Million-Dollar Love-Child

Sarah Morgan
Million-Dollar Love-Child

MILLS & BOON

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To Kim Young, for being a great friend

and a fantastic editor.

Thank you.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

COMING NEXT MONTH

CHAPTER ONE

SHE’Dnever known fear like it.

Breathing so rapidly that she felt light-headed, Kimberley stood in the imposing glass-walled boardroom on the executive floor of Santoro Investments, staring down at the throbbing, vibrant streets of Rio de Janeiro.

The waiting was torture.

Everything rested on the outcome of this visit—everything—and the knowledge made her legs weaken and her insides knot with vicious tension.

It was ironic, she thought helplessly, that the only person who could help her now was the one man she’d sworn never to see again.

Forcing herself to breathe steadily, she closed her eyes for a moment and tried to modify her expectations. He’d probably refuse to see her.

People didn’t just arrive unannounced and gain access to a man like Luc Santoro.

She was only sitting here now because his personal assistant had taken pity on her. Stammering out her request to see him, Kimberley had been so pale and anxious that the older woman had become quite concerned and had insisted that she should sit and wait in the privacy of the air-conditioned boardroom. Having brought her a large glass of water, the assistant had given her a smile and assured her that Mr Santoro really wasn’t as dangerous as his reputation suggested.

But Kimberley knew differently. Luc Santoro wasn’t just dangerous, he was lethal and she knew that it was going to take more than water to make her face the man on the other side of that door.

What was she going to say?

How was she going to tell him?

Where was she going to start?

She couldn’t appeal to his sense of decency or his conscience because he possessed neither. Helping others wasn’t high on his agenda. He used people and, more especially, he used women. She knew that better than anyone. Pain ripped through her as she remembered just how badly he’d treated her. He was a ruthless, self-seeking billionaire with only one focus in his life. The pursuit of pleasure.

And for a short, blissful time, she’d been his pleasure.

Her heart felt like a heavy weight in her chest. Looking back on it now, she couldn’t believe how naïve she’d been. How trusting. As an idealistic, romantic eighteen-year-old, she’d been willing and eager to share every single part of herself with him. She’d held nothing back because she’d seen no reason to hold anything back. He’d been the one. Her everything. And she’d been his nothing.

She curled her fingers into her palms and reminded herself that the objective of today was not to rehash the past. She was going to have to put aside the memory of the pain, the panic and the bone-deep humiliation she’d suffered as a result of his cruel and careless rejection.

None of that mattered now.

There was only one thing that mattered to her, only one person, and for the sake of that person she was going to bite her tongue, smile, beg or do whatever it took to ingratiate herself with Luc Santoro—because there was no way she was leaving Brazil without the money she needed.

It was a matter of life and death.

She paced the length of the room, trying to formulate some sort of plan in her mind, trying to work out a reasonable way to ask for five million dollars from a man who had absolutely no feelings for her.

How was she going to tackle the subject?

How was she going to tell him that she was in serious trouble?

And how could she make him care?

She felt a shaft of pure panic and then the door opened and he strolled into the room unannounced, the sun glinting on his glossy black hair, his face hard, handsome and unsmiling.

And Kimberley realised that she was in even more trouble than she’d previously thought.

She looked like a baby deer caught in an ambush.

Without revealing any of his thoughts, Luc surveyed the slender, impossibly beautiful redhead who stood shivering and pale on the far side of his boardroom.

She looked so frightened that he almost found it possible to feel sorry for her. Except that he knew too much about her.

And if he were in her position, he’d be shaking, too.

She had one hell of a nerve, coming here!

Seven years.

He hadn’t seen Kimberley Townsend for seven years and still she had the ability to seriously disturb his day.

Endless legs, silken hair, soft mouth and a wide, trusting smile—

For a time she’d truly had him fooled with that loving, giving, generous act that she’d perfected. Accustomed to being with women who were as sophisticated and calculating as himself, he’d been charmed and captivated by Kimberley’s innocence, openness and her almost childlike honesty.

It was the first and only occasion in his adult life when he’d made a serious error of judgement.

She was a greedy little gold-digger.

He knew that now. And she knew that he knew.

So what could possibly have possessed her to throw herself in his path again?

She was either very brave or very, very stupid. He strolled towards her, watching her flinch and tremble and decided that she didn’t look particularly brave.

Which just left stupid.

Or desperate?

Kimberley stood with her back to the wall and wondered how she could have forgotten the impact that Luciano Santoro had on women. How could she ever have thought she could hold a man like him?

Time had somehow dimmed the memory and the reality was enough to stun her into a temporary silence.

She was tall but he was taller. His shoulders were broad, his physique lithe and athletic and his dark, dangerous looks alone were enough to make a woman forget her own name. The truth was that, even among a race renowned for handsome men, Luc stood out from the crowd.

She stared at him with almost agonizing awareness as he strolled towards her, her eyes sliding over the glossy blueblack hair, the high cheekbones, those thick, thick lashes that shielded brooding, night-dark eyes and down to the darkened jaw of a man who seemed to embody everything it meant to be masculine. He was dressed formally in standard business attire but even the tailored perfection of his dark suit couldn’t entirely disguise a nature that bordered on the very edges of civilised. Although he moved in a conventional world, Luc could never be described as ‘safe’ and it was that subtle hint of danger that added to his almost overwhelming appeal.

His attraction to the opposite sex was as powerful as it was predictable and she’d proved herself to be as susceptible as the rest when it came to his particular brand of lethal charm.

Feeling her heart pound against her chest, she wondered whether she’d been mad to come here.

She didn’t move in his league and she never had. They played by a completely different set of rules.

And then she reminded herself firmly that she wasn’t here for herself. Given the choice she never would have come near Luc again. But he was her only hope.

‘Luciano.’

His eyes mocked her in that lazy, almost bored way that she used to find both aggravating and seductive. ‘Very formal. You used to call me Luc.’

He spoke with a cultured male drawl that held just a hint of the dark and dangerous. The staggeringly successful international businessman mingled with the raw, rough boy from the streets.

There was enough of the hard and the tough and the ruthless in him to make her shiver. Of course he was tough and ruthless, she reasoned, trying to control the exaggerated response of her trembling body. Rumour had it that he’d dragged himself from the streets of Rio before building one of the biggest multinational businesses in the world.

‘That’s in the past.’ And she didn’t want to remember the past. Didn’t want to remember the times she’d cried out his name as he’d shown her yet another way to paradise.

He raised an eyebrow and from the look in his dark eyes she knew that he was experiencing the same memories. The temperature in the room rose by several degrees and the air began to crackle and hum. ‘And is that what this meeting is about? The past? You want closure? You have come to beg forgiveness and repay the money you stole?’

It was typical of him that the first thing he mentioned was the money.

For a moment her courage faltered.

‘I know it was wrong to use your credit cards—’ she licked her lips ‘—but I had a good reason—’ She broke off and the carefully prepared speech that she’d rehearsed and rehearsed in her head dissolved into nothing and suddenly she couldn’t think how on earth she was going to say what needed to be said.

Now, she urged herself frantically, tell him now!

But somehow the right words just wouldn’t come.

‘You did give me the cards—’

‘One of the perks of being with me,’ Luc said silkily, ‘but when you spent the money, you were no longer with me. I have to congratulate you. I thought that no woman had the ability to surprise me—’he paced around her, his voice a soft, lethal drawl ‘—and yet you did just that. During our relationship you spent nothing. You showed no interest in my money. At the time I thought you were unique amongst your sex. I found your lack of interest in material things particularly endearing.’ His tone hardened. ‘Now I see that you were in fact just clever. Very clever. You held back on your spending but once you realised that the relationship was over, you showed your true colours.’

Kimberley’s mouth fell open in genuine amazement. What on earth was he implying? It was definitely time to tell him the truth. ‘I can explain where the money went—’ She braced herself for the ultimate confession but he gave a dismissive shrug that indicated nothing short of total indifference.

‘If there is one occupation more boring than watching a woman shop, it’s hearing about it after the event.’ Luc’s tone was bored. ‘I have absolutely no interest in the finer details of feminine indulgence.’

‘Is that what you think it was?’ Kimberley stared at him, aghast. ‘You think I spent your money in some sort of childish female tantrum?’

‘So you cheered yourself up with some new shoes and handbags.’ He gave a sardonic smile. ‘It is typically female behaviour. I can assure you I’m no stranger to the perceived benefits of retail therapy.’

Kimberley gasped. ‘You are unbelievably insensitive!’ Her voice rang with passion, anger and pain and her carefully planned speech flew out of her brain. He thought she’d been shopping? ‘Shopping was the last thing on my mind! This was not retail therapy.’ Her whole body trembled with indignation. ‘This was survival. I needed the money to survive because I gave up everything to be with you. Everything. I gave up my job, my flat—I moved in with you. It was what you demanded.’

His gaze was cool. ‘I don’t recall a significant degree of protest on your part.’

She tilted her head back and struggled with her emotions. ‘I was in love with you, Luc.’ Her voice cracked and she paused for just long enough to regain control. ‘I was so in love with you that being together was the only thing in my life that made sense. I couldn’t see further than what we shared. I certainly couldn’t imagine a time when we wouldn’t be together.’

‘Women do have a tendency to hear wedding bells when they’re around me,’ he observed dryly. ‘In fact I would say, the larger the wallet, the louder the bells.’

‘I’m not talking about marriage. I didn’t care about marriage. I just cared about you.’

A muscle flickered in his lean jaw and his eyes hardened. ‘Obviously you were planning for the long term.’

It took her a moment to understand the implication of his words. ‘You’re suggesting it was an act?’ She gave a tiny laugh of disbelief and lifted a hand to her throat. Beneath the tips of her fingers she felt her pulse beating rapidly. ‘You think I was pretending?’

‘You were very convincing,’ Luc conceded after a moment’s reflection, ‘but then the stakes were high, were they not? The prospect of landing a billionaire is often sufficient to produce the most commendable acting skills in a woman.’

Kimberley stared at him.

How could she ever have been foolish enough to give her love to this man? Was her judgement really that bad?

Tears clogged her throat. ‘I don’t consider you a prize, Luc,’ she choked. ‘In fact I consider you to be the biggest mistake of my life.’

‘Of course you do.’ He spread lean bronzed hands and gave a sympathetic smile, but his eyes were hard as flint. ‘I can understand that you’d be kicking yourself for letting me slip through your fingers. All I can say is, better luck with the next guy.’

She stared into his cold, handsome face and suddenly she just wanted to sob and sob. ‘You deserve to be alone in life, Luc,’ she said flatly, battling not to let the emotion show on her face, ‘and every woman with a grain of sense is going to let you slip right through her fingers. Given the chance, I’d drop you head first on to a tiled floor from a great height.’

He smiled an arrogant, all-male smile that reflected his unshakeable self-confidence. ‘We both know you couldn’t get enough of me.’

She gasped, utterly humiliated by the picture he painted. ‘That was before I knew what an unfeeling, cold-hearted bastard you were!’ She broke off in horror, appalled by her rudeness and uncharacteristic loss of control. What had come over her? ‘I—I’m sorry, that was unforgivable—’

‘Don’t apologise for showing your true colours.’ Far from being offended, he looked mildly amused. ‘Believe it or not, I prefer honesty in a woman. It saves all sorts of misunderstanding.’

She lifted a hand to her forehead in an attempt to relieve the ache between her temples.

It had been so hard for her to come here. So hard to brace herself to tell him the things that he needed to know. And so far none of it had gone as planned.

She had things that had to be said and she just didn’t know how to say them. Instead of talking about the present, they were back in the past and that was the one place she didn’t want to be. Unless she could use the past to remind him of what they’d once shared—

‘You cared, Luc,’ she said softly, her hands dropping to her sides in a helpless gesture. ‘I know you cared. I felt it.’

She appealed to the man that she’d once believed him to be.

‘I was very turned on by the fact I was your first lover,’ he agreed in a smooth tone. ‘In fact I was totally knocked out by the novelty of the experience. Naturally I was keen for you to enjoy it too. You were very shy and it was in both our interests for you to be relaxed. I did what needed to be done and said what needed to be said.’

Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. In other words he was so experienced with women that he knew exactly which buttons to press. In her case he’d sensed that she needed closeness and affection. It hadn’t meant anything to him.

‘So you’re saying it was all an act?’ The pain inside her blossomed. ‘Being loving and gentle was just another of your many seduction methods?’

He shrugged as if he could see no problem with that. ‘I didn’t hear you complaining.’

She closed her eyes. How could she have been so gullible? Yes, she’d been a virgin but that was no excuse for bald stupidity. Sixteen years of living with a man like her father should have taught her everything she needed to know about men. He’d moved from one woman to another, never making a commitment, never giving anything. Just using. Using and discarding. Her mother had walked out just after Kimberley’s fourth birthday and from that moment on she had a series of ‘Aunties’, women who came into her father’s life and then left with a volley of shouts and jealous accusations. Kimberley had promised herself that she was never, ever going to let a man treat her the way her father treated women. She was going to find one man and she was going to love him.

And then she’d met Luc and for a short, crazy period of time she’d thought he was that man. She’d ignored his reputation with women, ignored any similarities to her father, ignored her promise to herself.

She’d broken all her own rules.

And she’d paid the price.

‘What did I ever do to make you treat me so cruelly?’ Suddenly she needed to understand. Wanted to know what had gone wrong—how she could have made such an enormous mistake. ‘Why did you need other women?’

‘I’ve never been a one woman kind of guy,’ he admitted without a trace of apology or regret, ‘and you’re all pretty much the same, as you went on to prove with your truly awesome spending spree.’

She flinched. This would be a perfect time to confess. To tell him exactly why she’d needed the money so badly. She took a deep breath and braced herself for the truth. ‘I spent your money because I needed it for something very important,’ she said hesitantly, ‘and before I tell you exactly what, I want you to know that I did try and talk to you at the time but you wouldn’t see me, and—’

‘Is this conversation going anywhere?’ He glanced at his watch in a gesture of supreme boredom. ‘I’ve already told you that your spending habits don’t interest me. And if you’d needed funds then maybe you should have tapped your other lover for the cash.’

She gasped. ‘I didn’t have other lovers. You know I didn’t.’

There’d only ever been him. Just him.

‘I don’t know anything of the kind.’ His eyes hardened. ‘On two occasions I returned home to be told that you were “out”.’

‘Because I was tired of lying in our bed waiting for you to come home from some other woman’s arms!’ She exploded with exasperation, determined to defend herself. ‘Yes, I went out! And you just couldn’t stand that, could you? And why not? Because you always have to be the one in control.’

‘It wasn’t about control.’ His gaze simmered, dark with all the volatility of his exotic heritage. ‘You didn’t need to leave. You were mine.’

And he thought that wasn’t about control?

‘You make me sound like a possession!’ Her voice rang with pain and frustration. She was trying to say what needed to be said but each time she tried to talk about the present they seemed to end up back in the past. ‘You treat every woman like a possession! To be used and discarded when you’re had enough! That’s why our relationship never would have worked. You’re ruthless, self-seeking and totally without morals or thought for other people. You expected me to lie there and wait for you to finish partying and come home!’

‘Instead of which, you decided to expand your sexual horizons,’ he said coldly and she resisted the temptation to leap at him and claw at his handsome face.

How could such an intelligent, successful man be so dense about women? He couldn’t see past the end of his nose.

‘You went out, so I went out.’ Wisps of hair floated across her face and she brushed them away with an impatient hand. ‘What was I supposed to do when you weren’t there?’

‘You were supposed to get some rest,’ he delivered in silky tones, ‘and wait for me to come home.’

Neanderthal man. She was expected to wait in the cave for the hunter to return.

Exasperated beyond belief, she resisted the temptation to walk out and slam the door. ‘This is the twenty-first century, Luc! Women vote. They run companies. They decide their own social lives.’

‘And they cheat on their partners.’ He gave a sardonic lift of his brows. ‘Progress, indeed.’

‘I did not cheat!’ She stared at him in outrage, wondering how such an intelligent man could be so dense when it came to relationships. She’d loved him so much. ‘You were the one photographed in a restaurant with another woman. Clearly I wasn’t enough for you.’ She gave a casual shrug and tried to keep the pain out of her voice. ‘Naturally I assumed that if you were out seeing other people then I could do the same. But I did not cheat!’

‘I don’t want the details.’

They were closing in on each other. A step here, a slight movement there.

‘Well, perhaps you should, instead of jumping to conclusions,’ she suggested shakily, ‘and if a sin was committed then it was yours, Luc. I was eighteen years old and yet you seduced me without even a flicker of conscience. And then you moved on without a flicker of conscience. Tell me—did you give it any thought? Before you took my virginity and wrecked my life, did you give it any thought?’

His dark gaze swept over her with naked incredulity. ‘You have been back in my life for five minutes and already you are snapping and snarling and hurling accusations. You were only too willing to be seduced, my flame-haired temptress, but if you’ve forgotten that fact then I’m happy to jog your memory.’ Without warning he closed lean brown fingers around her wrist and jerked her hard against him. The connection was immediate and powerful.

‘That first night, in the back of my car, when you wrapped that amazing body of yours around mine—’ his voice was a low, dangerous purr and the warmth of his breath teased her mouth ‘—was that not an invitation?’

The air around them crackled and sparked with tension.

She tugged at her wrist but he held her easily and she remembered just how much she’d loved that about him. His strength. His vibrant, undiluted masculinity. In fact she’d positively relished the differences between them. His dark male power to her feminine softness. Her good to his very, very bad.

He was so strong and she’d always felt incredibly safe when she was with him. At the beginning that had been part of the attraction. Particularly that first night, as he’d just reminded her. ‘I’d been attacked. I was frightened—’

And he’d rescued her. Using street fighting skills that didn’t go with the sleek dinner jacket he’d been wearing, he’d taken on six men and had extracted her with apparently very little damage to himself. As a tactic designed to impress a woman, it had proved a winner.

‘So you wanted comfort.’ His grip on her wrist tightened. ‘So when you slid on to my lap and begged me to kiss you, was that not an invitation? Or was that comfort too?’

Hot colour of mortification flooded her smooth cheeks. ‘I don’t know what happened to me that night—’

She’d taken one look at him and suddenly believed in fairy tales. Knights. Dragons. Maidens in distress. He was the one. Or so she’d thought—

‘You discovered your true self,’ he said roughly. ‘That’s what happened. So don’t accuse me of seducing you when we both know that I only took what you freely offered. You were hot for me and you stayed hot—’

‘I was innocent—’

His breath warmed her mouth and he gave a slow, sexy smile that made her heart thud hard against her chest. ‘You were desperate.’

He was going to kiss her.

She recognised the signs, saw the darkening of his eyes and the lowering of those thick, thick lashes as his heated gaze swept her flushed face.

The tension throbbed and pulsed between them and then suddenly he released her with a soft curse and took a step backwards.

‘So why are you here?’ His tone was suddenly icy cold, and there was anger in the glint of his dark eyes. ‘You wish to reminisce? You are hoping for a repeat performance, perhaps? If so, you should probably know that women only get one chance in my bed and you blew it.’

A repeat performance?

Erotic memories flashed through her brain and she took a step backwards, as if to escape from them. ‘Let’s get this straight.’ Despite all her best efforts, her voice shook slightly. ‘Nothing would induce me to climb back into your bed, Luc. Nothing. That was one life experience I have no intention of repeating. Ever. I’m not that stupid.’

He stilled and a look of masculine speculation flickered across his handsome face. ‘Is that a fact?’

Too late she realised that a man like Luc would probably consider that a challenge. And he was a man who loved a challenge.

She looked at him helplessly, wondering how on earth the conversation had developed into this. For some reason they were right back where they’d left off seven years before and it wasn’t what she’d planned.

She’d intended to be cool and businesslike and to avoid anything remotely personal. Instead of which, their verbal exchange had so far been entirely personal.

And still she hadn’t told him what she needed to tell him.

Still she hadn’t said what needed to be said.

He prowled around her slowly and a slightly mocking smile touched his firm mouth. ‘Still so much passion, Kimberley, and still trying to hold it in check and pretend it doesn’t exist. That it isn’t a part of you and yet how could your nature be anything else?’ He brushed a hand over her hair with a mocking smile. ‘Never get involved with a woman who has hair the colour of dragon’s breath.’

Kimberley lifted her chin and her green eyes flashed. ‘And never get involved with a man who has an ego the size of Brazil.’

He laughed. ‘Ours was never the most tranquil of relationships, was it meu amorzinho?’

Meu amorzinho. He’d always called her that and she’d loved hearing him speak in his native language. It had seemed so much more exotic than the English translation, ‘my little love’.

His unexpected laughter released some of the throbbing tension in the room and she felt the colour flood into her face as she remembered, too late, that she’d promised herself she wasn’t going to fight with him. She couldn’t afford to fight with him. ‘We both need to forget the past.’ Determined not to let him unsettle her, she took a deep breath and tried to find the tranquillity that usually came naturally to her. ‘Both of us have moved on. I’m not the same person any more.’

‘You’re exactly the same person, Kimberley.’ He strolled around her, like a jungle animal assessing its prey. ‘Inside, people never really change. It’s just the packaging that’s different. The way they present themselves to the world.’

Before she could guess his intention, he lifted a lean bronze hand and in a deft, skilful movement removed the clip from her hair.

She gasped a protest and clutched at the fiery mass that tumbled over her shoulders. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

‘Altering the packaging. Reminding you who you really are under the costume you’re wearing.’ His burning gaze slid lazily down her body. ‘You come in here, suitably dressed to teach a class of schoolchildren or sort books in a library, that hot red hair all twisted away and tamed. On the outside you are all buttoned up and locked away, yet we both know what sort of person you are on the inside.’ His dark eyes fixed on hers and his voice was rich and seductive. ‘Passionate. Wild.’

His tongue rolled over the words, his accent more pronounced than usual, and she felt her stomach flip over and her knees weaken.

‘You’re wrong! That’s not who I am! You have no idea who I am.’ Despite her promise to herself that she’d remain cool, she couldn’t hold back the emotion. ‘Did you really think I’d be the same pathetic little girl you seduced all those years ago? Do you really think I haven’t changed?’

Despite her heated denials, she felt a flash of sexual awareness that appalled her and she squashed it down with grim determination.

She wasn’t going to let him do this to her again. She wasn’t going to feel anything.

She’d come here to tell him something she should have told him seven years ago, not to resurrect feelings that she’d taken years to bury.

‘You weren’t pathetic and neither,’ he said softly, touching a curl of fiery red hair, ‘did I seduce you, determined though you seem to be to believe that. Our passion was as mutual as it was hot, meu amorzinho. You were with me all the way.’ He said the words ‘all the way’ with a smooth, erotic emphasis that started a slow burn deep within her pelvis. ‘The only difference between us was that you were ashamed of how you felt. I assumed that maturity would allow you to embrace your passionate nature instead of rejecting it.’

To her horror she felt her body start to melt and her breathing grow shallow and she shrank away from him, desperate to stop the reaction.

How?

How, after all these years and all the thinking time she’d had, could she still react to this man?

Did she never learn?

And then she remembered that she had learned. The hard way. And it didn’t matter how her body responded to this man, this time her brain was in charge. She was older and more experienced and well able to ignore the insidious curl of sexual desire deep in her pelvis.

‘This isn’t what I came here for.’ She lifted a hand to her hair and smoothed it away from her face. ‘What happened between you and me isn’t important.’

‘So you keep saying. So what is important enough to bring you all the way back to Rio de Janeiro when you left and swore never to return, I wonder? Our golden beaches? Our dramatic mountains?’ His rich accent rolled over the words. ‘The addictive beat of the samba? I recall that evening that we danced on my terrace…’

He flicked memories in front of her like a slide show and she looked away for a moment, forcing herself to focus on something bland and inanimate, trying to dilute the disturbing images in her head. The chair drew the full force of her gaze while she composed herself and plucked up the courage to say what she had to say.