Mistress of His Revenge (Bought by the Brazilian #1) (15 page)

Cruz struggled to control his anger. He
knew
she had refused to marry him because he had lacked money or a title and it infuriated him that she could not be honest. ‘It was my responsibility to take care of you and our child.’

‘The fact that we can’t have a discussion without it turning into a row proves that if we
had
married it would have been a disaster. We can’t talk to each other,’ she said flatly.

‘I’ve always thought that talking was overrated.’ The hard gleam in Cruz’s eyes as he walked towards her sent a frisson of mingled desire and despair down Sabrina’s spine. ‘There are far more enjoyable ways in which we can communicate that don’t involve talking. The first night I arrived at Eversleigh we both imagined having sex on this desk.’

He began to unbutton his shirt, revealing his hair-roughened chest. Sabrina felt her body’s instinctive response and she knew without looking down that her nipples had hardened and were jutting provocatively through her blouse. She closed her eyes to block out his mocking expression.

‘Now seems a good time to fulfil at least one of our fantasies,’ he drawled.

If he touched her she would be lost, and not just physically, she acknowledged painfully. If he insisted on sex because he had paid for the privilege, his cold cynicism would destroy her fragile defences, and she could not risk him guessing how she felt about him.

Pride and a stubborn determination learned during her childhood, to keep her emotions hidden, brought her chin up. ‘I would have thought that your first priority is to find the map of the diamond mine that is so important to you. Anything else,’ she said in a faintly bored tone, ‘can wait, can’t it?’

Did anything touch her? Cruz wondered savagely, aware that every muscle on his body was taut with rampant desire that was humiliatingly out of his control. Sabrina was the archetypal lady of the manor, crisply elegant in beautifully tailored cream trousers and a pale pink blouse, the pearls at her throat reflecting the translucence of her skin. He knew he could have her bent over the desk and she would be with him all the way. Their sexual compatibility was one thing that had never been in doubt. But her eyes were as dark as storm clouds and he glimpsed a shadow of vulnerability in their grey depths that stopped him from pulling her into his arms.

With an effort he stemmed the hot tide of lust surging through his veins, but curiously as he moved away from her he found himself wishing that he could simply hold her until the shadows in her eyes disappeared.

‘As you say, searching for the map is my top priority. In Brazil, Diego is keen to know if we will have to close the diamond mine, or if we can extend operations into a previously abandoned section of the mine that I am convinced exists.’

‘How is Diego, these days?’ Sabrina seized the opportunity to turn the focus away from the sexual tension that was almost tangible between them.

‘Diego is—Diego.’ Cruz smiled wryly as he thought of his close friend from the
favela
. One thing he was certain of was that Diego Cazorra would never allow himself to be affected by a woman, however beautiful she might be.

‘I thought he owned the diamond mine in partnership with you.’

‘Diego is in charge of the day-to-day operating of the mine and I concentrate on selling the diamonds we find on the international market. Three years ago I established Delgado Diamonds, and Diego has several business projects of his own and is a successful gold prospector.’ Cruz looked amused. ‘The Cazorra philosophy is to work hard and play harder.’

A knock on the door was a welcome interruption and Sabrina turned her attention to the butler. ‘The builders have arrived to give a quote on the cost of repairing the fire damage to the annexe, Miss Sabrina,’ John informed her.

‘I’ll come and talk to them,’ she murmured and hurried out of the library, flushing hotly as she heard Cruz call after her mockingly.

‘We’ll wait until later to try out the desk,
gatinha
.’

* * *

Another social function—the third that week, Cruz reflected as he fastened the cuff links on his white dinner shirt. Tonight’s party was a black-tie event taking place at a five-star hotel not far from Eversleigh Hall. The charity fundraising dinner would be followed by a private fashion show by one of the leading design houses, and the models would be wearing jewellery for the evening provided by Delgado Diamonds.

Business at the new Bond Street store was booming, and, since the launch party a month ago, profits had outstripped all of Cruz’s expectations. He knew his very public affair with Sabrina was responsible for the huge media interest, both in them as a couple and in his jewellery company. Sabrina’s connections to the British aristocracy had given Cruz acceptance into the most exclusive social circles. And he could have no complaints about the way she was fulfilling the other part of their deal, he acknowledged.

For the past month she had played the role of his mistress faultlessly. She accompanied him to parties elegantly dressed in haute couture, and she was always a charming and interesting companion with a broad knowledge of current affairs and a genuine enthusiasm for her specialist subjects of history and the arts. They either stayed in Kensington or at Eversleigh Hall, although they did not sleep in Sabrina’s bedroom.

Cruz had taken one look at the candy-pink walls and the large collection of teddy bears piled on the bed and commented that the room looked as if it had been decorated for a child.

‘My mother helped me choose the colour scheme when I was ten,’ she had admitted. ‘The room reminds me of her, and I don’t want to get rid of my bears. After Mum left, they and Tristan were my best friends.’

The image of Sabrina living virtually on her own in the huge house with only a nanny to look after her had evoked a strange tug in Cruz’s heart, but he had ignored the unwelcome sensation. He’d chosen another bear-free bedroom for them to share and added a few toys of his own, namely a mirror fitted to the ceiling above the bed, and a pair of diamond-encrusted handcuffs, which he had persuaded Sabrina to wear the first time and she had asked him to use on several occasions since.

Whoever had coined the idiom ‘be careful what you wish for’ had known what they were talking about, he mused. When Sabrina had agreed to be his mistress he had insisted that all he wanted was sex without emotion—and that was exactly what she gave him every night.

Their enormous four-poster bed at Eversleigh Hall was their sensual playground where they shut out the world and indulged in long hours of lovemaking that left them sated until the morning, when he would reach across the mattress for her and she would slide into his arms, as hungry for sex as he was.

But afterwards she always moved back to her side of the bed. It was as if there were an invisible barrier between them, and with each passing day, and night, Cruz felt a growing sense of frustration that had nothing to do with his sexual appetite. He found himself wishing that she would remain in his arms after they’d had sex, even though he had always been irritated by previous lovers who had wanted to cuddle and cling to him, or, even worse, wanted him to talk to them.

There were no such problems with Sabrina. She would reply if he initiated conversation, and she was perfectly pleasant and cordial, but her air of detachment made him want to shake a response from her. Even in bed, when her desire matched his and she responded to him with a fervency that drove him to the edge of his sanity, he sensed that she held some part of herself back from him.

He should be pleased, Cruz told himself, that when their business deal ended five months from now and he no longer required her to be his mistress, he would not have to worry that she might make a scene when he walked away from her. In fact, she probably would not even notice that he had gone.

He turned towards the door as she emerged from her dressing room, and the faint tug on his heart became a hard ache. The full-length, strapless evening gown, the colour of deep red wine, fitted her like a glove and showed off her tiny waist while the ruched bodice pushed her breasts high and gave her a deep cleavage that Cruz knew would draw the eyes of every male at the party.

‘You look exquisite,’ he murmured, hoping she did not hear the raw note of longing in his voice. He picked up a slim leather box from the dressing table and walked over to her. ‘I have something for you to wear that I think will suit your dress perfectly.’

Sabrina caught her breath as Cruz opened the lid to reveal a single strand of square-cut diamonds that even though she was no expert she could tell were of exceptional quality. The diamonds glittered with a fiery brilliance as he lifted the necklace out of the box and held it against her skin.

‘Turn round and lift up your hair.’

Pleasure shivered through her when she felt his fingers lightly brush against the back of her neck as he fastened the necklace. He looked unbelievably gorgeous in his formal dinner suit and she wished the evening were over and she could undress him slowly, tease him a little so that he promised punishment in return. Perhaps he would order her to lie face down on the pillows and use the diamond handcuffs to secure her hands to the ornate Victorian bedhead. She felt a familiar molten sensation between her legs. Cruz had revealed a depth of sensuality to her nature that she had not known existed and she was certain she would never experience with any other man, she thought bleakly.

‘What do you think?’

‘What?’ She was startled out of her reverie and prayed he had no idea of her wayward thoughts. ‘Oh...it’s beautiful.’ She touched the diamond necklace that circled her throat. ‘This must be the loveliest piece in the Delgado collection and I’ll enjoy showcasing it for you tonight. I’m sure it will attract plenty of interest from potential buyers at the party.’

‘It’s not a Delgado piece. I commissioned the necklace using stones from my own personal collection, and it’s not for sale, it’s a gift for you.’

Her heart gave a jolt. ‘I can’t possibly accept something so valuable.’ She spun round to face him and saw an indefinable emotion briefly cross his sculpted features. ‘You have already given me the means to safeguard my home,’ she said huskily. ‘I don’t ask or want for more.’

‘You didn’t want to save Eversleigh for yourself. You wanted it for your brother, didn’t you? I am aware of how titles and estates are passed down the generations of a family through the male line.’ Cruz cut her off before she could argue. ‘I also discovered from Tristan when he visited last week that he is about to begin the very expensive training course to become a commercial airline pilot. Your brother was under the impression that the course fees were paid out of your father’s bank account, but you and I know differently, don’t we,
querida
?’

‘You didn’t tell Tris the truth, did you?’ she asked sharply.

‘Of course I didn’t. But I wish you had been more honest with me. You allowed me to think that you wanted to continue living a life of luxury at Eversleigh Hall, but instead I find that you are responsible for running the house and estate and you do everything from mopping floors to mending farm fences.’

She shrugged. ‘What difference would it have made if you had known the situation here? I still needed money to keep the estate solvent until my father returns.’ Her grey eyes met his olive-green gaze, and she said quietly, ‘There was only one reason why I sold my body to you.’

She meant Eversleigh of course, Cruz told himself. He raked a hand through his hair. ‘If I’d known you were offering yourself as a martyr for your family I would have... I don’t know...been kinder, more caring.’ Dull colour ran under his skin when Sabrina stared at him.

‘Caring is an emotion, but all you want from me is sex. You can’t change the rules halfway through the game.’ She threw her pashmina around her shoulders. ‘It’s time we were going, or we’ll be late.’

Cruz inhaled her perfume, a subtle blend of white orchids and jasmine, as elegantly beautiful as the woman wearing it, and he was tempted to haul her into his arms and tell her that it was his game and he could change the rules whenever he liked. But Sabrina had already stepped into the hallway and she stooped down to scoop a ball of ginger fur into her arms.

‘Darling George, I won’t be gone for too long,’ she crooned to the cat. ‘I hope you don’t miss me, sweetheart.’

‘I’m sure he’ll survive on his own for a few hours.’ Cruz told himself it was ridiculous to feel jealous of a cat. He and George had come to a truce of sorts, in that he tolerated the cat, and the cat gave him a smug look every time it jumped into Sabrina’s lap.

‘You are so heartless,’ she complained when he firmly closed the door to deny the cat access to the bedroom. ‘I love George.’

‘Lucky George,’ Cruz murmured.

As he followed Sabrina down the stairs he realised that he could not allow this unsatisfactory situation to continue. He had set the rules of their relationship and he could change them, but first he needed to be clear about what he wanted from his infuriatingly aloof mistress.

CHAPTER TEN

I
F
SOMEONE
HAD
told him when he had been growing up in the
favela,
forced to search through piles of rotting rubbish for something to eat, that one day he would be bored of champagne and caviar, he would have found it hugely funny, Cruz brooded.

He kept his thoughts to himself and smiled at the silver-haired woman beside him who seemed to have been talking for hours. Lady Aisling’s husband had business connections in China, and networking was always useful. The chance to socialise with powerful business leaders was the reason Cruz had coerced Sabrina into being his mistress. One of the reasons, he acknowledged self-derisively as his gaze was drawn to her. She looked stunning in her figure-hugging velvet gown, and she was clearly charming the socks off Lord Aisling.

Sabrina’s beautiful face was animated and she exuded an air of warm friendliness that drew people to her. Why did she never smile at him the way she was smiling at Lord Aisling, or the waiter who stopped to offer her a tray of canapés? She showed more affection to her goddamned cat than to him, Cruz thought darkly. But as she had reminded him, emotions were not included in their deal.