Virgin Mistress(29)

“You're not going to work today?”

“No, I am going to show you my city. I want you to love it as I do.”

“Why?”

“Does it matter?” He quirked an eyebrow. “Take me up on my offer. Unless, of course, you've already had your fill of billionaire tour guides in exotic foreign cities.”

“Well…” It was tempting. She'd certainly always dreamed of traveling as a girl. But…

She took a bite of toast, then resolutely shook her head. “You're not going to change my mind with a little sightseeing, Diogo. After the babies are born, I'm taking them home.”

“Home can mean a lot of things. A city. A building.” Taking the red rose from the vase on the tray, he gently stroked her cheek with the velvety petals. “Home can mean family.”

The sensation of the rose against her skin caused a shiver to spread down her body—then she felt an answering flutter below her heart, even stronger than the one she'd felt yesterday. And this time, she knew. It wasn't her heartbeat.

It was her baby.

She gave a little gasp, sitting straight up in bed, pushing away the rose and the tray and the blankets. She put her hands on her belly. She couldn't feel anything on the outside. But inside…

“What?” Diogo leaned over her with anxiety. “What's wrong? I'll get the doctor.”

“No.” She felt the flutter again. Tiny, barely noticeable… but there. “I felt one of the babies move!”

“You did?” His usual arrogant expression dissipated. He looked strangely unsure of himself.

“Yes.” With a delighted laugh, she grabbed his hand and placed it on her belly. “Right here.”

He waited. “I don't feel anything.”

She moved his hand above her hip bone. “You will.” She sighed. “Although it might take a few months.”

He looked down at her.

“I can wait if you can,” he said quietly.

The air between them electrified. With his hand on her belly, standing over her on the bed, she felt her heart pound. Her eyes dilated. She couldn't breathe.

“I… I won't be your mistress, Diogo,” she whispered.

He allowed himself a small, private smile. “I don't want you to be.”

He didn't want her anymore?

She should have been relieved, but at his words, a cold pain ripped through her heart. She abruptly released his hand, and the baby fluttered in protest.

I'm not going to ask him where he was last night. I'm not, she told herself fiercely. I have too much pride….

“Where were you last night?” she blurted out, then could have kicked herself.

“Where was I?” He tilted his head, looking down at her. “Only my wife would have the right to ask such a question.”

“Any wife of yours wouldn't want to know,” she muttered. “She'd probably have a heart attack.”

“Ellie.” He knelt next to the bed. “You have no cause to be jealous. I was home shortly after you fell asleep.”

“Home from where?” Her voice came out an indignant squeak and her cheeks flooded with embarrassment. “And I'm not jealous!”

But of course she was. Desperately. Hopelessly. She'd been heartsick for months, watching from her cubicle as he left his office with one beautiful woman after another on his arm.

And that is exactly how it would be as his wife. He would bed her, pay her bills, give their children a name…but never give her his loyalty or his heart. Her soul would wilt and shrink and die.

She'd promised to stay with him until the babies were born.

Could she survive if he tried to seduce her?

But…could she survive if he didn't?

“Let me show you my city, Ellie,” he said softly, taking her hand in his larger one. “You won't regret it.”

The desire to hold on to that hand, to be with him as long as she could, overwhelmed every last bit of common sense. Picking up the rose, she climbed out of bed in her long, white cotton nightgown.

“All right,” she managed. She glanced down at the red rose still in her hand. It smelled of warmth and summer and happiness. “But we're just going as friends, all right? That's all!”

From the closet, he selected a new dress of stretchy white lace. “Wear this.”

“It's lovely.” Gathering the dress in her arms, she collected her things to go take a shower. “But just friends, Diogo,” she warned. “I won't be your mistress. I mean it!”

“No, you won't be my mistress.” The sunlight glinted on the sharp teeth of his smile. “I give you my word.”





CHAPTER TEN



FROM THE BASE OF THE towering Cristo Redentor statue high atop the jungle of Corcovado Mountain, Ellie could see all of Rio. The stylized Art Deco statue spread his arms wide, embracing all of the city. In the distance, she could see the sharp bookend of Sugar Loaf Mountain rising from the Atlantic.