Dante Claiming His Secret Love-Child(5)

"What are you doing here?" he said.

His bewildered question shattered the last of those ridiculous dreams.  Reality rushed in and with it, the cold knowledge that she had to get  rid of him as quickly as possible. Her heart was racing again, this time  with trepidation, but the recent changes in her life had brought back  the ingrained habits of childhood, and she drew herself up and met his  confusion with calm resolution.

"I think a far better question is, what are you doing here?"

He looked surprised. Well, why wouldn't he? He was a man who never had to answer to anyone.

"I'm here on business."

"What kind of business would bring you to the end of the earth?"

"I came to buy this ranch."

She felt the color leave her face.

"Viera y Filho," he said impatiently, "and you still haven't answered my question."

A sigh swept through the room, followed by the sound of a man's  unpleasant laughter. She saw Dante turn toward Andre Ferrantes and she  felt a rush of panic. Who knew what he would say?

"Something about this amuses you?" Dante said coldly.

Ferrantes smiled. "Everything about this amuses me, senhor, including  this touching scene of reunion    ." Ferrantes cocked his head. "I only  wonder … how well do you know the senhorita?"

"Dante," Gabriella said quickly, "listen to me … "

Ferrantes stepped forward, elbowing another man aside. "I ask," he said  softly, "because I know her well." Gabriella gasped as he wrapped a  thick arm around her waist and tugged her to his side. "Intimately, one  might say. Isn't that correct, Gabriella?"

Dante's eyes went cold and flat. They locked on Ferrantes's face even as he directed his question to her.                       
       
           



       

"What is he talking about?"

She had heard him use that tone before, not long after they'd met.  They'd been strolling along a street in Soho. It was late, after  midnight, and they'd heard a thin cry down a dark alley, the thump of  something hitting the ground.

"Stay here," Dante had told her.

It had been a command, not a request, and she'd obeyed it instinctively,  standing where he'd left her, hearing scuffling sounds and then thuds  until she'd said to hell with obedience. She'd run toward the alley just  as Dante had reappeared with an old man shuffling beside him. A street  person, from the looks of him, saying "Thank you, sir," over and over,  and then she'd looked at Dante, saw that his suit coat was torn, his jaw  was already swelling … saw the look in his eyes that said he had done  what he'd had to do …

And had enjoyed it.

"Gabriella, what is he talking about? Answer me!"

She opened her mouth. Shut it again. What could she possibly tell him? Not the truth. Never that.

Never, ever that!

"Perhaps I can help, senhor." It was the lawyer, looking from one man to  the other and smiling nervously. "Obviously, you and the senhorita have  met before. In the States, I assume."

"Senhor de Souza," Gabriella said, "I beg you-"

"You could say that," Dante growled, his eyes never leaving the big man  who still stood with his arm around Gabriella. Her face was as white as  paper. She was trembling. Why didn't she step away from the greasy son  of a bitch? Why didn't she call him a liar? No way would she have given  herself to someone like this.

"In that case," the lawyer said, "you probably knew her as Gabriella Reyes."

Dante folded his arms over his chest. "Of course I know her as-"

"Her true name, her full name, is Gabriella Reyes Viera." De Souza paused. "She is the daughter of Juan Viera."

Dante looked at him. "I thought Viera had only one child. A son."

"He had a son and a daughter." De Souza paused, delicately cleared his  throat. "Ah, perhaps-perhaps we should discuss this in private, Senhor  Orsini, yes?"

"Indeed you should," Ferrantes snarled. "There is an auction taking place here, advogado, or have you forgotten?"

"Let me get this straight," Dante said, ignoring him, his attention only  on the attorney. "The ranch, which should be Gabriella's, will be sold  to the highest bidder?"

"To me," Ferrantes looked down at Gabriella. The meaty hand that rested  at her waist rose slowly, deliberately, until it lay just beneath her  breast. "Everything will be sold to me. So you see, American, you are  wrong. There is no business here for you, whatsoever."

Dante looked at him. Looked at Gabriella. Something was very wrong here.  He had no idea what it was, no time to find out. He could only act on  instinct, as he had done so many times in his life.

He took a deep breath, looked at the auctioneer. "What was the last bid?"

The auctioneer swallowed. "Senhor Ferrantes bid two hundred thousand United States dollars."

Dante nodded. "Four hundred thousand."

The crowd gasped. Ferrantes narrowed his eyes. "Six."

Dante looked at Gabriella. What had happened to her? She was as  beautiful as in the past, but she had lost weight. Her eyes were  enormous in the weary planes of her face. And though she was tolerating  Ferrantes's touch, he could almost see her drawing into herself as if  she could somehow stand within the man's embrace and yet remain apart  from it.

"Gabriella," he said quietly. "I can buy this place for you."

The crowd stirred. Ferrantes's face darkened, but Dante had eyes only for the woman who had once been his lover.

"No strings," he said. "I'll buy it, sign it over to you and that'll be the end of it."

She stared at him. He could see her weighing her choices but, dammit, what was there to weigh?

"Gabriella," he said, urgency in his tone, "tell me what you want."

Ferrantes pushed Gabriella aside, took a menacing step forward. "You  think you can walk in here and do anything you want, American?"

Dante ignored him. "Talk to me, Gabriella."

She almost laughed. Talk? It was too late for that. They should have  talked that terrible day when her life had changed forever. She had been  so alone, so frightened, so in need of her lover's strength and  comfort. She'd phoned his office, found out he was away. He had not told  her that.

She saw it as a bad sign, but when he called the next evening and said  he was back and wanted to see her, her heart had lifted. And that night,  when he said he had something to tell her, she'd been sure fate had  answered her plea, that he was going to say that he had gone away not to  put distance between them but to think about her and now he knew, knew  what he felt …                        
       
           



       

But what he had felt was that he was tired of her.

She would never forget the small blue box. The exquisite, obscenely  expensive earrings. And his oh-so-polite little speech including that  guilt-driven assurance that if she ever needed anything, she had only to  ask.

The pain of his rejection had been momentarily dulled by his sheer  arrogance. She could not have imagined ever wanting anything from him.

But the world and her life had changed.

"The fazenda is mine," Ferrantes growled, "as is the woman."

Gabriella dragged a steadying breath into her lungs. "Sim. Please.  Buy … buy the fazenda for me." Her words were rushed and desperate. "I  will pay you back. It will take time but I'll repay every dollar."

Dante never hesitated.

"Five million dollars," he called out. "Five million, U.S."

The crowd gasped. Ferrantes cursed. The auctioneer swung his gavel.

And Dante took Gabriella in his arms and kissed her.





CHAPTER THREE




DANTE'S kiss was the last thing Gabriella expected.

The last thing she wanted.

Once, his kisses had meant everything. Tender, they'd been soft enough  to bring her to the verge of tears; passionate, they'd made her dizzy  and hungry for more.

And it hadn't been only his kisses that meant everything. It was the man.

Deep inside, she'd known it had not been the same for him. She'd never  been foolish enough to think it was. He was rich, powerful, incredibly  good-looking. Many of the models she knew dated such men. She never had …

Until him.

His initial interest had been flattering. Exciting. She had thought, Why  not? She'd promised herself dating him would be nothing serious.

And then, despite everything, she had fallen in love with him. Deeply, desperately in love.

Dante had been magic.

But the magic was gone, lost in the cold reality of the past year.  Completely gone, she told herself frantically, when she saw the sudden  darkening of his eyes, the tightening of skin over bone, the  all-too-familiar signs that said he was going to take her in his arms.