Chapter Two
A year later…
“They get rowdy when there’s a man on the premises. Just ignore them, senhor,” the prison guard said.
The clinking of metal bars reverberated through him. Leonardo Duarte had been to many jails in his life as a human rights lawyer, but this one…he clenched and unclenched his fists. Following the short guard dressed in beige khakis and shirt, he strode on the stained floors and covered his mouth with his hand. Bile rose to the back of his throat. The blend of urine and body odor pushed into his nostrils. A string of catcalls started, and he slanted the women a look. Prisoners mounted over each other like rats inside a cage.
“Gostoso!” one of them yelled.
“Nice ass. You can come see me any time,” another one said. Whistles ensued.
He’d made a career of fighting against the Brazilian incarceration system. By using his high-profile contacts and giving out considerable donations, he had improved some prisons throughout the country. However, many didn’t share the concept that felons should leave the bars better human beings than when they had entered.
Leonardo gave them another glance, and a few women shouted obscenities at him and rubbed themselves against the bars. None of them deserved to be in those degrading conditions. Not even…
“There she is.” The guard pointed at a cell on the end of the hallway.
The woman sitting on a mat, with long legs stretching over the dirty floor, hardly reminded him of the hot seductress from a year ago. The thief who stole his beloved sculpture. The bitch who stripped him of his pride. Satyanna Darling.
He’d never forget that day when he woke up to an empty bed and learned she had fled not only her suite, but Rio. He’d asked the hotel clerks and learned Satyanna had left with an older man. Since she never mentioned Clemonte during their time together, he knew something was wrong.
When Leonardo had checked his home safe, the sculpture was missing. Didn’t take long for him to have a private detective deliver bad news—Clemonte was a masterful con-artist, and Satyanna his partner. She had distracted him, slept with him in her hotel room while Clemonte stole his sculpture from his place.
Leonardo had searched for her for an entire year. Yet, it had been all for nothing. That was until a phone call he had received earlier that day—from the sheriff in a small prison in Rio. Satyanna had been found with a fake Brazilian driver’s license. Since she wasn’t a Brazilian citizen, they should have called the American Embassy and let them deal with her, however she had begged for them to call Leonardo instead.
She knew I would come. This time, though…he swallowed the lump in his dry throat. He was painfully aware of all she had done and caused. His father was dead, and he had been buried without the heirloom Leonardo had bought years ago that symbolized his mother. Any lust he’d felt for the redheaded vixen in front of him was well and truly cooled.
The guard struck his cane on the metal bar. “Hey, Gringa. You have a visitor.”
She shivered, and he imagined she must have been so far away from that place, at least in her mind. Well, he couldn’t blame her.
“I’ll make sure the other ones are quiet. I’ll be at the end of the hall. Call if you need me, senhor.” The guard turned on his heels and proceeded to shush the women whose voices faded into the background.
Leonardo stretched to his full height, and as Satyanna stood, every tiny hair on the back of his neck sizzled. Instead of the sexy Scheherazade costume she had on when they met, she was wearing a dirty gray shirt, dust-caked jeans, and flip-flops.
His gut clenched. She turned to him, her foot kicking the metal dish on the floor. The moment her gaze landed on his he drew in a sharp breath. A few bruises blemished her face, and the redness near her eye he imagined had been caused by a slap. Dry blood clung to a corner of her swollen lips.
A blend of betraying emotions welled up inside him. A year ago he had met her at a party Camila insisted he attend. What had started as innocent flirting became the hottest, most incredible weekend of his life.
Not just the sex. The tightness in his stomach loosened, and a warm sensation swept through him. In a way, she had helped him deal with the hardest news yet when his father had been diagnosed with brain cancer. Had she known she helped him at the time? No. Would she ever know? Never.
She peered at him, and he recognized the spark of life in those deep, emerald eyes. He took a step back. No. She wouldn’t persuade him to make the same mistake twice. Besides, the woman was bruised, for crying out loud. Her color was pale, without the glow from before. He had yearned for revenge, to see her at her worst. Yet, somehow the picture he painted was a tad different. This…woman walking toward him, her hands clenching against the bars, wasn’t the same one that haunted his dreams at night. Or was she?
“You came,” she said, her voice strangely steady. Wasn’t she scared of what could happen to her?
“What kind of trouble are you into now?” he asked, even though the sheriff had briefed him on the phone. She had been stopped for speeding, and when the highway patrol checked her Brazilian driver’s license, he recognized it as fake. She clumsily tried to bribe the man who was one of the few incorruptible officers, and had been taken to the local prison.
“I need to come clean, Leonardo. I want to go back to the States more than anything, but not while you think I stole the sculpture.”
A chuckle floated up his throat. “You want a first-class upgrade? Satyanna Darling, you broke the laws. You stole from me. And while I’m rejoicing at seeing you jailed like you deserve, I want what’s mine. You’re going to tell me right now what happened to the sculpture, otherwise you will rot in here.” He threw his words at her like an arrowhead at a wild animal. A cold wave swept through him. Would he really do it? Let her rot there?
“Please help me out of here. I swear I didn’t steal from you. Harry Clemonte did,” she said, mentioning her middle-aged partner in crime.
Blood boiled in his veins. Did she think he was that stupid? To think he would let her loose, only for her to dash and meet that sketchy old man, the one she had some sort of sick relationship with? “I’m not an idiot. You fooled me once, when I was too distracted and reckless,” he said, his eyes trailing down her body. “You do nothing for me today. Nothing,” he repeated, raising his voice.
She parted her bow-shaped lips, and he couldn’t help but watch her. “Good. I’m not interested in fucking you, Leonardo. I wanna have a chat with you so you won’t press charges against me. I wanna go back to the States, and I knew if I used my real ID I would be caught before I left the country. Besides, if I knew anything about reliable people to buy fake IDs from, I wouldn’t be here to begin with. Some daughter of a criminal I am.”
“No kidding,” he said, even though they both knew Harry wasn’t her father, biological or otherwise. Leonardo had high-profile contacts at the federal police, and had sent her picture and information out months ago. There was no way she’d make it past passport control.
“When we met, I was set up. I didn’t know it at the time, but Harry used me to steal from you.”
“Did he also instruct you to sleep with me?” he asked, and hoped his cool smile masked the frustration choking him inside. She had misled him for an entire weekend, and stupid idiot that he was, he fell for it. Shit. Fell for her, even though he didn’t usually believe in that kind of crap. Real, everlasting love couldn’t brew from lies and deception. And, after having witnessed his parents’ wonderful marriage, he could never settle for simple physical attraction.
“No.” She lifted her chin. “That mistake was mine alone.”
Mistake. The little hairs on the back of his neck stood up, charged. She parted her mouth, and he watched her dry flesh. His fingers tingled with need to trace her lips, to stroke her blemished skin with the back of his hand. To take care of her wounds. Nonsense.
Balling his fist into a curl, he swallowed. Hard. “I don’t believe you, Satyanna.” He pronounced her name like it was a damn curse. Even though he stood in front of her, he was breathless as if he had done some hardcore exercising. “I have no reason to help you.”
Her weight shifted from foot to foot. “I’ll give you one. You owe me that.”
“Why?”
“Because I was pregnant with your baby, goddamn it,” she said, and for the first time during that conversation, her voice wavered.
…
Satyanna clenched the cold metal bar so hard her palm cramped. Pain swept over her, and her shoulders started to sag, but she immediately lifted her chin and willed herself to keep composure.
Her body hurt. The beating from earlier still seared her skin, the bruises fresh and the pain throbbing, but none of it surpassed the emotion suffocating her. Ever since she lost Lyanna, the baby girl she never got to hold or nuzzle against her skin, this was the first time she spoke about her out loud. It had been three months since that dreadful day, but she just knew her life would never be the same.
She needed to go back to the US and regroup, start over and enjoy the life her daughter had been denied. That was the least she could do to honor her memory. How could she, though? When she had rebelled against Harry for using her as bait to steal from Leonardo, her once father figure had been clear. She would never be able to leave Brazil without him, and his fake IDs and contacts. You are nothing without me. He had been upset about her adamant decision to keep her pregnancy and also not use it to their benefit.
What an idiot she had been to believe he had stopped scheming and actually worked for a living. That was her fault, wasn’t it? Believing. Well, it had been. Not anymore.
The contours of Leonardo’s face tightened, his lips thinning. She took a deep breath and tried hard not to let his good looks distract her from what was important. Tough task. He towered over her, and even though he still wore a suit, there was a sparky, dangerous edge in his narrowed hazel eyes.
When they had slept together, she had marveled over his muscled physique, and oh, how wonderful it had been to lay her head on his broad, olive shoulders. Strangely enough, the couple of days she shared with him offered her the type of misleading security that could really make a girl wonder. And dream.
A laugh sliced the air, and she blinked out of her reverie. She realized he was the one laughing, though there was no amusement on his stern expression. Yep. Wonder’s gone.
“You must think I’m stupid to fall for that one. Now, let me guess, you’re going to ask for child support?”
Tears brimmed her eyes, and her grip on the bars loosened. What did she expect? “No.” She lifted her trembling hand to her chest. “The baby is dead.”
“I don’t believe you. We used condoms.”
“I think we, er, got too distracted in the hot tub,” she said, and wrestled with the memories flashing through her mind. Damn, she had been distracted, too, hadn’t she? The man had the most gorgeous V on his waist any guy had the right to. The smallest hint of smile curled at his lips, and she wondered if he, too, had any nice recollection from their sinful fling?
He reared back, hands on his waist, assessing her. She ran her fingers through her kinky, stubborn hair, and wished she had a rubber band handy or something. Of course Leonardo looked like he had just stepped out of a Dolce & Gabbana fashion show, and after two days in that dingy cell, she could really do with a shower and fresh clothes. “No. You’re lying.”
She drew in a breath. What a stubborn man. He believed she stole from him, and she had associated with one of the world’s most prolific scoundrels. So, yeah, maybe Leonardo had a point. If she wanted a life outside prison she would have to try harder. If he sent her to the US and she was prosecuted over there, she’d be toast. By the time she was fifteen and fled the youth house with Harry, she should have known better. When he told her he knew who her birth parents were but he’d only reveal if she helped him with one scheme, posing as his daughter so he could pretend to be a rich widower and scheme an old lady… She had been young and naive. Who cared if for the past few years she had insisted on a righteous life?
Biting her lower lip, she unzipped her jeans and pulled them down. Even though she hadn’t eaten in two days—the gross dog food she had been offered only brought bile to her throat—the lack of air conditioning and the scorching heat had glued the denim to her waist like a second skin. Chewing her lower lip, she tugged at her underwear.
“What are you—”
He stopped talking when his gaze slid down her shirt toward her belly, and she could tell by the clenching of his jaw the instant he spotted her scar. The surgeon hadn’t done a good job, even though they said it would eventually diminish and become less noticeable.
“At eight months pregnant I had eclampsia. My blood pressure spiked, and I needed an emergency C-section. I had brain bleed and fell into a two-week medically induced coma. The baby never made it.”
“If this is true, why didn’t you ever look for me and tell me you were pregnant?”
“Because I wanted to have the baby first. I thought I could keep it a secret until she was born. I knew you blamed me for the theft, and I figured having a baby in my arms would make you stop and talk to me at the very least. You could run paternity tests easily.” And hopefully not throw me in jail, she added inwardly. A taste of sourness and irony clung to her palate. How wrong had she been?
He scratched his chin, his eyes gleaming. “What is there to convince me you aren’t in it with Clemonte? That you didn’t make up this story just so you can get me and try to achieve whatever you think I will be dumb enough to hand over?”
She hardened her gaze at him. “Are you for real? No one gets a C-section for fun. You can call the clinic and ask. Confirm what I told you. Ask them about Lyanna.”
For the first time since he’d arrived, the contours of his handsome face softened, if only for a moment. “Lyanna?” he repeated, his voice deep.
She cleared her throat. “That’s what I called her, as in Leonardo and Satyanna. I thought she should have a little bit of you.” Although what bit she wasn’t sure. The man she remembered had a smile that could rival the sun. The one in front of her was as gloomy as a winter’s night.
He nodded. Was he finally believing her? She wiped the beads of cold sweat from her forehead, tried hard to swallow, but her tongue almost glued to the roof of her mouth.
“How did you leave the clinic? Who paid for the bills?”
“Harry did. I suppose he felt bad, as we had a discussion when my blood pressure went off the charts and I was sent to the hospital.” Not that he caused her disease. The doctors had told her it could have been hereditary, although that didn’t help much. According to the documents Harry provided, her father had died from an overdose, and her reckless mother had lost parental rights and refused to straighten up. As a child, Satyanna was adopted by a widow who had always wanted a baby girl. But by the time Satyanna turned nine, Carol died and she ended up in the hands of her abusive stepfather, George, the man Carol had married a year before. Satyanna ran from his place countless times, until she ended up in the system again. A few more foster homes with no prospects of adoption—no one wanted an older, damaged kid—and she ended up at the youth house. A couple years later, court-ordered volunteer work had sent Harry to the same institution.
“Then?”
“I ran from the hospital. Grabbed some cash I carried in my bag for emergencies, and left before he picked me up.”
“Why?”
Because I was so desperate to have a family, I settled for the worst example anyone could get. Because she wanted to break free, even if at twenty-six that seemed long overdue. This time for good. No guilt, no regrets. No more believing in empty promises. Didn’t matter that he was a crook and she was not—associating with him would only bring her trouble. “I didn’t want any contact with him again.”
Harry had fed her guilt and gratitude since she was a young girl anxious to leave the institution.
Leonardo’s jaw tightened. She saw the muscle flicker. “He stole from me.”
She chewed on her lower lip. “He did. When he took me on this trip to Brazil, he sold me on the idea we’d spend some time together and have fun. I came along because I wanted to believe him, and I did. Even though he wasn’t the best role model, he cared for me in his way. Or so I thought.” She took a deep breath. “Will you help me get out?”
He stepped toward the bars, and she toyed with the metal. The atmosphere around her shifted, and keeping the stare proved difficult. There was a strange gleam in his eyes. Her entire body roared, her flesh a lot weaker than her resolve. There was no way in hell she would give in to that attraction again; she just had to leash her hormones.
“Under one condition. If I take you out of this place and keep you from being accused of the crime I know you committed, you are mine,” he said, his voice dropping an octave when he pronounced the last word. His rich, unforgiving Brazilian accent was like the cherry on a hot fudge sundae.
She blinked. “Yours?”
His jaw clenched. “You will help me find Harry. You will stay under my watch until I find him and get my sculpture back. If not, I guarantee you this dirty prison won’t be the worst thing that happens to you.”