tone, glancing around the basic, threadbare room with an expression of appalled distaste. ‘And then we’re leaving.’

‘Ten seconds?’ How she wished she’d booked a room with air-conditioning. It was too hot to think properly and she needed to think. Just in case there was an alternative—‘That’s ridiculous! You can’t expect me to make a decision that quickly!’

‘And yet it was you who said that you needed the money immediately,’ he reminded her, thick dark lashes shielding his expression, ‘you who told me there was no time to linger over this decision. The blackmailer is waiting, is he not?’

His tone dripped sarcasm and she stared at him helplessly, looking for a hint of softness, a chink in that solid armour plating which might suggest that for him this arrangement was about something deeper than just animal hunger.

But there was nothing soft about Luciano Santoro and no break in the armour. He was hard, ruthless and he took what he wanted.

And it seemed that he wanted her.

‘Why?’ The words fell from her lips like a plea. ‘Why do you want me back? You yourself said that women don’t get a second chance with you. It doesn’t make sense.’

‘It will make perfect sense when you’re naked and underneath me,’ he assured her in the confident tone of a man who knew a negotiation was all but over. ‘Your thinking time is up, meu amorzinho. Yes or no?’

She looked at him with loathing, wondering how he could be so cold and detached. Was he capable of feeling anything? All her instincts were warning her to say no and run a mile. But then she thought of her son—‘You leave me no choice.’

‘How typical of you to pretend that this isn’t what you want. Again I’m cast in the role of big bad wolf.’ His smile was faintly mocking and he lifted a hand and gently drew his thumb over her lower lip. ‘You can always refuse.’

She stared at him, hypnotised by the heat in his eyes.

How? How could she say no, knowing what that would mean for her child?

And yet how could she say yes, knowing what it would mean for her?

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.