Back In The Brazilian's Bed. Susan Stephens
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the last autograph.
He frowned. ‘I’m complex because I talk to people?’
‘You’re so generous with your time, and that’s not the image you give out with the team.’
‘Ah, the team.’ His dark eyes turned black with amusement. ‘The brooding and unapproachable barbarians.’ He laughed. ‘Do you think we would attract the same crowds if our publicist worked the image of clean-shaven, pipe-and-slippers men?’
Against her better judgement, he made her laugh. ‘There’s no danger of that.’
Their gazes lingered a little longer on each other’s faces than perhaps they should have done, and then Dante turned serious. ‘These people are my audience, Karina. Of course I respect them. I’ll always make time for them. Without them I’m nothing.’
‘I think you’re more than you know,’ she murmured to herself.
She wondered again about the years they’d been apart and Dante’s meteoric rise to fame and fortune after a childhood that had been less than perfect. His father had squandered the family fortune, by all accounts, and Dante had been proud but poor. Proud, but poor and determined, she amended. There had never been anyone like him, the rumour mill said. Dante was a natural horseman, and with his looks he had soon been inundated with requests from sponsors to become the face of first this big brand and then the next. She doubted he’d had to buy a car or a watch for years, and apart from those smaller perks the money that went with the huge deals had made him an extremely wealthy man. If Dante’s father could see him now...
Baracca senior had been a cold, self-serving man who could always be depended upon for one thing, and that was to be dismissive and scathing about his son. He had never been interested in what the world had thought of Dante’s emerging talent because all he’d cared about had been recounting the times when he had done so much more.
‘Wool-gathering again?’ Dante suggested, staring keenly at her.
‘I was thinking about your father.’
His expression instantly closed off, but then, to her surprise, he admitted, ‘My father was an unhappy man, who was always locked in the past.’
Always trying to belittle him, she thought as Dante fell silent. She couldn’t bring herself to feel charitable towards a man who had been so relentlessly critical of his own son.
‘IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG?’ Dante asked her, when they were sitting in the car.
‘I was just thinking about the logistics of accommodating thousands of people on your ranch.’
‘No need to worry,’ he said, cutting off her thoughts. ‘My ranch is big enough to accommodate however many people want to come—and I have the funds to support them and give them the time of their lives.’
She knew a lot of wealthy people, but Dante’s wealth nowadays was on a different scale. Were even those even huge contracts from sponsors enough to supply an apparently bottomless pit of money?
‘So now I’ve reassured you, how about you open up to me?’ he pressed. ‘We haven’t had chance to talk for years. I’d like to know what makes you tick these days, Karina.’
Her heart clenched tight. ‘My work,’ she said.
‘There has to be more to you than that.’
‘Does there?’ She shrugged. ‘I work—I sleep—I eat. That’s it.’
He frowned. ‘We used to be friends. You used to trust me.’
She bristled. She couldn’t help herself. She was remembering that night. ‘That was a long time ago, Dante.’ She turned her head to stare out of the window.
‘Butt out?’ he suggested wryly.
‘Something like that,’ she agreed. She had buried the heartache deep where it was safe from anyone’s scrutiny. At the time Dante was talking about she had thought she knew it all.
And she couldn’t have been more mistaken.
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