by Rachel Lyndhurst; Carmen Falcone; Ros Clarke; Annie Seaton; Christine Bell
Addie bit her lip, wavering over his offer. She didn’t take his hand and shook her head. “Thanks, but not tonight.”
He acquiesced and loosened the grasp on the bottle, and, with a swift hop, he sat on the black-iron railing, ignoring the other seats available. He wanted to be where he could look at her from every angle and process the urge building inside him to discover more about her.
Addie folded her arms and traced an invisible pattern on the tile with her left foot. “Can you tell me about Serena?” she asked.
Bruno shifted. “That’s quite a change of subject.”
Addie unfolded her arms and placed her hands on her hips. “I just laid it all out with my fear of frogs.”
“Serena is a well-to-do lawyer, I believe. Divorced.”
She shook her head at his evasive answer. “Tell me something I can’t find on Google.”
“You Googled her?”
She shrugged. “I would Google this frog if it had a name.”
He chuckled, but the sound died in his throat when her posture stiffened. “She was someone I once cared about.”
“What happened?”
“Didn’t work out.” Understated but true. He drank the last of his now warm beer and jumped down to place the bottle on a low square table by the swing.
“Are you still interested in her?”
“No,” he answered truthfully. Serena had been on his mind for years. He’d wondered what had happened to her and how he’d react in front of her.
And when he’d finally seen her again, all he could think was how much of his past Serena knew—and how much of it he’d wanted to shield Addie from. He’d had no physical response to Serena whatsoever, which was a surprise and a relief. His mind and body reacted only to the wife he couldn’t screw.
“If you want to sleep with someone, just be discreet about it. But don’t lie to me. I can’t stand lies.” Her voice trembled at first and gained strength at the end.
He couldn’t help the way his lips curled into a smile. “I do want to sleep with someone.”
She bit her lip and nodded with quiet dignity. “Thank you for your honesty.”
“I won’t be the least discreet about it.” He stepped closer, feasting on the shape of her luscious lips, the vein pulsing on her neck. “In fact, when it does happen, we’ll need soundproof walls.”
Not wanting to miss her reaction, he stared into her eyes and enjoyed the blend of surprise and surrender in them. Her ragged breath overpowered the sound of faraway crickets and frogs. He had promised not to kiss her, and he hadn’t. But, by God, he hadn’t promised not to touch her. Not to share every filthy thought that crossed his mind.
Without being able to resist, he closed the remaining gap between them. With slightly trembling fingers, he outlined the waves of her hair ever so carefully. Maintaining control proved a hard task, and he feared if she responded, he would pull her against him and kiss her with the lust lodged in his throat.
“That’s exaggerating.”
“Not for what I have in mind.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. She gasped, and he smothered a groan. Every time she was near him, his resolve to keep her at an arm’s length evaporated. With her eyelashes shadowing her freckled cheeks and pink, parted lips, Addie’s state of arousal confirmed what her words tried to mask—she wanted him.
He dipped his head down, coming close to breaking his promise not to kiss her unless she verbally asked him.
“I guess we’ll never find out. Has Silas contacted you again?”
Of course she’d bring this up now. He backed away from her like a bucket of icy water had been poured all over him. “Just a couple of short phone calls.”
“Which you failed to mention.” She brought her hands to her waist.
“My deal with you isn’t to update you on my every move. You’ll get your ten months and cash. That’s all there is to it.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s all there is to it,” she said more to herself than to him, before ducking her head and steering away from him.
Addie gave him one last glance before muttering a superficial good night and disappearing inside, the image of her backside not helping the swelling in his jeans. Torto followed her, his tail wagging.
How was even a pretend marriage so much work?
He enjoyed his work—to crack codes, to develop software, to help undiscovered talent reach new heights. Even when he’d done things he wasn’t proud of in his early life, he’d always counted on numbers to give it meaning. Whether they represented printed numbers on bills or blinking lights on his black screen. Numbers always made sense.
But Addie…
This insane attraction clouded his judgment, too. The idea of bedding her was great in theory, but, in reality, it would bring more harm than good. The moment things didn’t go according to their original plan, she would threaten with exposing him and their fake marriage. Was it worth it to get to know her deeper, to bed her and risk his vulnerability? What if she discovered more about him and blackmailed him to raise more money? In her mind, kidnapping, blackmailing, and deceit were all justifiable by her goal of giving the Kwanis a better chance. What guarantee did he have she wouldn’t exploit his weaknesses even further?
He scratched his chin, his fingers still tingling from caressing her skin. Will it ever stop?
Chapter Eight
Bruno sighed. Another dinner party.
The invitations to parties and events were endless. Rio’s high society loved novelty, and having such a successful native visiting after many years gave Bruno royalty status. He didn’t enjoy the instant celebrity treatment, having gotten used to a life of privacy and self-preservation. He only attended a fifth of the invitations he received.
They had been in Brazil for over two weeks. While he confined himself in the office or paid a visit to his father at night, Addie hung around the house, ran errands with Camila, or attended social functions. A couple times, Bruno had caught Addie gardening, which had been praised by his father.
His father hadn’t brought up the Toca do Tigre sale anymore, and Bruno had decided to buy time and omit his decision of waiting to sell. Despite Addie’s opinion, what was the use of coming home after fourteen years to give his father the send-off he deserved if he was just going to argue with him during the few moments they shared?
Bruno walked in the spacious, glamorous, and, thank God, air-conditioned living room. Dozens of beautiful women wearing brand-name sequin dresses and high-end jewelry laughed, their hair impeccably smooth.
He searched for Addie among them, with the eagerness of a child on Christmas Eve. Except she was a gift impossible to unwrap, despite the tingles racing through him when she was around. Her behavior showed him the Kwanis were the ones she stood by. The ones she protected.
“There you are,” said a soft feminine voice behind him.
Not Addie’s. He set his glass down on the windowsill, to buy time before turning to face Serena. His movements a tad robotic. “Hi,” he managed to say.
Serena nodded, her eyes glossy. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you, Bruno. I didn’t know if I should.” She played with the flute of champagne in her hand, and he noticed her fingers trembling, tapping on the crystal.
“We don’t have to do anything, Serena. I’ve forgiven and forgotten.”
“Hey, what about me? Don’t you see I suffered, too? I always suspected my mom was involved in dirty schemes, I’ve seen her do drugs once or twice. But what she made you do was beyond words.”
He curled and uncurled his fists, then shoved his hands in his pockets with a shrug. Such assumption, that she had been a victim as much as he, hadn’t crossed his mind ‘til now.
She softened her expression, let go of her drink, and strode closer to him. “I loved you, with all my heart. The future I planned for us was yanked from me.” Unwavering, she held the gaze.
Future. The idea was laughable now. How could he have been so naïve to think a gardener would hav
e anything remotely public with the mayor’s daughter? “You could have believed me, Serena.” He outlined her features, as if confronting an old ghost for the first time. “Trusted me,” he added, pushing the word from the pit of his stomach.
He withdrew his hand and flexed his fingers. His body, his skin showed no reaction to her.
“I was too young. Everything was black and white. You hurt me by not trusting me.”
He sighed. “Would you have stuck around if you knew?” The party around them continued without a hiccup, the guests enjoying the lavish buffet, and the waiters rushing to fill semi-empty glasses. Someone called his name, but Bruno didn’t move an inch.
Serena gave him a once-over. “Today, yes. Back then, no. I wasn’t mature enough to understand. Does your…wife know?” She shuffled her weight from one foot to the other.
“No. And it’s not your place to tell her.”
“I won’t, but you should tell her. How can you be happy with someone who doesn’t know you entirely?”
He reached for the flute on the windowsill, gulped the remaining liquid down, and set it back where it was. The champagne, now warm and less bubbly, left a dry aftertaste on his palate. “That’s not your problem.”
Serena chewed on her lower lip. “You’re right. I want you to be happy, Bruno. Sorry.”
He stared at the marble floor and then focused on her. “Listen, I’m sorry, too,” he said, his voice a tad more strained than he would have liked. “For everything.”
She gave him a lopsided smile and nudged his elbow. “I wish it had been different. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could go back in time for a do-over?”
Someone cleared her throat, and Bruno raised his eyes to Addie. She twisted on her sleek high heels. A couple of long necklaces hung from her neck, made from green and red beads he guessed were from the Kwanis.
“Addie.” Bruno bowed his head.
“Serena.” The smile on Addie’s lips didn’t match her assessing eyes.
Serena chuckled, the nervous sound doing nothing to lighten the mood. It was as if the three of them were miles away from the chatter of the party. “I didn’t mean to hog your husband, we were just reminiscing. Interesting, I thought I recognized you from our first meeting, Addie. Your face seemed familiar, and I kept digging to see if I could remember.”
Addie pursed her lips. “I have one of those faces.”
“I was doing some research for a medical lab I defend, and found a picture of you on an environmental website,” Serena continued.
Addie frowned. “It must have been the piece I wrote for a nonprofit organization about my journey from teaching to learning from the Kwanis.”
Bruno leaned forward to hear what Serena had to say.
“Yes, that article. Your boyfriend at the time was an activist, wasn’t he? What was his name again?” Serena asked.
“Michael Lipp.” Addie lifted her chin.
An ex-boyfriend. An activist. Bruno tasted the bile at the back of his throat and swallowed hard. The image of another man touching Addie, making her laugh or holding her hands… His blood went cold.
“Yes. Very well known. Is he still working in Brazil?” Serena added a notch of sweetness to her tone.
Addie took a step back. “No.”
“Why not? From the article, he seemed invested.”
Addie straightened her shoulders. “He was murdered. As he was trying to save a woman from being raped.”
Bruno inhaled and stopped breathing for a moment. Was it selfish that, besides the sympathy for Addie, a wave of jealousy filled him? Her former boyfriend had been a hero. He had died protecting a woman. It didn’t take a genius to read the discomfort in Addie’s stance.
Serena’s jaw dropped. “I’m very sorry. How…devastating.” Her gaze ping-ponged between Bruno and Addie. “I’m glad you could overcome such tragedy.”
“Overcome? What do you know about overcoming? Just because you made a bad decision and lost the gardener who’s now filthy rich?”
Serena drew back as if Addie’s words had punched her in the face.
“If you’ll excuse me…” Addie stormed out of the living room and headed toward the empty outdoor garden.
“Crap. I didn’t meant to—” Serena turned to him, her eyebrows reaching her hair line.
“Don’t worry. I’ll handle it,” he said and marched out to the terrace, following her path, unsure if he should be thankful or angry at Serena for exposing a part of Addie’s life that brought more questions than answers. Why hadn’t she confided in him and told him about her ex?
Dry leaves crackled under his shoes. He found Addie on the deck, entranced by the breathtaking view of the statue of Christ the Redeemer.
He opened the top button of his shirt. The scorching humidity didn’t make it any better.
“Is Michael the reason for all this?” he asked under his breath. “You lied to me. You told me your top priority was the Kwanis’s welfare, yet I find out through a third person it was a lie.”
She blinked. “What? I didn’t lie. The Kwanis are my mission. You would have known about Michael if you had bothered to get to know me.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, the cold sweat sticking to his palm. “Don’t turn this around. How do you expect me to trust you if you don’t even trust me enough to tell me about someone you lost?”
Addie gasped then shook her head. “Michael was the love of my life. If he had lived, I’d probably be married to him today. Not to a business transaction like you.” She went to leave, but he seized her wrist.
A business transaction. Was that all he would ever be? For anyone? The expression punched him to the core. “A business transaction that just the other day, you ensured I continue. You can’t have it both ways, Addie. You can’t hit the higher moral ground when it’s convenient.”
“I’m taking a cab home. Suddenly, I lost my appetite.”
She marched off the deck and made her way through the crowd. He watched her go, and the buzz of the party faded even when he joined it again. They had arrived together, and she’d left him alone, not caring who saw her walk away from him in a public event. Again, disrespecting the rules of their arrangement.
Cabs roamed continuously in Rio, and, by the time he got out of the house, she was already gone.
While he waited for the valet to fetch his car, he agonized over their argument. Addie made a fool out of him. She’d failed to tell him she had a fiancé, a guy Bruno guessed had been the right man for her. Not the wrong one like me.
During his drive to his house, he waited for his frustration to subside. It didn’t.
Why had she been that defensive? Why didn’t she share with him that she’d been close to marriage once? Why the hell was he so bothered that she had it all with someone else? The real relationship. The kind he could never offer.
Her ex had been an activist. A man who fought for other people’s rights, like Addie. The kind of man who deserved her. As he entered his house and went up the stairs toward their bedroom, the anger dissolved. Why did he still want to talk and drill answers out of her? Wasn’t it easier to keep their relationship superficial, without demands?
He crossed the empty bedroom and followed the light coming from the bathroom.
The moment he spotted her, his heart drummed, and he understood it had stopped being easy a while ago. Having no control over his emotions scared the hell out of him.
Addie was washing her face, arching over the sink.
“You’re impulsive,” he accused and tilted against the doorframe.
Addie turned off the tap and stood straight, grabbing a hand towel from the holder. She inhaled and faced him, eyes glossy and red. She’d been crying.
“I agreed to marry you after two minutes. I guess you can say I’m impulsive.” Her attempt to lighten the mood had the opposite effect.
He let a sigh out. “I’m sorry.” He choked out the words.
She tossed the towel on the counter and cleared her throat. “For m
y loss, or for acting like a jerk about it in the first place?”
He drummed his fingers on the frame. “Both.”
“Save your breath. All you care about is how I make you look.” She folded her arms. “You don’t care how I feel.”
Caring wasn’t part of the equation. Yet, how could he deny it? He gave her a slow once-over, dying to figure out why she was so different—from him, from the women he dated… Different from what was familiar and safe. Different from what he wanted. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” his accent thickened. “You said I never tried to get to know you. That’s not true. I asked you about your real relationships on the porch the other day, and you didn’t tell me you were engaged before. You said that doesn’t even cross your mind anymore.”
She tapped her fingers over her neck. “I meant experiencing that bond with someone else doesn’t cross my mind because I don’t know if it’s possible again.”
For an uncomfortable minute, he hesitated. “You could have mentioned that. I’d feel like less of an idiot right now.”
“I didn’t know you wanted to know these things. You aren’t the talkative type. Well, not about things that matter, anyway.”
He clenched his hand on the frame as if seeking support. “What if you’re wrong? What if getting to know you matters to me?”
With her lips parted in surprise, she grabbed the towel she had just tossed, her fingers clasping it as if it was more than just a hand towel. “’Til now, you’ve kept me at arm’s length. How can I be sure you don’t want me to let my walls down just as collateral in case you don’t follow through with our deal?”
“Standing in front of you right now, the deal and its repercussions is the last thing on my mind. You make it all go away, Addie. I want to know what makes you tick. I also want to know what you feel like beneath me, what you sound like when I pleasure you.”
She wiped a tear with her index finger. “I have to think this through. I don’t know if I’m ready for…being intimate with someone.” Her last sentence lost energy at the end. “With you.”
