Kidnapping the Brazilian Tycoon (3 page)

When his eyes searched for hers again, he discovered she, too, glanced at his lips.

He loosened his grip on her waist for a moment.

If he reached for her pocket right now, she would be too alert and react swiftly. She laid her palm on his chest, a clumsy touch that turned him on beyond belief. Drawn to her, he angled toward her mouth and captured her lips. For a moment, she stiffened in his hold, her fingers two blocks of granite on his rib cage. He lowered his lips to hers and used her moaning protest to push inside her hot, wet mouth. Bitter memories—from the last time freedom had been so viscerally vital to him—threatened to tug at his mind. But he moved faster than his thoughts and shut them off. He licked her lips, slipped his tongue inside, and hoped the kiss wouldn’t make him any dirtier than he already was.

To his surprise, that wasn’t the case.
Hmmm
. For a few seconds, she froze, reacting with complete modesty to his flesh. Then, before he could analyze his doubts, her tongue caressed his in a slow, delicate fashion. His insides pumped, thick and hard. He groaned and intensified the strokes of his tongue on her, urgency filling him like a tank of gasoline about to overflow. And burn.

She matched his passion, as if she’d been switched on from a trance, and nipped his lower lip. His cock jumped. He entertained the idea of shedding her clothes and licking every inch of her soft skin. He would play her body like a Stradivarius. He would taste her, graze her nipples, which now hardened against him.

Another moan, too sexy to be accidental, escaped her throat. Bringing one hand to caress her untamed hair, he motioned the other one to remove her shirt.

Except—the restraint of the handcuffs biting into his flesh snapped him back to reality. Handcuffs. His blood went cold. He was completely at her mercy. Using his charms to take advantage of the situation, sure. Falling victim of his own plan? He couldn’t afford to be this foolish. Not anymore.

His throat thickened, and the reason for his skin prickling had nothing to do with the woman squirming on top of him.

Get out.
Words he had heard at a pivotal time of his youth had become his go-to motto in many situations. This was one of them. The handcuffs were like a ton of cold metal, a burden to his wrist. To his freedom.

With his free hand, he dipped down and outlined her round, pert butt. He felt a hard bump on her cheek. The key.

“No,” she shouted. Before he could react, she pushed away and disentangled from him, scooting back on the bed until she reached the edge. Her breath came in small gasps.

They stared at each other silently for moments that dragged into minutes.

“I… I…” she started, her hand on her heaving chest. Her eyes weren’t fixed anywhere in particular, which was the oddest reaction he’d ever gotten from a woman.

What the hell was wrong with her?

Her lips puckered with annoyance. “You… You kissed me.”

“And you enjoyed it.” He bit back a smile.
So did I.

“No,” she rushed to say. “This isn’t about me. Listen, I know you’re flying to Vegas to get married to Erika Lancaster tonight,” she blurted out.

Erika… He raised his free hand, still hot from Addie’s touch, and ran his fingers through his hair. Breaking up at the bar with Erika seemed like eons ago.

“Is that why you were drinking alone in that bar earlier? Celebrating your last hours as a free man?”

“None of it concerns you.”

“What you’re planning to do with the Kwanis concerns me. If you sign an agreement granting more time to get them relocated, I’ll release you, and you can catch your flight and marry that poor woman. If you don’t, I’ll keep you here for as long as I have to, and she’ll think you changed your mind. No flight and no Vegas marriage for you.” She folded her arms and lifted her chin.

So that was what the kidnapping was about? She wanted to manipulate him into accepting her terms by threatening to mess with his Vegas wedding? He quirked up his lips. “Tough luck. I hate to break it to you, but I’m not marrying Erika tonight. Or ever.”

Chapter Three

Addie gave him the same disdainful look she’d given some arrogant jock when he’d assumed she’d be his prom date. For one reckless instant, she had been weak, but she blamed it on adrenaline. Yep. Reacting to his touch was dumb, but overanalyzing his strategy for freedom was even dumber. “I’m not stupid. You’re lying.”

She resisted the urge to touch her lips, warm and tender from her mistake.
Get a grip, Addison
. In her entire life, she had never abandoned herself that way…forgetting, even temporarily, what mattered. Wishing her nipples would behave, she shook her hands in an attempt to loosen her limbs and dodge that throbbing sensation. What would impact her life and dozens of others was what had brought her here.

The past week, when she’d arrived in New York and her plans of kidnapping him solidified, she’d taken two yoga classes with Erika’s chatty personal assistant. He had arranged her hair appointments and hotel accommodations in Vegas and was all too happy to gossip about the upcoming elopement. “Denying that you’re marrying her to make me think you don’t need to be on that flight won’t work.”

“Why are you so sure I’m marrying her? I never said a word to the media. Never even admitted it to my family.”

What kind of man didn’t alert his own family about an impending marriage? She touched her throbbing temples. The lush greenness of Toca do Tigre flooded her mind, the memories fresh as a ripe mango. The Kwanis growing corn,
mandioca,
and bananas. Fishing. Making clay pots for their own use and sale.

The flicker of challenge in his eyes drew her back to the present. “I have my ways. Listen, all you have to do is hear me out. If we reach an agreement, you’re free to go.”

“How do I know you’ll keep your end of the bargain?”

She stood in front of him. One thing she learned with the Kwanis was to always look someone straight in the eye. It was a sign of respect. Necessary to gain their trust. “I don’t go back on my word.”

He scrutinized the dirty floors, the cigarette-stained beige walls and, at last, her. “How much time do you want?”

“A year.”

“Six months,” he retorted.

Time to negotiate
. “And you will offer some help to get them readjusted or find them jobs?”

“I don’t want to deal with that.”

She smiled. “I will. I’ll deal with that.”

“You want a job?” A sarcastic chuckle left his lips. “You’re not as altruistic as you originally appeared.”

“Because of you, I lost my job at the nonprofit. And I lost my work visa.” And she had emptied her checking account to support her return to the US and her stay in New York while she figured out her last attempt at giving the Kwanis more time.

He sighed loudly. “Because of your being an extremist.”

“Whatever. We don’t have to see eye-to-eye on everything.” A wave of frustration coursed within her. “Bruno, the man you want to sell the land to, Silas Lancaster, isn’t a reasonable person. I can imagine you’ve tried to sell that piece of land to others, but due to the repercussions, no one has accepted. No one wants to be linked to expelling people from the land they’ve lived off of for years. But Lancaster doesn’t give a damn, and he plans on building luxury residential properties and changing the whole ecosystem.”

He attempted to fold his arms. His free arm folded, while his cuffed wrist shook. “And you expect me to just change plans?”

“Being generous and thinking of others is a small price to pay to be able to make it to your own wedding in time.” She pointed at the alarm clock. “I know there’s a private jet waiting to take you to Vegas tonight.”

“I told you there’s no wedding. There was…but she called it off.”

“Called it off? Bruno…” She almost mumbled that she was sorry, though for what she didn’t know. Could he be telling her the truth?

“It’s true,” he said in a low voice. “She changed her mind a few hours ago. If you want to keep me here all night, let’s have at it. Might as well entertain me, granola girl.” A double entendre coated his words, and it caused the little hairs at the back of her neck to stand on end. She shuddered as he stared at her like he held more power chained to a bed than she did with her freedom.
Focus.

Crap
. What was she going to do? Beads of sweat slicked her forehead.
So much for leverage.
How else could she convince him to help the Kwanis? Was all of this for nothing? “Isn’t it enough to fight modern genocide?” Her nervous tone betrayed her. She cleared her throat and gave herself a mental slap. “Clear conscience? Tax write-off? Good PR?” All of the above?

He offered her a sour smile. “There is something I actually need.”

“Anything.” She smoothed her sweaty palms on her tank top.

“I need a bride.”

Surprise zapped through her. “A bride?” she repeated, making sure she had heard him correctly.

“My father’s health is deteriorating. He has a brain tumor. Doctors don’t expect him to live longer than a month. I’m returning to Brazil in a couple days. Since I know he’s long wished to see me married, I arranged to elope before going to Rio.”

Elope…with Erika. Did he really think just any woman would work? Like generic soap brands in the supermarket.

“I’m sorry about your father,” she whispered. With both parents alive and still married despite their rough patches in the past, she couldn’t fathom losing either of them. “But I’m sure he’d rather see you happily married than married to someone just for the sake of fulfilling an expectation.”

“There’s more to it.”

“Are you gay?” Why else would he need to arrange a bride? At this time and age, who cared? Perhaps his father was extremely conservative. Though the way he kissed her earlier… Her pulse fluttered. Bruno’s powerful masculinity was like an undiscovered source of energy, flaring up waves from miles away.

Hearty laughter filled the room. “No, Addie, I’m not gay. Quite the opposite.”

“You want to make a lifelong commitment just to show your dad some poor fool agreed to marry you?”

“The reasons why don’t concern you. I’ve done things in the past I’m not proud of that deeply hurt my father and my family,” he said, pronouncing the words carefully as if he were trying not to reveal any more than necessary. “My father’s surgery didn’t work, and he’s decided to go on pain management treatment at home for his last weeks. He doesn’t have a lot to look forward to.”

“How can I help? I don’t see any of my female friends agreeing to this.” She thought of her childhood friends from Texas or the few women she’d gotten to know in Brazil. How could she contact them with this weird proposal? They’d expect more from a potential husband than just a sense of duty.

“I want you, Addie.”

“Come again?”

“I told my father I’d return to Brazil married. Since you’re such a selfless and altruistic person, there is nothing fairer than for you to step up.”

His suggestion paralyzed her. “Me? I’m sure you probably know more suitable women.”

“I do,” he said with a smile on his lips as if he’d already gotten his way.

Thanks.

“We’ll be leaving for Brazil tonight,” he continued, all boardroom-like. “I guess it’ll work out after all, Erika or no Erika.”

“Don’t you care for her at all?” Her chest tightened. Stuart, Erika’s PA whom she had befriended to gather more info, had been adamant that Bruno and his then fiancée shared common goals only.

“She’s a good woman.”

“You don’t love her. How can you marry someone you don’t love?”

He leaned back against the headboard and stretched his legs, crossing one over the other. “My captor is not only an idealist, but a romantic,” he mocked. “Aren’t I lucky?”

She ignored his sarcasm and the effect of the man semi-sprawled on a bed had on her nerves.

“You speak Portuguese, right?”

She nodded.

“I don’t have enough time to shop for a real bride. Since you want something I can give, we could negotiate.”

“But marriage… That’s too much.” She thought of Michael and how they planned their wedding. They were going to marry in a stretch of green field, barefoot, she wearing a crocheted dress, with yellow lilies adorning her hair. She never envisioned herself married to anyone else, let alone to Bruno Duarte.

“Think of it as a temporary agreement. You go to Brazil with me, pretend to be blissfully happy until my old man dies. And then you’re free. I’ll help your cause and give you eight months to move the people.”

“Eight months?” she repeated. That was the perfect amount of time.

She touched the silver necklace around her neck. Her finger brushed against the crisp, somewhat tarnished heart pendant. Could she do this? Wouldn’t that be a painful reminder of everything she had planned and lost with Michael?

“How far are you willing to go for the Kwanis?” He put his free hand behind his head. “I am giving you an option.”

“What if I say no?”

“Then you aren’t the martyr you’ve painted yourself to be. Since it’s obvious you aren’t going to kill me, at some point you will have to release me. And when you do… What’s the maximum sentence for kidnapping in the state of New York?” He whistled. “My lawyers will make sure you get it. What good would you be to the Kwanis behind bars?”

She rubbed the back of her neck, desperate to take some pressure off her decision. Restless, she tapped the laminate floor with her left foot as her mind raced. “That’s blackmail.”

“I call it the art of negotiation.” His lips curled with satisfaction.

“One year. Give them one year.” The hard part would be to find the right place to move them to. Since they didn’t have funds, and neither did she, they’d have to rely on either the government mapping a territory to make theirs by law, or she’d mediate among different nonprofit organizations and private corporations for incentives. She would probably try to do both and see which one came through first. Brazilians loved red tape.

“Ten months.”

“Ten months, and you’ll give me your support and make me their liaison to mediate with the bigger agencies. In fact, you’ll make a donation to a nonprofit of my choosing in the amount of one—”

“Ten months. I’ll do minimum public appearances and offer limited support as I see fit. And a donation to your nonprofit, once I verify its credibility, of one million dollars.”

She swallowed. One million dollars? Her initial hope was one hundred thousand.

This was the right thing to do for the Kwanis. But…was it right for her? If she put her own selfishness aside, would she do it? Her finger toyed with her necklace. Marrying him was the perfect, twisted arrangement. “I’ll do it.”

“Time to release me,” he said smoothly and jangled the cuffs. The clang of metal on metal sent a spark of fear inside her, but the suspiciously slow smile forming on his lips scared her more.

She curled and uncurled her hands, the weight of her decision prickling her fingers. Could she trust him? No. Did she have an option? Not really. She reached into her messenger bag, retrieving the agreement she’d printed earlier. Keeping their recent deal in mind, she scribbled some changes on the document, initialed it, and gave him the two sheets that carried the future of many. “This is an agreement to ensure you won’t go back on your word. It doesn’t contain all we just talked about, at least not the marriage part, but I made a couple of changes regarding the time and donation.”

His hearty chuckle reverberated through her. “How convenient, Ms. Reed.”

“Sign it.” She offered him the pen, but when it changed hands, the brush of his fingers on hers made her jerk back and suppress a gasp.

Bruno smirked, and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, fidgeting with her fingers while he signed the papers.

Then she reached deep inside her back pocket, removed the key, and leaned down to unlock the handcuff from the bed. The moment the short chain fell, she stepped back.

He shook his now-free wrist and flexed his tanned fingers just as he had when she’d freed his other wrist earlier.

She touched her necklace. “What happens next?”

Bruno found his shoes by the dingy chair and put them on. “I’ll meet you a couple of hours before my jet leaves. We’ll need to go shopping.”

“Shopping? For what?”

“To find you more suitable clothes.” He assessed her. “Something tells me you’re the casual type.”

“And you’re the snobby type.”

He chuckled. “We’ll get along great, you and I.”

She rolled her eyes.
I seriously doubt it.

…

Addie glanced at her watch. Fifteen minutes late. With her rental car returned and her belongings packed, she paid for her cab and grabbed her small roll-on suitcase from the trunk herself. Taking a deep breath, she stood in front of a luxurious boutique on Fifth Avenue. The kind she’d never set foot in on her own. Not in a million years.

She reached for the heavy glass door, but, before her fingers touched the polished handle, someone opened it for her.

“Ms. Reed?” the skinny brunette asked her. “I’m Gwen, the store manager.”

The woman’s instant smile and readiness intimidated Addie more than if she had been snobby and slightly prejudiced. It would be easier to deal with snooty salesgirls and a bitchy manager.

Addie shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure,” Gwen said. “Please let Andrew take care of your luggage. Mr. Duarte should be by soon.”