Diogo was a Carioca by birth. He hadn't been shocked. But he'd instinctively glanced back at his wholesome junior secretary trailing behind him, her hand clinging tightly to his own. He'd seen her look in the alley, and her pink lips had parted in a hoarse intake of breath.
And then she'd turned and looked straight into Diogo's eyes.
Wordlessly asking him to touch her.
Begging him to taste her.
Suddenly, amid the frenzied celebration of the music- filled batucadas swaying to the frenetic rhythm filling the air like exotic perfume, he'd really seen Ellie Jensen. Not just as a beautiful girl, but a pure-hearted beauty, skin white as snow, hair like spun gold. Ellie had been so desirable that it had made him hurt inside. As if he'd gone back in time to when he'd still believed in love and fidelity…
He shook his head. Love? Abestado. He'd stopped believing in that particular fairy tale long ago. But he'd known then that he had to have Ellie or die.
People lost their minds during Carnaval. They discarded marriage vows without repercussion or blame. Diogo had briefly lost his senses beneath the pounding rhythm—nothing more and nothing less.
He didn't remember how he got her upstairs to his penthouse. He just remembered the way she'd trembled beneath him in bed. Her gasp of pain and his own shock when he'd discovered she was an untouched virgin—not wholesome just in appearance, but reality. He'd tried to pull back, but she'd reached up and kissed him with lips so tender and sweet that all possibility of stopping was swept away. He'd thrust into her slowly, inch by agonizing inch, until he heard another slow-rising cry rise from deep inside her. He made her come again, and then a third time, until the tears in her eyes were from pleasure too great to bear.
Only then did he finally allow himself to surrender. He thrust inside her, imploding with an explosion of white heat that made him collapse against her on the bed.
Afterwards, he'd held her. He made love to her all night. And far more surprising—he'd slept in her arms. He still remembered the feel of her soft, gentle body. Knowing that when dawn came, he would have to give her up.
Biskreta, he grew hard just thinking about that night.
Staring at her now, even as he demanded that she leave both him and the baby forever, he wanted her back in his bed. Craved her beyond all reason. Beyond all resistance.
But he couldn't trust her. Ellie was young, naive, shortsighted. If Diogo hadn't guessed the truth about his baby's paternity, he would never have even known that he existed. Ellie would have married that bastard Wright. She would have given his child away.
Did she know what kind of man Timothy Wright was? Did she have any idea how he'd suddenly gotten so rich over the last few years—his nasty little side business?
Diogo intended to find out.
“A hundred million dollars is a lot of money, Ellie. It's far more than Wright would have gotten for you.”
Her china-blue eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”
He watched her narrowly. “Don't you know?”
She shook her head, and her lips turned down in a sad little moue. “I just know I treated Timothy badly,” she whispered. “He's loved me for ages. But I couldn't love him no matter how hard I tried. Then I humiliated him in front of all our wedding guests…”
Diogo barked a laugh. “He deserves far worse.” Suddenly haunted by the image of a woman's face, he looked away. “I nearly killed him at Christmas. With my bare hands.”
“Why?” He heard Ellie take a step toward him, heard her intake of breath. “What did he do?”
“Do you really want to know?” he asked harshly.
She put her hand on his arm. “Yes. I want to know.”
He looked up at her. Ellie had changed a great deal from the shy secretary he remembered. Her body had changed, as well. He could now see the unmistakable signs of pregnancy. Her pale skin glowed. Her slender breasts had grown huge. They swelled beneath the pretty neckline of her maternity dress, straining beneath the fabric.
He found himself picturing what those new breasts now looked like. What they felt like.
How they tasted.
Maldição, she was the most alluring woman he'd ever met. And she didn't even realize her own power…
His whole body broke into a hot sweat. Desire went through him with an unbearable force that made his hands tremble. He wanted to toss her onto the bed, take her hard against the wall, to thrust into her again and again until he satiated this agonizing need…
He clenched his hands, turned away. He had to get a hold of himself. It wasn't like him to be so close to losing control!
“Ellie,” he said in a low voice, “do you know how Wright was getting so rich?”