Fonseca's Fury

Luca stirred the fire, oblivious to her heated imaginings. ‘I’ll let you get settled.’

Serena turned away and crawled into the tent, pulling off her boots, but leaving her clothes on. Then she felt silly. Luca hadn’t given her the slightest hint that he felt any desire for her whatsoever, and she longed to feel cooler. She took off her shirt and stripped down to her panties, and pulled the sleeping bag around her.

She prayed that sleep would come as it had last night, like a dark blanket of oblivion, so she wouldn’t have to hear Luca come in and deal with the reality that he slept just inches away from her and probably resented every moment.

* * *

Luca willed his body to cool down. He didn’t like how off-centre Serena was pushing him. Making him desire her; wonder about her. Wanting to know more. She was surprising him.

He’d been exposed to the inherent selfishness of his mother and women in general from a very early age, so it was not a welcome sensation thinking that he might have misjudged her.

Lovers provided him with physical relief and an escort when he needed it. But his life was not about women, or settling down. He had too much to do to undo all the harm his father and grandfather had caused. He had set himself a mammoth task when his father had died ten years ago: to reverse the negative impact of the name Fonseca in Brazil, which up till then had been synonymous with corruption, greed and destruction.

The allegations of his drug-taking had come at the worst possible time for Luca—just when people had been beginning to sit up and trust that perhaps he was different and genuine about making a change. It was only now that he was back in that place.

And the person who could reverse all his good work was only feet away from him. He had to remember that. Remember who she was and what she had the power to do to him. Even if she was innocent, any association with her would incite all that speculation again.

Only when Luca felt sure that Serena must be asleep did he turn in himself, doing his best to ignore the curled-up shape inside the sleeping bag that was far too close to his for comfort. He’d really not expected to have to share this tent with anyone, and certainly not with Serena DePiero for a second night in a row.

But as he lay down beside her he had to acknowledge uncomfortably that there was no evidence of the spoilt ex-wild-child. There wasn’t one other woman he could think of, apart from those whose life’s work it was to study the Amazon, who would have fared better than her over the past couple of days. And even some of those would have run screaming long before now, back to the safety of a research lab, or similar.

He thought of her putting up the tent, her tongue caught between her teeth as she exerted herself, sweat dripping down her neck and disappearing into the tantalising vee of her shirt. Gritting his jaw tightly, Luca sighed and closed his eyes. He’d accused her of not lasting in the jungle, but it was he who craved the order of civilisation again—anything to dilute this fire in his blood and put an end to the questions Serena kept throwing up.

* * *

A couple of hours later Luca woke, instantly alert and tensed, waiting to hear a sound outside. But it came from inside the tent. Serena. Moaning in her sleep in Italian.

‘Papa...no, per favore, non che... Siena, aiutami.’

Luca translated the last word: help me. There was something gutturally raw about her words, and they were full of pain and emotion. Her voice cracked then, and Luca’s chest squeezed when he heard her crying.

Acting on instinct, Luca reached over and touched her shoulder.

Almost instantly she woke up and turned her head. ‘Ché cosa?’

Something about the fact that she was still speaking Italian made his chest tighten more. ‘You were dreaming.’ He felt as if he’d invaded her privacy.

Serena went as tense as a board. He could see the bright glitter of those blue eyes in the gloom.

‘Sorry for waking you.’

Her voice was thick, her accent stronger. He felt her pull abruptly away from his hand as she curled up again. Her hair was a bright sliver of white-gold and his body grew hot as he thought of it trailing over his naked chest as she sat astride him and took him deep into her body.

Anger at the wanton direction of his thoughts, at how easily she got under his skin and how she’d pulled away just now, almost as if he’d done something wrong, made him say curtly, ‘Serena?’

She said nothing, and that wound him up more. A moment ago he’d been feeling sorry for her, disturbed by the gut-wrenching sound of those sobs. But now memories of his mother and how she’d use her emotions to manipulate the people around her made Luca curse himself for being so weak.

It made his voice harsh. ‘What the hell was that about?’

Her voice sounded muffled. ‘I said I was sorry for waking you. It was nothing.’

‘It didn’t sound like nothing to me.’

Serena turned then, those eyes flashing, her hair bright against the dark backdrop of the tent. She said tautly, ‘It was a dream, okay? Just a bad dream and I’ve already forgotten it. Can we go to sleep now, please?’

Luca reacted viscerally to the fact that Serena was all but spitting at him, clearly in no need of comfort whatsoever. She pressed his buttons like no one else, and all he could think about right then was how much he wanted her to submit to him—anything to drown out all the contradictions she was putting in his head.

He reached out and found her arms, pulled her into him, hearing her shocked little gasp.