Читать книгу The Complete Boardroom Collection - Джанис Мейнард, Yvonne Lindsay - Страница 20
Оглавление‘HAD ENOUGH YET?’
Serena mumbled something indistinct. This was paradise. Lying on Ipanema Beach as the fading rays of the sun baked her skin and body in delicious heat. There was a low hum of conversation from nearby, the beautiful sing-song cadence of Portuguese, people were laughing, sighing, talking. The surf of the sea was crashing against the shore.
And then she felt Luca’s mouth on hers and her whole body orientated itself towards his. She opened her eyes with an effort to find him looking down at her. Her heart flip-flopped. She smiled.
‘Can we stay for the sunset?’
Luca was trying to hang on to some semblance of normality when the day that had just passed had veered out of normal for him on so many levels it was scary.
‘Sure,’ he said, with an easiness belying his trepidation. Serena’s open smile was doing little to restore any sense of equilibrium.
One day spent walking around Rio and then a couple of hours on the beach was all it had taken to touch her skin with a luminous golden glow. Her hair looked blonder, almost white, her blue eyes were standing out even more starkly.
That morning they had taken the train up through the forest to the Cristo Redentor on Corcovado and Serena had been captivated by every tiny thing. Standing at the railing, looking down over the breathtaking panorama of Rio, she’d turned to him and asked, with a look of gleaming excitement that had reminded him of a child, ‘Can we go to the beach later?’
Luca’s insides had tightened ominously. She didn’t want to go shopping. She wanted to see Rio. Genuinely.
Before they’d hit the beach they’d eaten lunch at a favourite café of Luca’s. At one point he’d sat back and asked, with an increasing sense of defeat, ‘Your family really aren’t funding you...are they?’
Immediate affront had lit up those piercing eyes. Luca wouldn’t have believed it before. But he did now, and it had made something feel dark and heavy inside him.
‘Of course not.’ She’d flushed then, guiltily, and admitted with clear reluctance, ‘My sister and her husband paid for an apartment for me in Athens...when I was ready to move on. But I’m going to pay them back as soon as I’ve made enough money.’
Darkness had twisted inside Luca. People got hand-outs all the time from family, yet she clearly hated to admit it. And this was a woman who had had everything...a vast fortune to inherit...only to lose it all.
She’d flushed self-consciously when she’d caught him looking at her cleared plate of feijoãda, a famous Brazilian stew made with black beans and pork. ‘My sister is the same. It’s a reaction to the tiny portions of food we were allowed to eat by our father, growing up.’
Her revelation had hit him hard again. The sheer abuse her father had subjected her to. Anger still simmered in his belly. Luca had felt compelled to reach out and take her hand, entwining his fingers with hers—something that had felt far too easy and necessary.
‘Believe me, it’s refreshing to see a woman enjoy her food.’
Her hand had tensed in his and she’d said, far too lightly, while avoiding his eyes, ‘I’m sure the women you know are far more restrained.’
Was she jealous? The suspicion had caught at Luca somewhere deeply masculine. And that deeply masculine part of him had been triggered again when he’d insisted on buying her a bikini so she could swim at the beach, as they hadn’t been prepared.
He took her in now, as she lay beside him, the three tiny black triangles doing little to help keep his libido in check. He was just glad that the board shorts he’d bought to swim in were roomy enough to disguise his rampant response.
As if aware of his scrutiny Serena fidgeted, trying to pull the bikini over her breasts more—which only made some of the voluptuous flesh swell out at the other side.
Luca bit back a groan.
She’d hissed at him in the shop, ‘I’m not wearing that—it’s indecent!’
Luca had drawled wryly, ‘Believe me, when you see what most women wear on the beaches here you’ll feel overdressed.’
And when they’d hit the sand Serena’s reaction had been priceless. Mouth open, eyes popping out of her head, she’d watched the undeniably sensual parade of beautiful bodies up and down the beach.
Luca hadn’t been unaware of the blatant interest her pale blonde beauty had attracted, and had stared down numerous men.
The sun was setting now, and people were starting to cheer and clap as it spread out in a red ball of fire over the horizon, just to the left of one of Rio’s craggy peaks.
Serena sat up and drew her legs to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She smiled at Luca, before taking in the stunning sunset and clapping herself. ‘I love how they do that.’
Her pleasure in something so simple mocked his deeply rooted cynicism. And then Luca realised then that he was enjoying this too, but it had been a long time since he’d taken the time to appreciate it. Even when he’d been younger he’d been so driven to try and counteract his father’s corrupt legacy that he’d rarely taken any time out for himself. He’d fallen into a pattern of choosing willing women who were happy with no-strings-attached sex to alleviate any frustration.
He’d never relaxed like this in a typical carioca way, with a beautiful woman.
The sun had set and she looked at him now, and all he could see was the damp golden hair trailing over her shoulders, close to the full thrust of her breasts. Her mouth, like a crushed rose petal, was begging to be tasted. And those wide eyes were looking at him with a wariness that only fired his libido even more.
He said roughly, ‘Let’s get out of here.’
Serena couldn’t mistake the carnal intent in Luca’s eyes. He’d been looking at her all day as if he’d never seen her before. And today...today had been like a dream.
Her skin felt tight from the sun and sea, and she didn’t know if it was just Luca’s unique effect on her, or the result of watching the Rio natives embrace their sensuality and sexuality all afternoon, but right now she trembled with the sexual need that pulsed through her very core and blood.
‘Yes,’ she said.
She stood up, and Luca stood too, handing her the sundress she’d put on that morning.
They walked the short distance back to Luca’s car and when he took her hand in his, Serena’s fingers tightened around his reflexively. He wore an open shirt over his chest, still in his shorts, and her heart clenched because he looked so much younger and more carefree than the stern, intimidating man she’d met again the day she’d arrived in Rio.
When they began winding up through the hills, away from the beaches, Serena asked, ‘Where is this?’
Luca glanced at her. ‘We’re going to my home in Alto Gavea. It’s closer.’
Serena’s heart beat fast. His home.
The rest of the drive was in silence, as if words were superfluous and might not even penetrate the thick sensual tension between them.
This part of Rio was encased in forest, reminding Serena of the rainforest with a sharp poignancy. And Luca’s home took her breath away when he turned in to a long secluded drive behind fortified gates.
It was an old colonial house, two-storey, white, with terracotta slates on the roof, and it was set, literally, in the middle of the lush Tijuca Forest.
He pulled the car to a stop and looked at her for a long moment. They were suspended in time, with no sounds except for the calls of some birds.
Then he broke the spell and got out of the car, helping Serena out of the low-slung seat. She let out a small squeal of surprise when he scooped her up into his arms and navigated opening the front door with commendable dexterity.
He took the stairs two at a time and strode into a massive bedroom. Serena only had time to take in an impression of a house that was cool and understated. In his room, the open shutters framed a view showcasing the illuminated Christ the Redeemer statue in the far distance on its hill overlooking Rio.
Everything became a little dream-like after that, and Serena knew that on some level she was shying away from analysing the significance of the day that had passed.
Luca put her down, only to disappear into a bathroom, where she heard the sound of a shower running. When he emerged he was taking off his clothes until he stood before her naked, unashamedly masculine and proud.
‘Come here.’
She obeyed without question. When she stood before him he reached down for the hem of her dress and pulled it up and off. Then he turned her around and undid her flimsy bikini top so that it fell to the floor.
He turned her back and hooked his fingers into the bottoms, and pulled them down until she could step out of them at her feet. In that moment, naked, she’d never felt more womanly or more whole. Or more free of the shadows that had dogged her for as long as she could remember. They weren’t gone completely, but it was enough for now.
He took her hand and led her into the bathroom, which was fogged with steam that curled over their sticky, sandy bodies. Standing under the hot spray, Serena lifted her face and Luca covered her mouth with his, his huge body making the space tiny.
When he took his mouth off hers she opened her eyes to see his hot gaze devouring her. And just like that she was ready, her body ripening and moistening for him, ravenous at the sight of Luca’s gleaming wet and aroused body. He lifted her and instructed her to put her legs around him—then groaned and stopped.
She looked at him, breathless with anticipation. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘No protection, preciosa. We need to move.’
Serena was dazed as he carried her out of the shower, her legs still wrapped around his waist. She could see the pain on his face at the interruption but she was glad... She’d been too far gone to think about protection herself.
He put her down on the bed and reached for a condom from his cabinet, ripping the foil and sheathing himself with big, capable hands. Serena felt completely wanton as she watched this display of masculine virility.
And then he was coming back down over her, pushing her legs apart, settling between them, asking huskily, ‘Okay?’
She nodded, her chest tightening ominously, and then Luca was thrusting in so deep her back arched and her legs went around his waist. It was fast and furious, his gaze holding hers, not letting her look away.
Bliss broke over her after mere minutes. She was so primed—as if now it was the easiest thing in the world and not something that had been torturously elusive when they’d first made love.
Serena bit into Luca’s shoulder as powerful spasms racked her body just as he reached his own climax, his body thrusting rhythmically against hers until he was spent. He collapsed over her and she tightened her arms and legs around him, loving the feel of him pressing her into the bed, his body still big inside hers.
Eventually he withdrew, and Serena winced as her muscles protested. Luca collapsed on his back beside her, his breathing as uneven as hers. She looked at him to find him watching her with a small enigmatic smile playing around his mouth.
He came up on one arm and touched his fingers to her jaw. ‘You make me lose my mind every time...’ he admitted gruffly.
Serena looked at him. Somehow his confession wasn’t as comforting as she’d thought it might be. It left her with a definite sense that Luca did not welcome such a revelation.
And then he was kissing her again, wiping everything from her mind, and she welcomed it weakly. She was far too afraid to face the suspicion that she had fallen in love with this man and there was no going back.
Three days later
‘Miss DePiero? Senhor Fonseca said to let you know that he’s been unavoidably detained and you should eat without him.’
‘Okay, thank you.’ Serena put down the kitchen phone extension and looked at the chicken stew she’d made, bubbling on the state-of-the-art cooker. Unavoidably detained. What was that code for?
Crazy to feel so disappointed, but she did. She’d spent her lunch hour buying ingredients, and as soon as she’d finished work at the charity office she’d rushed back to start cooking.
And now she felt ridiculous—because wasn’t this such a cliché? The little woman at home, cooking dinner for her man and getting all bent out of shape because it was spoiled?
Mortified at the thought of what Luca’s reaction would have been to see this attempt at creating some kind of domestic idyll, and losing any appetite herself, Serena took the chicken stew off the cooker. When it had cooled sufficiently she resisted the urge to throw it away and put it into a bowl to store in the fridge.
Feeling antsy, she headed outside to the terrace. The stunning view soothed her in a way that Athens had never done, even though she now called it home.
‘Maledire,’ she cursed softly in Italian. And then she cursed Luca, for making her fall for him.
The weekend had been...amazing. She remembered Luca kissing the tattoo on her shoulder. He’d murmured to her, ‘You know the swallow represents resurrection?’
Serena had nodded her head, feeling absurdly emotional that he got it.
When they’d woken late on Sunday Luca had told her that he had to visit a local favela and she’d asked to go with him. She had seen first-hand his commitment to his own city. The amazing Fonseca Community Centre that provided literacy classes, language classes, business classes and a crèche so that everyone in the community could learn.
When she’d gone wandering, left alone briefly, she’d found Luca in the middle of a ring of men, doing capoeira, a Brazilian form of martial arts. He’d been stripped to the waist, his torso gleaming with exertion, making graceful and unbelievably agile movements to the beat of a drum played by a young boy.
She hadn’t been the only woman ogling his spectacular form. By the time he’d finished, a gaggle of women and girls had been giggling and blushing. But a trickle of foreboding had skated over her skin... That had been the moment when he’d caught her eye and she’d seen something indecipherable cross his face. By the time he’d caught up with her again there had been something different about him. He’d shut down.
He’d brought her back here, to this apartment, and even though he’d stayed the night and made love to her, something had been off. When she’d woken he’d been gone, and she hadn’t seen him again until late that evening, when he’d arrived and, with an almost feral look on his face, had kissed her so passionately that all tendrils of concern had fled, to be replaced with heat, distracting her from the fact that he clearly hadn’t been interested in anything else.
The truth was that every moment she spent with Luca was ripping her apart internally. Especially when he looked at her as if she were some kind of unexploded device, yet kissed her as if his life depended on it. Clearly he was conflicted about her. He’d admitted that it was hard for him to come to terms with the fact that she wasn’t what he’d believed her to be. And Serena had the gut-wrenching feeling that Luca would have almost preferred it if she had been the debauched, spoilt princess he’d expected.
She had to face the fact that her confession, while liberating for her, had not proved to be so cataclysmic for Luca.
And of course it wouldn’t have been, Serena chided herself. For Luca this was just...an affair. A slaking of desire. The fact that it had brought about her own personal epiphany was all Serena would have to comfort her when it was over, and that would have to be enough.
* * *
When Luca walked into the apartment it was after midnight. He felt guilty. He knew Serena had been making dinner because she’d told him earlier, when he’d seen her on a visit to the charity offices. It was a visit that had had his employees looking at him in surprise, because he usually conducted meetings in his own office and had little cause to visit them.
The apartment was silent, but he could smell the faint scent of something delicious in the air. When he went into the kitchen it was pristine, but he opened the fridge and saw the earthenware bowl containing dinner. The thought that perhaps she hadn’t eaten because he hadn’t been there made him feel guiltier. He hadn’t even known that Serena could cook until she’d told him she’d taken lessons in Athens.
And he hadn’t known how deeply enmeshed he was becoming with her until he’d looked at her in the favela and the enormity of it all had hit him. It had taken seeing her against that dusty backdrop—Serena DePiero, ex-socialite and wild child, looking as comfortable in the incongruous surroundings as if she’d been born into them like a native. In spite of the white-blonde beauty that had set her apart. He’d certainly been aware of the men looking at her, and the same black emotion that had gripped him at the beach had caught him again.
Jealousy. For the first time.
It was in that moment that a very belated sense of exposure had come over him and made him pull back from a dangerous brink. Luca knew better than anyone how fickle people were—how you couldn’t trust that they wouldn’t just pull your world out from under your feet within seconds.
His own parents had done it to him and his brother—setting them on different paths of fate almost as idly as if they were Greek gods, playing with hapless mortals. For years he’d had nightmares about his parents pulling them limb from limb, until their body parts were so mixed up that they didn’t even know who was who any more.
Serena was getting too close—under his skin. Everything kept coming back to how badly he’d misjudged her—and never more so than now. He’d just had a conversation with his brother, who was in Rio on business.
And yet as he stood in the doorway of her bedroom now and saw the shape of her under the covers, the bright splash of white-blonde hair, he was taking off his clothes before he even realised what he was doing, sliding in behind her, wrapping himself around her and trying desperately to ignore the way his soul felt inexplicably soothed.
Even as she woke and turned towards him, her seeking sleepy mouth finding his, Luca was steeling himself inside—because this would all be over as soon as she knew what his brother had just told him. Because then everything that had bound them from the past would be gone.
But just...not yet.
* * *
When Serena woke in the dawn light, the bed was empty. But the hum in her body and the pleasurable ache between her legs told her she hadn’t dreamt that Luca had come into her bed last night. Or dreamt the mindless passion he’d driven her to, taking her over the edge again and again, until she’d been spent, exhausted, begging for mercy.
It was as if Luca had been driven by something desperate.
She blinked, slowly coming awake. And even though her body was sated and lethargic from passion, her heart was heavy. She loved Luca, and she knew with cold certainty that he didn’t love her. But he wanted her.
His love was his commitment to the environment, to making the world a better place in whatever small way he could, born from his zeal not to be like his predecessors—a zeal she could empathise with.
And Serena knew that she wouldn’t be able to continue falling deeper and deeper without recognising that the heartbreak would be so much worse when she walked away.
It was only when she sighed deeply and moved her head that she felt something, and looked to see a note on the pillow beside her.
She reached for the thick paper and opened it to read:
Please meet me in my office when you wake. L.
A definite shiver of foreboding tightened Serena’s skin. No wonder there had been something desperate in Luca’s lovemaking last night. This was it. He was going to tell her it was over. The signs had been there for the last few days, since the favela.
Anger lanced her. To think that he would just send her away so summarily after sating his desire, which was obviously on the wane, and after she’d enjoyed working in the charity office so much. But, as much as she’d come to love Rio de Janeiro, she didn’t relish the thought of being in such close proximity to him in the future—seeing him get on with his life, take another lover.
She wasn’t going to let him discard her completely, though; no matter what had happened between them personally he owed her a job. In any event, she knew now that she had to go home. So, while Luca might be preparing to let her go, Serena told herself stoutly that she was ready.
It was only when she noticed her hands trembling in the shower that she had to admit her anger was stemming from a place of deep fear that she was about to feel pain such as she’d never felt before—not even when she’d been at her lowest ebb, trapped by her addictions. Before, she’d anaesthetised herself against the pain. Now she would have nothing to cling on to, and she wasn’t sure how ready she was to cope with that.