Back in the Brazilian's Bed

‘I know Dante used to provoke the hell out of you when you were young,’ Luc remarked as he relaxed into his triumph. ‘No one was more surprised than me when you practically made him guest of honour at your eighteenth birthday party.’

Karina flinched as she remembered and had to pin a smile to her face. ‘My friends wanted him there.’ She shrugged. ‘And there’s been a lot of water under the bridge since then.’ Monumental understatement.

Unaware of the undercurrents, Luc laughed off her comment. ‘If you say so. I haven’t seen you anywhere near Dante since that night, so I’m guessing he said something out of turn, but whatever he did to upset you, my advice is to leave it in the past so you can see the bigger picture.’

She could see the bigger picture and it wasn’t pretty.

Turning away, she walked to the window to put some distance between herself and her sharp-eyed brother.

‘Dante is the lynchpin of our team,’ he stressed. ‘He’s hosting the polo cup. We need someone to organise it. What more do you need to know?’

‘Nothing,’ she agreed, staring blindly out of the window.

Karina would be the first to admit she’d been a wild child. Dante had been a big part of that past, but while he’d been worldly and experienced, she’d taken longer to grow up. She’d been na?ve and a bit of a dreamer, and had paid a high price for her lack of sophistication. Growing up fast had been forced on her. Putting her sensible head on had come too late. She had clipped her party wings, but it still tore her up to know that by then the damage had been done. It had been a steep learning curve ever since, and that had been something in which Dante had played no part...

‘I understand this is the biggest contract you’ve ever handled,’ Luc remarked, misreading her preoccupation. ‘You’re bound to have concerns, Karina, but I know you can nail this.’

‘I’ll do a good job for you,’ she promised, turning to face him.’

‘I know you will. That’s why I want you and no one else to handle this contract. And, believe me,’ Luc added with a smile to reassure her, ‘no one finds Dante easy.’

‘With the possible exception of the women in his life,’ she countered dryly.

‘What’s that to you?’ Luc said suspiciously.

‘Absolutely nothing.’ She held his stare steadily until he looked away.

Leaning back against the cold, smooth glass, she remembered begging Luc to let her continue her studies abroad. She’d given him the excuse that she’d had enough of Rio and being under his wing, and that it was time for her to make her own way in life. Luc hadn’t guessed for a minute that all she’d really wanted was to get away from Dante. Luc had paid for her to go to catering college, which had turned out better than she had expected. She’d ended up winning a full scholarship to a prestigious Swiss training facility for event planners, where she had excelled. Equipped with an honours diploma, she had returned to Rio ready to change the world—or, at least, her brother’s hotel chain—only to find a highly sceptical Luc waiting for her.

She had won her spurs by working on small assignments for him, until he’d finally allowed her to work on his bigger projects. This Gaucho Polo Cup was the biggest project to date by far. And, yes, she wanted to be part of it. And, yes, she knew she could make it a success. She had the expertise and the inside knowledge when it came to the world of polo. But she’d be working with Dante, and that was a problem. She wasn’t the person she’d been in the past, but would Dante see that? According to the press he hadn’t changed and the word ‘wild’ still defined him. She only had to open a magazine to see him dating another woman. Dante Baracca attracted glamorous females in dizzying succession, but then he discarded them twice as fast. So nothing had changed.

‘Dante Baracca, the hard man of polo.’ Her brother said this with amusement, quoting a phrase most often associated with his teammate. ‘You’ll be the envy of half the women in the world.’

‘Half the women in the world don’t need a wake-up call from me,’ she argued. ‘And, if they did, I’d tell them that their idol has feet of clay.’

Luc drew back his head to give her a look. ‘That’s a little harsh when you’ve barely spoken to the man for years.’

‘For a very good reason,’ she dismissed. ‘Who needs trouble like Dante Baracca in their life?’

Dante could be charming when it suited him, but he could also be hard and cold. If Dante would behave professionally, she might be able to make this work. If not... Her thoughts took her back to a man with black hair, black eyes and a black heart, a man who looked like a Gypsy king with gold earrings glinting in his ears. She could still remember the night Dante had punched those gold hoops into his own earlobes because she’d challenged him to do so. They’d both been wild when he’d been fourteen and she’d been ten, back in the day when they could take risks and get away with them.