Brazilian Revenge (The Brazilians) Page 4

  “One question. Why are you so hung up on finding Harry?”

  He jammed his hands in his pockets. “Are you backing down already? It didn’t take long.”

  “No. I’m just wondering. You’re a rich guy. The money—”

  “It’s not just about the financial value of what he stole,” he said, remembering the picture of his mother, the only one he had, holding a flower. To make her eternal, he had taken it to a coveted art sculptor from France. The sculpture had been acknowledged as one of the artist’s best works, and shortly after its completion, Pasquale had died, which certainly increased its value. Leonardo now understood letting a specialized art magazine feature the sculpture had been the wrong move; that’s probably how Harry learned of it and plotted to steal it. With Satyanna’s help. And his plan to put the sculpture inside his father’s grave, located on the estate their family owned, was cut short. “That sculpture represented my mother. The nicest, kindest woman who ever lived.”

  She flashed him an apologetic smile, and for a moment he almost believed her. When he hadn’t known who she was, he had trusted her in a couple days. If she hadn’t stolen from him, if she hadn’t run away, who knows what else could have happened? They could have been together. What was his excuse now? He knew who she was, and how she played a part in deceiving an old lady who ended up dead. She tried to bribe a cop, for crying out loud. Satyanna Darling was not the woman for him. And never would be.

  “I’m sorry.” She started to head upstairs, then stopped midway and spun around. “Fine. I’ll go with you to the hospital.”

  …

  She drummed her fingers on the designer jeans his good-looking assistant had brought. Sure, the woman had gorgeous olive skin that made her paleness dreadful, combined with curves that guys usually went for. Satyanna’s heart raced.

  She was no dummy. Wassername was his lover, or had been at some point. Could she blame her? Although…why would she agree to bring her clothes? Strange.

  “What’s on your mind?” he asked without stopping reading his iPad next to her in the chauffeured Lincoln Town Car.

  She scooted away from him, her fingers drumming the old-fashioned wooden door handle. “I was thinking about food.”

  “Hungry again?”

  She touched her stomach. “All the time.” Well, that wasn’t a lie, was it?

  He slated her a sideways glance. “Good. You should put some meat on your bones.”

  “Hey, chill, I’m not that skinny. Plus, I lost some weight after I left the hospital.” She rubbed her hand on her neck, touching the hot pulse in her vein. Every time those miserable days haunted her memory, her palm slicked and blood boiled. I lost the daughter I’ll never have. Her only shot at making a family of her own was ruined. According to the doctors, she could never get pregnant again.

  “We’ll find out if that, in fact, happened soon,” he said, eyes focused on his tablet.

  “Is that why you aren’t after Harry, yet? Because you don’t believe me?”

  “That, and also if you were telling me the truth, the hospital is a good place to begin inquiring. If the visit is unfruitful or I need any more details, I can call a private detective I trust.”

  “The same person who has been looking for me?” she asked, remembering how she had fled from city to city over the past months, afraid she would be thrown in jail, used different names, and barely spoke to anyone. “He doesn’t seem very talented, does he?”

  Shifting in his seat, Leonardo tossed the iPad to the side. He drew back, and she hated how on display she felt whenever he shot her one of those long-lasting glances. She swallowed hard. “How did you stay off the grid?”

  “I skipped from town to town. I grabbed my bag that had some cash, and withdrew my savings.” Money that was now gone. “I was stuck without my passport, and if I went to the American Embassy, I’d be history. I would take money from the Devil himself to be able to carry a healthy pregnancy.”

  “What was your plan?”

  “When the child was born, I would look for you and hope you didn’t throw me out the window,” she said. “I never intended on keeping the baby a secret for so long.” After having been raised by strangers, she decided her offspring deserved better. And, yeah, what if a part of her fantasized of Leonardo’s forgiveness, and perhaps even him being an involved parent?

  His lips quirked up. “You have all the right answers.”

  This will never work. “Yet it’s like I have none at all.”

  The car came to a halt. He slid out and held the door open for her. She sucked in a breath, and tried to dry her dampened palms on her jeans. A glance at the white, square-shaped facility was all she needed to remember the events of that day. She touched her belly, just like she had when she woke up from the coma. When she stepped on the pebbled sideway, her knees weakened.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” she said. Her heart galloped, and she chewed her lower lip hard as if she could somehow stop the crazy rush.

  “Why not? Because there was never a baby?” he asked.

  “N-no,” she said, and he gripped her arm and pulled her into him. The collision with his wide chest set a forbidden frisson through her, strong enough to distract her from her own panic. Don’t show weakness. Gathering her strength, she tried to escape his hold, but he only grasped her harder. “Hey. You’re hurting me.”

  His face paled, and his fingers loosened on her. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

  No. And she would never be okay. And that was just something she was going to live with. Didn’t he have a point? She traveled with Harry to Brazil on his dime, even though she demanded none of it stemmed from his illicit business, how could she know for sure? Even the few properties he owned were built on deceit. I’m no better than Harry. Hard to agree, but Leonardo was right.

  She cleared her throat. Whining wouldn’t get her anywhere. The man was obviously not cutting her any slack. The sooner she proved she hadn’t lied, the better. “Let’s do this.”

  He curled his lips, but then released her, almost like he’d prefer to confront her, to try to destroy her when she was stronger than weak. Damn it. Why did he have to be so freaking ethical?

  He withdrew his hand from her, but her skin seared as she followed him into the hospital. Although he gestured for her to go ahead of him, she preferred to let her eyes feast on his amazing ass. Leonardo exuded confidence as he walked, his spine locked into place, and his buttocks the Achilles’ heel of any female with a pulse.

  Well, not this woman.

  Getting involved with him once had been a mistake. Getting involved with him again would cost her everything.

  Chapter Four

  “We need to talk to the director,” Leonardo told the receptionist over the half-moon counter.

  The clinic was rather small, with a sundry shop in the corner where a middle-aged woman fussed over a day-old pastry. Several patients sat on the bolted-down chairs, and the floor smelled of bleach.

  The receptionist’s eyes were glued to the bulky computer screen, her fingers typing the keyboard relentlessly. “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No, but it’s an urgent matter,” he said. When the woman lifted her gaze to his, he flashed her a smile. In the beginning of his career, his looks had been a burden at first—he got pegged as the privileged pretty boy before his clients gave him a chance. If they only knew about all the hardships endured as a poor child growing up in Northeastern Brazil. A child whose mother’s disease claimed her far too early, he had stepped up when his older brother Bruno fled the country for a better life in the USA.

  Sure, Bruno had helped by paying for his education, but as soon as Leonardo opened his law firm he paid his brother back. Every single cent. Being the brother of one of the world’s best software developers had opened the doors for his firm, but his talent and determination made it thrive and become one of the most reputable in the country.

  The receptionist�
�s cheeks reddened, and she smoothed her hand over her ponytail. “I can take a look.”

  Leaning over the counter, he broadened his smile. “That would be appreciated, Dolores,” he said, reading her nametag.

  She blushed. “O-of course.”

  Satyanna nudged his elbow. “Nicely played, Romeo. What are you going to do when you meet the director, drop your pants and ask for access to the archives?”

  He suppressed a chuckle. “I don’t have to. You were a patient here, and it’s your right to get your medical information.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “True.”

  While the receptionist made the call, he glanced around them. A skinny man wearing a blue uniform mopped the floors. That fact would have gone unnoticed, but Leonardo saw the man staring at Satyanna. Quietly. Intently.

  Dolores placed the phone on the receiver and turned to him. “He will see you now. What’s your name, senhor?”

  “Leonardo Duarte.”

  “Oh. Your face is familiar.” She smiled. “From Addie Duarte’s family?”

  Leonardo nodded. His sister-in-law’s efforts to help Kwanis and, by extension, Brazilian Indians had gained national exposure after she had worked on a couple of high-profile projects. Hell, he had even assisted her with a couple legal matters.

  “The director will see you now.” She leaned over the counter and whispered, “He has a meeting with some vendors.” She pointed at the guy sitting in the corner with a fake leather case on his lap. “But I squeezed you in.” She winked.

  He winked back. “Thanks for squeezing me in.”

  The receptionist left her booth and gestured for them to follow her.

  Satyanna walked too close to him, and the fresh notes of her citrusy scent pushed their way into his nostrils before he could avoid it. “Should I get you two a room?” she asked, a pang of irritation in her voice.

  He glanced at her. “Why? You think you are the only one who can use your sex appeal?”

  “I haven’t used it in a while.”

  “Not even when you got pulled over by the cop?”

  “Didn’t work on him. Some guys just have bad taste,” she said, amusement flickering in her eyes. Damn it. She was challenging him, wasn’t she?

  “I know what you mean.” He believed her emerald eyes once, and he ended up robbed and, if he was honest with himself, heartbroken. What would be different now? Nothing, and he was about to prove it.

  Following the receptionist, he turned into a narrower hallway.

  “I have to say, though, you’re pretty handy,” she said in a low voice.

  Shaking his head, he gestured for her to go in front of him. “Don’t get cute.”

  Satyanna chuckled. “Cute? First I have sex appeal, then I’m cute? Nice to know your opinion of me isn’t as low as it seems.” She nudged his elbow, and the unexpected touch was like a punch in his freaking gut. A part of him seared with yearning for more. A foolish part. His body tensed up, his blood going on a low simmer.

  “We’re not okay, you and I. We’re not sharing inside jokes. We’re not acting like none of the past year didn’t happen. Do you understand?” he said, in a tone that left no doubt. A part of him scorned his elementary school-level maturity. But, if he didn’t say it out loud, if he didn’t cling to it, if he didn’t believe it, how could his hate for her be true? And damn it, he needed it to be true, because if it wasn’t, he was in deep shit.

  She chewed on her lower lip. “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  Treating any woman badly was beneath him. Yet Satyanna…evoked in him emotions he couldn’t figure out. No good would come from this visit, he realized, as the receptionist opened the door and they entered a small office. A tall man in his fifties, his hair a tad too dark for his age, greeted them.

  If she had lied to him, she’d pay. And if she had truly hidden the fact she was pregnant when he could have protected his child, she’d pay, too. He hadn’t been able to protect his brother Bruno when they were young, which was why Bruno had left Brazil as a teenager. With his children, it would all be different. Forgiving her wasn’t a possibility. Avenging her was a different story.

  “Sit down, please.” The director gestured at the two chairs across from the desk. “What brings you here, Mr. Duarte?”

  “My friend here claims she stayed at your clinic a few months ago when she gave birth to a baby, and I wondered if you have any medical records you could share.”

  The director assessed Satyanna and nodded. “I remember her. Yes. I’m sorry about the baby. It was a girl, wasn’t it?”

  Ice spread in his stomach. Could it be true? He clenched his jaw, seeing red at the corners of his eyes. Parenthood wasn’t supposed to be like this. How, in a single moment, could the happiness of having conceived a child be crushed by the death of an infant? He curled his fists so hard, his knuckles whitened.

  “Yes. Lyanna,” she said, but didn’t look at Leonardo.

  The director leaned back in his chair. “I know everything that goes on in my clinic. We’re not big or famous, but I take pride in keeping up with everything. If you give me a moment I can make a copy of your chart if you need,” he said, and rocked back from the chair, pointing at a printer that could have time-traveled straight from the nineties.

  “Sure, that would be great,” she said in a small voice.

  …

  With a folder in hand, Satyanna strode out of the office. They walked in silence through the reception area, emotions swirling inside her. Returning to the place that yanked her shot at happiness was soul crushing. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, and she wiped them with the tip of her index finger.

  “Look at me,” she asked when they reached the parking lot. “Say something,” she said, raising her voice.

  Leonardo turned to her, his main vein visibly pulsating on his neck. Lips hardened into a thin line, as if he was about to mince his words. If she thought her nightmare was over, damn it, his hurtful glare hinted it was just getting started. Swallowing hard, she peered at him, hoping the waves of frustration and sadness inside her would subside.

  “Hug me.”

  “What?”

  “You just learned your daughter died. Come here,” she said, opening her arms. As bad as it was for her, the shock probably only hit him. And if he thought he was going to blame her for what happened, he had another think coming. That game was over.

  “I don’t want to hug you.”

  “But you need to,” she said, erasing the distance between them. So do I. The talking, the arguing more like it, could wait. He frowned at her, skeptical like an injured animal in the woods. Ignoring the noticeable tension stretching through his clothes, she wrapped her arms around him, delicately at first. She gave him the grace period of a few seconds as her hands tapped his back, half expecting him to jerk her away and bark something at her.

  He didn’t.

  Quarterback arms enveloped her, and she soaked in his nearness. Notes of bamboo and mint danced around her, and she pushed his scent into her nostrils. Leonardo tightened his embrace; his body was all ridges and planes, much like the year before. He was strong, overpowering, and…he needed her.

  A groan escaped his lips, and she wasn’t sure if he was fighting back tears or anger. Either way, his grip on her remained steady, and she rested her head on his shoulder. A powerful, hot wave enveloped her like an electric blanket on a snowy winter night. When was the last time she had held someone? Too long. Too damn long.

  She linked her arms around him, and even though rationally he evoked all kinds of warring reactions in her, she couldn’t ignore the thrumming of her heart. It didn’t matter what would happen a second from now, nor what had happened in the past. For the time being, they were two parents grieving the loss of a child.

  Hot tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she blinked them back.

  “Senhor. Senhora.”

  Leonardo let go of her before she had a chance to disengage from him, and he ran hi
s fingers down his face. His eyes were red. She turned on her heels, and found a skinny guy with facial hair and blue uniform. The cleaning staff from the hospital.

  Leonardo stepped forward. “Yes. What is it?”

  Her Portuguese wasn’t super fluent, and sure, she spoke with a laughable American accent, but thank goodness she could understand most of it.

  The man was catching his breath. Sweat beaded his forehead. “I need to tell you something.”

  Nervously, he glanced around them before saying, “I was working that week when you were admitted to the clinic. When you had the surgery—”

  “And my baby died,” she said.

  “The…baby died.” Leonardo narrowed his eyes.

  The honk from a bus across the street almost made her turn around. Almost. She couldn’t. The man wiped the sweat off his forehead and leaned closer to them, again apparently aware of his surroundings. What could he be scared of? Besides pedestrians jaywalking and some folks waiting at the bus stop. “No. Your baby is still alive.”

  Alive? Her heart skipped a beat, and it took too damn long to pulse again—this time, like it was about to gallop out of her chest. For the past three months her life had been an endless, dark tunnel. She ran from Harry, from Leonardo, and most of all, from herself. From her pain, even though it was there, every step of the way. Pain. Could there be a tiny flicker of hope at the end, waiting for her? “E-excuse me?” she managed to say, her hand circling her stomach.

  He shook his head. “I was told to keep my mouth shut. Listen, I’m just a lowly worker. I help support my family. I can’t lose my job.”

  Her temples throbbed, and for a second she thought she was going to faint. She lifted her hand to her forehead, willing the anxiety away. Could that be true? Her Lyanna…alive?

  “What happened? Tell me now,” Leonardo demanded. Stepping forward, he could easily tower over the guy, with hands perched on his belt, his posture stiff and eyes darkening.

  “When the baby was born, they transferred her somewhere. I thought it was to a neonatal intensive care at a bigger hospital, but honestly I don’t know for sure. And I heard someone paid a lot of money to the director and medical team. To make it seem like the baby hadn’t made it.”