Of course he hoped she hadn’t conceived his child, Diego thought, but oddly he did not feel like jumping for joy. It was good that Clare would be going home, he assured himself. He hadn’t grown bored of her yet, as he’d assumed he would, but he was confident he would have no trouble finding another woman to replace her. Meanwhile, he still had tonight with Clare. Overhead a firework exploded in a starburst of silver and gold that lit up the night sky, but he was more concerned about the imminent explosion he could feel building inside him.
‘Your breasts are always sensitive,’ he murmured as he pulled her unresisting body towards him and reached behind her to run her zip down her spine. Her dress fell forwards, spilling her ripe breasts into his hands. Her nipples were already taut and he heard her breath catch when he rubbed his thumbs over them before he lowered his head and captured one reddened peak between his lips.
He loved how she was so responsive. Her little moans of pleasure drove him crazy, and with a groan he swept her up in his arms and carried her into her bedroom.
‘Are you going to tell me now what you plan to do with me?’ she asked innocently.
Diego dropped her on to the bed and stripped with more haste than grace. He gave a rough laugh when her eyes widened as she watched him slide a sheath over his massive erection. ‘I think a personal demonstration is necessary, querida.’
* * *
Clare heard a voice shouting in her dream. The shouts grew louder and more urgent, forcing her to wake up, and she realised that she hadn’t been dreaming. Diego was lying beside her in her bed. Light filtering through the blinds made her realise it was morning. He must have spent all night with her, or what had been left of the night after they had made love numerous times until she had slumped back on the pillows, unable to keep her eyes open a moment longer.
‘Diego...’ She tentatively shook his shoulder but, wherever hellish place his mind was, he was in too deep for her to reach him. He groaned as if he was in pain and it hurt her to see him so tormented. ‘Diego, wake up.’
His eyes opened and he sat bolt upright, his chest heaving with the force of his harsh breaths. He stared at her as if he did not recognise her.
‘It’s all right,’ she told him softly. ‘You’re dreaming, that’s all.’
‘Clare.’ He swallowed and raked his hair back, revealing his disfigured ear for a few seconds before he remembered and shook his hair forwards again.
‘What was your nightmare about?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Nothing much.’ His tone was dismissive but Clare heard a rawness in his voice that she sensed he was desperate to hide.
‘It didn’t sound like nothing much. Why won’t you talk about it?’ She could not contain her frustration. ‘Why do you have so many secrets? Why won’t Miguel tell me where the two of you met? Who cut off the top of your ear? Why do you always shut me out?’
The silence following her outburst simmered with tension as Diego’s shocked expression turned to anger. Clare swallowed, trying to fight the feeling that she was going to be sick. But the sensation of nausea grew worse and, with a gasp, she leapt out of bed, grabbed her robe and ran into the bathroom. She did not have time to lock the door.
Oh, God, could anything be more undignified? she thought when she had finished vomiting and sat down weakly on a chair. The one and only time Diego had spent the night with her would be unforgettable for all the wrong reasons.
‘Go away, please,’ she muttered when he followed her into the bathroom. He ignored her and sponged her face with a damp flannel.
‘Feeling better?’
She nodded, hoping he would leave. She was sure he would not answer any of her questions, and she felt emotionally as well as physically drained.
Diego hunkered down in front of her and put his hands on the arms of the chair, effectively imprisoning her. ‘Good, because I’ve got some questions for you. Why did you buy a pregnancy test if you are so sure you’re not pregnant? And for how long have you been suffering from morning sickness?’
‘It’s not morning sickness.’ She bit her lip. ‘I get seasick.’
He gave her a sardonic look. ‘The yacht is anchored and the sea is as flat as a pond. Have you been sick before this morning?’
‘No. But I’ve felt nauseous the last few mornings,’ Clare admitted. ‘I’ve been telling myself it was because my period is about to start. I bought the test just...just to be sure.’ She looked down at the pregnancy test that Diego had picked up from the vanity unit and dropped into her lap.
‘Let’s be sure then,’ he said grimly.
CHAPTER TEN
SHE COULDN’T BE PREGNANT. But she was. Clare stared at the two lines on the test kit and reread the instruction leaflet. Two lines indicated a positive result. Maybe the test was wrong? She knew she was clutching at straws and gripped the edge of the vanity unit as her legs almost gave way.
Diego rapped on the door, which she had locked before she had performed the test. ‘Well?’
She did not answer, needing a few more minutes on her own to absorb the implications of the result. A baby. She was pregnant with Diego’s baby. Clare studied her reflection in the mirror, surprised that she still looked the same, apart from her pallor following the bout of sickness. Of course there would not be any visible signs yet of the miracle taking place inside her body. She put her hand on her flat stomach and tried to imagine her belly swollen with her growing child.
Her emotions see-sawed between panic and an unexpected sense of elation and excitement. In a few months from now she would hold her child in her arms, and she felt a fierce sense of maternal protectiveness and determination that her child would never doubt that he or she was loved by its parents, as she had done when she was growing up and her parents had paid more attention to her sister. But how would Diego react to the news that he was going to be a father? Three weeks ago he had said he would support her if she was pregnant, but even if he was prepared to offer financial assistance she could not make him love his child, Clare acknowledged.
‘Clare, are you all right?’
She could not put off opening the door any longer. Diego looked tense, no sign of his usual nonchalance on his chiselled features. ‘Well?’ he demanded again.
‘It’s...positive.’ Her voice sounded rusty. ‘I’m...pregnant.’ She handed him the test. He looked at it wordlessly and his jaw clenched. Clare swallowed. ‘I can’t believe it. Some couples try for months, years, even, to have a baby.’ Her voice wobbled as the enormity of the situation hit her. She wished Diego would say something, give her some clue as to what he was thinking.
* * *
Diego walked over to the window and for a second he could not understand why he was surrounded by the sea, before he remembered that they were on board the super-yacht Serendipity. Memories of the DC Diamonds launch party flashed into his mind, but another memory—of the violent anger that had swept through him when he’d watched Clare dancing with her ex-boyfriend—tormented him.
Clare was expecting his child. The words ricocheted in his brain. Like his father before him, he had behaved with crass irresponsibility when he’d had unprotected sex, and the result was that Clare had conceived his baby.
He looked across the room at her sitting on the end of the bed. Her face was so white that the golden freckles on her cheeks and nose were starkly apparent.
‘I assume from your silence that you are not pleased by the news,’ she said flatly.
Diego turned his head away from her searching blue gaze. He had a feeling she could sense his panic, which made him want to run as fast and far away as he could. It occurred to him that he had been running away all his life.
‘It makes no difference whether I am pleased or not. You are pregnant and it is my duty to support you and the child.’ He could not bring himself to say my child, nor could he say he was pleased. His overriding feeling was of anger with himself, but he also realised that he must reassure Clare. ‘I promise you won’t have to deal with th
is alone.’
She went even paler, if that was possible. ‘Deal with it? I’m not sure exactly what you mean by that but, make no mistake, I intend to go ahead with this pregnancy and have my baby.’
‘Of course.’ He stiffened when he realised she had misunderstood him. ‘It did not cross my mind that you wouldn’t have the child.’ The idea made him shudder, and he wondered if his mother had considered aborting him after his father had abandoned her when she was pregnant.
‘Look...’ He ran a hand through his hair and abruptly dropped his arm to his side when he saw her stare at his disfigured ear. He remembered the questions she had bombarded him with, which he had no intention of answering. ‘We need to talk, but we both need some time to come to terms with what has happened. I’m due to give a press interview following last night’s party. I suggest we meet back at the penthouse this evening for dinner and to discuss the future.’
* * *
Throughout the day Clare felt a sense of unreality. She went to her office, but there was little for her to do now that the PR campaign had finished. She had been expecting to book her flight back to England, but instead she was expecting Diego’s baby. And until they had the discussion he had mentioned she had to remain in Brazil, not least because he still had her passport in his possession.
There was no reason for her to feel nervous, she told herself that evening when she stepped on to the balcony leading from the dining room. She and Diego had often had dinner alfresco over the past weeks and she was glad he had opted for them to eat informally tonight, sitting at the table with views of Copacabana beach.
Diego was standing looking at the view but turned his head when he heard her footsteps. He was wearing sun-bleached jeans that hugged his lean hips and a white T-shirt, through which Clare could see the delineation of his six-pack. Desire unfurled in the pit of her stomach and she avoided his gaze as she sat down on the chair he had pulled out for her. She shook her head as he was about to pour her a glass of sparkling white wine that she usually drank with dinner.
‘I’ll have water, thanks. I won’t be able to drink wine for the next few months.’
‘I’m sorry, I’d forgotten. Not about you being pregnant,’ he said tersely when her brows rose. ‘I guess we are both going to have to get used to a lot of changes, but you especially.’
She did not reply while the maid served dinner. Stew was a popular Brazilian dish, and the aroma given off by the casserole of white beans and sausage stirred Clare’s taste buds. If she ate for two for the next eight months she would be the size of a house, she thought ruefully.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, before Diego opened the folder that was lying on the table and took out a document. ‘I need you to sign some paperwork, specifically this form, which is to register our intent to marry.’
Clare’s heart gave a jolt. She put down her fork and stared at him across the table. ‘Marry?’
‘Of course. It is the obvious thing to do.’
‘It’s not obvious to me.’ Her appetite had disappeared. ‘It’s the twenty-first century and we do not have to get married because I’m pregnant.’
‘My child will have my name,’ he said in an uncompromising voice that matched the hard expression in his eyes. ‘In reality, my child will have my mother’s family name, Cazorra. I only discovered my father’s surname was Hawke after his death. But he did not marry my mother and give me his name. I grew up wondering how a man could create a child but take no interest in his offspring. I won’t allow the child we have created to feel compelled to search the faces of strangers, looking for some similarity of features and hoping to one day find the man whose blood runs through their veins.’
Clare swallowed the lump in her throat. Diego’s poignant description of how he must have felt growing up without his father touched her deeply. But marriage!
She stood up and walked over to lean against the balcony rail. The sky was streaked pink and gold as the sun sank below the horizon. As dusk fell, the lights of the street lamps and from the skyscrapers that ringed the bay cast a silver gleam over the sea. Down on the ground the glow from car headlamps formed an unbroken line as traffic snaked along the main highway.
Rio was a vibrant, exciting city and Copacabana bay was undeniably beautiful, but Clare felt a long way from her home in a quiet north London suburb and from her family and friends.
‘I understand how important it is to you that your child will know you as their father and bear your name. But expecting me to become your wife and live thousands of miles away from my parents is asking a lot.’ Especially as he did not seem at all enthusiastic about marrying her. It was lucky she hadn’t hoped for a romantic marriage proposal, Clare thought ruefully. Indeed, she had not considered marriage as an option. But if Diego were to take her in his arms and ask her to be his wife she would be tempted to say yes. And it was not only for the sake of their baby.
‘I don’t expect you to live in Brazil.’ He stood up and came to join her at the railing, although she noted that he kept a distance between them. ‘The marriage will be purely in the interests of the child. Being married will give us equal parental rights, and legally give my child my name, but I will agree to you and the baby living in England in a house that I will buy, and I will provide for you both financially.’
Clare gave him a puzzled look. ‘Won’t it be difficult to run the Cazorra Corporation and your various other businesses if you move to England?’
‘I will continue to live in Brazil.’
The sharp pain beneath her breastbone was the sensation of her foolish dreams being torn to shreds. ‘How do you propose to be a father if you are living on the opposite side of the world from your son or daughter?’
‘I’ll visit regularly, and often. The child will know that I...care about them,’ Diego said tersely. Clare watched him curl his hand around the railing so that his knuckles whitened. She sensed he would rather be anywhere than here, having this discussion with her, but too bad, she thought grimly. They had both made this baby and she was furious that Diego seemed to think he could fulfil his responsibilities as a parent by throwing money at the problem.
‘So your idea of being a good father is to turn up every couple of months, no doubt with an expensive present, take your kid to the zoo for an afternoon and then disappear again with a clear conscience?’ She ignored his simmering look. ‘Believe me, no amount of presents and occasional trips out could make your child believe you love them. I know because when I was a child, being taken to see a show once a year or being given the latest piece of technology did not reassure me that my parents loved me.’
Tears stung Clare’s eyes as she imagined her child feeling the same sense of abandonment she had felt. Of course she would do her best to make up for the fact that Diego would be a mainly absent father, just as Aunt Edith had tried to be a substitute parent. But in her opinion a child needed both its parents, and Diego’s idea of good parenting fell far short of ideal.
* * *
The condemnation in Clare’s voice scraped Diego’s conscience raw, and he spun away from her and strode into the penthouse to evade the accusation in her sapphire-blue eyes. Ever since the helicopter had brought them back to the Cazorra skyscraper, he had debated with himself what would be best for his child.
He grimaced as he acknowledged the bitter truth that the best way he could protect his child was to send them to live as far away from him as possible. All afternoon, while he’d given a series of press interviews about the DC Diamonds launch, his mind had flashed back to when he had watched Clare dancing with her ex-boyfriend at the party. His searing, jealous rage that had made him want to smash his fist into Mark Penry’s handsome face.
He did not know what he was capable of if he lost his temper and he did not want to look into the darkness of his soul to find out. Since he had been released from prison he had avoided situations that might make him angry. He had perfected a persona of a laid-back, imperturbable playboy so successfully that
he had started to believe it. But last night his jealous reaction to seeing Clare with Penry had shattered his illusions about himself and proved that although he had suppressed his emotions for nearly twenty years he had not eliminated them.
‘Do you have a better suggestion?’ he demanded as Clare followed him into the lounge.
‘As a matter of fact, I do.’
Diego noticed her gaze dart to his rucksack and old leather hat that he’d left by the door, and he saw a question forming on her lips. He folded his arms across his chest. ‘So, what is it?’ he drawled.
‘I suggest that we get married for real. You want to give your child your name, but what a child needs most is a sense of belonging and of knowing that they are loved unconditionally, ideally by growing up with both their parents. That isn’t always possible for some people, but why don’t we at least try to make a go of marriage for our baby’s sake? Instead of being a part-time parent, why not be the father you wished your father had been when he left you to grow up in a slum?’
Emotions he had fought against for so long flooded through Diego. It was as if a tidal wave inside him had burst through the barricades he had painstakingly built. He hated himself when he saw a flash of hurt in Clare’s eyes as he shook his head in a silent negative answer. He realised how much it must have cost her to ask if they could have a proper marriage. She was proud, but she had sacrificed her pride for what she believed would be the best for their child, and Diego admired her even more than when she had risked her life to rescue her sister.
But he couldn’t do what she had asked. He could not take the risk. What if they argued and he lost his temper with Clare? What if, God forbid, he lost his temper with his child? The thought filled him with icy fear. The only way he could ensure their safety was to live away from them, and when he visited England he would make sure he was never alone with his child.
‘You know my feelings about marriage.’ He managed to strike his usual tone of sardonic amusement. He swung his rucksack over his shoulder and jammed his hat on his head, pulling the brim low over his eyes. ‘I don’t share your idealised belief that the only thing a child needs is love. Try telling that to the thousands of children who live in extreme poverty and don’t even have the basic requirements of food and shelter, let alone access to education that would help them escape the favelas.’
Master of Her Innocence (Bought by the Brazilian) Page 14
