Fonseca's Fury

And then, when he’d had her, sated himself, he would be able to walk away and leave her behind for good. One thing was certain: he’d wanted her since the moment he’d laid eyes on her, and not even his antipathy for her had put a dent in that need. If he didn’t have her he’d be haunted for ever. And no woman, however alluring, retained any hold over him once he’d had her.

He came up on one elbow and looked down, saw her eyes flash blue as she looked at him. Her mouth was swollen.

Luca forced down the animalistic urge to take her there and then. He was civilised. He’d spent years convincing people that he wasn’t his lush of a mother or his corrupt father.

‘No, I didn’t.’

He saw her frown slightly. ‘Why didn’t you...?’

He finished for her, ‘Make love to you?’

Serena nodded her head, pulling the sleeping bag back up over her body. Luca resisted the urge to yank it back down. Control.

His jaw was hard. ‘I didn’t make love to you, Serena, because I have no protection with me. And when we do make love it will be in more comfortable surroundings.’

He sensed her tensing.

‘Don’t be so sure I want to make love to you, Luca.’

He smiled and felt ruthless. ‘Minha beleza, don’t even try to pretend that you would have objected to making love here and now. I felt your body’s response and it didn’t lie. Even if you don’t like it.’

She opened her mouth and he reached out and put a finger to her lips, stopping her words.

‘Don’t even waste your breath. After that little performance you’re mine as surely as if I’d stamped a brand on your body.’

She smacked his hand away, hard enough to sting. ‘Go to hell, Luca.’

Luca curbed the desire to show Serena in a more subtle way that what he said was true, but it was true that he didn’t have protection, and he knew that if he touched her again he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

So he lay down and closed his eyes, just saying darkly, ‘Not before I take you with me, princesa.’

The fact that he could sense Serena fuming beside him only made him more determined to shatter her control again.

She would be his.

* * *

The following day Serena was galvanised on her walk—largely by the depth of her humiliation and her hatred for Luca. She glared at his back as he strode ahead of her and mentally envisaged a jaguar springing from the jungle to swallow him whole.

She couldn’t get the lurid images out of her head—the way she’d so completely and without hesitation capitulated to Luca’s lovemaking. The way he’d played her body like a virtuoso played a violin. The way he’d controlled her reactions while maintaining his own control.

His words mocked her: ‘After that little performance you’re mine.’ She felt like screaming. Unfortunately it had been no performance—which was galling, considering that for most of her life she’d perfected the performance of a spoilt, reckless heiress.

But on a deeper level what had happened last night with Luca terrified her.

For as long as she could remember there had been a layer between her and the world around her and she was still getting used to that layer being gone. She’d first tasted freedom when her father had disappeared and they’d been left with nothing. It had been too much to deal with, sending her spiralling into a hedonistic frenzy, saved only by her sister taking her to England and to rehab.

Since then she’d learnt to deal with being free; not bearing the constant weight of her father’s presence. Her job, becoming independent, was all part of that process. Even if she still harboured deep secrets and a sense of guilt.

But when Luca had been touching her last night—watching her, making her respond to his touch—her sense of freedom had felt very flimsy. Because he’d also been touching a part of her that she hadn’t yet given room to really breathe. Her emotions. Her yearning for what her sister had: a life and happiness.

And the fact that Luca had brought that to the surface made her nervous and angry. All she was to him was a conquest. A woman he believed had betrayed him. A woman he wanted to slake his desire with.

A woman he didn’t like, even if he ever conceded that she might be innocent.

She’d known that the night they’d met first. He’d had a gleam of disdain in his eyes that he’d barely concealed even as she saw the burn of desire.

And yet, damn him, since she’d walked into his office the other day it was as if everything was brighter, sharper. More intense. Bastard.