was used to being the butt of male jokes. Pietro and her father had mocked and dismissed her career ambitions until the day she’d picked up her suitcase and threatened to leave home for good.
But she was still shocked when the man in front of her threw back his head and laughed. Even more so when the sight of his strong white teeth and the genuine twinkling merriment in his eyes sent her pulse racing. An alien tingling started in her belly and spread outward like fractured lightning.
‘Did I say something funny?’
Light hazel eyes speared hers. ‘I’ve been challenged on a lot of things, querida, but never over my manhood.’
The political career her father so desperately craved produced men who could fake confidence with the best of them. She’d seen political candidates on a clear losing streak fake bravado until they were on the verge of looking totally ridiculous.
This man oozed confidence and power so very effortlessly it was like a second skin. Couple those two elements with the dangerous magnetism she could feel and Theo Pantelides was positively lethal.
Over her thundering heartbeat, she heard the master of ceremonies announce that the fund-raiser she’d so carefully orchestrated—the platform that would see her achieve her freedom—was about to begin.
Beyond one broad shoulder of the man who seemed to have sucked the air from the large ballroom, she saw her father and Pietro heading towards her.
Her father would want to know what had happened to Alfonso. The Brazilian businessman had promised to host a polo match on his large ranch where he bred the finest thoroughbreds. Securing a time and a date and a campaign donation had been her job tonight.
A much needed win this man had cost her.
Frustrated anger flared anew.
‘This can be resolved very easily, Inez,’ Theo Pantelides murmured in her ear. His voice was deep. Alluring. To hear him use her given name, the version her half-American mother had so lovingly bestowed on her, made her momentarily lose her bearings. A state that worsened when his hot breath washed over her neck.
Barely managing to suppress a shiver, she snapped herself back into focus. ‘Don’t say my name. In fact, don’t speak to me. Just…just go away!’
Inez knew she was on the verge of displaying childish behaviour but she needed to regroup quickly, find a solution to a situation that had been so cut and dried fifteen minutes ago.
She watched her father and brother approach and the dart of pain that resided beneath her breastbone twisted. For a long time she’d yearned for a connection with them, especially after Mãe had been so cruelly ripped from their lives following a fall from a racehorse a week before Inez’s eighteenth birthday. But she’d soon realised that she was alone in the pain and loneliness brought on by the loss of the mother who’d been her everything. Pietro had been given no time to grieve before their father had stepped up his grooming campaign. As for Benedicto himself, he’d barely finished burying his wife before resuming his relentless pursuit of political power.
The only other male she’d foolishly thought was honourable had turned out to be just as ruthlessly power-hungry as the men in her family.
Constantine Blanco—one lesson well and truly learned.
‘I see the rumours were false after all,’ the man who loomed, large and imposing, in front of her drawled in that deep voice of his, capturing her attention so effortlessly.
She pushed down the bitterness that swirled through her at the thought of what she’d allowed to happen with Constantine. How low she’d sunk in her need for love and a desire for a connection.
‘What rumours?’ She infused a carelessness in her voice she was far from feeling.
‘The ones that said you exhibit grace and charm with each bat of your eyelids. At the moment all I can see is a hellcat intent on scoring grooves into my skin.’
‘Then I suggest you stay away from me. I wouldn’t want to ruin your unbelievably handsome face now, would I?’
She hurried away from his magnetic presence towards where the tables had been set out with highly polished sterling silver cutlery and exquisitely cut crystal. At twenty thousand dollars a plate, the event was ostensibly to raise money for the children trapped within Rio’s favelas, a cause dear to her heart.
Shame it had to be tainted with power-hungry sharks, mild threats to secure votes and…devastatingly handsome rogues with piercing hazel eyes who made her breath catch in a frighteningly exciting way…
The direction of her thoughts made her stumble lightly. Catching herself, she smiled at a guest who slid her a concerned glance.
Each table was set for eight. Her father had insisted their table was placed in the centre, where all eyes would be on them.
With Alfonso’s unexpected departure, the empty seat would stick out like the proverbial sore thumb once the Secretary of State and his wife and the other power couple had taken their places.
She had no choice but to bump someone to the high table. All she needed to figure out was who—
‘Staring at the empty seat will not make your departed guest suddenly reappear, senhorita,’ the deep voice uttered from behind her.
That hot shiver swept up her spine again.
Before she could summon an appropriately scathing retort, her chair and the one bearing Alfonso’s name were pulled back.
‘What are you doing?’ she demanded heatedly under her breath. She continued to stare down at the place setting, unwilling to look up into those hazel eyes. Something in their light depths made her hyperaware of her body, of her increased heartbeat. As if she was prey and he was the merciless predator.
It was preposterous. She didn’t like it. But it was undeniable.
‘Saving your skin. Now, smile and play along.’
‘I’m not a puppet. I don’t smile on command.’
‘Try. Unless you want to spend the rest of the evening sitting next to the equivalent of an elephant in the ballroom?’
Something in his voice made her forget her vow not to look into his eyes. Something…peculiar. Her head snapped up before she could stop herself.
Their eyes clashed. And she found herself in that hyperaware state again. She forced herself to breathe through it. ‘You created the very situation you now seem intent on fixing. Why don’t you save us both time and state what your agenda is?’
A look passed over his face. Too quickly for her to decipher but whatever it was made her breath catch in a totally different way from before. Warning spiked the hairs on her nape.
‘I merely want to redress the situation a little. And, as talented as you seem to think you are at hiding it, I can see my actions caused you distress. Let me help make it better.’
‘So you cause me grief then swoop in to save me like a knight in shining armour?’
‘I’m no one’s knight, senhorita.
