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

‘I have never forced a woman in my life and I don’t intend to start with you, my little wildcat.’ Diego’s voice deepened and took on a sensual note that made Clare feel as if thick treacle was trickling over her. He placed his palms flat on the wall on either side of her head and watched the jerky rise and fall of her breasts. ‘We both know you will come willingly to my bed whenever I decide to have you.’

‘The hell I will.’

His outrageous arrogance fuelled her temper. As he lowered his head and angled his mouth over hers, she stiffened, determined to deny him a response. And she might have succeeded if he had claimed her lips with demanding passion, as she expected him to do. But he did not play fair and took her breath away with a kiss that was as gentle as the brush of a butterfly’s wings. He took little sips from her mouth, tasting her, tantalising her. His unexpected tenderness evoked a sensation like a knife being twisted in her stomach and desire flooded through her and pooled, hot and urgent, between her legs.

If she could not fight herself, what chance did she stand against Diego’s potent sensuality? Clare thought despairingly. He was not using his superior strength to demand her response, he wasn’t even touching any part of her body except for her mouth, but when he deepened the kiss she capitulated and parted her lips to allow him to slide his tongue between them. He continued to kiss her unhurriedly and with such exquisite eroticism that she moaned softly and swayed towards him, longing for him to press his body against hers.

She could have cried with disappointment when he lifted his mouth from her lips and stepped away from her. To give him credit, he did not taunt her for her pathetic weakness, and the sultry glint beneath his half-closed eyelids betrayed his hunger.

‘In a moment, Juliana will take you to meet the staff who will assist you with the DC Diamonds PR campaign. If you need to leave the Cazorra building for any reason, whether work related or for personal reasons such as shopping, you will be accompanied at all times by either me or a bodyguard.’

‘Is that really necessary? My sister was targeted because she is a famous model and easily recognisable, but kidnappers won’t be interested in me.’

‘I am not prepared to take the risk. While you are working for me, you are my responsibility.’ Diego’s firm tone dared her to argue. ‘I have assigned Miguel to take care of you.’

‘Miguel! You’ve asked one of Rigo’s thugs to be my bodyguard?’ Clare pictured the man who had come to the cave with the other kidnapper, Enzo. ‘I’d prefer to go out alone and take my chances. I know you said Miguel is your friend from years ago, but...’

‘But you still don’t trust me,’ Diego finished her sentence grimly. ‘Deus, without my help, you and Becky would still be trapped in Torrente and at Rigo’s mercy. I have asked Miguel to protect you because he is the best person to do so. Many years ago I saved his life. In Brazil it is regarded as a lifelong debt of honour, and Miguel would willingly give his life to keep you safe because I have asked him to.’

Clare wanted to ask him more details of his friendship with Miguel, but Diego changed the subject. ‘This evening I am hosting a party at my nightclub and I want you to act as my hostess.’ The hard expression in his eyes challenged her to refuse, but she had decided there was no point in arguing with him when he was obviously determined to have his own way.

His brows lifted as if he was surprised by her sudden compliance. He held open his office door, but as she was about to step into the corridor he traced his thumb pad lightly across her swollen, kiss-stung lips. ‘I suggest you go to the cloakroom and repair your make-up, unless you want the other members of staff to know that you have been thoroughly kissed by the boss,’ he drawled.

Swallowing down a rude retort, she nevertheless deemed it wise to take his advice, and groaned when she saw in the mirror her swollen mouth and dishevelled hair. Diego was right, she looked utterly ravished. Her inability to resist him was humiliating. She must not allow him to kiss her again, she told herself sternly. From now on she would be a model of businesslike efficiency, and she was determined to organise a PR campaign for DC Diamonds that would impress Diego with her professionalism.

CHAPTER EIGHT

CLARE RAN HER hand down her gold-sequined dress, relieved to find that the low-cut evening gown with a side-split skirt, which she had worried was too flamboyant and revealing, was a perfect outfit to wear to Diego’s nightclub and casino, Kasbah.

The club was a huge venue with numerous bars and dance floors, an enormous gambling suite equipped with poker tables, roulette wheels and slot machines, and in the centre of the club was a revolving stage lit by glittering chandeliers suspended from the marquee-like ceiling. The decor was over-the-top opulent and had been designed to represent a Sultan’s harem. Rich purple carpets, gold silk wallpaper and plush velvet seating gave the interior a sensual feel that was enhanced by discreet lighting and the throb of deep bass music.

Diego had arrived at the club before Clare. His PA had explained that he wanted to watch the final rehearsal by the dancers who would be performing during the evening. Juliana had also told her that the party was a fund-raising event for the Future Bright Foundation—a charity set up by Diego and his business partner Cruz Delgado to provide education and college funds for young people living in favelas.

It had been left to Miguel to drive Clare to the club. The bodyguard had obviously detected that she felt wary of him and had reiterated Diego’s assurance that he would protect her with his life if necessary.

‘Diego said you and he were friends many years ago. Where did the two of you meet?’ she’d asked, thinking that she might learn more about Diego’s past.

But Miguel had given her an odd look and murmured, ‘You’ll have to ask Diego that question.’

Clare told herself that the mystery surrounding Diego was none of her business. In a few weeks she would go home to England and never see him again. Unless she was pregnant with his child. The thought slipped into her mind and she felt a flutter of nerves in her stomach. There was no point worrying about it when the chances that she had conceived were so unlikely, but she couldn’t stop wondering if Diego’s baby was developing inside her.

She forced her mind back to the present. The guests would be starting to arrive soon and she was wondering what her duties as Diego’s hostess would entail. She caught sight of him up on the stage surrounded by a group of exotic female dancers whose costumes comprised of a few strategically placed ostrich feathers.

The girls crowded around Diego, and it wasn’t hard to understand why, Clare thought ruefully. He looked amazing in a black dinner suit and white silk shirt, and his tousled, over-long hair and the shadow of blond stubble on his jaw gave him a raw sex appeal that was dangerously attractive.

Although her stiletto heels made no sound on the thick carpet, he turned his head as she approached, as if a sixth sense had alerted him to her presence.

‘Clare.’ There was a strange huskiness in his voice and the glitter in his silver eyes sent a frisson of sexual awareness down her spine. He did not take his gaze from her as he clapped his hands and the dancers left the stage in a flurry of feathers and a flash of lissom thighs.

‘Juliana said I would find you hard at work,’ Clare said drily. ‘At a rough estimate, I’d guess that you have slept with at least ten of the twenty girls in the dance troupe.’

He grinned. ‘But not all at the same time.’ The expression in his eyes became feral as he studied her. ‘I knew when I picked that dress that you would look stunning in it.’