Page 56 of Thiago
Thanks to the large Japanese community in São Paulo, he had been introduced to Yamazaki whisky and had fallen in love with its delicious flavor, reminiscent of blackberry and dark chocolate.
“Sure.” India lifted the glass to her lips. “Mmm, that’s really good. I’ll need a glass of that later with dinner.”
Thiago chuckled. “There’s plenty,” he said, as the captain announced they were preparing for takeoff.
Moments later, they were in the air.
Chapter Twenty-Two
India eyed Thiago in the private elevator shuttling them to his penthouse suite. They had just returned from dinner, and tomorrow they had an early flight to Rio de Janeiro, where he had reserved a room for them at the luxurious and historic Copacabana Palace on Copacabana Beach.
While India was excited to go to their next destination, the trip had been magical so far.
On the ten-hour flight south, they had slept on the company jet, so Thiago was refreshed when they arrived and went into the Santana International offices the next morning. She had spent the morning in a museum before visiting the company. She met with the marketing team, including the vice president of marketing for Latin America, whom she’d spent time with when he had participated in the coaching sessions last month. Though they served different markets, they were able to learn from each other and promised to stay in touch to further exchange ideas.
In the evening, they took a taxi to Vila Madalena, an artsy neighborhood known for its nightlife. Atop the Unique Hotel, they sipped caipirinhas and ate dinner at the Skye Bar with locals and tourists while admiring the city view.
The next day, India went into the office first and took the afternoon off for sightseeing. She joined a tour group, which included a return to Vila Madalena and a walk down its famous winding pedestrian street called Beco do Batman, or Batman’s Alley, where the walls were covered in breathtakingly beautiful murals. On the excursion, she made friends with a fellow tourist from Colorado, and they acted as photographers, snapping photos of each other in front of the impressive works of art.
Later, she explored a few other places Thiago recommended, including the Museu de Arte de São Paulo Assis Chateaubriand. She spent over two hours there, admiring the work of well-known European artists like Gauguin, Goya, and Gainsborough, as well as the museum’s collection of Brazilian and other Latin American artists.
That night, they went dancing after dinner, and Thiago showed he had the same dangerously sexy moves on the dance floor as he did in the bedroom.
“You look tired,” Thiago remarked, cupping her cheek.
“I might be, a little bit. I’ve packed in a lot the past couple of days.”
The constant physical activity, more than she was used to, had taken its toll on her body. She was also suffering from a bout of nausea. Last week, she’d experienced the same thing and had thrown up after work. She’d had fish for lunch then and had wondered if the meal could have been the culprit, but here she was, feeling very much like she wanted to throw up again after eating chicken. She had a sneaking suspicion she knew what was causing her to be sick two weeks in a row.
Thiago pulled her into his arms, and she laid her head on his chest, reveling in the comfort of his embrace. “Then you need to rest tonight,” he said, kissing the top of her head.
Their situationship was long over, and the Thiago she had known had been replaced. There were so many moments oftenderness and playfulness in this new man, which made her believe their relationship could develop into something more. Something longer-term, perhaps.
India kissed his bearded chin. “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, once I’m good and rested,” she promised.
They exited the elevator, which opened into the entryway of his penthouse apartment. The space was adorned with walnut floors, and a dramatic painting in an ornate gold frame dominated one wall, the image showing Brazilian farmers of all skin tones tending the land. Recessed lights reflected off the dark floor, and a vase containing a royal blue orchid provided an eye-catching pop of color against the room’s warm earth tones.
In the bedroom, the view was spectacular, with floor-to-ceiling windows giving an unobstructed view of São Paulo’s glittering skyline of high-rises and skyscrapers. The king-size bed in the middle of the room had an upholstered headboard and appeared small in the expansive space. The decor in general was all about texture and warmth, with thick rugs covering the floor, and tables and chairs in solid colors and floral prints, including a sitting area perfect for moments of quiet reading.
India surreptitiously watched Thiago as he removed his jacket, leaving on his long-sleeved shirt that clung to his frame, pulling a little at his biceps and emphasizing his strong, wide shoulders.
It should be illegal for a man to look so good,she mused.
Not only did he have an incredible body, his features were arranged in such a way that the average person was forced to stop and stare. She had seen plenty of people—women, especially—ogling him as they walked to their table this evening, as if each person was pulled in by his square jaw, smoldering dark eyes, and dangerously sensual lips.
“That’s new,” India remarked, nodding at the watch on his wrist as she slipped off her heels.
“It is a vintage Omega Seamaster.” Thiago flicked his wrist so she could better see its gold face, which matched the gold link band. “They gained their reputation as dive watches and have a strong association with the James Bond character, believe it or not. This one belonged to my grandfather. My father’s father. He wore it every day, and when he passed, my father handed me the watch. He said Grandfather had wanted me to have it.”
There was no arrogance or steel in Thiago’s voice. Just quiet pride that he had been chosen as the one to inherit the watch from his grandfather, someone he obviously admired.
“How old were you when you received it?” India asked.
“Twelve.” He paused. “Because of this, I started collecting vintage watches. I became obsessed.”
“Where are the others? Here or in Atlanta?”
“Here.” He paused again, appraising her with a thoughtful look. Then he seemed to come to a decision. “Would you like to see my collection?”
