Brazilian's Nine Months' Notice (8 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

N
OW
SHE
WAS
about to leave Scotland, it had occurred to her that once she set foot inside Luc’s jet she would be entering his world and leaving her world behind.

‘Let me help,’ he said.

His sudden solicitude wasn’t for any other reason than that he was as eager to leave Scotland as she was to stay. He was talking to her as he might talk to one of his brood mares on the pampas, a creature that must be soothed before it could be coaxed to go anywhere but a creature that would inevitably do exactly as he said.

‘What happens when I’ve given birth to our child?’ she asked quietly, still with her feet firmly rooted on Scottish soil.

Luc’s stare flickered. ‘Nothing. Not right away.’

So like that brood mare she would be allowed to wean her child, at which stage her baby would be taken away from her and she would be superfluous, and Luc would get rid of her. How different would that make her from her parents, who had never wanted her and who had passed her around? Was she going to let that happen to her own child? Or was she going to channel the grief she still felt at their wasted lives into a positive force for the good of her baby?

‘You can make your time in Brazil pleasant or not, Emma,’ Luc said, shifting position impatiently. ‘It’s in your hands entirely.’

Was it? As long as she made her mind up fast, she suspected, and in his favour, of course. Luc was shrewdly playing her, making it sound as if she would be in control, when they both knew it was he who held the reins. For now.

Seeing the cabin staff waiting patiently for them at the top of the steps, she asked the final question on her mind. ‘Will I be expected to share your bed in Brazil?’

For the first time since he’d found out about their baby a glimmer of humour flashed into Luc’s eyes. ‘Do you want to?’

She knew at once he still wanted her. God help her, she wanted him too. There was no concern in his manner as he ran up the steps to greet the waiting crew. Luc was so sure of the eventual outcome, why would he feel any concern?

‘Emma. Come and meet everyone.’

She was surprised to be included in the warm greetings at the top of the steps, but was glad of it, and hurried to shake hands.

And so he had got her out of Scotland. It had been that easy, she realised ruefully as the friendly cabin staff ushered her inside the jet. She didn’t need to look at Luc to see the gleam of triumph in his eyes. She knew it would be there. Where persuasion had failed him, he’d used her innate good manners against her to achieve the result he wanted. As Luc left her to complete the preflight checks, his cabin staff ushered her to her seat, which looked more like a comfortable armchair than a necessary perch on a jet. It was flanked by a magazine rack, a drinks bar, a selection of tempting nibbles, and even a tray holding high-end beauty products for her to indulge in during the flight. Luc looked in on her briefly as she was trying to settle into her glitzy surroundings.

‘There are some new clothes for you in the bedroom at the back of the plane,’ he said, killing her smile. Nothing had been overlooked, it seemed, and she was slightly offended that the clothes she had chosen to wear didn’t pass muster, though she could accept that she hardly looked like managerial material in her beat-up coat. And it would be far too heavy to wear in Brazil, she reasoned, common-sensing herself out of the embarrassment.

‘There’s a bathroom too, so you can freshen up any time you want.’

‘Thank you.’

Luc stood framed in the doorway to the cockpit, watching her for a moment. His face was in shadow. His arm was resting on the door. She couldn’t read his expression, and had to remind herself that this wasn’t about her pride but about an unborn child.
Their child.
However incredible that seemed, she smiled up at the waiting cabin crew, accepted an orange juice, and slipped off her sale-rail coat. Handing it over to them, she settled back.

* * *

Brazil. The warm air, the scents, the smells, the light, the sounds—Emma was dazzled from the instant she stepped onto the tarmac. Even at the airport, there were the smiles of the people, the music of a samba blaring from a passing truck, and the unaccustomed sunshine. She couldn’t deny it was a happy start to an uncertain trip. They had landed at Santos Dumont airport in the centre of the city, with the jet seeming to scrape the top of the buildings as it came in to land. The famous landmarks—Sugar Loaf, the endless strip of ivory sand and the aquamarine sea—so familiar from postcards and travel programmes, had unfolded to her wide-eyed gaze beneath the brilliant white wings of the jet. And now she was here—

‘Ready?’ Luc demanded curtly as a sleek black limousine drew up.

There was no tedious protocol for him. An official had checked their passports on the aircraft so they could disembark without delay and be whisked away. It had been a long flight, during which she’d slept fitfully, waking now and then, as if she had to remind herself that she really was doing this. She had taken a shower, as Luc had suggested, before they’d landed, and had then stared in wonder at the vast array of clothes in the closet. It was the weekend, so after trying on quite a few outfits she settled for casual Capri pants and a short-sleeved top teamed with simple leather sandals. Thanking the driver who held the door for her, she climbed into the back of the limousine. It was impossible to be pessimistic. The sun was shining and her spirits soared when Luc joined her in the back. The seat was so broad there was a yawning gap between them, but at least they’d have a chance to talk. She hadn’t seen him during the flight as he’d either been up on the flight deck, or sleeping in his master suite at the rear of the aircraft. She was looking forward to him pointing things out to her as they entered the centre of Rio.

That wasn’t going to happen, she realised as he pulled out his phone. How could she keep on being such a fool? Nothing had changed. Luc was as distant as ever. The air was controlled. The glass panel between them and the driver was controlled. Luc’s voice was controlled as he spoke rapidly in Portuguese. She shrank into a corner, feeling invisible. But she had no intention of turning back. She was here, and she was going forward whatever happened, both for her own sake and that of her child.

* * *

The Marcelos flagship hotel was a breathtaking confection of cream marble, vast tinted windows and tastefully polished bronze. She had researched the hotel online, but seeing it now beneath a flawless blue sky, surrounded by lush, colourful gardens on the fringes of a blond beach, was sensory overload. Built in the nineteen-twenties, and renovated recently to a most demanding man’s specifications, every inch of the building gleamed.

‘You look fine,’ Luc reassured her as she smoothed suddenly damp palms down her thighs.

He was watching her. Why was she surprised? Luc was aware of everything she did, and sensitive to her every mood. For all she knew, he could read her thoughts as well.

‘You’re not on duty yet,’ he reminded her.

Wasn’t she? She was angry with herself for being so naïve. Even if her situation was about as clear as mud, she should have had more sense than to choose such a casual outfit. From the second she walked into the hotel at the owner’s side she would be ‘on duty’ every second of every day.

Letting Luc go ahead of her, she drew in a shaking breath. Her heart thumped as she paused on the steps to gaze up at the grand façade. Towering cream walls, acres of glass, and glittering gold lettering proclaiming the Marcelos name did little to ease her anxiety. Luc’s initials were everywhere. They were embroidered on the tailored coat of the uniformed doorman, and on the vast blood-red doormat under her feet, and when she entered the scented hush of the grand lobby his initials were the first thing she saw emblazoned on the front desk. Stunned by the opulence and the scale of everything around her, she stopped to stare up to the roof of an atrium that stretched to the heavens—

‘Emma, there are people waiting to greet us.’

Recovering fast, she walked forward to acknowledge the line of smiles and cheery hellos. She was conscious of polite curiosity directed her way, but there was no doubt about the genuine enthusiasm for Luc. People couldn’t fake that kind of warmth in their eyes. He knew everyone by name, and their passage across the football pitch–sized floor to the bank of elevators took quite some time as he spoke to each member of staff in turn.

She had done the right thing, Emma convinced herself, standing back during one of these many encounters. This was their child’s heritage as much as the small village in Scotland she came from. The one thing that remained a mystery was where she fitted in. She knew nothing of Luc’s personal life, and a managerial post in this hotel, however junior, was so far ahead of her in terms of training, it was a joke.

‘Emma—’

She jumped, feeling annoyed with herself for needing a second prompt from Luc as the steel doors of the elevator slid open. There were no floor numbers, so this had to be the private elevator to his suite of rooms. She would soon find out. The lift was soaring up at a dizzying speed. ‘Where are you taking me?’

‘To your apartment.’ He frowned as if he couldn’t imagine where else she’d had in mind.

They stepped out onto an elegant corridor and she looked around for the type of door that might lead to the staff quarters.

‘Your apartment is next to mine,’ Luc explained.

How convenient
.

‘You will use the private elevator, as I do,’ he informed her, not sparing her a glance as they walked down the corridor towards a set of elegant doors.

She had been posted in the pigeonhole marked ‘job done’, Emma suspected.

‘You will find a security card in your apartment when I let you in,’ Luc added as he opened the door. ‘Don’t lose it. It operates both the elevator and the door to your room. Do you have a problem with that, Emma?’

Luc had the key to her room?

Of course he had the key to her room. Luc owned the hotel. He had the key to every room. From now on she would be under his scrutiny every minute of every day.

‘Don’t lose that card,’ he reminded her crisply. ‘Freshen up. Take a rest.’

He made no attempt to follow her into her room, thank goodness. She needed a chance to take stock. ‘What then?’ she asked, hovering on the threshold.

‘Then?’ One ebony brow lifted. ‘Then you will join a junior management training team tomorrow morning.’

‘And that’s it?’ She tried to read his eyes, but there was nothing in them to read—not for her, at least.

‘Should there be more?’ he queried.

Yes. She should have made better use of their time together—on the flight—on the drive here. It would have been helpful if she’d got everything ironed out about what to do and where to report in the morning before she arrived at the hotel.

‘Will I see you—?’ Her mouth clamped shut. Luc had already turned his back and walked away.

Okay, so she didn’t need him. She wasn’t helpless. She’d vowed to go it alone, and she would. Closing the door, she glanced around the cavernous suite. A bigger contrast to her small functional cell at the hotel in Scotland was hard to imagine. This was a billionaire’s playroom, full of high-tech gizmos and amazing art. Floor-to-ceiling windows gave her a stunning view of the city, and there were fabulously scented flower arrangements on every surface, as well as a bottle of champagne on ice. Goodness knew what she had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this.

She flopped down on one of the silk-covered sofas, then got up to pace. She was alone in Rio—that wasn’t a problem, but she wanted to know if she should prep for her new job tomorrow. She didn’t want to appear completely out of her depth when she reported for duty. Picking up her room card, she headed straight for the only other door onto the corridor.

Luc answered and seemed surprised to see her. ‘May I come in?’ she asked politely.

‘Of course.’

He stood back. Their bodies almost touched. Heat hit the back of her neck and trickled seductively down her spine. Luc had just showered and was wearing a clean shirt. She could smell soap on him. This was the Luc she remembered from their first night in London, the distant but potentially explosive man, who was a blistering combination of searing hot passion and chilly reproof. Unfortunately for her sane and reasoning mind, this was a combination she still found irresistible.

‘Is something wrong?’ he queried coolly.

Everything was wrong. She was pregnant with his child. Luc’s voice was totally devoid of emotion. They had never been further apart. She had come halfway around the world with him without pinning down exactly what her purpose here would be. ‘I need to know, what happens next, Luc? We need to talk.’

‘Now is not convenient for me.’

He had obviously made other plans, and she felt foolish for not having factored his life into her thinking. Now he’d got her here she would hardly be at the top of his agenda. But she refused to be stonewalled and sent back to her room like a naughty child. Walking deeper into the room, she turned to face him.

Luc spread his arms. ‘What is it you want, Emma?’

‘My timetable—my work duties?’

‘You’d better sit down.’

She was rocking with jet lag, but she didn’t want to sit down. Once she sank onto one of those big, cream sofas she might just fall asleep and never get up. ‘No, Luc. I just want to know where to report for work tomorrow...’

Luc held up a hand to silence her as his phone rang.

She waited patiently, but when he showed no sign of ending the call she called time on asking for his assistance and walked to the door. He didn’t try to stop her when she left. She wasn’t even sure he noticed. Closing the door, she finally accepted that, having brought her here, Luc had lost all interest—unless she decided to sleep with him, in which case her situation might improve. He hadn’t been joking when he’d said this trip would be what she made of it. It already was, and she really was alone.

CHAPTER NINE

E
XHAUSTION
FINALLY
GOT
the better of her. She took a bath, slept heavily, but she was still up at dawn. The thought of the new job, new responsibilities and not falling flat on her face was the only alarm clock she needed. It took her a moment to wake up, but once she was focused on where she was, and why, and what lay ahead of her she was a woman on a mission. She was in Rio, for goodness’ sake!

Leaping out of bed, she threw back the curtains on a sunny day and the most incredible view in the world, of aquamarine sea, ivory sand and golden sunshine. Luc could be friendly and helpful, or not. She wasn’t going to hang around to find out what mood he was in. She had a career to think about, and she was going to be on time for this, her first morning at her new job. Her child needed a mother who was successful and hard-working, not a mother who was dithering about trying to decide what to do. Someone would direct her to the staff offices, and she would take it from there.

It occurred to her as she rushed about, getting ready, that other staff members were bound to jump to the wrong conclusion when they found out that she was living next to the boss.
Found out?
They probably already knew. If there was one thing that never failed to operate smoothly in a hotel, it was the gossip line. They would think—correctly, as it happened—that she was a lot more than a new trainee. She just wasn’t sure what she was—or what her new colleagues would think she was.

Stop it!

She had to stop it now, or she’d lose her confidence. Switching off the shower, she grabbed a towel. She had started at a disadvantage at other jobs and made a go of it. Why should this job be any different?

Grooming was everything in the hotel business. Taming her long red hair, she tied it back neatly and then put on her chain-store suit, the same suit she had worn for her interview in London. As Luc had pointed out on his jet, the wardrobe there had been full of clothes. The dressing room here was stuffed with every imaginable luxury outfit with matching accessories for the successful woman about town. But she wasn’t a successful woman about town. Not yet. Those privileges had to be earned. And when
she
could afford it,
she
would pay for the clothes.

Luc was so wrong if he thought she could be bought with a selection of high-end suits, killer heels and accessories to die for. She might be bewitched, enthralled and tempted, but she had no intention of wearing outfits that could only put a wedge between her and her colleagues. She was going to dress to suit her position. And that position wasn’t flat on her back in Luc’s bed.

She took the elevator down to the ground floor. When she asked at Reception for directions to the boardroom, she was conscious of everyone trying very hard not to look at her. Thanking the desk clerk, she headed for the door he had pointed out. Quite a large group was already seated around the table when she got there. Taking in the scene at a glance, she identified one spare chair. At least there was no sign of Luc. She was relieved. She could be herself without him looming over her.

Everyone continued to stare at her as she made a beeline for the empty seat. She couldn’t work out if they were expecting her. It was hard to imagine Luc overlooking a detail like that when he was so scrupulous in every other area of his life.

A thin man with thin lips waited until her bottom was almost touching the seat before telling her, ‘That chair is reserved for Senhor Marcelos.’

‘My apologies,’ she said, shooting up again.

She had replied in English, the universal hotel language Thin Lips had used, which allowed people to confer easily with colleagues of various nationalities.

Everyone was trying even harder not to look at her and she felt bad for embarrassing them. She hadn’t planned to cause such an upheaval on her first day.

‘Sit here, next to me,’ a girl about her own age offered, shuffling her own chair along to make space. ‘Grab one of those chairs against the wall.’

One of the men jumped up, and with a smile carried the chair to the table for her. She was just thanking him when the door swung open and there stood Luc. He stared straight at her. Then he stared at the man who’d had the temerity to hold her chair. ‘Problem?’ he rapped.

‘No problem,’ she said, aiming for calm as everyone stilled around her. Her voice sounded loud in the sudden silence. It was like the moment in a drama before the gun went off, but she made a point of thanking her Good Samaritan before settling into her place. Her heart might be threatening to beat its way out of her chest at the sight of Luc looking hotter than was reasonable in a dark, impeccably tailored suit, teamed with a crisp white shirt and grey silk tie, but she had no intention of allowing this particular rampaging barbarian to know how profoundly he affected her.

She needn’t have worried. Luc didn’t look at her again—not for the whole of the meeting. Taking the chair she had recently vacated, he called the meeting to order and that was that.

Fine. As she had decided back in her room, she would do this with or without him. She had no intention of being browbeaten into her place.

What was her place exactly? Emma wondered as the meeting carried on without her involvement. Everyone else seemed to have a list of tasks to complete, while she had nothing.

‘Excuse me,’ she called out as everyone got up to leave the table. ‘What are my tasks for today?’

There was an embarrassed silence, during which Thin Lips covered his mouth as if he was hiding a smile.

‘Shadow me,’ Luc said in a voice that rang around the room. He glanced at her impatiently, as if to suggest she shouldn’t need to be told what to do when it was obvious.

To him maybe.

Hearing his tone, her colleagues had straightened their backs and adopted purposeful expressions. Even Thin Lips had stopped sniggering.

‘You’ll soon get the hang of things,’ the dark-haired girl she had been sitting next to told Emma discreetly.

What things? That was the question
, Emma thought as her companion introduced herself as Karina.

‘Emma,’ she said with a smile.

‘Everyone knows who you are,’ Karina explained quietly, shooting a mischievous smile at Emma as their colleagues filed out of the room. ‘No point in pretending, is there?’ Karina added with a shrug.

‘None at all,’ Emma agreed, feeling she might have found a new friend, though she would have liked time to explain her situation as it truly was.

Would she? Would she really? And what would her colleagues think then?

‘What?’ Luc demanded, frowning, when the line of people waiting to have a last word with him had finally shrunk to nil, leaving just Emma and him alone in the room.

‘You said I would be shadowing you,’ she reminded him.

Luc appeared to consider this, as if he had forgotten all about it, and all about her. ‘Did I?’

As he frowned she thought again how devastatingly attractive he was. He was like a dark angel fallen to earth. He made it so easy for her to make excuses for how natural it was that she should want him to notice her, to spend time with her, when logically she should tell him what she thought. He’d brought her here under false pretences, and now, like a pregnant mare, she was to be kept calm and quiet and safe until she was ready to foal. The offer to shadow him at work was just another of his sops to keep her quiet.

‘You can shadow me, but not today,’ he said, seeing the impatience she had tried so hard to keep off her face.

‘When?’ she prompted, standing in front of him when he moved to leave the room.

‘When it’s convenient for me.’ He made an impatient gesture. ‘I’m not sure exactly when. Talk to my secretary. She keeps my diary.’

‘No.’ He looked at her, speechless, but she wasn’t going anywhere. Short of lifting her to one side, Luc had no option but to listen to what she had to say. ‘I want to know what my job involves. The others have already started their working day. I want to start mine. And I don’t want to be late when I report for duty. So, if not with you, then where should I be?’

He scanned the corridor over her head, as if he had other, more important places to be. ‘Look, Emma...’ His stare returned to fix on her face.

She was looking. She met his stare unblinkingly as Luc went on, ‘I really don’t have time for this—’

‘Then make time.’

His head slowly lowered until his dark eyes were on a level with hers. ‘I beg your pardon?’ he said softly.

He could put all the menace he wanted into his tone. She hadn’t come halfway around the world to sit twiddling her thumbs. ‘I’m sure you heard me the first time.’ She tried for pleasant. She even added a helpful smile. The familiar beat of arousal was back, but she blanked it, along with the mesmerising tone of his voice and Luc’s dark stare. ‘I was ignored in the meeting. No one explained how I could contribute to any of the projects under discussion, and as I don’t have any files or papers to help me understand I’m relying on you to tell me.’ She managed to keep calm, but inwardly she was fuming. Forget the lust and the compelling attraction. The way Luc was treating her was insulting.

‘What’s to understand, Emma? You have a beautiful apartment in the centre of Rio. You have a wardrobe of clothes a princess might envy.’ He cast a disapproving look at the chain-store suit she had chosen to wear. ‘Yet you put this rag on and insult me.’

‘I chose this outfit because it belongs to me. I didn’t set out to upset you. Shouldn’t I be the one who is insulted to find a wardrobe of clothes appropriate for a billionaire’s mistress, not only installed on your jet but here in what you term
my
apartment? I have no intention of becoming your mistress, Luc, so you can take those clothes out of
my
apartment and send them back.’

‘Is this how it’s going to be?’ he demanded.

‘I’m afraid it is.’

‘You’re not afraid of anything,’ the man she had given herself to so joyfully remarked coldly. ‘Why do you continue to deny yourself like this?’

‘Because I can. Because I’m not the woman you seem to think I am. You accepted that I was upset in London because of my parents’ death, and that I was behaving out of character, and yet now you seem to think that I will gladly fall into line because it suits you.’

‘I’m trying to make you as happy as I can while you’re here, while you seem to be doing everything in your power to put hurdles in my way.’

‘Shall I spell it out to you?’ she suggested. ‘An apartment, however beautiful, together with wardrobes full of expensive clothes is only going to make me feel more awkward, not less. You brought me here under false pretences. You told me that I’d have a job—a proper job. I expected to live in staff quarters and dress like my peers—either in a uniform you provide or in my own suitable clothes. I did not expect you to wheel me out like some sort of pampered moll, and then have to find my place amongst people who work hard for a living. How the hell did you think that was going to work out?’

‘Have you quite finished?’ he asked quietly.

‘Yes.’ She glanced at the door. ‘You can leave me to find my own way around. I can’t think what I could possibly learn by shadowing you.’

‘Really?’

It was Luc’s turn to block her way, and to her amazement there was a smile hovering around his mouth as if her rebellion had pleased, even aroused him. She guessed it made the hunt all the more entertaining for him. Too bad there wasn’t going to be a hunt. ‘Yes, really,’ she stressed, staring steadily into his mocking eyes.

‘Are you suggesting I consider myself so far above you in status—in every way possible—that I don’t think your small, feminine brain could possibly accommodate the complexities of my complicated day?’

Oh, she hated it when he did this. He had turned her anger into the urge to smile back. ‘I don’t know what you think, Lucas, but I do know I’m going to make a success of this job, with or without your help.’

‘With would be better, surely?’ he murmured.

His expression had softened. There was humour in his eyes. Luc was at his most dangerous now. ‘I’m afraid my defence mechanisms have just kicked into place, along with my urge to work,’ she said, glancing at the door. ‘So, if you’ll excuse me?’

‘And if I won’t?’

His voice was a soft caress. Right now she would have preferred the whiplash of command. It was so much easier to counter. ‘If I don’t leave this room now, you will consider it a victory and think that gives you a licence to walk all over me in future. That isn’t going to happen, Luc. This is a very serious situation for me, as it should be for you. But be assured that, whether you’re my boss or not, I will give this job my very best.’

Now she could only wait.

It seemed a long few seconds before Luc finally stood aside and opened the door to let her go.

* * *

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

‘What the does it look as if I’m doing?’ On her hands and knees, Emma glanced up at the storm cloud that was her boss, Lucas Marcelos, and then she carried on mopping up the spill.

‘We have cleaners to do that,’ he rapped. ‘You are no longer a chambermaid, Emma.’

Her inner imp laughed. Luc’s tone made it sound as if he’d waved the magic wand and she had been instantly transformed into a fairy princess—except that might be boring, stuck away in some stuffy palace. ‘Excuse me?’ Standing up, she straightened her skirt before confronting him. ‘Is there some way this hotel could operate without its expert cleaning staff? Or are you suggesting I’ve somehow been elevated by our association into some new, rarefied sphere, where cleaning isn’t necessary?’

‘You know what I mean.’ His jaw firmed.

‘I don’t think I do. There isn’t a job in this hotel I wouldn’t be prepared to do myself, but you haven’t asked me to do anything. So what am I supposed to do? Am I supposed to sit upstairs in my apartment, reading magazines and painting my nails?’

‘Now you’re being ridiculous.’

‘Am I?’

‘You’re overreacting. All I’m saying is that I don’t expect to find you on your hands and knees, cleaning floors.’