Dante Claiming His Secret Love-Child
Her lush, beautiful body—And what did that matter?
She was out of his life. That was what he’d wanted the night he broke up with her; it was what he wanted now. But he’d do the right thing. Give her the ranch. Set up a trust fund for the kid.
Another for her. And that would be the end of it.
The absolute, complete end.
Then he’d get on with his life.
CHAPTER SEVEN
HE DIDN’T go to the fazenda or the hotel.
What would be the point?
He didn’t need to see Gabriella and he certainly didn’t need a room. His stay in Bonito would be brief, a couple of hours at most. All he had to do was meet with de Souza, set things up, then turn around and head home.
He arranged for the pilot and plane to remain on call, phoned to arrange for another rental vehicle, then phoned the advogado, who sounded astonished to hear that he was in Bonito.
“I thought you had returned to New York, Senhor Orsini.”
“You thought wrong. I wish to see you this morning, senhor.”
De Souza hesitated. “That is not much notice. Let me put you through to my secretary. She can check my appointment schedule—”
“I’ll be at your office in half an hour,” Dante said, and ended the call.
He grabbed a cup of coffee on his way to the car rental counter. His stomach growled as he sipped the hot liquid, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten in a while. First things first. The meeting with the lawyer. Get the legal details out of the way. Then there’d be time for everything else.
For getting his life on track.
De Souza sprang to his feet when Dante stepped into his office. Did the senhor want anything to drink? Coffee? Water? It was early but perhaps a capirihana? Dante thanked him, said he wanted nothing and wondered at the drops of sweat on the lawyer’s shiny brow. It was a hot day but not in here; if anything, the AC was set to an uncomfortable low. When he shook de Souza’s extended hand, it was like shaking hands with a chunk of ice.
The man was nervous, but why?
“Sit down, please, Senhor Orsini. This is an unexpected pleasure, but I am afraid my time is limited. Had you called last evening—”
“My time is limited, as well,” Dante said briskly. He took the chair in front of the lawyer’s desk and opened the black leather briefcase he’d brought with him. “So let’s get straight to business. I want the deed to Viera y Filho transferred to Senhorita Reyes immediately. What will you require from me?”
The attorney took a pristine white handkerchief from his breast pocket and delicately mopped his brow.
“A transfer,” he said. “But when you left without making those arrangements, I assumed—”
“I signed some papers after the auction yesterday.” Dante took the papers from the briefcase and slid them across the desk. “They’re in Portuguese, of course, but I’ve seen enough such documents to assume the blank lines on the last page are where I’d sign to transfer ownership.”
De Souza barely glanced at the papers.
“Actually…actually, it’s a bit more complicated than that, senhor. The documents you signed should have been accompanied by a check.”
“They were accompanied by a check.” The advogado was shaking his head. Dante frowned.
“What?”
“The check must be a—what do you call it? A check authorized by a bank.”
“A cashier’s check? I understand that, but I didn’t have one with me. I had no way of knowing the auction was taking place yesterday morning and I definitely had no idea how much I would bid, but the auctioneer said—Dammit, de Souza, why do you keep shaking your head? Is there a problem? Fine. I’ll call my bank. They can wire the funds here, to you or to the bank, or—”
Dante narrowed his eyes until they were an icy blue glimmer. “Now what?”
“Twenty-four hours have passed, Senhor Orsini.” De Souza gave an expressive shrug. “You have forfeited your option to the property.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
“It is in the contract you signed.”
“Well, what happens now? Do I contact the auctioneer? The bank? Surely we don’t have to go through that bidding process all over again?”
“There will be no bidding process, senhor.”
“Well, that’s something.” Dante took his cell phone from his pocket. “I’ll contact my bank in New York while you contact the bank—”
“The property has already been purchased.”
Dante felt his body stiffen. He had participated in enough tough business deals to sense that the statement was not a negotiating tactic.
“Purchased,” he said softly.