Page 7 of Brazilian Revenge

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.”

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