Sorry—for Diogo Serrador? There was a laugh!
She shook her head. “But the whole world believes that you're a Serrador—you attended the best schools and were born with a silver spoon in your mouth!”
“After I made my first million, my half sisters decided to recognize me. I suddenly met their standards, since they'd already squandered their money buying royal European husbands.” He glanced out the window. “So I started paying their bills, and they generously awarded me the name of Serrador. Complete with a new biography that they found more flattering to their public image.”
“And you forgave them,” she whispered.
“Forgave?” He gave her an incredulous look. “It was purely a business decision. I knew my father's connections would be useful. Gold and iron ore are not so different. Wrestling metal from the earth. Turning it into something that men will die for—that they will kill for.” He shrugged. “Taking my father's name accelerated my company's rise. I never planned to have children. I never thought…”
“Thought what?”
Shaking his head, he clenched his jaw. “I won't let any child of mine suffer ever again. Not when I can protect them. Not when I know…”
She looked at his taut jawline and cold dark eyes.
“But our babies haven't suffered, Diogo.” She timidly reached her hand over his own, pressing it against her belly. “They're safe. See?”
His haggard breathing calmed. The expression in his face lightened.
Then changed.
“Ellie,” he said hoarsely. He twisted a tendril of her hair around his finger. “You make me feel…”
But he didn't finish the sentence. He lowered his mouth to hers, stroking her tongue with his own and causing heat to rush up and down the length of her body. She wrapped her arms around his body, melting beneath the force of his touch.
As he kissed her, the black SUV barreled swiftly through the dark jungle, pursued by the unearthly cries of birds, the howls of monkeys and the whispered echo of ancient, long-forgotten civilizations.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ELLIE WOKE WHEN THE Escalade stopped. She realized she'd spent the dark night with her head on Diogo's shoulder, sleeping against him as they traveled over endless bumpy roads.
He looked down at her. “We're here.”
“Where?” she said blearily.
The driver opened their door. Diogo took her hand and led her from the mud-splattered Escalade. She felt the warmth and strength of his fingers, felt the scorching heat in his dark eyes. The chauffeur left the suitcase with the discreetly waiting servants and drove down the road in a cloud of dust.
“Bahia. My beach house,” he said. “My favorite place in the world.”
She saw a luxurious, contemporary beach house set on a sharp cliff over the Atlantic, silhouetted against the orange sunrise. Two sleek stories of glass windows overlooked swaying palm tress and an elegant infinity pool above a private white-sand beach.
“Perfect for a honeymoon,” he said softly.
“Honeymoon?” she faltered, but after a night cuddled up against his body in the backseat of the SUV, she couldn't muster up the strength of her earlier defiance. “No,” she tried with more certainty than she felt. “Not going to happen.”
“I assure you.” He looked down at her in a way that made her shiver. “You are going to be my wife in every way.”
He picked her up and carried her over the threshold into the beach house. The rosy light of dawn shimmered through the wide windows, pooling everywhere around her as he set her gently down on the bed. She heard the roar of the ocean crashing outside, felt the fresh, salty tang of the breeze.
He set her down against the mattress and she felt his hands everywhere. He cupped her breasts through her white lace dress.
“You are mine, Ellie,” he murmured against her throat. “And I am yours.”
“Mine?” she said, her voice choking with emotion. “Just mine?”
He smiled. “While you are in my arms, querida,” he promised against her skin, “I am yours.”
A feeble bargain, when offered his loyalty of the moment for an eternity of her own fidelity. But beneath his touch she still couldn't protest the injustice. She was lost and adrift in sensation as he stroked her. Every nerve ending hummed with desire.
Only Diogo could make her feel like this.
Her breasts felt full and heavy as he yanked down the stretchy fabric of her dress, suckling her as he cupped the other mound roughly with his hand. She gasped aloud as his lips descended, the erotic pressure of his tongue causing crashes of pleasure in her as tempestuous as the waves against the beach outside.
He slowly pulled off her dress. She was naked on the bed. He pulled off his own vest and shirt and slacks. Standing naked in front of her in the rising sunlight flooding the bedroom, he was illuminated like a Greek god.