In the Brazilian's Debt(77)

                ‘Lizzie...’

                ‘So, you’re the new owner.’

                She felt a chill come over her as Chico inclined his head, and remembered her father’s words: Revenge is a dish best served cold. A sudden spear of dread pierced her as the doubts set in. Was that what this was all about? Was Chico revenging himself for her parents’ crimes? He had certainly controlled the sale, she realised now, just as Chico controlled everything else in his life. He did that with his iron will and his bottomless pit of money, so, whatever she had tried to do, the outcome for Rottingdean House was always going to be the same.

                ‘Revenge is a cruel taskmaster, Chico,’ she murmured as they locked eyes.

                ‘Revenge,’ he murmured thoughtfully. ‘I really hadn’t seen it that way, Lizzie.’ There was something in his eyes that called her doubts foolish. ‘I see coming back here as a long-awaited dream.’ There was a long silence, and then he added, ‘I can still remember the thrill of being invited to the big house. I was quite happy bedding down in the stables while the Brazilian polo team was given comfortable rooms in the house—I was always happiest with the horses, and a bit awkward in company.’

                ‘I remember,’ Lizzie murmured, drawn back to that time.

                ‘I should have stayed in the stables. I was safe there, had I but known it at the time.’

                ‘Go on,’ she urged softly, sensing Chico had an important memory to share when he fell silent.

                ‘Eduardo had planned to go into town with your grandmother to get her view on a classic car that he was thinking of buying and shipping back to Brazil, and he was going to take your grandmother to dinner afterwards, to thank her for her time, while I remained with the grooms. Imagine my astonishment when I received an invitation via your mother’s personal maid to attend a soirée with Lord and Lady Fane. I had no idea what a soirée was, and imagined it was some sort of tea party. I just hoped I wouldn’t have to eat a formal dinner, because Eduardo was still teaching me which cutlery to use.’ He paused. ‘It all sounds so silly now, doesn’t it?’

                ‘Not to me,’ Lizzie argued.

                ‘It was a party of sorts,’ he said dryly. ‘I was lucky to get out with my life.’

                ‘I can imagine,’ Lizzie agreed as they both thought back.

                ‘I was so young—such a fool. I had no idea that at this type of party dress was optional, or that drink and drugs were mandatory, along with a host of pretty young boys and girls just over the age of consent. I didn’t realise that money was changing hands either, or that I was supposed to be the star turn. I didn’t realise how strait-laced I was until I walked into that room and witnessed the “performance”, as Serena described it, which was well under way by the time I arrived—youth-on-youth, girl-on-girl, and every other variation on a theme—all free to view in a tangle of naked limbs on a bed decked out with black satin sheets, to a soundtrack of moans and hard metal.’

                ‘You and me next,’ Serena had purred in his ear as she tottered about in her ridiculously high heels and marabou-trimmed negligee. With one hand she had reached for a drink from the tray the naked butler was holding, while she used her other hand to attempt to grope Chico through his pants. ‘I’ve been saving myself for you,’ she had informed him seductively.

                ‘What did you say to my mother?’ Lizzie asked, jolting him out of these thoughts.

                ‘I think not,’ he explained, which made Lizzie laugh.