Virgin Mistress, Scandalous Love-Child. Jennie Lucas
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home. We’ll never bother you again. The baby will never know you’re her father!”
Diogo’s dark eyebrows lowered. “Because you and Wright have other plans for him?”
She thought of Timothy’s angry words, the hurt in his eyes. But he’d always been good to her. He’d even offered to take care of her baby. Marrying him would have been such a sensible, respectable choice, but now she’d ruined everything. She suddenly felt like crying. “He’s a good man, and I promised to be his wife.”
“Forget it,” he said with a curl on his lip. “You’re not leaving Rio.”
He marched her out of the plane.
The rush of jungle humidity and the smell of exotic flowers hit her like a blow in the deep violet darkness of dawn. Clouds were pouring a brutal onslaught of rain, pounding heavily against the leaves, leaving puddles on the tarmac of the small private airport.
A bodyguard held an umbrella over their heads as they descended the steps from the plane. Ellie balanced precariously on her four-inch, white satin heels, her wedding gown dragging through the water as Diogo steered her into the backseat of a waiting steel-gray Bentley.
Giving a calm order in Portuguese to the chauffeur, he leaned back against the supple leather seat.
“Don’t do this,” she said tearfully. “Please. Let me go back.”
“To Wright?” His eyes were dark. “You still love him after he called you a whore?”
Pain wracked through her. She briefly closed her eyes, taking a shuddering breath.
“You wouldn’t understand,” she whispered. How could he understand her guilt and shame? She was desperate for Timothy’s forgiveness after she’d treated him so badly. “We have known each other since I was fifteen years old—”
He cut her off. “You will never see him again.” He reached his arm around her in the backseat of the Bentley, pulling her close to his body. “Now you belong to me.”
For one brief instant, she relished the warmth and weight of his strength. Then she caught herself. Horrified at his power over her, she forced herself to pull away.
“You only want me because you think you can’t have me.”
He looked down at her. “Is that what you think?” he asked huskily. “You think I can’t have you?”
“It’s what I know.” Her heart was pounding in her throat. “You are a liar. A thief. A heartless playboy. I’ll die before I let you touch me again.”
“Touch you how?” He stroked down her neck, tracing the bare skin of her collarbone. It was like an electric shock down her body. “Touch you like this?”
“Don’t.” One brief touch of his hand against her skin, and she trembled all over. “Please.”
“Please what?” He stroked her cheek to her tender bottom lip, causing heat to race from her lips down to her pregnancy-swollen breasts. Her nipples tightened in a sudden shock of desire as he gently ran his hand down the valley between them.
“Please,” she whimpered. She closed her eyes, barely able to breathe. “Please stop.”
“That’s not really what you want.” She felt his hand move over the smooth taffeta of her bodice, cupping her full—and very sensitive—breasts. Her nipples sizzled with painful sensation.
Gently, he pulled down the fabric. He lowered his head to taste her bare breast. She felt his lips move against her aching nipple, suckling her, swirling her taut flesh with his tongue.
Her whole body reacted. She gave an involuntary gasp as her back arched into his mouth.
He was right. She did want this. All her hatred and pain of the past few months had done nothing to end her longing for his touch…
Oh my God, what was she thinking? The chauffeur was driving the Bentley, pretending that he couldn’t hear or see anything. Probably because this was normal for Diogo to seduce women in the backseat of the car. Ellie was just another in a long line of his lovers. He would seduce her just to prove his power, make her love him again, then discard her and the baby like rubbish. Diogo Serrador was a selfish, hard-hearted playboy to the core.
Had she lost her mind? She couldn’t give in to him. Not like this.
Not ever.
“No,” she whispered. With a huge effort of willpower, she shoved him away. “I said no!”
Sucking in his breath, he looked down at her. His dark eyes were deep with need…and something more. Some hidden emotion—some secret pain that lured her to believe she could be the one to comfort and save him…
She—comfort and save Diogo? She fought the ridiculous thought with all her might. He didn’t need saving. He was a selfish, lying, coldhearted bastard!
Diogo abruptly released her, leaning back against his seat. “You will soon accept your fate,” he said coldly. “Until my son is born, you will submit to my will.”
She feared he was right—but what could she do?
Exhausted, Ellie leaned her head against the window. Her long, blond hair had long since fallen out of the sleek wedding chignon. It was a total mess, along with her taffeta wedding gown. As the Bentley traveled the back streets of Rio, following his bodyguards’ sedan, she shivered as she looked out at the violet-gray dawn of the passing city.
“What do you intend to do to me?” she whispered.
He opened the Jornal do Brasil to the business page. “I will keep you until my son is born.”
“To keep me?” Her voice trembled. “As your prisoner?”
Lowering the newspaper, he looked at her coolly. “Whatever it takes.”
She swallowed. “And the baby?”
He gave her a grim, humorless smile. “Do not worry.”
“How can I not worry?” She exhaled in a rush, and turned to stare out blindly at the heavy rain sheeting the car window. “I’m her mother.”
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