she. Holding him close to her warmth, she shifted his weight on her hip. “I told you, it’s none of your business.”
“Is he here?”
“No!”
“So he deserted you.”
“I didn’t give him the chance,” she said. “I left him first.”
“Ah.” Gabriel’s shoulders seemed to relax slightly. “So you don’t love him. Will he cause any trouble when you take the child to Rio?”
“No.” “Good.”
“I mean—I’m not taking Robby there. I’m not going.” Her baby started to whimper as she turned away. “Goodbye, Gabriel.”
“Wait.”
The raw emotion in his voice made her hesitate. Against her better judgment she turned back. He stepped toward her, and she saw something in his expression she’d never seen before.
Vulnerability.
“Don’t leave,” he said in a low voice. “I need you.” I need you.
She’d once loved him. She’d served him night and day, existed only to please him. She had to fight that habit, that yearning, with every bit of willpower she possessed.
“Is a hundred thousand dollars not enough?” He came closer, his dark eyes bright in the moonlight, the white smoke of his breath drifting around them in the chilly night air. “Let’s make it a cool million. A million dollars, Laura. For a single night.” She gasped. A million…?
Reaching out, he stroked her cheek. “Think what that money could mean for you. For your family.” His fingers moved slowly against her cold skin, the lightest touch of a caress, warming her. “If you don’t care what it would mean for me, think what it could do for you. And all you need to do,” he said huskily, “is smile for a few hours. Drink champagne. Wear a fancy ball gown. And pretend to love me.”
Pretend. Blinking up at him, she swallowed the lump in her throat. Pretend to love him.
“Although I know it might not be easy,” he said dryly. Then he shook his head. “But you are not so selfish as to refuse.”
With an intake of breath, Laura clenched her hands into fists. “Maybe I am. Now.”
His sensual mouth curved. “The Laura I knew always put the needs of the people she loved above herself. I know that hasn’t changed.” His dark eyebrow lifted. “You probably stayed up all night making your sister’s wedding cake.”
Her lips twisted with a dark emotion. “I really hate you.”
“Hate me if you will. But if you do not come with me to Rio tonight…” He clawed his black hair back with his hand, then exhaled. His dark eyes seemed fathomless and deep, echoing with pain. “I will lose my father’s legacy. Forever.”
Shivering in the cold night, cradling her whimpering baby in the warmth of her arms, Laura looked up into Gabriel’s handsome, haggard face. She knew better than anyone what the Açoazul company meant to Gabriel. For years, she’d watched him scheme and plot to regain control of it. He hungered for it. His legacy.
Living in the house her great-great-great-great-grandfather had built with his own two hands, on the land her family had farmed for two centuries, Laura could understand the feeling. She looked at his face. It was a shock to see raw vulnerability in his dark eyes. It was an expression she’d never seen there before, not in all the years she’d worked for him. She could feel herself weakening.
One million dollars. For a single night of luxury in Rio, a night of beauty and pleasure. She looked down at her baby. What could that money do for her son? For her family?
But oh, the risk. Could she be strong enough to resist telling Gabriel the truth? For twenty-four hours, could she lie to his face? Could she pretend to love him, without falling in love with him again for real?
On the country road in front of their property, Laura saw a parked black sedan turn on its headlights, as if on cue. She heard the smooth purr of the engine as it slowly drove up the driveway. Over Gabriel’s head, moonlight laced the ridges of the dark clouds with silver.
She closed her eyes. “You will never come back looking for me after this?” she said in a low voice. “You will leave us in peace?”
Gabriel’s own voice was harsh. “Yes.”
Looking at him, Laura took a deep breath and spoke words that felt like a knife between her shoulder blades. The only words he’d left for her to say. “One night,” she whispered.
An hour later they arrived at the small private airport, where his jet waited outside the hangar. As they crossed the tarmac, Gabriel felt his blood rush in his ears as he stared down at her.
Laura was even more beautiful than he remembered. In the moonlight, her hair looked like dark honey. The frosty winter air gave her cheeks a soft pink glow, and as she bit her lower lip, her heart-shaped mouth looked red and inviting. For a single instant, when he’d first seen her at the farmhouse, he’d had the insane desire to kiss her.
He took a deep breath. He was tired, flying straight from Rio on his private jet. Even more than that, he was exhausted from the months of negotiations to buy back his father’s old company in Rio, to gain back the business that had been his birthright before he’d stupidly thrown it away as a grief-stricken nineteen-year-old.
He wouldn’t fail. Not this time. Gabriel glanced down grimly at his expensive platinum watch. They were still on schedule. Just.
As they climbed the steps to the jet, Laura paused, looking behind her. Shifting the baby carrier on her arm, she pulled her diaper bag up higher on her other shoulder and bit her lip. “I think we should go back to the house for a few more things—”
“You have enough for the flight?” he said shortly.
“Yes, but I didn’t pack clothes. Pajamas—”
“Everything you need will be waiting for you in Rio. It will be arranged.”
“All right.” With one last, troubled glance, she followed him up the steps.
Inside the cabin, Gabriel sat down in the white leather seat. A flight attendant offered him a glass of champagne, which he accepted. It had been harder than he’d expected to convince Laura to come. She sat across from him, suddenly glaring at him beneath her dark lashes.
Was she angry at him for some reason? God knew why. He was the one who should be angry. She’d left him in the lurch a year ago. In an act of pure charity, he’d allowed her to quit her job. It had been the act of a saint. He’d barely managed to patch up the hole she’d left in his office.
“You’d better have a very trustworthy babysitter in Rio,” she growled, refusing the offer of champagne.
He finished off the crystal flute. “Maria Silva.”
She blinked. “Your housekeeper?”
“She was my nanny when I was young.”
