Kidnapping the Brazilian Tycoon (13 page)

At eight thirty in the morning, showered and dressed, she scurried downstairs. Camila waved good-bye on her way out the door. Her father-in-law sat at the big, round table, eating slowly while glancing at a folded newspaper. Bruno checked something on his tablet. And was not talking with his father.
How surprising
.

The sound of the chair screeching on the tile floor as Addie pulled it away from the table made them both raise their heads.

While Sergio smiled and greeted her, Bruno sucked in his breath. His eyes held a note of both acknowledgement and warning. She fought against her traitorous skin warming under his scrutiny. A voice deep inside her snarled that it might already be too late to protect her heart from getting involved with Bruno.

She picked an apple from the colorful fruit platter and bit into the fruit, savoring the crispiness. “Good morning,” she said in between chews.

“Did you sleep well?” Sergio took a bite of a croissant.

“I managed.” She pinned Bruno with her stare. “How about you?” she continued, unsure who she asked.

“
Seu Bruno
, phone call for you.” Maria sauntered behind them with the cordless phone in hand.

“Excuse me.” Bruno rose to his feet and shot Addie a noncommittal glance as he accepted the phone and headed toward the office. Addie’s gaze followed him. The planes of his back tensed through his shirt as he murmured something into the phone. He disappeared into the office and closed the door behind him.

“He’ll be back soon.” Sergio’s gentle voice was soothing. She turned her attention to the old man and managed to smile. “My wife was like that…always worried whenever I left her.”

Addie added more orange juice to her glass and took a sip, but it didn’t overcome the guilt lodged in her throat. There he was, her father-in-law, talking about an old-school marriage. After swallowing the juice, she asked, “You miss her?”

A gleam of pride flickered in his hazel eyes, which softened the wrinkles around them. “Every day.”

Her heart flooded with warmth.

Sergio cleared his throat. “The irony is she ended up dying and leaving me.” Heartbreak trickled into his voice.

She opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t push any words out. Pain, sympathy, and sorrow coursed through her. Sergio smiled, more to himself than to her, then lifted his gaze to hers and shrugged as if he sensed her emotions.

The office door swung open, and Bruno strolled toward them. By the time he was sitting and helping himself to a croissant, she blinked.

“Who was it?” Sergio asked. “Was it Lancaster?” He lifted his coffee to his lips and took a sip. “I thought he said he’d email you a new contract.”

“Contract?” Maybe they had settled the ten-month waiting time. Though it didn’t please her that Lancaster was still after the deal like a hawk. “Honey, you didn’t tell me.” She used her most condescending voice.

“We’ll talk about this in private.” Bruno demanded.

Sergio excused himself from the table and rolled out of the dining room with his nurse in tow. Bruno nudged her elbow, and they headed to the office.

“What’s going on?” she asked after he closed the door behind them.

He clenched his jaw. “Some of Lancaster’s investors are threatening to back out unless building starts. We’re talking an obscene amount of money.” She tensed and had to push the lump lodged in her throat to string the words together.

“Yes, but he knows about our condition. The fact you want to work with that sleazeball speaks volumes of your character,” she said, louder than she would have wanted. Was that why he slept with her? To distract her from what was really happening?

“My character,” he hissed, his expression gloomy like dark clouds on a stormy day. He twitched his eyes and let a long sigh out. “I understand the Kwanis are all you care about. You must see this will be a lost opportunity, though. Hundreds of people will be jobless, and the economy will be impacted.” He rubbed his forehead. “Now it’s all or nothing. I talked to him again this morning.”

She rubbed her palms together, feeling the cold sweat on them. “What’s it going to be, Bruno?”

All? Or nothing?
This could not be happening.

His shoulders sagged like someone about to deliver bad news. There he was…backing away from his promise. Cheating. Lying. Her mother had apologized when she was younger, when they lost the house. Lost the cars. Did it make it right? No. Because the next day, she would go and gamble again.

She placed her hands on her waist. “Does he also know about our fake marriage?”

He quirked up his lip. “Judging from yesterday, it’s not that fake anymore.”

“Don’t do this to me, Bruno. We’ve already gone over this. I married you because you gave me your word. Now you want to go back on it, again?”

He sighed. “Addie, this is different. Lancaster won’t wait long.”

“If you lose him, I’m sure other offers will come in.” Though none that would pay him thirty percent more than the market price, she suspected. She had researched Lancaster before kidnapping Bruno and knew the man was eager to put his greedy hands on Toca do Tigre. Real estate in northeastern Brazil boomed, especially with the strong economy. Investors wanted to build, to grow, to profit. And Toca do Tigre offered a world of possibilities with one thousand acres, an untouched forest, and its proximity to the ocean.

“It’s not just about the money. My father is adamant about me selling. His advice has turned into a dying man’s wish.”

“And you can’t say no?” He barely spent any time with his father. How odd that he couldn’t bring himself to explain something so important to the man.

He let out a long, deep sigh. “That place has some ties to my past. It was my first meaningful purchase after I made it big in the US. It meant a lot back then,” he said with the familiar caution that surfaced every time he discussed his past. Though, this time, she wouldn’t let him off the hook easily.

“Don’t sell it then. Keep it.” She positioned herself in front of him and lifted her chin.

“I have. For years.” He winced. “My father never asks anything of me. And he has now.”

“I understand. Maybe I can explain to him what’s in play.”

“Don’t,” he said firmly. “Because I know how passionate you are about this, Addie, I’m sure my father will, too. He may be dying, but he’s not stupid. I don’t want him to put the pieces of the puzzle together and find out why we married.” It was not a request. “Besides, he doesn’t have much time left. We can’t stress him.”

What she really wanted was to throw the vase of flowers at him, but she contained herself. “You’ll have to do better than that, Bruno.”

The pace her mind raced overwhelmed her, thoughts of anger and deception piling up. Truth was, he screwed her. She remembered that summer afternoon when her mother told her they would make a quick stop at the bank while Addie waited in the car. Three hours later, her mother showed up—after going to some underground, illegal betting joint where she had left that month’s mortgage.

“Well?” she asked, willing to get him in the heat of the moment and not after he’d had time to rehearse explanations. Her mother had an addiction. What was his excuse? Hundreds of people shouldn’t pay because of the endless bridge he’d built between himself and his father. And she wasn’t going to let him.

“Before I left Brazil, I came into some money. It wasn’t much, but instead of using it to help my family and my mother, who suffered from lupus, I bought a plane ticket and went to the US. Due to circumstances at the time, which I won’t get into right now, I left behind my overwhelmed father, my sick mother, and three younger siblings.” His voice carried guilt and regret.

She backed away from him until the back of her legs felt a cool leathery cushion against them. She plopped down on the sofa. “You abandoned them?”

He’d abandoned them.
His own family.

He stared at her with a look that changed everything. The tortured soul, the guilty party, the aware man. All in one. All Bruno. “My mother died shortly after I left. My money may have helped in some way. I could have afforded better care or kept her more comfortable during her last days.”

“I’m sorry,” she muttered. How could he have done it? She didn’t know and couldn’t pretend to understand what it was like to live with the consequences of such an act.

“After I’d started to make money in the US, my first big purchase, besides a roof over my family’s head, was Toca do Tigre. My family had immigrated to Rio for a better life by then, but I wanted to hold on to the land. I gave Toca do Tigre to my father, but he refused it. So I kept it in my name but gave Leonardo power of attorney, in case my father ever changed his mind.”

“Why didn’t you ever sell it or use it?”

“I left that decision up to my father. The stubborn old man accepted this house, maybe because it was his ticket out of the region where we grew up. But I didn’t need that land, and neither did my father. Pai was too proud to accept the land.”

“How about the Kwanis?”

“Truthfully, when a caretaker for the land mentioned the Kwanis had invaded a piece of my property, I didn’t care. In one way, I was relieved that at least some of it would be put to good use.”

She slid to the edge of the sofa, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “It can still be put to good use, Bruno. I know that you didn’t help your family when you left, but now you can help dozens of families…you can make a difference.”

“You really think that? That some charity will take away the horrible son I’ve been?”

“If you were still that person, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” The words left her mouth against her consent. She bit her lip hard, willing to taste blood and use it to wash away her last sentence. She was fully aware that if he acted like a good son now, the Kwanis would lose their home.

He sighed and turned away, running his fingers violently through his hair. “There has got to be a better way.”

“Have you tried negotiating with Lancaster?”

“I’ve offered to allow him to start construction on another part of the land until he can have it all. Lancaster said the investors are concerned the Kwanis might invade or vandalize the properties and don’t want that liability.”

The wave of irritation shifted into a sea of panic. “They would never do that.”

“
You
know that, Addie. But there are no guarantees.” He shrugged.

She paced in small circles, the lack of hope tearing at her insides. Her legs, like the rest of her, were restless. Some Indian tribes in the region invaded people’s empty summer houses or construction sites, but the Kwanis wouldn’t.

“I can’t imagine how to tell them they’ll have to move again.” If only he could see them and talk to them in person, perhaps he’d change his mind about selling it so soon and overriding their deal. She hadn’t come this far to give up. “Come to Toca do Tigre…for just a day. Come with me and meet them.”

He arched an eyebrow. “So they can have me for breakfast?”

“I’ve been telling you about them, but it just occurred to me that you should really come and see for yourself. Give me that. Then see if you still want to expel them afterward.”

He threw his hands in the air. “Have you heard nothing I said?”

“I have.”
I just disagree.

“No.”

“Well, if you don’t honor your end of the bargain, I won’t keep mine,” she said firmly. She could feel her face tightening, and her every nerve stood on end as she tried to pull off the bluff.

He shook his head. “You can’t do that.”

“Try me. I don’t have anything to lose. I will tell everyone our marriage is a sham.”

“That would be a breach against our agreement. Look, just give me some time. I’ll find a way to help them. I’d never kick them to the curb. If you don’t hold up your end of the bargain, all is lost.”

She stood. “You really think I believe anything that comes out of your mouth? I don’t trust you,” she said, more to herself than him. “If you don’t give me at least one day in Toca do Tigre and hold up the negotiations, I will tell everyone, and to the hell with it,” she managed to say coolly.

“You are bold to blackmail me…again.”

She savored her smile. “I call it the art of negotiation.”

Chapter Eleven

By the time afternoon came, he’d arranged for a private plane to take them to Recife, where they’d rented a pickup truck and were now proceeding to Toca do Tigre. He’d suggested taking a helicopter, but she had vehemently refused, alleging the last thing they needed was a dramatic entrance to alarm the tribe. The Kwanis would know something was wrong if she came for such a short visit inside a sleek bird with her new husband.

What if it didn’t work? What if, despite her efforts, he didn’t change his mind and the hospitality of the tribe failed to warm his heart?

If she closed her eyes, the image of his haunted look earlier that morning appeared vividly before her. She had almost wished she could soothe his pain. Perhaps she wouldn’t be able to. After all, he’d abandoned his mother and his family.

Was Bruno Duarte still selfish and ruthless, like he was fourteen years ago? And why was she even wasting her time wondering?

Pain. She remembered the pain her family had experienced with the loss of her childhood home. Naturally, this would be an even bigger challenge for the tribe. They would have to adjust to another tribe’s rules, which could differ completely and cause altercations, to say the least. They’d lose their jobs, since they survived from fishing and agriculture. How would they support their families? If they arrived at a different tribe, would there be enough fishing and planting to go around? Would the habitants feel threatened by their presence?

Her gaze strayed to his serious profile, then dropped to the large hands clasped on the steering wheel. What could he be thinking?

The view in front of her offered temporary comfort, the hustle and bustle of a capital city along the coast, with high-rise buildings and world-class restaurants. But driving away from Recife toward the primitive areas of the coast, the big highways turned into narrow roads.

Soon, dirt roads took over, and small houses lined each side of the street. Small but not disconnected—a few of them had cable TV dishes on their roof.

The big-city buzz shifted to a plantation of sugar cane that stretched like an endless green carpet, the crops bathing in the sun and swaying lazily with the breeze. Fields of bananas, mangoes, and other fruits and vegetables edged the road. The long, luscious leaves of tall coconut trees moved gently against the blue sky sprinkled with fluffy white clouds. They drove past the no-trespassing sign and went deeper into his land. She spotted the circular group of huts made out of large logs and roofed with thick leaves, just how she remembered. This kind of primitive living was only found in secluded tribes in the Amazon. The fact it still existed among modern-day commodities, and thousands of miles away from the rainforest, was quite something.

Bruno parked the truck under a tree, and they got out. What looked like the whole tribe gathered around them.

“Addie.” The
cacique
Myro, the tribe’s leader, greeted her with a hug.

The people wore necklaces, straw skirts, and face and body paint. The women had tunic-like clothes made from animal fur and a thin, sheet-like cotton covering their breasts and private parts. The men donned straw skirts with a piece of special fabric to keep their private parts hidden. On their heads, some of them had
panaches
with colorful feathers. The
cacique’s
, though, was by far the fullest and most exotic, with long feathers in blue, purple, and green.

“Myro.” She soaked in his hug. It had been a couple months since she’d last been there with all of them. She lost sight of Bruno as a few friends came forward and greeted her with enthusiasm.

It was at the sound of him clearing his throat that she turned. He drummed his fingers on the top of the pickup truck. Well, well… Bruno unsure of what to do. What a nice change of pace.

She guessed no one really knew how to greet him. The
cacique
was the only one who knew who Bruno really was. When she had called to say they were coming, they had decided it was best not to tell everyone about his identity.

“This is my husband Bruno.” She figured using his first name wouldn’t hurt. Bruno was a common enough name in Brazil that they wouldn’t associate it with the faceless owner of the land. But the title knotted her throat.
Husband
. How else could she introduce him?

They took in his presence. A couple women, including Juracyr, whom she knew well, exchanged glances. Not in an aggressive way, certainly not how the women in Rio or anywhere else acted when he was around. Kwani women simply flushed a bit, reserved in their shyness, but in their own way acknowledging his handsomeness.

Myro approached Bruno and looked him straight in the eyes. If Bruno had any discomfort, he never showed it. For a moment, the buzz faded, and silence descended. It was a sign of utter respect for the newcomer.

“Welcome to our tribe.” Myro, tall and slim, held out his hand.

Bruno looked at the women and the children, a few of them hiding behind their mother’s legs. “Thank you.” He gave Myro a firm handshake and a half smile.

Soon, the tribe went back to their own business, and Myro walked in front of Addie and Bruno to show them around.

Children played soccer. Their mothers cooked food or busied themselves crafting the rich art they sold in the city. The men fished and farmed the land. Some of them worked as handymen doing menial jobs for the residents of the nearby town located an hour walk away. She often envied the simplicity of their lives.

“You should take your shoes off,” she whispered when she removed her own and slid them inside her tote. “A sign of respect.” For the Kwanis, nature and earth were sacred. To walk barefoot was not only an acknowledgment but a connection to all it provided for them—shelter, food, security.

Little did they know, they were about to lose it all.
No
. She couldn’t let that happen. They had lost Michael, who had been their voice. Michael had fought for Indian rights and harbored the either ambitious or naïve dream of ending prejudice against them.

“I respect them. But I’ll keep my shoes on.”

Annoyance skated through her bloodstream. Did he always have to be this stubborn?

They reached a larger hut, where women crafted jewelry and cooked corn-based pastries to sell. Though now, instead of a dozen people working swiftly and chatting loudly under the large hut, only a few were there, and they left with a nod when the three of them arrived.

Myro presented Addie and Bruno with a heavy necklace made of thick beads that looked like grains of some sort. “We believe if you put this on your belly at night, you will become pregnant with child.”

A red-hot wave spread across her mortified face. Bruno’s mocking smile told her he had something else he could put inside her that would make her pregnant with child.

He, of course, was completely comfortable with the irony of the situation. Marriage didn’t mean much to him, and kids? She didn’t even know if he wanted kids.

Bruno nodded and once again shook Myro’s hand. When the
cacique
turned away to address someone from the tribe, Bruno whispered dangerously close to her, “You didn’t tell him.”

She looked around before answering, “I couldn’t tell him I married you to help them. It wasn’t fair.”
It’s embarrassing
.

Bruno leaned forward. “He thinks you fell madly in love with the opposition.”

Thankfully, Myro had been respectful of her privacy during their awkward phone conversation. He had never asked her to use her position to influence Bruno, although that was probably what Myro imagined she would do.
Ah, the irony
. “I’m scared to find out what he really thinks. But, yes, I told him we’re married.”

“Well, I’d hate for him to question our commitment to each other.” He closed the distance between them.

She opened her mouth to protest, but he pulled her into a rough, scorching kiss that punished and aroused her. She knew she shouldn’t enjoy his touch on her skin, the notes of his woodsy cologne blending with a purely male scent. His scent.

His tongue was like that gallon of strawberry ice cream she knew she shouldn’t eat. Would just a taste hurt? Before she could rationalize, desire pooled between her thighs.

A desire that obviously didn’t know better and defied self-preservation. She heard a chuckle, followed by a throat clearing, and pushed him away. Myro stood a few feet from them, an amused look in his eyes, having said good-bye to the man he had been talking to. Bruno must have sensed it, because he didn’t question her abrupt end to their kiss.

“
Cacique
Myro, we appreciate your hospitality. We have a lot to discuss about Toca do Tigre.”

“I will be honored to hear you,
Seu
Bruno. After tonight, when we’ve properly welcomed you to our tribe. If my people see me talking to a white man without the necessary protocol, they’ll think there is trouble. And I can’t have our children and women worry before tonight’s festivities. We must show you to your hut.”

“Festivities?”

“Yes. One of our women just gave birth a few hours ago. We like to thank the gods and celebrate it the first evening,” Myro explained and turned to take them to their hut.

Bruno made a motion for her to go in front while he followed. She felt self-conscious, and although she couldn’t see him, she could swear his eyes followed the swaying of her hips. How could he think of wanting her, still, when the very reason that brought them to Toca would tear them apart?

She hadn’t thought about sleeping arrangements, since everything had been such a whirlwind. He’d wanted them to come for the day, but she had convinced him they needed at least one night—she knew that, by the time they got to the tribe, it would be sunset. A part of her was eaten by guilt for taking him away from his father. But then she remembered how he avoided his father during the day.
Maybe if he sees a different lifestyle, he’ll realize what he is missing in his own life.

Myro came to a halt in front of the little house she’d occupied with Michael, and she felt the blood drain from her face. Surely, the Kwanis imagined it was the most comfortable accommodation they could provide—a small clay house with bright orange paint on the outside. Though Addie doubted they wanted to hurt her, her heart raced.

To step inside with Bruno would no doubt override any of her past experience with Michael. And once Bruno got out of her life, what else would she have left?

She heard voices, like they were talking to her, though it seemed far away.

At last, she shook her head slowly, as if coming out of hypnosis. “No. I can’t stay in there.”

Bruno opened his arms, his eyes assessing the place. “Why not?”

Myro looked down. “I’m sorry,” he said. Damn it, her intention was not to humiliate them. “I’ll make other arrangements.”

“No,
I’m
sorry,” she intervened. “We can sleep anywhere. Just not…in there.”

Myro nodded. His weathered, coffee-colored face set into a sympathetic expression. He muttered something, and with a whistle and hand gesture sent a child to tell one of the women to find another hut.

Bruno didn’t move an inch. His serious stance made it clear he wasn’t letting it go without an explanation. “Why the hell not?”

“This was where I slept with Michael. I can’t go back in there.” Honesty was the best policy.

“Fine,” he muttered, though she doubted things were fine. What kind of bastard was Bruno not to be considerate of her emotions—and not to offer a simple word of comfort? Hell, even now, when tears welled up, he didn’t even offer a hug. Instead, he stepped back, closing his fists and tensing his shoulders.

Bruno Duarte is not the man for me. And he never will be.

…

“Try some,” said Juracyr, a kind woman in her twenties, eager to serve him.

Bruno glanced at the yellow pudding in front of him.
Hell
. He’d eaten worse things in his life. “Of course,” he mumbled and raised the wooden bowl to his mouth. It had a thicker consistency than soup, and when it rolled down his throat, the flavors burst. The salty, corn-based cream topped a lot of other foods he’d experienced. An awakening for his palate.

Juracyr nodded, beaming with approval. “More?”

Smiling, he handed her the bowl. The festivities celebrated the birth of a baby. When the baby girl woke up, everyone wanted a peek.

All of the tribe gathered around a few large fires, and among laughter and children’s voices, prayers and conversations, his eyes zoomed in on Addie. She held the baby and whispered sweet nothings to her. His body stilled when he saw a full bright smile from Addie, with all her straight teeth showing. Although he was a tad far away, he could easily see that she glowed with happiness.
Damn her.

He snorted. She certainly had a much brighter smile for any Kwani, young or old, than she’d had for him. She seemed miles away. Probably thinking about her precious Michael. Bruno suppressed a low groan. What new low had he sunk to if he were jealous of a dead man? A dead man, who had been quite the hero, quite the stand-up guy? A man who died facing adversities.

Could he be a hero? He removed his flip-flops and sank his feet into the mix of dirt and gravel. He studied the Kwanis. A sense of belonging, of not being that much different from them, assailed him.

Could that be true?
I am different.
He slipped the flip-flops back on his feet, his toes drumming on the flat sole.

You only agreed to come to prevent Addie from exposing the real reasons behind the marriage. You don’t belong here; don’t fool yourself.

“Mr. Bruno,” said Myro beside him.

He turned and nodded to the
cacique
who joined him.

It would be wrong to carry on a conversation regarding Toca do Tigre without Addie. He pressed his lips together.