Chantelle Shaw - Postcards From Rio - Master of Her Innocence / To Play with Fire / A Taste of Desire

‘He had to go to his office. Before he left, he arranged for me to fly first class to London. My flight leaves soon, which is why I decided to wake you to say goodbye.’

Clare noted that her sister looked remarkably well after her kidnap ordeal. They had both shed tears of relief as the Dakota had flown away from Torrente and the realisation had sunk in that the danger was over. Becky had kept saying how brave Clare had been, but her praise had increased Clare’s sense of guilt that she would never have made it to Torrente without Diego and she should have trusted him when he had done so much to protect her.

‘Surely Diego has booked us both on to the flight to England?’ She remembered his anger when she had accused him of being a member of Rigo’s criminal gang. ‘Or does he expect me to sit in the luggage hold?’

Becky laughed. ‘You must have been in a deep sleep if you don’t remember that you’ll be staying in Brazil to work for the Cazorra Corporation. Diego told me you are going to run a PR campaign for an associate company he is opening in Rio under the brand name of Delgado Diamonds, which his business partner launched so successfully in Europe.’

‘Just a minute...’ Clare tried to make sense of her sister’s words but Becky carried on talking.

‘I told Dad about your plans when I phoned home to let him know we’re both safe and he’s excited that it will be a fantastic opportunity for A-Star PR. Running an advertising campaign for a huge international company like the Cazorra Corporation will really open doors for the A-Star agency. And it’s all down to you, Clare.’ Becky gave Clare a hug. ‘Dad thinks you’re amazing, and so do I. You saved my life and I’m so pleased you’re being rewarded with the chance to further your career, as well as spend time with Diego.’

‘I’m not...’

‘It’s all right; you don’t have to tell me anything.’ Becky misunderstood Clare’s attempt to interrupt. ‘It was clear from the way Diego kissed you last night that there’s something going on between you personally as well as professionally. Just be careful. Diego Cazorra has heartbreaker stamped all over him.’

‘Becky! Will you listen to me?’ Clare’s frustration bubbled over. ‘There’s been a misunderstanding. I’m flying back to England with you.’ She searched through her rucksack and in exasperation tipped its contents on to her lap. ‘I know my passport was in here.’

‘Oh, I gave it to Diego so that he could arrange a permit to allow you to work in Brazil.’ Becky stood up. ‘It’s not surprising you’re feeling confused after everything that’s happened. I’ve got to go, or I’ll miss my flight. Diego’s PA will be able to explain things more clearly.’

By the time Clare had stuffed her belongings back into her rucksack and hurried down the steps of the Dakota, her sister had disappeared into the airport terminal.

‘Miss Marchant?’ She turned towards the voice and saw an elegant-looking woman with dark hair and an exotic olive complexion. ‘My name is Juliana Alvez, Mr Cazorra’s personal assistant. If you would like to come with me, Diego has scheduled a meeting with you at twelve o’clock to discuss your new role.’

Clare was conscious that her shorts were creased after she had slept in them and her hair was a wild tangle of untidy curls, in contrast to Juliana’s sleek chignon and sophisticated cream skirt and jacket.

How personal was Diego’s personal assistant? she wondered, hating herself for the hot surge of jealousy that swept through her. Once again she had a sense that her life was spinning out of her control.

‘That’s good, because I have many questions for Diego,’ she told Juliana with an air of calm composure that disguised her anger at the way she had been outmanoeuvred.

* * *

A helicopter flight over the city gave Clare spectacular views of the iconic landmarks of Rio de Janeiro, where the coastline was met by steeply sloping hills. Sugarloaf Mountain and the towering peak of Mount Corcovado with its famous statue of Christ the Redeemer dominated the skyline. The chopper swooped over beautiful Copacabana beach before it landed on the helipad at the top of a skyscraper building that looked over the bay.

‘Where are we?’ Clare asked Diego’s PA as she followed her inside what appeared to be a luxurious boutique hotel. The whole beach-facing side of the building was glass so that even the corridors offered views of the sea.

‘The helipad has direct access to Diego’s private penthouse apartment,’ Juliana said. ‘He owns the whole skyscraper and the Cazorra Corporation’s offices are on the lower floors.’ She opened a door and ushered Clare into an enormous suite. ‘This is where you will be staying. You have a personal maid, Vitoria, who will look after you, and I will return just before twelve to take you to Diego.’

Clare felt decidedly out of place in her crumpled clothes as she explored the elegant sitting room, huge bedroom and en suite bathroom with a sunken bath the size of a small swimming pool. The decor of muted shades of blue and cream, and dove-grey velvet carpets, was sophisticated but impersonal. She found it hard to imagine Diego living in the penthouse when he had admitted that he loved the wildness of the rainforest.

From the bathroom she heard the sound of the bath filling and headed towards it. The maid, Vitoria, was readying an enticing bubble bath.

‘Mr Cazorra said you would like to take a bath,’ Vitoria explained as she added fragrant oil to the water and the room became infused with the scent of an English rose garden. The thought of sinking into the fragrant foaming water was too irresistible for Clare to argue and, after she had bathed, she made use of the luxurious body lotion provided and used a hairdryer to tame her auburn curls into glossy waves.

Returning to the bedroom, she found that the maid had laid out a peacock-blue silk dress by a famous European designer. There were shoes to match the dress and exquisite underwear, all in Clare’s size, but when she searched the room she could not find her rucksack containing the few items of clothing she had brought to Brazil.

The maid’s excellent grasp of English suddenly seemed to desert her when she was asked about the rucksack. ‘I do not know where is your bag, but you no need it, because Mr Cazorra has supplied clothes for you to wear during your visit.’ Vitoria opened the wardrobe to reveal dozens of outfits, mostly in bright colours that Clare would not have had the confidence to choose for herself, preferring to stick to a safe palette of navy and taupe.

Unless she was prepared to meet Diego wearing a towel, she had no choice but to put on the dress, Clare realised. When she looked in the mirror she was forced to concede that the designer was a genius who had turned a piece of fabric into a garment that was both elegant and sexy in the way it flattered her hourglass figure. The three-inch stiletto-heeled shoes made her appear taller and slimmer, but she firmly reminded herself that she was only borrowing the clothes until she saw Diego and she would insist that her rucksack was returned to her.

He had gone to great lengths to arrange for her to remain in Brazil rather than fly back to England with Becky. The question uppermost in her mind was why. He had been angry that she’d fooled him into believing she was a nun, and understandably furious that she had told the pilot to take off from Torrente without him.

She felt guilty about her behaviour and uncomfortable at the prospect of seeing him again, especially when she remembered them making love in the cave. Colour flooded her cheeks as she recalled her wanton response to him. The time they had spent together in the rainforest seemed like a dream and she had discarded her inhibitions along with her virginity. But now she was back to reality, back to being ordinary Clare Marchant, and she wondered what Diego wanted from her.