Rising Stars. Maisey Yates
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she said. “Why do you care so much?”
“I don’t,” he said coldly.
“You do. You’ve always acted like you despise the idea of matrimony and commitment and children—all of it. But you don’t,” she said softly. “You care.”
Gabriel pulled the Ferrari to an abrupt halt. He didn’t look at her. “We’re here.”
Blinking in surprise, she saw they’d arrived at the enormous, exclusive Zeytuna boutique in the Leblon district. Her door opened, and she saw a young, smiling valet in a red jacket. Gabriel handed him keys, then held out his hand to her.
“Come,” he said coldly. “We haven’t much time.”
Reluctantly, Laura placed her hand in his, and felt the same shock of sensation, the brush of his warm skin and strong grip of his fingers around hers.
“Are you cold?”
“No,” she said.
“You’re shivering.”
She ripped her hand away. “I’m just afraid we will fail. That I will fail.” “You won’t.”
She looked down at her tight black dress, seeing her big hips and oversize breasts and a belly that was far from flat. She thought again of competing against Adriana da Costa in a bikini, and shuddered. “I don’t see how.”
Gabriel’s sensual lips curved up into a smile. “Trust me.”
He folded her hand over his bare forearm as if she were a medieval French princess and he was her honored chevalier. He looked down at her with eyes of love, and even as she told herself that he was only practicing, this time the shiver was not in her body, but her heart.
Pretending to love him was too easy. She was playing with fire.
Just a few hours more, she told herself desperately. Then she’d never see him again. Her family would never need to worry about replacing parts on the tractor or losing their home after a bad harvest. They’d never need to panic when a glut on the market suddenly lowered prices of wheat to nothing. Her family would be safe. Her baby would be safe.
Her baby.
Laura swallowed. This was the first time she’d left Robby with a babysitter since he was born. It felt strange to be away from him. Strange, and dangerous to feel this young and free, with Gabriel beside her. He smiled down at her, and for an instant she was lost in his eyes, so dark and deep against his tanned skin.
It would be so easy to love him when he treated her like this. Even after she went home, she knew she would always remember his low, husky voice saying, “I want you, Laura, more than any woman. I’ve always wanted you.” She would feel the heat of his body against hers when he’d seized her on the terrace and kissed her. She had new memories to add to the time they’d first made love, when he’d pushed her back against his desk, sweeping everything aside in his reckless, savage need. When their sweaty, naked bodies had clung together, their limbs intertwined in explosive passion.
Now, Laura’s legs trembled as Gabriel drew her toward the two tall brass doors held wide by doormen.
“Boa tarde, Senhor Santos,” the first doorman said, beaming.
“Good to see you again, Mr. Santos,” the second doorman said in accented English.
Once they were inside the foyer, Laura looked up in amazement at a center courtyard two stories high, with a dome of colored Tiffany glass on the ceiling. But if the glamorous architecture was straight out of the nineteenth century, the boutique’s clothes were as cutting-edge as anything she’d find on Fifth Avenue.
A bevy of pretty shopgirls rushed to wait upon Gabriel. “Allow me to help you, senhor!”
“No, me!” a second one cried.
“Senhor, I have something wonderful to show you!”
Laura scowled. She could just imagine what the eager girls wanted to show Gabriel. Turning, she glared at him. “How often do you come here?”
He snorted, hiding a grin. “Once or twice a month.”
“Lingerie for all your one-night stands?” “Suits for work. I’m known to tip well.”
Laura looked at the fawning shopgirls, who were all staring at him with undisguised glee. “I bet.”
“Sorry, girls,” he said. “We already have an appointment.”
“Mr. Santos,” an older woman said in English behind them. “Welcome.” She stepped forward with assurance, her red suit a perfect match to her short, sleekly coiffed gray hair. “I am ready to be of assistance.”
“This is Mrs. Tavares,” Gabriel told Laura. His hand tightened around hers as he turned back to the other woman. “And this is the girl I told you about. Laura
Parker.”
“Certainly, sir.” Mrs. Tavares came closer. Gabriel stepped back, and Laura found herself standing alone, bereft of his strength, beneath the older woman’s scrutiny. She examined a long tendril of Laura’s mousy brown hair, then nodded. “Very fine material to work with, sir.”
“Dress her for the beach.”
“Which beach?”
“A pool party at a luxurious mansion on the Costa do Sul. It will be attended by famous beauties and rich men. Make her shine above the rest.”
Still staring at Laura, the older woman stroked her chin thoughtfully. “How obvious do you wish her beauty to be?”
“Completely,” he said.
“It will require help from a salon.”
“As you wish.”
The woman pulled the black-rimmed glasses off Laura’s face.
“Hey!” Laura protested. “And an optometrist.”
Gabriel smiled. “I leave her in your hands.”
Laura’s cheeks were hot. The perfectly coiffed, elegant woman continued to walk around her, looking her up and down in the tight black dress, as if she were a handyman and Laura were a sad, decrepit old house in need of a complete remodel.
“This isn’t going to work,” Laura said, fidgeting uncomfortably. “I think you should go to the pool party without me. I’ll just go to the Fantasy Ball later.”
“You go to the Fantasia tonight?” Mrs. Tavares gasped. “The Baile de Gala?”
“Yes, and she needs a ball gown,” Gabriel said. “Casual clothes as well. But she must be ready for the party in two hours.”
Mrs. Tavares froze. “So little time?”
“Desculpa.”
The woman tilted her head, considering Laura. “It will not be cheap. Or easy.”
“Cost does not matter. Just results. Satisfy my requirements and you’ll be generously rewarded.”
The older woman’s expression didn’t change, but Laura saw her sudden stillness. Looking at Gabriel, she gave a slow, respectful nod. “It will be done, senhor, as you wish.”
“My driver will pick her up in two hours.”
With a clap of her hands, Mrs. Tavares turned and started barking out orders to the young shopgirls in Portuguese. With a second clap of her hands she scattered them.
“Tchau,” Gabriel said to Laura, kissing her on both cheeks before he turned away.
He was abandoning her to face the sharks alone? Laura gasped, “You can’t leave!”
“Missing me already?”
“Hardly!”