One Night In Collection

by Various Authors

  Giving a calm order in Portuguese to the chauffeur, he leaned back against the supple leather seat.

  “Don’t do this,” she said tearfully. “Please. Let me go back.”

  “To Wright?” His eyes were dark. “You still love him after he called you a whore?”

  Pain wracked through her. She briefly closed her eyes, taking a shuddering breath.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” she whispered. How could he understand her guilt and shame? She was desperate for Timothy’s forgiveness after she’d treated him so badly. “We have known each other since I was fifteen years old—”

  He cut her off. “You will never see him again.” He reached his arm around her in the backseat of the Bentley, pulling her close to his body. “Now you belong to me.”

  For one brief instant, she relished the warmth and weight of his strength. Then she caught herself. Horrified at his power over her, she forced herself to pull away.

  “You only want me because you think you can’t have me.”

  He looked down at her. “Is that what you think?” he asked huskily. “You think I can’t have you?”

  “It’s what I know.” Her heart was pounding in her throat. “You are a liar. A thief. A heartless playboy. I’ll die before I let you touch me again.”

  “Touch you how?” He stroked down her neck, tracing the bare skin of her collarbone. It was like an electric shock down her body. “Touch you like this?”

  “Don’t.” One brief touch of his hand against her skin, and she trembled all over. “Please.”

  “Please what?” He stroked her cheek to her tender bottom lip, causing heat to race from her lips down to her pregnancy-swollen breasts. Her nipples tightened in a sudden shock of desire as he gently ran his hand down the valley between them.

  “Please,” she whimpered. She closed her eyes, barely able to breathe. “Please stop.”

  “That’s not really what you want.” She felt his hand move over the smooth taffeta of her bodice, cupping her full—and very sensitive—breasts. Her nipples sizzled with painful sensation.

  Gently, he pulled down the fabric. He lowered his head to taste her bare breast. She felt his lips move against her aching nipple, suckling her, swirling her taut flesh with his tongue.

  Her whole body reacted. She gave an involuntary gasp as her back arched into his mouth.

  He was right. She did want this. All her hatred and pain of the past few months had done nothing to end her longing for his touch…

  Oh my God, what was she thinking? The chauffeur was driving the Bentley, pretending that he couldn’t hear or see anything. Probably because this was normal for Diogo to seduce women in the backseat of the car. Ellie was just another in a long line of his lovers. He would seduce her just to prove his power, make her love him again, then discard her and the baby like rubbish. Diogo Serrador was a selfish, hard-hearted playboy to the core.

  Had she lost her mind? She couldn’t give in to him. Not like this.

  Not ever.

  “No,” she whispered. With a huge effort of willpower, she shoved him away. “I said no!”

  Sucking in his breath, he looked down at her. His dark eyes were deep with need… and something more. Some hidden emotion—some secret pain that lured her to believe she could be the one to comfort and save him…

  She—comfort and save Diogo? She fought the ridiculous thought with all her might. He didn’t need saving. He was a selfish, lying, coldhearted bastard!

  Diogo abruptly released her, leaning back against his seat. “You will soon accept your fate,” he said coldly. “Until my son is born, you will submit to my will.”

  She feared he was right—but what could she do?

  Exhausted, Ellie leaned her head against the window. Her long, blond hair had long since fallen out of the sleek wedding chignon. It was a total mess, along with her taffeta wedding gown. As the Bentley traveled the back streets of Rio, following his bodyguards’ sedan, she shivered as she looked out at the violet-gray dawn of the passing city.

  “What do you intend to do to me?” she whispered.

  He opened the Jornal do Brasil to the business page. “I will keep you until my son is born.”

  “To keep me?” Her voice trembled. “As your prisoner?”

  Lowering the newspaper, he looked at her coolly. “Whatever it takes.”

  She swallowed. “And the baby?”

  He gave her a grim, humorless smile. “Do not worry.”

  “How can I not worry?” She exhaled in a rush, and turned to stare out blindly at the heavy rain sheeting the car window. “I’m her mother.”

  “Was that really your plan?” His voice was mocking, but when she turned her head, his eyes searched hers. “Did you intend to be a mother?”

  Was he still accusing her of being a gold digger and deliberately getting pregnant? “Of course I never intended to get pregnant,” she said angrily. “You are the one who—”

  “In my experience,” he interrupted, “a woman who fancies herself in love will give up anything to keep her lover.”

  Humiliation made her cheeks hot. Did he realize how she’d foolishly loved him?

  “Anything,” he added quietly. “Even a child.”

  Did he want to take her child from her?

  “No!” she gasped. “I would never give up my baby!”

  He looked down at her. “We’ll see if that’s true.” He looked away, out the window. “Once we’re home.”

  She swallowed in sudden fear. His penthouse at the Carlton Palace was a fortress. He owned the top two floors, one for his personal use and the floor beneath for his bodyguards. Once he installed her there, he could keep her imprisoned. He could take her baby. He could do anything he wanted.

  He could truly make her his possession.

  It was where he’d taken her virginity. Where he’d made her cry out with joy. Where they’d created their baby by making love all night. On his bed. Against the wall. He’d tasted her, shoved into her, wrapped her legs around him and made her cry out again and again until she thought she’d die of pleasure…

  I cannot get you pregnant, querida.

  “You are such a liar,” she whispered.

  He glanced at her swiftly, his eyebrows lowering. “I never lied to you.”

  “You said you couldn’t get me pregnant. The truth is that you were just too selfish to use a condom!”

  Abruptly he folded the newspaper, setting it down on the leather seat between them. “I didn’t lie.”

  She choked out a laugh. “But I’m pregnant!”

  “I’d had a vasectomy in January. I put off the follow-up appointment. I just assumed it had worked.” He clenched his jaw. “I later discovered my mistake. Now, it is truly complete.”

  She looked at him. “Complete?”

  “It is now absolutely impossible for me to get any woman pregnant.”

  “That’s very comforting,” she said bitterly. “Thanks for clearing that up. But since you’re so determined never to be a father, why did you take me from my own wedding?” Her voice trembled. “Let me go, and you’ll never have to see the baby. You can forget the pregnancy even happened and go back to your actresses and swimsuit models.”

  “Sorry.” He looked at her. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s my son.” Reaching out, he stroked her cheek. “And as long as you’re pregnant, you’re my woman.”

  His woman?

  “What do you mean?” she whispered. “Do you intend to marry me?”

  “Marry you? No.” He bared his teeth in a smile. “I’m not the marrying kind. Even if I were, I certainly wouldn’t marry a woman who’s in love with another man.”

  She stared at him, her jaw agape. “I’m not in love with Timothy!”

  “No. You’re just desperate to be with him.” He looked scornfully at Timothy’s nine-carat, yellow diamond engagement ring on her finger. “So much that you were willing to marry him with my child in your belly.
Without telling him. Without telling me. And you don’t love him?”

  She flushed. “I had no choice—”

  “You don’t have a choice now.” He leaned forward, his face inches from her own as he gently tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. “You will forget him…”

  At Diogo’s touch, a rush of heat went through her, firing up the longing in her blood. She had to resist the urge to press her cheek against his hand. Her lips tingled, aching for his kiss.

  No! She wouldn’t fall for his seduction again!

  She had to get away before he could hurt her again. Before he could hurt their baby. Because a man like Diogo could only be trusted to make you love him—and then leave….

  Her pulse hammered as she clenched her fists tightly. “You don’t care about me or this baby!”

  Drawing away from her, he bared his teeth in a smile. “I do care… about my son. I will keep him safe.”

  She blinked at him. “Safe from what?”

  He looked down at her grimly. “Safe from you.”

  Safe—from her? As if she would hurt her own child?

  Bewildered fury went through her. Diogo was the one who’d caused this whole situation—he’d gotten her pregnant then kidnapped her against her will, and yet he dared to say that she was the dangerous one?

  Oh, she had to get back home. She needed Lilibeth. She needed her grandmother to take her into her arms and tell her everything was going to be all right.

  Outside the car window, the pale pink sun broke at last through the clouds, illuminating the dark warren of houses crammed onto the hillside. Rio’s favelas were famous. But from this angle they didn’t look so bad. Sprawling out over the hillsides, they looked more like San Francisco’s exclusive, luxurious neighborhoods than poverty-stricken slums.

  Rio can be dangerous, Diogo had warned.

  But he’d just been trying to scare her. And Ellie was no longer scared.

  She was fed up.

  Diogo had broken her heart. Humiliated her at her own wedding. Hurt people she cared about. Taken her against her will to a country where his power was absolute.

  She wasn’t going to wait around until he seduced her, turned on the charm and lured her into loving him again. Because she knew the instant she and the baby started to count on him, he would grow tired of playing house. He would abandon them and merrily go back to his life as the playboy of New York, amusing himself with every beautiful woman who caught his eye.

  He’d had a vasectomy to make sure that he would never have a child. Why should Ellie risk her child’s heart and security with a man like that?

  The Bentley pulled into a side street that was nearly deserted in the early-morning downpour. It stopped at a traffic light. As Diogo leaned forward to speak with the chauffeur, Ellie saw the bodyguards’ sedan pull far ahead of them.

  It was her only chance! She wasn’t going to be any man’s prisoner… Flinging open the car door, Ellie ran into the rain, her wedding dress illuminated white as she fled into the dark sanctuary of the slums.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE DARKNESS WAS SINISTER, lit with only bits of light from glassless windows covered by ragged fabric. Alleys curved like grasping fingers over the hillside, stretching across the slums in broken half streets of cracked concrete slick with rain.

  Ellie had barely turned down the first alley before she knew she’d made a horrible mistake. She tripped on the uneven ground, tumbling into a tumult of taffeta skirts. She felt a sudden pain in her left wrist and an involuntary sob escaped her lips.

  “Onde você está indo?”

  A man came out of the shadows. Behind him, a younger man with blackened teeth jeered, looking her up and down. “Você está perdida, gringa?”

  She didn’t understand their words, but the insolent way their eyes stripped her naked screamed danger. Using her unhurt hand, she pushed herself up.

  “Excuse me,” she whimpered, backing away. “I’ll go…”

  The younger man blocked her path, even as a third man appeared from the shadows. All three surrounded her, coming closer until she could see their leers in the semidarkness.

  “What a pretty bride,” the first one said in heavily accented English. “I’ll have that big diamond off your finger, gringa.”

  Her hands trembled as she pulled off Timothy’s engagement ring and threw it on the ground. She hoped it would distract them long enough for her to get away. She turned to run, but the younger man stopped in front of her. He gave her a smile, and she was close enough to see his missing teeth and smell his foul breath.

  “Now,” the first man said in thick English behind her, “I’ll have that dress…”

  She screamed as the men closed in.

  Suddenly, Diogo was between them, protecting her. He fought off the first man with a punch then a round kick, knocking them all back. The ferocity in his eyes, gleaming in the sharp burst of light as lightning crashed across the narrow bit of sky, scared her—even as she clung to him in the danger of the favela.

  The older man pushed past the others, narrowing his eyes as he looked at Diogo with recognition. “Serrador,” he sneered, then spat on the ground. “Você está aqui em férias?”

  “Sai fora, Carneiro,” Diogo said. His lip twisted as he added in English, “This woman is mine.”

  The other man gave a harsh laugh as he motioned his companions forward. “You were stupid to come back here.”

  Diogo moved swiftly, whirling against the three men, keeping Ellie carefully behind him. In a series of supple, acrobatic movements, he pushed his attackers back with one sweeping kick after another. He dropped into a one-handed cartwheel, kicking his opposite leg upward in a fluid, deadly blow that snapped back Carneiro’s head. Diogo slammed into the second man with an elbow punch, and knocked the third to the ground with a crack of his skull against the man’s forehead. Cursing him, the men stumbled away into the darkness.

  Ellie turned with a pounding heart to watch them disappear into the shadows from whence they’d come. Then Diogo grabbed her shoulder, whirling her around.

  “You little fool,” he ground out. “They’ll be back with more. I should just leave you here!”

  “Do it then!” she cried. “I’d rather take my chances with them instead of you!”

  His hand tightened on her shoulder, spreading shock waves through her body. She forgot the pain of her wrist. Something started trembling deep inside her.

  “You’re eager to give your body to ten or twelve men?” he said furiously. “To be passed from one man to the next?”

  She blanched at his crude suggestion. Then clenched her hands into fists. She wouldn’t let him succeed in scaring her. “I want to go home!”

  “Back to your lover?” he sneered.

  “Timothy’s not my lover!”

  “But you are desperate to return to him—desperate enough to risk our child’s life!”

  “I would never risk our child!” she gasped.

  “You ran away!” Lightning flashed again and she saw the dark fury in his eyes. “Do you know what would have happened if I hadn’t found you in time?”

  Aftershocks of terror washed over her. Diogo was right. She’d risked her baby’s life!

  “And all because you are so in love, “ he said scornfully.

  “I’m not in love with him! I was only going to marry him because I couldn’t have you!” she cried out, then covered her face with her hands. “I just want—to—go ho-ome!”

  Another flash of lightning crashed above them. She barely felt the rain pounding against her wet clothes and skin, barely heard the warm wind howling in her ears.

  Then suddenly he took her into his arms.

  “Shh, Ellie,” he whispered, tenderly kissing her temple. “It’s all right. Everything is going to be all right.”

  He held her close, caressing her tenderly. But his kindness only made her cry harder.

  Diogo was right to be angry, she realized. What if he hadn’t found her in time? What if h
e hadn’t been able to save Ellie and their baby from her foolish decision to run into the slums? What would have happened to them—because of her?

  “I can’t believe I did it,” she whispered. “I put our baby at risk!”

  “It’s my fault,” he murmured against her skin. “I was wrong to scare you. You’re safe now, querida. Both of you.”

  He scooped her into his arms as if she weighed nothing at all. Both of them were wet with rain in the desolate gray alley of Rio’s slums, and yet somehow, cradled against his chest, Ellie suddenly felt warm… and safe.

  Maybe it really was going to be all right, she thought in a daze, looking up at his handsome face. Maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe she could trust him after all…

  “Come, querida.” His expressive, dark eyes shone down at her. “Let me take you home.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ELLIE’S EYES FLUTTERED OPEN. She saw bright morning sunlight sparkling on the waves of the ocean. Outside the car window, food vendors were opening colorful umbrellas on the white sand of Copacabana Beach. People were already gathering on the beach to work and play, wearing the tiniest of bikinis or even club clothes from the night before. Cariocas let nothing stop their pursuit of pleasure… just like Diogo.

  Diogo!

  She sat up straight, realizing to her horror that she’d fallen asleep on his shoulder. Not only that, but she’d even drooled a bit on his shirt!

  “How—how long was I sleeping?” she whispered.

  He smiled down at her. “About twenty minutes.”

  “Oh.” Her cheeks went hot. She surreptitiously gave her mouth a wipe. What was wrong with her? She’d never fallen asleep around Timothy. Not once. Of course, he was a stable, steady, respectable guy. Her screwed-up instincts could apparently only relax cuddled up in the backseat of a Bentley with the dark playboy of the Western world!

  I’m just tired, she told herself. Since she’d gotten pregnant, being tired was a constant state of existence. But why did the safe man make her tense—and the dangerous one make her feel so relaxed? There was something really, really wrong with her.