Returning to Claim His Heir

She shook her head, the ghost of a smile crossing her lips.

Duarte couldn’t help it; he laughed at the crazy turn his day had taken.

She looked up at him through thick lashes, her eyes filled with surprise, and for a moment, Duarte felt the strong pull of déjà vu. His mind grasped at the feeling, but it was like trying to hold on to water and feeling its weight slip through his fingers.

Why did he feel as if seeing her was the key to unlocking some hidden compartment in his memory?

A young nurse chose that moment to interrupt, looking at Duarte as she explained that she needed to talk to the baby’s father for a moment.

Nora’s entire body froze, and a sudden lucidity that was almost akin to blind panic entered her eyes.

‘No! He needs to leave.’ Her voice lowered to a growl as another contraction hit her and her body began to arch forward. ‘Get him out of this hospital.’

Duarte took a stunned step back just as another doctor entered the room and announced that they would be preparing her for immediate emergency surgery.

He was swiftly whisked away from her and taken down the hall to fill out some paperwork. The surgeon was a kind-faced young woman who assured him that his partner and the baby would be well taken care of.

Duarte opened his mouth to correct her, only to find she was already rushing away.

Keeping his mind occupied, he strode down to the nurses’ station and set about filling in more paperwork. He had no idea what her date of birth was, or even her nationality so, against all his instincts, he opened her handbag and her suitcase and began to search.

For a woman who said she was leaving town, she had packed suspiciously light. Her bags contained no identification nor any clues as to where she might have been headed. She didn’t even have a mobile phone. Baffled, he listed his own details as next of kin and made sure it was known that no expense should be spared in her care.

The nurse’s eyes widened, her gaze flickering between the name scrawled on the form and the long scar on the side of his face. For a moment Duarte was confused, but then he winced and cursed under his breath. In all the drama he’d forgotten that technically he was supposed to be dead. His family name was well known in this part of Brazil, thanks to their wealth of charity work.

He walked away from the stunned recognition in the woman’s eyes, knowing that at some point he was going to have to contact Dani and explain how he’d come to be spotted in Rio, in hospital with a pregnant woman.

His shoulder twinged again, the pain hot and uncomfortable under his designer shirt. He had missed out on his evening swimming regime due to the long flight, and already he could feel his muscles seizing in protest. He seemed to be in a constant state of management, swimming against the tide and trying to live a normal life with his new damaged body.

After what felt like hours, he walked back down the corridor towards the operating theatre, feeling like a caged animal pacing its enclosure. Running a hand along the stubble growing on his jaw, he ignored the tension in his gut and instead puzzled over the way Nora Beckett had embraced him in the rain.

She’d thought him dead and had seemed overwhelmed at the sight of his return. She’d known him. He could have sworn he’d felt the echo of some fierce connection between them every time she’d looked at him. And yet she’d looked at him with fear in her eyes, and had bellowed for him to be taken from the room.

Something didn’t make sense...

Unable to stay put a moment longer, he moved purposefully down the corridor to demand an update. At the same moment a nurse emerged from the double doors that led down to the operating theatres with a bundle of white linen in her arms.

‘Senhor, I was just coming to get you.’ She beamed. ‘Baby boy is completely healthy. We’d like you to get settled in the suite while the team finish with Senhora Beckett.’

‘Is she okay?’ he asked, swallowing hard as he peered down at the small face, barely visible in the folds of material.

‘The procedure required heavy anaesthesia and she is still sedated.’

The nurse ushered him down the hall to a large private suite. The small bundle was placed in a cot beside the bed and then the nurse apologised as she was suddenly called from the room by a beeping device at her hip.

Alone, and utterly out of his depth, Duarte felt his chest tighten with anxiety as the infant began to wriggle. Did they usually abandon babies to the care of clueless billionaires around here? Give him a priceless antique catamaran and he would know how to take it apart and put it back together blindfold. But children had never exactly been a part of his wild playboy lifestyle.

Duarte walked to the side of the cot and peered down at the infant, its tiny features scrunched up, its hands flailing. Without thinking, he reached into the cot towards one tiny hand. His heart seemed to thump in his ears as his index finger was instantly grasped in a tight fist and the wriggling stopped.

‘There you go, pequeno,’ he murmured, rubbing his other hand against his sternum, trying to control the frantic beating of his heart as he marvelled at the force of the boy’s grip. ‘You can hold on tight if that helps. Your mamãe will be here soon.’

Nora opened her eyes to find she was still dreaming.

Often in the past six months she had fallen asleep to dream of Duarte, his amber eyes alive and full of happiness as he cradled their newborn baby. In that perfect life there was no anger or lies between them, no danger or threat of punishment from her villainous father.

Sh

e blinked at the vision before her in the luxurious hospital room—the painfully handsome man in his perfect designer shirt, shirtsleeves rolled up as he cradled the tiny infant in his powerful arms. She closed her eyes briefly at the memory of how she’d embraced him so passionately in her shock, then clung to him as he’d rushed her to the hospital.