ranch about to be dropped into the hands of a son incapable of running it. There was, instead, a ranch he’d somehow ended up owning.
Like it or not, the fazenda was his, not his father’s.
A muscle knotted in his jaw.
And there was more.
There was a woman, alone and penniless. A baby she said was his.
Dante groaned and closed his eyes.
A mess, indeed.
What he’d said was true. He always used a condom even though, okay, there’d been times with Gabriella—and only with Gabriella—that he’d wanted to make love without that thin layer of latex sheathing him. The need to feel the slide of his erect penis against the warm silk walls of her had driven him half-crazy. He’d wanted to know that nothing, absolutely nothing separated him from her, that she was his in a way he’d never wanted another woman to be his.
“Dammit,” he growled, shifting his weight in the leather seat.
Thinking X-rated thoughts gave a man’s body a predictable reaction. And turning himself on was not what this was all about.
Besides, he would never have done such a stupid thing as have unprotected sex.
He enjoyed risk. Back-country skiing with the everpresent danger of avalanche. White-water kayaking. Skydiving. Letting his money and his reputation ride on financial deals that made other men blanch. He was into all that.
But sex without protection? That wasn’t risk, it was suicide unless you were ready to marry, settle down, have kids. He wasn’t. For all he knew, he would never be ready. He knew what women were like. They schemed. They plotted. They wanted wealthy husbands and they weren’t above doing whatever it took to get them.
So, no sex without protection.
Still, accidents happened.
If you didn’t leave a woman’s body quickly enough, after you ejaculated, if you didn’t get out and get that rubber off, there could be a problem. He’d always done it right. That one explosive moment, the sense of welcome release and then a kiss, because he knew after-play was important to a woman, a light caress, and he withdrew, headed for the john, took care of things. No wham, bam, thank you, ma’am, but no lingering so long that a rubber could leak, either.
Except…except, toward the end of things with Gabriella, he hadn’t always followed those rules.
There’d been times the thought of withdrawing from all that heat, that sweet warmth, had seemed impossible. Times he’d stayed deep inside her, holding her, kissing her, not wanting to leave her even after he’d come.
How protective was a condom then?
Not very, he thought glumly. And whose fault was that, if not his own?
And, damn, even now, his body stirred at the memory.
Okay. Enough of that. The sex had been fantastic. The truth was, he’d never had better sex before or since, but that had nothing to do with this situation. And, yeah, it was a situation, even if she found the word offensive. And the only way to deal with it was head-on.
He took out his phone, flipped it open. Brought up his contact list. Paused, his finger above his attorney’s name. Thought about the tests the guy would recommend, the time they’d take to run. Thought about Gabriella, alone with a baby in that big, falling-down house and Ferrantes salivating all over her.
Dante muttered a couple of ripe obscenities, put the phone away, rose to his feet and walked to the front of the plane. The flight attendant looked up as he made his way past her, gave him a surprised smile.
“Ah, senhor, you wish something? You had only to press the call button.”
He ignored her, rapped sharply on the cockpit door, then opened it.
“Captain.”
The pilot and copilot turned and looked at him. He saw confusion, then concern on their faces and silently called himself a fool. One did not enter an airplane cockpit, even on a chartered plane, so precipitously in today’s world. That he had done so only gave proof to what he already knew: he had not settled things in Brazil, and until he did, he would not be in any condition to move on with his own life.
“Captain,” he said quickly, offering what he hoped was a reassuring smile, “forgive me for intruding but I wish to change our destination.”
His words only made the men look more alarmed.
“I wish to return to Bonito,” he said, even more quickly. “My apologies for the inconvenience and, of course, I will pay for the flight as arranged, plus an additional amount for the change in plans.”
The pilot got straight to the point.
“Because?” he said, and waited.
What was the answer that would be best understood? “A woman,” Dante said briskly.
The pilot and copilot both grinned. “Ah. In that case…no problema, Senhor Orsini. We will be back on the ground in no time.”
Dante nodded. “Excellent.”
And it was excellent. He’d return to Brazil, do everything that had to be done. He’d promised Gabriella the deed to the fazenda and she could have it. As for the rest…DNA tests. Blood tests. Sure, but who was he kidding? The child was his. The blue eyes. The dark hair. Besides, he knew Gabriella. She wouldn’t lie to him. There wasn’t a deceitful bone in her body.
Her lush, beautiful body—And what did that matter?
She was out of his life. That was what he’d wanted the night he broke up with her; it was what he wanted now. But he’d do the right thing. Give her the ranch. Set up a trust fund for the kid. Another for her. And that would be the end of it.
The absolute, complete end.
Then he’d get on with his life.
HE DIDN’T go to the fazenda or the hotel.
What would be the point?
He didn’t need to see Gabriella and he certainly didn’t need a room. His stay in Bonito would be brief, a couple of hours at most. All he had to do was meet with de Souza, set things up, then turn around and head home.
He arranged for the pilot and plane to remain on call, phoned to arrange for another rental vehicle, then phoned the advogado, who sounded astonished to hear that he was in Bonito.
“I thought you had returned to New York, Senhor Orsini.”
“You thought wrong. I wish to see you this morning, senhor.”
De Souza hesitated. “That is not much notice. Let me put you through to my secretary. She can check
