Mistress of His Revenge (Bought by the Brazilian #1)

by Chantelle Shaw

  Although that could happen if Cruz had decided to withdraw his offer of financial assistance for Eversleigh Hall in return for her agreement to be his mistress. The gold clock on the wall told her that it was an hour past the deadline of seven p.m. that Cruz had given her.

  He was standing at the far end of the salon and the enigmatic expression on his chiselled features gave no clue to his thoughts. Taking a deep breath, Sabrina sauntered towards him, but her heart was thudding in her chest and she fought an urge to run back out to the street away from Cruz’s cynical gaze and the curious glances from the other party guests.

  She forced herself to keep walking forwards, conscious that the click of her stiletto heels on the marble floor sounded overly loud in the silence that had settled over the room. Her eyes darted to either side of her and she recognised several arts correspondents from national newspapers who were presumably here to report on the party. If Cruz publicly rejected her the whole country would be able to read about it.

  Instead of dwelling on that potentially embarrassing scenario she focused on him. He was devastating in a formal black dinner suit and a snow-white shirt that contrasted with his darkly tanned face and throat. She halted in front of him and forgot every word of the speech she had rehearsed on the way here.

  Cruz’s eyes were hooded as if he wished to hide his thoughts from her, but the rigid set of his jaw betrayed his tension. Sabrina felt the fierce pull of attraction between them and exhilaration swept through her. Words were unnecessary, she decided as she stepped closer to him, so close that their hips touched and her body burned in his heat.

  Despite her three-inch heels she had to go up on tiptoe to wind her arms around his neck and pull his head down level with hers. She felt his shoulder muscles clench as she covered his mouth with hers and kissed him.

  At first he did not respond and she felt a rising sense of panic as she acknowledged that she was going to look very foolish if he pushed her away and called the security guards to escort her from the building. In desperation she nipped his lower lip with her teeth and a violent shudder ran through him. She was startled, her lashes flew open and she saw a feral hunger in his eyes as he took control and stole her breath with a kiss that plundered her soul.

  He kissed her fiercely, feverishly, as if for the past ten years he had missed her as much as she had missed him. He roamed his hands up and down her spine, seemingly unconcerned by the fact that they were making a very public spectacle, and as Sabrina sank deeper into the velvet darkness of desire she lost all awareness of her surroundings and there was only Cruz.

  When at last he lifted his mouth from hers she swayed on her feet and stared at him dazedly, unaware of the storm of emotions that darkened her eyes to the colour of wet slate.

  ‘You’re late,’ he drawled. Sabrina knew he was not referring to her late arrival at the party. How could he sound so cool and seem so unaffected? she wondered as she soothed her ravaged lips with the tip of her tongue. It would be easy to feel overawed by him as she had been ten years ago, but she was no longer an innocent girl and her mouth curved into a sensual smile.

  ‘But worth waiting for,’ she murmured.

  ‘I’ll hold you to that promise later tonight.’ He spoke softly so that the journalists who had crowded around them did not hear him, but Sabrina heard the warning in his words and for a moment her nerve nearly failed her as she faced up to the fact that she had sold her body and possibly her soul to a man who ten years ago had stolen her heart.

  * * *

  Triumph surged through Cruz as he ran his eyes over Sabrina. She looked stunning and desire flooded hot and fierce through his veins. The launch party of Delgado Diamonds represented the pinnacle of his success, but he felt frustrated knowing that it would be several hours before he would be free from his responsibilities and could take her to bed.

  He liked the fact that she had developed from a shy teenager who had been a virgin when they’d met ten years ago into a sexually confident woman with the self-assurance to come on to him. But when he studied her closely he saw a vulnerable expression in her eyes and noticed the almost imperceptible tremor of her lower lip that caused him to feel a faint pang of regret.

  Ten years ago she had broken his heart, and with a sudden, uncomfortable flash of insight he recognised that he had given her the ultimatum because he wanted to punish her for leaving him. What kind of man planned to use sex as a means of retribution? he asked himself with self-contempt. The past no longer mattered. He felt no emotional connection to Sabrina now, and he would never again confuse lust with love. His attraction to her was purely sexual, as he assumed hers was to him. There was no reason why they should not enjoy a physical relationship and in six months he would walk away from her, his sexual hunger sated, and hopefully with the map in his possession. He was jerked from his introspection when one of the journalists spoke.

  ‘Lady Sabrina, can you confirm that you are in a relationship with Mr Delgado?’

  Sabrina tore her eyes from Cruz, wishing she knew what he was thinking behind his shuttered expression. She glanced at the reporter. ‘I thought I just did,’ she said drily.

  It was inevitable that pictures of them locked in a passionate kiss would feature in many of tomorrow’s papers. There was a ripple of laughter and she became aware of her surroundings once more: guests dressed in formal evening clothes, white-jacketed waiters serving canapés on silver platters, a buzz of conversation as the party resumed.

  She had attended countless such events and felt on familiar ground as Cruz guided her around the room and introduced her to the other guests. She was acquainted with many of them. Cruz was right to think that the English aristocracy was a tightly knit group, partly because historically marriages between the landed gentry had been encouraged. At least two of the guests were Sabrina’s distant cousins.

  She found herself relaxing as she sipped champagne and chatted about a new art gallery that had opened in Chelsea and the excellent production of La Traviata at the Royal Opera House. Cruz revealed a broad knowledge of the arts and current affairs and Sabrina noted that he cleverly steered every topic of conversation around to his jewellery company.

  She was continually aware of his presence by her side, of his hand placed lightly in the small of her back that seemed to burn through her dress and scorch her skin. As the evening drew to an end and the guests started to leave the party her tension grew, and on the short drive to Kensington in Cruz’s chauffeur-driven limousine her silence earned a comment from him.

  ‘You’re very quiet suddenly.’

  She chewed her lip. ‘I suppose you are wondering why I changed my mind about...’ She struggled to continue as the reality that she had agreed to have sex with him for one and a half million pounds sank into her brain.

  ‘About selling yourself to me,’ Cruz drawled. He shrugged. ‘It’s not a mystery. I knew you would do anything to save your beloved Eversleigh Hall—’ his tone hardened ‘—even if it means having to demean yourself by sleeping with me.’

  ‘I’ll pay you back the money as soon as my father returns. And if he doesn’t...’ her voice faltered ‘...if he is declared dead I will be given access to his bank accounts and I’ll be able to reimburse you out of my inheritance.’

  She stared at the angles of Cruz’s sculpted profile illuminated by the street lamps and felt as though she were looking at a stranger. ‘Saving Eversleigh wasn’t my only reason,’ she said huskily. ‘Meeting you again has made me realise that there are unresolved issues between us from ten years ago. There are things we need to talk about, in particular how we both felt after I miscarried our baby...’ she hesitated ‘...and how we feel about each other now.’

  ‘I’ve told you how I feel.’ Cruz sounded bored of the conversation. ‘I want to have sex with you and I am prepared to pay for the privilege of having you as my mistress for the next six months.’ His glittering gaze pierced the shadowy darkness of the interior of the car and raked across Sabrina’s pale face. ‘
We made a business deal,’ he reminded her. ‘What happened between us in the past is irrelevant.’

  ‘What about the future?’ she asked in a low voice.

  He frowned. ‘If you are asking me if we might have a future, then my answer is a categorical no. I’m not looking for a long-term relationship with you or anyone else.’

  Until two minutes ago Sabrina’s thoughts had been focused on the night ahead. She hadn’t cared about the future—at least that was what she had convinced herself. But Cruz’s unequivocal statement that he would not want a relationship with her beyond her six-month stint as his mistress was unexpectedly hurtful. Of course there was no possibility that she would fall in love with him, she told herself firmly. She had been there, done that and her heart bore the scars.

  The car pulled into the underground car park, and as Cruz ushered her into the lift she felt a rising sense of panic that maybe she was making the biggest mistake of her life. She debated telling him that she had changed her mind and could not go through with their business deal.

  She had to do whatever it took to safeguard Eversleigh for future generations of the Bancroft family, whispered the voice of her conscience. And her brother’s future career as a pilot was dependent on her being able to raise the aviation school’s fees.

  While the lift made its smooth ascent to the top floor she could not tear her eyes from Cruz. He had undone his bow tie and the top few buttons of his shirt and she could see a sprinkling of black hairs that she knew covered his chest and arrowed down over his flat stomach. Her mouth felt suddenly dry as she pictured the fuzz of body hair running below the waistband of his trousers and becoming thicker around the base of his manhood.

  The light-headed feeling she was experiencing had nothing to do with the one glass of champagne she’d had at the party, she acknowledged ruefully. Her body felt as though she were on fire and the core of her need was centred low in her pelvis. She tried convincing herself that the reason she was so intensely turned on was because she hadn’t had sex for two years—and that one occasion, with a guy she had dated for a few months, had been unfulfilling. But as her eyes moved back up Cruz’s lean, hard body and connected with his sultry gaze she knew she was kidding herself.

  She wanted him more than she had ever wanted anyone or anything in her life.

  She had not come to him for the sake of Eversleigh or her brother’s career or from a sense of duty to protect her family’s long history. For the first time in her life she was choosing to put her needs first and the sense of freedom she felt was wildly exhilarating.

  Cruz’s sexy mouth promised heaven and she instinctively moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue as she imagined him kissing her. The lift halted and the doors opened directly into his penthouse apartment.

  ‘If you’ve changed your mind, say so now,’ he advised.

  Her heart was thudding unevenly, but she said steadily, ‘I haven’t changed my mind.’

  To her surprise she saw dull colour flare along his cheekbones, and she suddenly realised that he wasn’t as in control as he wanted her to think.

  ‘Then come here.’

  She went unhesitatingly, and he swept her up into his arms and strode purposefully down the hallway of the apartment into the master bedroom.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  HE KNEW WHY Sabrina was here, Cruz reminded himself. She would do anything to safeguard her family’s ancestral home and as she couldn’t sell him the Estrela Vermelha she was prepared to sell him her body. He felt an unexpected flicker of regret that he’d had to coerce her into being his mistress, but his common sense told him it was better to have a business arrangement that negated the risk of emotions becoming involved.

  In the car she had said that she wanted them to talk about their past relationship. Why did women always want to discuss their emotions and everyone else’s? he thought irritably. Sabrina had not been interested in his emotions ten years ago. She had rushed back to England and left him alone to grieve for their baby, and she hadn’t spared him a second thought.

  Talking was definitely not on his agenda, Cruz decided. Mindless sex without emotional baggage was a far better option, which would allow him to stay in control. A control that was already being tested, he realised, aware that he was harder than he could ever remember being as he set Sabrina on her feet and her breasts brushed against his chest. He had planned on a slow, skilful seduction intended to drive her to the brink so that she begged for his possession.

  His pride still stung when he remembered her telling him that she would not demean herself by having sex with him. He wanted to show her that she was just another blonde in his bed. But he had never felt this hungry for any other woman, he acknowledged grimly.

  His heart had given a peculiar lurch when she’d arrived at the party dressed to kill in a gown that looked as if she had been poured into it and with her hair flowing like a river of pale gold silk down her back. All evening he’d felt an ache of anticipation in his gut. But now that the moment was here, Deus, he felt like a teenager on a first date. He wanted to please her, he wanted sex to be perfect for her—he wanted to show her what she had been missing all these years since she left him.

  The subtle fragrance of her perfume teased his senses and he felt an almost painful tug of desire in his groin. He needed to take control before he succumbed to his primitive instincts and took her hard and fast as his body was clamouring to do.

  Her lips were slightly parted as if she was expecting him to kiss her, as if she wanted him to. He resisted and walked over to the bed, quickly stripping down to his underwear before he stretched out on top of the satin bedspread and propped himself up on one elbow.

  ‘You look very beautiful in that dress, but I want to see you naked. Take it off,’ he commanded.

  * * *

  Sabrina’s stomach muscles clenched as she stared at Cruz’s handsome face and then dropped her gaze to his bare chest covered in whorls of dark hairs. Her attention was drawn lower to the very obvious bulge beneath his boxer shorts. He was gorgeous! She could not take her eyes from the outline of his massive arousal and she felt a flicker of doubt, knowing she’d not had sex for a long time. She hoped he would take things slowly, but the molten sensation between her thighs was proof that her body was way ahead of her and was already preparing to accommodate him.

  She wished he’d held her in his arms and undressed her, but he was paying her a lot of money to please him, she thought ruefully as she reached behind her to unzip her dress and drew the shoulder straps down her arms. The dark blue silk pooled at her feet and her body burned as Cruz ran his eyes over her sheer black lace strapless bra and matching knickers.

  ‘Very pretty,’ he murmured. ‘Did you choose your sexy underwear for me, gatinha?’

  She thought of denying it, but what would be the point? Her mind flew back to a few hours earlier when she had made her preparations to become Cruz’s mistress. After soaking in a bath scented with fragrant oil, she had smoothed moisturiser onto every inch of her skin before dressing in exquisite lingerie.

  ‘Of course,’ she told him in a husky voice that she barely recognised as her own.

  The sound of his swiftly indrawn breath made her feel powerful in a way that she had never experienced before. Tonight she wasn’t Sabrina the serious historian, or Sabrina the dutiful daughter. She was a temptress, desired above all other women by the sexiest man on the planet.

  ‘I always sleep naked, and while you are my mistress I expect you to do the same,’ Cruz drawled. ‘Take your bra off.’

  She sensed a power struggle between them and rebellion flared inside her as she looked at him sprawled on the bed like a sultan who had commanded his favourite concubine to pleasure him. But there was no escaping the truth that she had sold herself to him. Pride whipped her head up. If he wanted a whore he would damn well get one!

  She deliberately held his gaze as once again she reached behind her and unfastened her bra. The cups fell away to reveal her firm breasts
adorned with dusky pink tips.

  ‘Very pretty,’ he repeated, but this time his voice was husky with need and his Brazilian accent was as sensual as molten chocolate. ‘We made an arrangement, Sabrina, and earlier tonight one and a half million pounds was transferred into your bank account. Now it’s your turn to fulfil your side of the deal.’

  She wondered if he was deliberately trying to make her feel like a tramp. But she discovered that she did not care. She wanted him so badly that her body throbbed with a deep drumbeat that pulsed insistently between her legs, and her desire intensified when he slipped off his boxers and revealed the swollen length of his manhood. The sight of his potent virility made her feel weak with longing.

  Cruz settled himself comfortably against the pillows and folded his arms behind his head. He trailed his eyes over Sabrina’s delectable body. Her lace knickers were provocative rather than practical and barely covered the triangle of downy blonde hair at the top of her thighs.

  ‘I want to see all of you,’ he ordered.

  Sabrina felt no embarrassment as she stripped for him. The feral glitter in his eyes made her feel intensely desirable and she hooked her fingers in the top of her panties and pulled them slowly down her legs, revealing herself to him inch by inch and almost purring with feline pleasure when he gave an audible groan. She knew she looked good. Her body was toned, with a slender waist and full, rounded breasts that jutted proudly forwards.

  Her eyes didn’t leave his as she sauntered round to the empty side of the bed. A spark of rebelliousness prompted her to ask coolly, ‘Is there a particular position you want me to adopt?’

  ‘Don’t push your luck, gatinha.’ Cruz watched her lie down beside him. ‘You look like a vestal virgin preparing to offer yourself up for sacrifice,’ he mocked. ‘We can start with the missionary position by all means. But you will have to open your legs—or I’ll do it for you,’ he warned softly when she did not move.