One Night in... Rio: The Brazilian Millionaire's Love-Child / Virgin Mistress, Scandalous Love-Child / The Surgeon's Runaway Bride

Alejandro straightened from his lounging position. ‘It is not going to work, you know,’ he said mildly, and Isobel felt the sense of panic she’d experienced when she’d first seen him engulfing her again. He hesitated, evidently choosing his words with care. ‘But by all means take some time to consider the situation. I suggest we spend a little time together.’ His brows lifted sardonically. ‘You liked me once. I realise I have changed.’ A rueful hand brushed his scarred cheek. ‘Even so, perhaps I can persuade you I am not an unreasonable man.’

Isobel took an involuntary backward step. ‘I—I didn’t come here to spend time with you,’ she protested, hoping the maids, who had abandoned their floor-buffing in favour of polishing the panelling, couldn’t understand English.

‘I know that.’ Alejandro’s lips twisted. ‘But you don’t have to be afraid of me. I may look like an ogre but, I assure you, I am still depressingly human.’

Isobel’s eyes widened. She realised he had mistaken her panic for something else. ‘You don’t understand,’ she said, her eyes darting towards his and then away again. ‘I just meant I was asked to interview Senhora Silveira, and—’

‘I understand what you meant very well, Isobella,’ Alejandro retorted drily. ‘And I also know why you were invited to come here. But surely it is not unreasonable in the circumstances to expect a little understanding on your part?’

Isobel’s knees were trembling with the effort to maintain her composure. ‘Are—are you saying there is to be no interview?’ she asked. ‘Because if that’s the case—’

‘Listen to me!’ A muscle jerking in Alejandro’s cheek betrayed his agitation. ‘The interview is not at stake here. Do you understand me? Your association with Anita is your concern, not mine. What I would like to do is have a serious conversation with you about our daughter. I had planned to show you my estancia this morning, but—’

Isobel was distracted. ‘Your estancia?’ she echoed, and Alejandro sighed.

‘Sim. My estancia,’ he agreed, noticing she hadn’t contradicted his other statement. ‘My ranch, if you like. As well as my work for Cabral Leisure, I breed polo ponies.’

‘Polo ponies?’

A faintly mocking smile tugged at the corners of his thin lips. ‘Sim, polo ponies. My manager does all the hard work, I am afraid. I just share in the rewards. It is my—como se diz?—my escape from the city, nao? You will like it, I am sure. But it is some miles from here, and since Anita was indisposed yesterday …’

His words reminded her of the situation, and she realised she’d allowed him to divert her with his talk of estancias and polo ponies. She also realised how little she knew about this man. Despite the comfort of her upbringing, she certainly wasn’t used to the kind of wealth Alejandro seemed to take for granted. Perhaps he thought it would influence her.

But he was wrong.

‘And did your wife like staying at the estancia, senhor?’ she asked, deliberately bringing Miranda into the equation. ‘I imagine she must have. Were you married as soon as you returned to Brazil?’

Alejandro’s pale eyes hardened. ‘Why would this interest you?’ he demanded. ‘Unless what you really want to know is why the accident occurred.’ His mouth curled. ‘Ah, you think Miranda would not have married me if it had happened before our wedding, hmm? You are suggesting that she must have regretted it? That that is why she overdosed on heroin within a year of taking her vows?’

‘No!’ Isobel was horrified at the emotions she’d inadvertently unearthed. She hadn’t even known how his wife had died. ‘That wasn’t what I meant at all.’

‘But I notice you do not deny that you find me repulsive,’ retorted Alejandro bitterly. ‘Still, I do not care what you think of me, cara—so long as you do not interfere with what I want.’

Isobel moistened her lips. ‘Which is?’

‘You know,’ Alejandro told her heavily. ‘I intend to get to know my daughter. To be a part of her life from now on.’

Isobel’s stomach hollowed. It was what she’d been afraid of ever since meeting him again and realising the kind of man he was. A man used to having his own way, she hazarded. A man whose wealth and power would allow nothing to stand in his way.

Which was why she said desperately, ‘I told you—Emma isn’t your daughter.’

‘But I know she is.’ He was inflexible. ‘I have proof.’ Then, ‘Be silent!’ he commanded, when she would have protested again. Hard hands reached for her shoulders, forcing her to face him. And, although she glanced behind her, hoping the maids might come and help her, the two girls had slipped silently away.

‘I had hoped we might deal with this as two adults,’ he went on grimly, the hard pads of his fingers digging through to the bone. ‘But clearly that is not to be the case. And that is all right with me also. I can be patient, Isobella.’

She winced then, and he wondered if he was hurting her. Alejandro acknowledged that he wanted to. Anger and frustration vied for dominance, and it was difficult to remain calm when so much was at stake.

For her part, Isobel was stunned by his assertion. What proof could he have? For God’s sake, did anyone else know about this? This was an Alejandro she hadn’t anticipated, and something told her he wasn’t about to be put off with a futile denial.

She glanced up into his dark face, and then wished she hadn’t. Glittering amber eyes caught and held hers with a riveting gaze. She couldn’t look away, and unknowingly her lips parted. Her tongue appeared again to moisten their dryness, its pink tip giving her face a delicate vulnerability.

It wasn’t meant to be provocative. Alejandro knew that. But, as he continued to hold her, his earlier emotions were giving way to something else—something insistent, and infinitely less controllable. An unwilling awareness reared its ugly head.

As on the previous morning at the beach, the memory of how she’d felt in his arms overwhelmed his reason. He still wanted her, he admitted incredulously. Wanted her with an urgency that bordered on madness, his own needs making a mockery of everything else.

When he jerked her towards him, she had no chance of resisting him. She was caught off-guard, off-key and off-balance. With a little gasp of alarm, she stumbled against him, her case dropping helplessly from her fingers as she tried to save herself.

But all she succeeded in doing was in fisting a handful of his shirt to right herself. And, before she could draw back, he’d bent his head towards her and captured her mouth with his. The overnight stubble on his jaw only added to his sexuality, and his hand at her nape sent crazy shivers racing down her spine.

She sank against him, too bemused by the intimacy of his actions to offer further resistance. The heat of his kiss, the sensual possession of his hands, the clean, male scent of his body were seducing her to a state where mindless emotion was her only response.

He murmured to her in his own language, hoarse, unsteady words and phrases that she didn’t understand. But their meaning was clear, and they only added to the sense of unreality that was gripping her, seducing her will and making her moan with pleasure.

His hands caressed her, sliding beneath her smock and her vest, spreading against the warm skin of her spine. She arched against him when his fingers traced the hollow above her bottom. And she felt the unmistakeable pressure of his manhood throbbing against her abdomen.

Alejandro felt his erection too. Felt his trousers tighten around him and the undeniable rush of blood to his groin. And knew a helpless sense of frustration at his body’s weakness.

But the yielding softness of her hips against his was so good, so arousing. And the idea of burying his aching shaft inside her was a powerful thing. He remembered how tight she’d been, how satisfying it had felt to feel her muscles contracting around him. He’d never experienced such a sensation, like an explosion of his senses, of his will …

But no!

With a determination born of obduracy, Alejandro forced himself to lift his head and stare down at her. Her eyes were closed, and he briefly closed his own against the sensuous temptation she represented.

Her mouth was swollen, and there were marks on her cheek where the roughness of his chin had burned her. And, before he released her, he couldn’t resist rubbing a possessive thumb across the abrasion on her skin. He wanted to do more—a lot more, he acknowledged with a certain amount of self-contempt. But time and their surroundings were against him. Besides, he had no intention of allowing her to think this gave her the upper hand.

That wasn’t going to happen, he assured himself grimly. Forcing himself to put some space between them, he tried to quell the bulge between his legs with a slightly unsteady hand. Calm down, he told himself, grasping the pillar behind him. However you feel, you’ve got to stay in control.

His injured leg provided a distraction—albeit an unwelcome one. Standing for any length of time was unwise, and the muscles in his jaw tightened as a shaft of pain arrowed down his thigh.

Still, it reminded him of how unpredictable life could be. How unpredictable his own life had been to this point. Meu Deus, did he want her to think he was still attracted to her? She provoked him, that was all. To the point of madness at times.

Meanwhile Isobel had no idea what he was thinking. She’d opened her eyes to find him regarding her with an unmistakeable look of contempt on his face. Her face flamed instinctively, at the thought of her own stupidity, if nothing else.

She could console herself with the thought that the confusion he’d created in her mind over Emma had clouded her reason. But for a moment, while he’d been kissing her, she’d had to admit all her inhibitions about him and his intentions had scattered to the winds.

‘Are you all right?’

The coldness of his voice was an added push towards sobriety and Isobel took a steadying breath. Then, bending to rescue the case containing her laptop, she said tersely, ‘I will be. When I get out of here.’ And, because it was the uppermost thought in her mind, she added, ‘And please don’t think I believe your lies. Or that by throwing your wealth in my face I’ll be so overwhelmed with admiration that I’ll submit to any suggestion you make.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me?’

‘Tomorrow,’ said Alejandro, as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘We will go to Montevista tomorrow. I will pick you up at eight o’clock.’

Isobel blinked. ‘Montevista?’ she said, realising she was back to repeating everything he said. ‘What the hell is—?’ She broke off, annoyed that she had shown any interest. ‘Well, whatever it is, or wherever it is, I’m not going anywhere.’

‘Montevista is my estancia,’ said Alejandro with infuriating calmness. ‘As I said earlier, before you fell so conveniently into my arms …’

‘I didn’t fall into your arms.’

‘You will like it. It is very beautiful. Very remote.’ He paused. ‘Please do not let me down, Isobella. I am not a wise man to cross.’