Kidnapping the Brazilian Tycoon (9 page)

Addie acquiesced, but if he thought for a second she would forget the way he looked at that woman…
Wait
. She almost stopped in her tracks. Who cared? Their marriage was a practical arrangement with an expiration date. Besides, she was pretty sure that if she wrote a list of all the women he had bedded…she would run out of ink.

The only list she should worry about was the to-do list she’d help orchestrate to get the Kwanis relocated. In ten months, despite whatever Silas Lancaster preferred.

A few hours later, Addie tapped her palms together in a soundless clap while pacing the room. She wore a black nightgown under a matching kimono-style robe. Gwen, the manager from the store, had insisted she buy some lingerie and nightgowns, and she’d fought the woman as much as she could. Then she’d compromised and chosen a few. After all, that’s what people expected a bride would buy.

Her gaze strayed to the big bed covered with soft Egyptian cotton and countless pillows. She smoothed the bedspread with her hands, gliding her fingers over the silky fabric. This was a bed for lovers to roll in during a night of torrid sex. This was a bed for shameless, no-holding-back lovemaking.

It wasn’t a bed for her and Bruno.

She eyed the comfy couch innocently set in the living area of the master suite. Sleeping there would be no problem. A big man like Bruno would never fit there, but she could.

Bruno opened the door and appeared from the en suite bathroom. She studied his wet hair, the way the muscles on his chest shifted as he moved. Luckily, dark blue pajama pants hid the rest. Thinking about “the rest” caused her cheeks to flame. Addie turned around and grabbed a pillow from the bed, perfect for hiding her face. Then she searched for extra sheets inside the dresser.

“You want to sleep on the couch?”

She removed a couple sheets from the bottom drawer. “Yes.”

He scratched his chin. “But the bed is big.”

Not big enough.
“Yes, of course, but I’d prefer to sleep alone.”
Safer.

A humorless smile formed on his lips. “If you are worried about me touching you…”

No. She was worried about wanting to touch
him
, especially after that furtive moment in the library when she’d given in to a stubborn urge and fondled him, to get rid of the nonsense flooding her body.

Why were her panties in a bunch? She’d experienced sex before. Good sex. Not awful, but not mind-blowing, either. Even with Michael, lovemaking had been comfortable and sweet.

She arranged the sheets and pillow on the couch. “I just want my own space.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

She clenched both hands around the pillow. “No.” Her voice was higher than she intended. She slowly let go of the pillow and threw it back on the couch. “You won’t fit. Plus, I’ve had worse sleeping arrangements before.”

“Because you wanted to.” Bruno walked to the bed and turned the bedspread down.

“What?”

“You wanted to sleep at the settlement with the Kwanis, to get a break from your first-world problems. That was your choice. A productive camping experience. However, at any moment you could go back to your life and find a proper job and place to live.” His words punched her.

“Is that what you think? I had this sheltered life and simply wanted an international Habitat for Humanity one day?”

“That’s what I know.” He threw a couple pillows on the empty side of the bed.

She stepped closer. “Well, you’re wrong. Just because I didn’t have a very humble beginning like you, that doesn’t mean I didn’t experience my share of struggles.”

The realization she went too far didn’t take long. He stared at her, speechless, surprise crossing his face. She halted. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“How did you find out?”

Anxiety clung to her like a second skin. “Your sister might have mentioned it.” She pulled the heavy white curtains to the side and opened the door to the balcony. Far away, the lights from the Sugarloaf and the city of Rio twinkled before her. Sounds from crickets and flying bugs filled the night, and there was a good amount of hair-frizzing humidity in the air. “It doesn’t matter, you know.”

Bruno stalked behind her, erasing the distance between them. “It doesn’t?” he said in a low, husky tone.

Her sex clenched. “We might have our differences, Bruno. I don’t trust you. That doesn’t mean I don’t respect you for working hard to get where you are.”

No answer.

The fabric from his silky pants rubbed against her leg. If she turned around, there would be no coming back. She toyed with the softness of the curtain to give her fidgety fingers something to do.

“I value all kinds of occupations… I can imagine being a gardener gives you experience with—”

“My hands.”

She felt rather than heard his intake of breath. Little thrills of anticipation sparked within her. No. She couldn’t fall for his game. Was he trying to seduce her just to get leverage? He’d tried to change their agreement before. Silas Lancaster was avid to get his hands on that land. “I was going to say growing and cultivating things, beautiful things.” She cleared her throat and sauntered away from him.

She needed to get away from his heated gaze. “Why am I here, Bruno? Why didn’t you marry someone for the right reasons?” Someone like…Serena.

“If I had, we wouldn’t be here enduring this awkward conversation. I guess you deserve to sleep on the couch tonight.” He pointed to it.

“Does your father know Silas came here?”

“My father is sick, Addie.” He walked away from her, turned off the recessed lights, and checked the AC thermostat. “It was a big effort for him to make it to the altar; why would I put his health to the test?”

“Because telling him the truth and opening up would set you free.” She shuffled her weight from one foot to the other, restless. “My mother struggled with a gambling addiction for years ’til we found out,” she blurted. “You don’t have to go through whatever you’re going through alone.”

“I’m very sorry about your mother. That said, I pass on your self-serving therapy session. Your manipulating your way into that conversation with Silas earlier taught me enough.” He flicked off the lamp on his bedside table, leaving her in the dark. “Good night.”

Chapter Seven

“I want you out of here, Bruno.” The voice of his father, stronger and louder, reverberated through him.

“Pai, I’m sorry,” Bruno choked up the words. “I was going to tell you—”

“That you shamed us? You drag our family name, our only treasure, to the mud? Your mother is sick, and she doesn’t need to know about this. Get out.”

Bruno jammed both hands in his battered jeans, and they curled into fists.

“Get out.”

Bruno shook his head and yanked the intrusive thoughts from his mind. Taking a gulp of beer, he watched the twilight sky from the front porch. The carbonated liquid traveled smoothly down his throat. He licked his lips and enjoyed the semi-dry aftertaste. Brazilian beer. He’d missed it. Not that he couldn’t have bought it in the US, but during his exile he’d preferred not to taste anything that reminded him of home.

Not his home anymore, although a familiar sensation hovered around him as if challenging him to stay. He’d paid for the house, the furniture, and everything inside. Until Leonardo started working and decided he wanted to help support their father and younger siblings.

He sat on the black-iron swing in the middle of the porch encircled with colorful plants. To the right, an inviting stepping-stone pathway led to manicured, bright green grass. Tall lamps outlined the garden all the way to the sundeck, where there were tables and chairs and an outdoor barbecue grill.

He stretched his legs, and Torto greeted him with his slobbery mouth. Bruno scratched behind his ears, and the dog wagged his tail.

Leonardo had flown to São Paulo for business, and Camila had taken Addie out shopping and sightseeing. For a good part of the day, he had been stuck in the home office, checking emails, making calls, and polishing an impending project. The outstanding team he had mentored in New York kept him updated. With his growing bank account, he didn’t have to write codes or build platforms any longer; yet, he enjoyed closely monitoring high-profile accounts. The world of software fascinated him. It was a world he understood. Unlike the relationship he had with her…

Addie Duarte. His temporary wife. Avoiding her had been his strategy to overcome that growing sexual pull between them. She had drilled him with questions on their wedding night, and, damn it, she rubbed it in his face that he’d been a gardener. What else would she do, if she discovered more?

He lifted the bottle to his lips and enjoyed another sip. This time, the liquid thickened in his throat.

The clunk of wedge sandals on the tiled floor disrupted his thoughts.

Addie came from the back door and walked with both hands intertwined, her fingers playing with each other. Her lips curled into a mock smile.

“Not even a whole day of marriage, and you’ve already resorted to drinking?” she said, then sobered.
“How’s your father?”

This was the first time they were alone all day. He’d woken up before she had, but not without a quick glance at how peacefully she’d slept. She’d made the couch look…cozy. Sleeping away from her had been the right choice. After facing Serena, memories he wanted dead and gone had resurfaced. He’d broken Serena’s heart, and, ever since, he’d stayed away from serious relationships. He wasn’t the man who provoked warm and fluffy emotions. He excelled at sex, yeah, but that was where it ended. A woman like Addie, as stubborn and inquiring as she was, deserved better. Better than him.

“He’s okay.” He shook his head and rose to his feet.

She must have just showered—her damp hair smelled like wild strawberries.

He motioned for her to have a seat on the swing. A few other lounge chairs surrounded them, but his body’s fidgety response to her prevented him from sitting. Fire ants crawling on his skin wouldn’t make him this restless. “He’s sleeping.”

She chose not to sit and instead stepped back just under the recessed lighting. Even in plain capris from their New York shopping trip and a ratty green T-shirt, she looked delicious. She was slim, but, damn, her ass was plump, and the capris hugged in all the right places. “Another effort to remain true to yourself?” he pointed to the shirt.

“Does that make me evil?”

“It makes you naïve if you think a piece of clothing will represent the essence of your soul.”

She chuckled. “Deep thoughts, Mr. Moneypants. Coming from a man who thinks a woman has to wear overpriced cocktail dresses and handbags to be worthy of being your wife.”

Worthy
. The word spilled acid in his stomach. “Temporary wife.”

“That’s what I meant.” She shrugged. “What are you going to do when you find someone you really want to be with and marry? Fancy labels can’t replace a real relationship.”

“You’re starting to sound like Camila.”

He turned and resumed staring at the front yard. And then, out of nowhere, she leaped toward him and grasped his arm, her cold palm over his warm skin.

Addie’s face paled like she had seen a ghost.

“What the hell?”

Sharp nails bit into his skin.

He searched for what had alarmed her. Besides the humming of the wind and the chirping from crickets, the night was quiet.

Addie gasped, hinting that her source of danger neared. As his gaze followed hers, there it was—a small brown frog resting on the tile, completely aloof to what went on around it.

“Afraid of frogs?” he asked, amused.

She nodded, staring at the frog with a caution intended for much bigger, scarier animals.

He leaned down and watched the frog closely. The cute amphibian didn’t even jump away from him. It enjoyed the coolness of the tile, a refuge from the hot evening.

“I’m surprised a tough girl like you would be afraid of these little guys.”
Especially since you’ve experienced far worse sleeping arrangements.

Her eyes met his and widened. Then she looked down and saw her fingers still clasped around his arm. She withdrew her hand and tucked a couple curly strands behind her ear. “They’re slimy and slippery.”

“They need to be slippery, otherwise they wouldn’t survive.”

Addie frowned.

He straightened. “How did you live at Toca do Tigre? I’m sure there are hundreds of frogs there.”

Her fingers drummed the place just below her neck. Sometimes, she brushed her fingers on her neck absentmindedly. Other times, she pressed her palm hard against her neckline as if she tried to get something off her chest. He often tried to figure out why she did that.

“Well, I wasn’t always scared of frogs.” She leaned against the stone column. “They’re just unreliable…and sneak up on you when you least expect.”

“Is this one of those female analogies? When you’re actually talking about something else?”

“Why? What did you think I meant?”

Her curiosity made him smile. “I thought you were talking about men.” The words flew out of his mouth light as a feather, quite different from the sudden, growing anxiety forming in his stomach.

She chuckled, but the hearty sound didn’t bring him any comfort. “I actually don’t like them since a big one sneaked up on me in Toca do Tigre.”

“A man?”

The hint of a smile tipped at the corner of her mouth. “No. A frog.” She smoothened her hand over her T-shirt.

He shook his head. He took another long look at her and smiled. Her outfit spoke volumes of the woman who wore it. Addie Reed. Bold enough to kidnap and blackmail him. Naïve enough to believe her romanticized idealism could change the world. “I take it you aren’t scared of those perfect real relationships you’re lecturing about?”

She opened her mouth to speak then closed it. He was about to say something, anything to fill the tension in the air when she blurted, “I haven’t given it that much thought lately.”

He gave her a minute, hoping for a follow up to her reply. Nothing besides a frown on her face. “That’s it? I expected a long answer. You accuse me of closing up, and I’m talking about this…stuff.”

She folded her arms. “It’s easy when you’re the one asking questions.”

“Mad because I’ve figured out your strategy?”

She tilted her chin up. “Do you miss Erika?”

He scratched his chin. “No.”

“But you would have married her,” she said, a pang of accusation in her voice.

“Yes, and I would have made it work.”

He tightened his hold on the beer bottle he still held but no longer drank from. Time for a change of subject. He reached out for her. “Maybe it’s time you faced your fears. Frog fears. You can pet him. I’ll help you.”

Addie bit her lip, wavering over his offer. She didn’t take his hand and shook her head. “Thanks, but not tonight.”

He acquiesced and loosened the grasp on the bottle, and, with a swift hop, he sat on the black-iron railing, ignoring the other seats available. He wanted to be where he could look at her from every angle and process the urge building inside him to discover more about her.

Addie folded her arms and traced an invisible pattern on the tile with her left foot. “Can you tell me about Serena?” she asked.

Bruno shifted. “That’s quite a change of subject.”

Addie unfolded her arms and placed her hands on her hips. “I just laid it all out with my fear of frogs.”

“Serena is a well-to-do lawyer, I believe. Divorced.”

She shook her head at his evasive answer. “Tell me something I can’t find on Google.”

“You Googled her?”

She shrugged. “I would Google this frog if it had a name.”

He chuckled, but the sound died in his throat when her posture stiffened. “She was someone I once cared about.”

“What happened?”

“Didn’t work out.” Understated but true. He drank the last of his now warm beer and jumped down to place the bottle on a low square table by the swing.

“Are you still interested in her?”

“No,” he answered truthfully. Serena had been on his mind for years. He’d wondered what had happened to her and how he’d react in front of her.

And when he’d finally seen her again, all he could think was how much of his past Serena knew—and how much of it he’d wanted to shield Addie from. He’d had no physical response to Serena whatsoever, which was a surprise and a relief. His mind and body reacted only to the wife he couldn’t screw.

“If you want to sleep with someone, just be discreet about it. But don’t lie to me. I can’t stand lies.” Her voice trembled at first and gained strength at the end.

He couldn’t help the way his lips curled into a smile. “I do want to sleep with someone.”

She bit her lip and nodded with quiet dignity. “Thank you for your honesty.”

“I won’t be the least discreet about it.” He stepped closer, feasting on the shape of her luscious lips, the vein pulsing on her neck. “In fact, when it does happen, we’ll need soundproof walls.”

Not wanting to miss her reaction, he stared into her eyes and enjoyed the blend of surprise and surrender in them. Her ragged breath overpowered the sound of faraway crickets and frogs. He had promised not to kiss her, and he hadn’t. But, by God, he hadn’t promised not to touch her. Not to share every filthy thought that crossed his mind.

Without being able to resist, he closed the remaining gap between them. With slightly trembling fingers, he outlined the waves of her hair ever so carefully. Maintaining control proved a hard task, and he feared if she responded, he would pull her against him and kiss her with the lust lodged in his throat.

“That’s exaggerating.”

“Not for what I have in mind.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. She gasped, and he smothered a groan. Every time she was near him, his resolve to keep her at an arm’s length evaporated. With her eyelashes shadowing her freckled cheeks and pink, parted lips, Addie’s state of arousal confirmed what her words tried to mask—she wanted him.

He dipped his head down, coming close to breaking his promise not to kiss her unless she verbally asked him.

“I guess we’ll never find out. Has Silas contacted you again?”

Of course she’d bring this up now. He backed away from her like a bucket of icy water had been poured all over him. “Just a couple of short phone calls.”

“Which you failed to mention.” She brought her hands to her waist.

“My deal with you isn’t to update you on my every move. You’ll get your ten months and cash. That’s all there is to it.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s all there is to it,” she said more to herself than to him, before ducking her head and steering away from him.

Addie gave him one last glance before muttering a superficial good night and disappearing inside, the image of her backside not helping the swelling in his jeans. Torto followed her, his tail wagging.

How was even a pretend marriage so much work?

He enjoyed
his
work—to crack codes, to develop software, to help undiscovered talent reach new heights. Even when he’d done things he wasn’t proud of in his early life, he’d always counted on numbers to give it meaning. Whether they represented printed numbers on bills or blinking lights on his black screen. Numbers always made sense.

But Addie…

This insane attraction clouded his judgment, too. The idea of bedding her was great in theory, but, in reality, it would bring more harm than good. The moment things didn’t go according to their original plan, she would threaten with exposing him and their fake marriage. Was it worth it to get to know her deeper, to bed her and risk his vulnerability? What if she discovered more about him and blackmailed him to raise more money? In her mind, kidnapping, blackmailing, and deceit were all justifiable by her goal of giving the Kwanis a better chance. What guarantee did he have she wouldn’t exploit his weaknesses even further?