‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’
‘Yes, you do. And sticking that defiant chin up to me and firing contempt from those eyes won’t cut it,’ he sliced at her deridingly. ‘You always were a skilled little liar—and you do know what I am talking about now, I see…’
His eyes raked her face as it paled with understanding.
‘Yes.’ He smiled. ‘You made a big mistake six years ago when you tossed me aside with your lies and then trotted off to marry an old man with one foot already in his grave. You should have listened more closely to me when I told you how much I was worth. Even my unworthy half-English blood has a sweet taste to it when it comes wrapped in billions, amante. Now look at you,’ he mocked. ‘A pariah in your so-precious Portuguese society. And look at me, the half Englishman, holding the only chance you will have to save your Marques pride.’
‘You are not the only rich financier here tonight,’ Cristina hit back, wanting to sink weakly back down on the toilet seat and keeping herself upright only with the help of that Marques pride he’d just tried to crucify.
Beautiful, Anton thought. Sensational—exciting. Even while she stands there still trying to kill me with her eyes. And, yes, I’m up for it, he reaffirmed angrily. Whatever the lying sob story that was fed to Enrique Ramirez about our relationship six years ago, I am willing to fulfil his conditions and marry the Ordoniz widow. I’ll fill her up with my seed and I will make reparation to myself, by never telling her how that seed is as Portuguese as her own.
Revenge, he decided, will taste sweet.
‘By all means spend the rest of the evening taking your begging bowl round the present company,’ he invited. ‘You never know—you might get lucky and snag some other old man willing to bail you out in exchange for the use of that perfect body of yours. But if the bowl remains empty, then call this number…’ Taking a business card out of his pocket, Anton handed it to her. ‘It has my private line via the hotel switchboard,’ he explained as she stared down at the card embossed with the logo of a top hotel in Rio. ‘And remember, querida, when you do use that number, to ask for Anton Scott-Lee—not Luis.’
With that cutting stab at the other intimacy they had shared, he turned and walked to the door, unbolted it and walked out, leaving Cristina staring numbly after him as the door slid quietly back into its housing.
Silence clattered down. She began shaking all over, shock overlaying the skin-burning residue of his touch, holding her still as she listened to the sound of his deep voice as he began speaking to someone in the foyer, advising them to find another bathroom because this one was broken.
‘Believe me, you really don’t want to go in there,’ she heard him say in smoothly amused cultivated English which brought forth a fluttering flirtatious female laugh that for some silly reason flooded her eyes with hot tears.
When he turned on that voice he could charm anyone, she remembered. He’d charmed her into his life and into his bed without having to try very hard.
For an impressionable young woman up from the country used only to meeting the dow old friends of her father or solitary gauchos out on the plains, Luis had been like a fairytale figure to her—young, handsome, light-hearted, passionate, and so exciting to be with he’d turned her escape to Rio into the most magical time of her life.
And she’d loved him totally. Still loved him like that, she admitted as a second wave of pained tears burnt her eyes. When she’d thrown Luis away so callously she’d thrown her heart away with him, and lived the last six years without one.
The shared laughter on the other side of the door grew quieter as they moved away, then there was silence. With an effort Cristina pulled herself together, turning to check her hair and her make-up in the mirror and hurriedly trying to cover the swollen evidence of his kiss with a layer of red lipstick. It was not successful—how could it be when her lips continued to pulse, her eyes shone too brightly and her skin wore a flush that was not all to do with humiliation and shame?
She looked away, turned away, then took in a deep breath and made herself go back to the party—to hear from a disgruntled Gabriel that Luis had already left with his beautiful companion.
‘Where do you know him from? How did you meet him?’ he demanded to know. ‘Do you know who he is? He owns big stakes in just about every banking house between here and the moon, and if I had known you knew him we could have used the connection. But the way you just walked away has probably blown that opportunity.’
‘Sorry,’ she murmured, not sorry at all. ‘I felt ill suddenly. I thought you would prefer it if I didn’t embarrass you by throwing up on his shoes.’
The begging bowl remained empty. By the time Gabriel saw Cristina into his car, the mood between them had turned very grim. As he drove them towards his apartment the silence grew like a heavy weight around both of them.
Then he told her why. ‘The word is out, Cristina. You are untouchable. Most of the people there tonight have a stake in the Alagoas Consortium. They want you to surrender and sell.’
Strangely enough, she was not surprised—though she did wonder how big a stake Luis was holding.
It was the first question she asked him when she rang him from the privacy of the bedroom Gabriel had loaned her for her stay in Rio. She’d left Gabriel stretched out on a chair in his living room, brooding about the evening over a glass of brandy before going out again to meet up with his lover.
‘Is it relevant?’ Luis countered.
‘If you want to see me fail as much as everyone else does, then yes,’ she said. ‘It is relevant.’
‘Be here at my suite at twelve o’clock sharp,’ was all he said. ‘And don’t bother to bring the lover along with you.’
‘Lover?’ she echoed blankly.
‘The handsome blond with the very white teeth,’ he extended with a sarcastic bite from his own white teeth.
‘You mean Gabriel?’
‘Yes, I mean Gabriel,’ he mocked her.
‘But he is—’
‘Out, querida,’ Anton said coldly. ‘And I mean right out—of your life and the business loop. If you want me to save your precious Santa Rosa then from now on you deal only and exclusively with me.’
The line went dead. Anton let the receiver fall onto his naked chest and released a surprised laugh.
She’d cut him off, the reckless little witch!
The laugh changed into a smile as he relaxed back on to the pillows to stare at the ceiling while he imagined the way her eyes would be flashing with fury right now. He might have her cornered, shocked and frightened, but he had not scared her enough to make her behave herself when she was angry.