Amado gripped Tarrant’s bony elbow, partly to prevent the unsteady man from falling back into his chair, and partly because he didn’t want to let go.
Foreign emotions jolted through him. In spite of everything, he felt a sudden deep bond with the man before him.
It must have taken courage to face up to his failure as a father and invite censure and anger into his life in the form of a neglected child.
Not quite sure what he was doing, Amado pulled Tarrant into his arms and hugged him tightly. He couldn’t stop himself. “You didn’t know my mother would die,” he heard himself whisper. “No one could have known that.”
Pain throbbed inside him. It had always hurt him that he’d never met his sister. Now that he knew she was his mother, the loss felt fresh and raw.
Tarrant inhaled. “She would have been so proud of you. She used to talk about your estate—Tierra de Oro, isn’t it?—as if it was some kind of magical Eden. I know she’d be so happy that you are living there and taking care of it for the next generation.”
Amado swallowed hard, trying to choke back the fierce emotion flooding through him.
He knew so little about Marisa. Ignacio and Clara became agitated and shared pained glances if he even mentioned her name. He’d always assumed they were so torn up by her premature death—in an “accident”—that they couldn’t bear to talk about her.
He knew Marisa’s mother had also died young, and that his father had been single for almost twenty years before marrying again. The aging newlyweds had borne only one child.
At least, that’s what he’d been told.
He realized he was still holding Tarrant tight, and he pulled back. Drew in a deep breath.
He was sad for the dying man who wouldn’t live to see his own grandchildren.
But forgiveness?
Not really.
The door opened and Samantha put her head around it. She smiled. He wondered if she’d been listening at the door.
“Amado, Dominic and Fiona want to take you out to dinner. Show you the city. Please say you will.”
Big blue eyes implored him.
“I’d be delighted.” He managed to keep his voice calm and polite. Nodded to Tarrant.
“We’ll talk more later.” The tycoon seemed to have regained his arrogant demeanor. “We’ll do some business.” A satisfied smile spread across his tanned face and good humor twinkled in his aqua eyes. “I want to help you bring your wines to the States.”
“I’d like that.”
Why not? Perhaps something positive could come out of this mess.
Where was Susannah? Had she snuck off and abandoned him now that her work was done?
Inevitable desire crept over him at the thought of her. Of her dark, lush mouth. Her haunting gaze.
Her thoughtful silences.
If she thought she could bring him here and throw him at his father’s feet like a lamb to slaughter, then disappear out of his life, she was very much mistaken.
“I’d like Susannah to return to Tierra de Oro. To develop a business plan.” He tilted his head, waiting for Tarrant’s reaction.
The older man’s eyes narrowed. He could hear cogs turning in that sharp mind.
Did he know there was more between them than professional cordiality? A man like Tarrant Hardcastle, ruled by fleeting passions and expensive indulgences, probably encouraged his staff to accomplish their goals by any means necessary.
Perhaps she would receive a bonus for her little coup.
“Of course. I’ll instruct her to stay as long as you wish.” Tarrant gave him a knowing glance.
Amado recoiled inwardly, as if Tarrant had said, “I’ll have her scrubbed and sent to your tent.”
But isn’t that what he wanted?
“Susannah! Oh, thank goodness you’re there.”
Susannah, roused from a deep sleep, tried to figure out the owner of the voice blasting out of her phone.
“We’re taking Amado to a milonga, to make him feel at home. You must come.”
Fiona.
Susannah’s heart sank. Could she say no to Daddy’s Little Princess?
“Gosh, I’m very tired. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in—” She was too tired to remember when she’d had a decent night’s sleep.
Certainly not last night, in Amado’s hotel room. And the two previous nights had been spent on long-haul flights to and from Santiago, Chile. The latter, locked in intellectual combat with Amado on a variety of challenging topics including the usually off-limits religion and politics.
She sagged against the cool white sheets in her Spartan apartment.
“You’ll have two hours to take a nap, then meet us in the lobby. We’ll all take a car downtown together.”
The dial tone brooked no contradiction.
Susannah fumbled with her alarm clock, hoping that it would ring loud enough to wake her from whatever fitful slumber she could claim in two hours.
Amado must have asked for her to come. Was he trying to kill her?
Maybe this was his way of getting revenge on her for shaking him out of his comfortable ignorance.
And what the heck was a milonga?
Chapter Ten
Susannah leaped off the bus and darted along Fifth Avenue, already five minutes late. The icy December blast was a harsh contrast to the Southern Hemisphere warmth she’d left behind in Mendoza. She clutched her wool coat around her skimpy black wrap dress as she clattered along the cement sidewalk.
With any luck they’d have left without her.
But no. The imposing Fiona stood on the sidewalk in front of the Hardcastle building, clad in a fitted leather jacket, her green dress whipping against her long, elegant legs. “Finally!”
Amado leaned against a wall of the building, devastatingly elegant in a dark suit. He must be freezing out here in the cold. He didn’t move when he saw her, but she felt his gaze sizzle through her like a heat wave.
“I’m sorry, there was way more traffic than I expected.”
“Never mind that. Get in.” Fiona gestured to the waiting stretch limo.
Susannah folded herself into the darkest corner. Dominic and Bella flirted with each other on one of the long, bench seats. Amado flashed a wicked glance at her as he entered, then he sat next to Fiona and proceeded to lavish her with his masculine charm.
Susannah stared hard at her clutch purse.
Fiona leaned forward. “Amado, you’re going to love this place. It’s really intimate, started by a couple from Buenos Aires who teach tango classes.”
She touched his knee. Her long, pale fingers rested for a moment on his powerful thighs.
A surge of irritation pushed Susannah forward. “Amado’s from the country. Mendoza isn’t anywhere near Buenos Aires.”
Amado’s black gaze rested on her face. “You think I don’t know how to tango?”
Susannah pressed herself back into her corner, shrinking from his forceful presence. She shrugged, not wanting to accuse the reputedly dramatic Fiona of making assumptions.
“Do you?” Fiona leaned into him, her gold hoop earrings swinging.
“I guess you’ll have to find out.” He smiled warmly at Fiona. Susannah cursed the ugly possessive attitude that made her resent Fiona’s instant intimacy with Amado.
Fiona had every right to be intimate with him. She was his sister. Susannah, on the contrary, did not. Once he went back to Argentina, she’d see him maybe once a year at tasting time.
Perhaps not even then.
Still, it had only been a few hours since he’d trailed his fingers over her bare skin and licked her to a shuddering climax in his hotel bed.
She tried to keep her breathing steady. Focus on the lights of the city flashing past outside the tinted window.
Amado lingered in the limo until all the others climbed out, then offered his arm to Susannah. “I’m glad you came.”
Anticipation shivered through her as she took his arm. The fine fabric of his dark suit tickled h
er fingertips and made all her tiny, invisible hairs stand on end.
She wasn’t even sure where they were. Somewhere downtown. A dark awning shaded the door of the club from the streetlights. A line of hip and elegant patrons waited outside on the cold sidewalk, but Fiona marched right up to the door and whispered something to the scary-looking bouncer.
He ushered them in. She could feel Amado’s strong arm through the sleeve of his suit. As they stepped through the door, the music beckoned to them, rhythmic and seductive.
Lucky thing she didn’t know how to tango. At least she had a good excuse for not making a fool of herself.
They descended some stairs, and emerged into a loftlike space. Tables clothed in linen ringed a dance floor, already packed with writhing bodies.
A live band with a row of accordionists crammed onto the small stage, energizing the room with the urgent throb of the tango.
They gathered at a table and ordered drinks. Fiona chattered excitedly about the tango lessons she’d been taking and wasn’t it a fantastic coincidence that her new brother was from Argentina?
Susannah sipped her drink while Fiona pulled Amado, laughing, from his seat and onto the dance floor.
Dominic and Bella followed suit. They both claimed to have never tangoed before, but Susannah found herself transfixed by the passion that flashed between them like oxygen fanning a fire. The tall and striking Dominic radiated controlled intensity while Bella, a research chemist with the body of a 1950s sex goddess, flowed around him like molten metal.
She snuck a glance at Amado and Fiona. Her blood pressure spiked at the sight of his hands splayed over her bare spine. She knew the touch of those fingers, forceful yet tender, and her body ached for it.
Susannah! He’s not yours. Be happy for him that he’s found a family he didn’t know about. Maybe, if she hadn’t played his sensual games, she’d never have persuaded him to part with the DNA that was the first step on his journey here.
Fiona flicked her legs around his, twirling in a practiced and elegant motion.
Susannah snatched her gaze away. The ugly green beast of jealously was so unfamiliar she had no idea how to handle it.
How could she begrudge him a dance with his own sister, for crying out loud? What kind of selfish, egotistical maniac was she?
She glanced up again, over the rim of her vanilla martini, and this time her eyes met Amado’s. Longing flashed through her. As he spun Fiona in an elegant turn, he kept his focus on Susannah, depriving her of breath.
He’s playing with you.
Was this why he’d brought her here tonight? To tempt her and toy with her, as sweet revenge for the way she’d upended his life?
The song ended suddenly, and Susannah found herself fidgeting and glancing every which way, to avoid the sight of the flushed and excited dancers returning to the table.
Dominic gave his wife a sensual kiss. Amado eased Fiona back into her chair.
Then he walked over to her.
“Your turn.”
“I don’t know how to tango.”
“No matter.” He held out his hand.
“Seriously, I’ll look like a fool.”
“If you dance, you might look like a fool. If you sit there in your chair and miss all the fun, everyone will know you’re a fool.” His eyes glittered a challenge.
She rose to her feet, damned if she did and damned if she didn’t. Amado hooked his arm around her waist, and practically carried her onto the small dance floor. Already at least fifteen other couples swirled to the music.
“But I...”
Amado silenced her with a finger to her lips. “Don’t think. Just listen to the music.” He leaned in close, his breath hot on her ear. “Listen to your body. Dance with me.”
Her belly tightened in response to the sensual rasp of his voice. She drew in a shaky breath.
Her black wrap dress had a long slit down the back of the bodice, and he slid his fingers inside it. Her eyes widened. Surely he didn’t want the others to know they were intimate?
He pulled her close until her body was almost crushed against his.
Almost.
A scant half-inch of superheated space separated their hips. He inclined his head until his cheek was almost touching hers and she could anticipate the slight roughness of his skin.
He took her other hand and held it lightly in his, then he stepped forward, into her.
Instinctively she stepped back, and he turned, whirling them half around. Then he stepped back. His hand on her waist pulled her with him, and she placed her toes between his. Forward and back, around, his hands and the movements of his feet guided her through the throng of dancers.
The music, taut and rhythmic, strung the air with tension. It thrummed in her body as time and again she stepped into Amado’s embrace, anticipating his body heat. Then he pulled away, leaving a tiny ache.
He drew her with him, leading her on a sensual journey that never quite reached its end.
Occasionally, he did one wicked move where he stepped between her legs, parting them, overtly sexual.
Then he would step back and draw her into an elegant turn, as if nothing had happened.
Energy snapped between them, stinging her skin with adrenaline and tightening her nipples inside her thin dress.
I’m dancing. Astonishment rippled through her as they moved across the floor, weaving through the elegant tangueros like they did this every night.
It felt as complicated, as astonishing, as natural as...
Sex.
The song ended. Susannah’s heart pounded as Amado lifted her hand and kissed it.
The perfect gentleman.
He led her back to the table without a word, giving her nothing but the sight of his arrogant profile.
Susannah sank into her chair, aching with freshly inflamed desire. Amado sipped his drink and gracefully accepted Fiona’s gushing compliments. He laughed and said that no, he’d never taken lessons. His first girlfriend—older than he—had taught him everything he needed to know.
Susannah was jealous of her, too.
She laughed off Fiona’s tight-lipped compliments, giving full credit to Amado.
Apparently he could make her do anything. In his hands, she turned into someone else. Someone wilder, more natural, more alive.
If she hadn’t met him, she’d probably never have found out that she was capable of heights of embarrassing ecstasy in the bedroom. Of an exquisite, lust-laden tango in a crowded room.
And she still wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing that she did know.
She survived two more breath-stealing, blood-heating dances with him. Then he kissed her goodnight, a chaste lip on her cheek, and said goodbye.
She went home alone, her body throbbing and aching with unspent desire.
No problem. He’d kept their secret. She’d keep her job.
Get back to her normal life. That was what she wanted, wasn’t it?
“Your mission is to draw Amado into the fold.” Tarrant leaned forward and picked up a gold-plated pen from his neat mahogany desk.
Susannah had felt anxious from the moment he summoned her to his office. Now she felt a painful throb start somewhere at the base of her skull.
“I want concrete ties with his estate. I want him excited to do business with us. There will be a handsome bonus in it for you.”
He scribbled something on a piece of paper, then handed it to her.
A check. For ten thousand dollars.
Her mouth fell open.
“I’m very pleased with the work you’ve done so far.” Tarrant leaned back into his chair. “Delighted, in fact. You’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty.”
Susannah froze. Had Amado told him she’d slept with him to get the DNA? He was angry with her and Tarrant and...everyone. Who knew how he might lash out?
“I know you’ve had to reschedule trips and reorganize your calendar to fly to Argentina twice at a moment’s notice. Don’t think I take that
for granted.”
Susannah realized that the hand holding the check had started to shake. She snatched it into her lap.
Tarrant looked much healthier than he had the previous week and his face beamed with uncomplicated cheer. She suspected he didn’t know about the affair. If he did, he wouldn’t order her to go back down there. Would he?
Her stomach churned. Did Amado even want to see her again?
He’d invited her to his Manhattan hotel room and driven her wild with pleasure, his passion almost angry in its intensity. On the tango expedition, he’d tormented her into a state of tortured arousal—only to peck her goodnight on the cheek.
And that was that. She found out third-hand he’d returned to Argentina.
Without saying goodbye.
She shrank into her chair, the enormous check clutched in her sweating hand. Blood money, in a literal sense. She was paid for retrieving Amado’s genetic material. For cornering him and bringing him back here.
And now she had to shove herself down his throat again?
Hey, guess what, I’m back!
She could always quit her job right now. Hand the check back and retain the last pathetic shreds of her dignity.
But then she would certainly never see Amado again.
Those final tatters fell silently to the carpet as she nodded. “I’ll arrange a return trip for next week. Which wines were you hoping to secure for our cellars?”
“All of them.”
Chapter Eleven
Astride his horse, Amado watched from the hillside. The small white car approaching the house could be carrying only one person.
He knew because his skin prickled with awareness.
Susannah.
His horse pranced sideways and he lost sight of her as she entered the avenue of cypress.
No need to rush back. She’d be waiting for him when he arrived.
He’d instructed Rosa to put her in Marisa’s old room. The whole house was suddenly haunted by the ghosts of the past. Surely it was only right that Susannah get more intimately acquainted with them?
Grapes of Wrath (Billionaires' Secrets Book 2) Page 8
