The Brazilian's Blackmailed Bride

‘I was worried about you.’

‘Sim.’ She understood that too.

‘I was concerned that you were desperate enough to snatch at any rescue package placed on the table if it stopped the Alagoas Consortium from raping your land.’

‘You know what, Gabriel?’ Her shoulders sagged suddenly. ‘I thought so too…’

‘But it did not work out like that?’

No, it didn’t. Luis had found her ceiling price without even knowing it.

‘I’m going home,’ she said quietly.

‘Since I am watching you pack, minha amiga, I have managed to make that assumption,’ Gabriel drawled. ‘But then what will you do?’

The answer to that was frighteningly simple. ‘I don’t know.’

And neither, by his silence, did Gabriel.

‘Get your shower,’ he advised, after one of those dull, throbbing moments. ‘I will see if I can get you a seat on a flight to Sao Paulo tonight.’

The shower went part-way to lifting her flagging spirits, aided by her refusal to let herself think. She spent time blow-drying some of the wetness from her hair, then left it to do its own thing while she applied a light layer of makeup, then put on fresh underwear, followed by the jeans and a white T-shirt. All she had left to do was to finish packing.

Placing the case ready by the front door, she made her way along the hall towards the kitchen, following the aroma of freshly made coffee. Pushing open the door was the simple part. Taking in the sight that met her eyes was not simple at all.

Her heart ceased to beat, robbing her of the ability to do anything other than stand there and stare at the two men casually propping up the kitchen units, drinking coffee like old friends. Both were wearing dark business suits, their jackets hanging carelessly open over white shirts and dark ties as they sipped coffee from white porcelain mugs. Only one of them had the power to hold her so thoroughly trapped like this.

‘Luis…’ She breathed his name.

‘Does she always call you Luis?’ Gabriel asked curiously.

‘Unique to Cristina,’ Anton replied, eyes like green granite as he flicked them over her loose hair and her casual T-shirt and jeans.

‘W-what are you doing here?’ she demanded stupidly.

‘Treading in the shadow of your stubborn path.’ A black eyebrow arched. ‘Did you really expect me not to come after you?’

‘Cristina has always been stubborn,’ Gabriel put in conversationally. ‘You have an English saying I cannot quite bring to mind that describes this stubbornness perfectly…’

‘Cutting off her nose to spite her beautiful face?’

‘Ah, sim.’ Gabriel nodded. ‘She also hates to admit it when she is wrong…’

Dragging her gaze away from one man, Cristina looked at the other. It did not take many brain cells to read the message in Gabriel’s tone. While she had been showering he and Luis had talked. Gabriel now knew that the rescue package was not only rock-solid but that it came with a very respectable offer of marriage as well. The dream solution, in other words, for not only did she get the money she needed to save Santa Rosa from the wicked developers, she got herself a good looking, filthy rich husband willing to save her miserable, empty little soul at the same time!

Cristina pulled in a breath. Her chin went up. ‘I see,’ she said as she breathed out again. ‘From hating each other, the two of you have now become firm allies over a friendly cup of coffee. Well, forgive me if I don’t bother to join you.’

With that she turned and walked out—escaped was a more honest word. Inside she was trembling and shaking, shocked to find Luis here and truly afraid of what it was going to mean. She’d seen the anger burning in the green granite. She’d heard the warning threat threading his smooth silken voice. And even as she hurried down the hall towards her suitcase she knew she was running scared.

The hand that reached for her suitcase before she could pick it up told her everything. The strong arm that became a manacle around her middle said a whole lot more.

‘Packed already?’ Luis said lightly. ‘Good. Then we can leave.’

‘I am not going with you,’ she told him, standing like a wooden plank in the crook of his arm.

‘You are,’ he returned without compromise. ‘We made a deal.’

‘I changed my mind.’