“I always knew the little mouse was in love with you.”
In love? Gabriel frowned. Adriana was mistaken. Laura couldn’t love him. She was too smart for that. She knew his deep flaws far too well. Laura wouldn’t give her heart to an undeserving man who would break it.
Or would she? He paused, remembering how she’d let herself conceive a child by a man who wouldn’t marry her, a man she didn’t even love.
Adriana said scornfully, “With her adoring, sickening gaze on you all the time, I knew it was just a matter of time.” She gave him a hard look. “But your relationship won’t last. Because we both know you care about only one thing.”
Aware of Oliveira watching them, Gabriel stared down at her coolly. “And what is that?”
“Power. Glamour. Blatant sex appeal. And your secretary does not have it.” Adriana tossed her head. “She’s nothing but a drab little nobody who…”
She paused, tilting her head. Gabriel frowned, then he heard it, too—a low hum of male voices behind them, rolling across the pool and terraces like gathering thunder. Adriana leaned forward to look around the doorway of her cabana. Oliveira and Gabriel slowly turned.
A woman had just stepped out of the mansion, and was coming down the stairs from the upper terrace toward the pool. She was wearing a tiny bikini, typical attire for Rio. Carioca women were among the sexiest in the world, and the women at this party were among the most beautiful in the city. One new beauty should have been nothing, and yet something about this particular woman caused every man who saw her to stop in his tracks.
Even the young men who’d hovered around Adriana suddenly were craning their necks to stare. A waiter who’d come to refill Adriana’s drink accidentally poured vodka on her bare thigh, causing her to curse aloud as she rose to her feet. “Oh, you stupid—get away from me!”
But no one was looking at Adriana. Not anymore.
The beautiful new guest was petite and curvy, her hips swaying as she moved. Long honey-blonde hair hung in waves down her bare back. She had creamy skin, and beneath the triangles of her top, the largest, most perfect breasts any man could imagine.
Gabriel’s jaw dropped as he recognized her, this woman coming around the pool toward the cabanas with such effortless grace. The woman who had brought Felipe Oliveira’s exclusive, glamorous party to a standstill.
Laura.
Laura trembled as she walked in her high heels. She felt naked in her bikini, passing through the crowds of beautiful, glamorous people who one by one turned to gape at her. Her legs shook as she walked down the stairs toward the lower terrace, where cabanas overlooked the pool and private beach.
She walked past the musicians, past the buffet table, where a handsome, hawkish man in a gray suit stood staring at her. She stiffened as she walked passed him, her head held high though her cheeks burned. People’s heads were turning sharply enough to cause whiplash. Men’s eyes widened. Women’s eyes narrowed. Laura’s hand shook as she pushed her mirrored aviator sunglasses a little higher up her nose.
Wearing this tiny bikini was almost worse than wearing nothing at all. It had been crocheted of natural, wheat-colored yarn. She’d never gone out in public dressed in so little before. She had barely ever seen herself this naked, always averting her eyes from the mirror when she came out of the shower. Now, she could feel the hot sun of Rio burning against her skin.
Or maybe it was just the flush of heat caused by all the eyes roaming every inch of her, tracing the lines of her breasts, butt and legs.
Laura swallowed, wishing the earth would swallow her whole. She threw a glance of longing toward the Atlantic on the other side of the terrace gate. She had the sudden yen to throw herself in the water and start swimming for Africa.
But she forced herself to keep walking, looking for Gabriel to the right and left. She couldn’t run away. He was paying her a million dollars, and she couldn’t quit just because she was scared. She was on a job and she would earn her money. Every penny.
But she wished she knew what people were thinking. Were they staring because they thought she looked nice? Or because she looked so hideously bad? As soon as she was out of earshot, would they all dissolve into scornful laughter?
Mrs. Tavares had taken her into the center of a whirlwind at Zeytuna, barking orders in quick-fire Portuguese, and there had soon been five stylists surrounding her, doing her hair, hands, toenails. An on-call optometrist had come to fit her eyes for contact lens. Laura had tried on hundreds of potential outfits for the pool party, for the Fantasy Ball, casual clothes for later, even lingerie. Though she had protested at the lingerie, her every complaint had been ignored. Laura’s mousy brown hair had been highlighted. The stylists had started to prepare a spray-on tan to darken her skin, until Mrs. Tavares had stopped them.
“No. Leave her pale. Her creamy beauty will stand out from the fake tans of all the rest.”
Laura’s makeup had been done to perfection, so lightly as to be barely visible, and yet somehow making her look…good.
Mrs. Tavares had ordered her to try on many bikinis before she’d finally been satisfied with this one. Laura couldn’t tell the difference—they’d all just seemed to be tiny triangles of fabric, barely covering anything at all. But the Brazilian woman had chosen this one, crocheted of soft beige yarn. “Perfeito,” she’d said. “It shows you off to perfection, Miss Parker. You are soft, womanly, with those curves. You are real.” Mrs. Tavares’s thin lips had curved. “You will stand out.”
It was true that Laura’s breasts had always been somewhat on the generous side, and since she’d left New Hampshire to have a secretarial career in New York, she’d gone to a great deal of effort to hide them, to make sure it was her professional skills that attracted attention, not her body.
“You have the perfect figure,” Mrs. Tavares had said with satisfaction as they’d stared at the result of Laura’s makeover in a full-length mirror. “A Marilyn Monroe for the modern age. The gold standard of femininity.”
Laura didn’t quite believe her. A lifetime of feeling plain and unfashionable, especially compared to the glamorous women of New York, had left it imprinted on her mind that she was the hardworking one. The smart one. Never in her whole life had she been the pretty one.
But of course Mrs. Tavares would give her compliments, Laura had told herself as Carlos drove her to the mansion. The woman had been hired to give Laura a makeover, so naturally she would try to make the best of things. Laura had taken her praise with a pound of salt.
But still, the older woman had almost managed to convince her. Laura had felt confident, even pretty, when she’d left the boutique. Now, beneath so many open stares, she felt shy.
And afraid. What if, after everything, she failed Gabriel? Would he refuse to pay her the million dollars he’d promised? Or worse, would he just shake his head and look at her with cool dark eyes and say in a low voice, “I’m disappointed in you, Laura. I thought you were better than this”?
It had taken more courage than she’d imagined even to get out of the Rolls-Royce. Carlos had held her door open for almost a full minute, conspicuously clearing his throat before Laura had gathered enough bravado to get out of the car and walk into the mansion with her shoulders thrown back. Now, beneath the eyes of so many glamorous people, she felt vulnerable. Exposed.
Where
