Mistress of His Revenge (Bought by the Brazilian #1) by Chantelle Shaw Page B
Authors: Chantelle Shaw
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self-confidence soared.
During her childhood, and especially her teenage years, she had felt rejected by both her parents and the feeling that she was somehow not good enough had made her anxious to please people. She had striven to be a perfect daughter and a perfect sister to her younger brother, even though it had often meant sublimating her hopes and desires out of a sense of duty to her family.
Rarely had she put herself first or thought about what she wanted, Sabrina realised. But Cruz’s admission freed her from her insecurities and she acknowledged that what she wanted and desired more than anything was him .
He had stated that neither of them would have any peace until they had sated their desire for each other, and she could not deny it was the truth. She had never forgotten him and she recognised that subconsciously she had compared every man she’d dated to Cruz. Dear God! After ten years he was still in her system, she thought with a flash of despair. She had allowed herself to be held back by the past for far too long. But if she agreed to be his mistress in a sex-without-strings affair she hoped she could walk away from him at the end of six months, having gained closure, and finally be able to move forwards with her life.
* * *
The vintage champagne cost eight hundred pounds a bottle and the caviar was Iranian beluga. Only the absolute finest—and most expensive, Cruz thought sardonically—delicacies were good enough to be served to the exclusive guests attending the exclusive party to celebrate the launch of Delgado Diamonds’ new premises in Bond Street.
The flagship store was spread over four floors and had been designed in a contemporary and ultra-luxurious style. The party was taking place in the main salon where the lacquered walnut-panelled walls and Italian marble floors provided a stunning backdrop for exquisite crystal chandeliers suspended from the double-height ceiling, which gave the room a feeling of lofty grandeur.
Cruz sipped his champagne and looked around the room at the guests who were milling between glass display cabinets admiring jewellery presented on black velvet cushions. Discreet lighting added to the ambiance of the room, and the soft hum of muted conversation was barely disturbed by the faint clink of glasses borne on silver trays by the waiters.
He had come a long way from the favela in Belo Horizonte, and the mine at Montes Claros. He wondered what his guests would think of him if he revealed that once he had spent his days underground digging diamonds out of rock. Few people knew the truth of his background and he preferred to keep it that way. He was not ashamed of the fact that he had clawed his way out of poverty, but he was finding it hard enough to be accepted into high society, and it was better that he was regarded as a man of mystery than a beggar from the gutter, he thought cynically.
He pictured Sabrina when she had visited his Kensington apartment looking the epitome of elegance in a black cocktail dress and pearls. In his head he heard her cool voice crisply informing him that she would not demean herself to have sex with him. She had forgotten her high ideals when he had kissed her at the stables earlier today. His body tightened involuntarily as he remembered her soft moans of pleasure when he had flicked his tongue across her turgid nipples. When he had tumbled her down in the hay she had lost her airs and graces and turned into the sensual wildcat she had been in Brazil.
He shifted his position in an effort to ease the nagging ache in his groin and cursed his impatience that had made him come on to her with an embarrassing lack of finesse instead of his usual laid-back charm. Why was he even bothering to pursue her? he asked himself. At least half the women at the party were sending him signals that they were available and he knew he could have any one of them in his bed with minimum effort on his part. But the only woman he wanted was not here and
During her childhood, and especially her teenage years, she had felt rejected by both her parents and the feeling that she was somehow not good enough had made her anxious to please people. She had striven to be a perfect daughter and a perfect sister to her younger brother, even though it had often meant sublimating her hopes and desires out of a sense of duty to her family.
Rarely had she put herself first or thought about what she wanted, Sabrina realised. But Cruz’s admission freed her from her insecurities and she acknowledged that what she wanted and desired more than anything was him .
He had stated that neither of them would have any peace until they had sated their desire for each other, and she could not deny it was the truth. She had never forgotten him and she recognised that subconsciously she had compared every man she’d dated to Cruz. Dear God! After ten years he was still in her system, she thought with a flash of despair. She had allowed herself to be held back by the past for far too long. But if she agreed to be his mistress in a sex-without-strings affair she hoped she could walk away from him at the end of six months, having gained closure, and finally be able to move forwards with her life.
* * *
The vintage champagne cost eight hundred pounds a bottle and the caviar was Iranian beluga. Only the absolute finest—and most expensive, Cruz thought sardonically—delicacies were good enough to be served to the exclusive guests attending the exclusive party to celebrate the launch of Delgado Diamonds’ new premises in Bond Street.
The flagship store was spread over four floors and had been designed in a contemporary and ultra-luxurious style. The party was taking place in the main salon where the lacquered walnut-panelled walls and Italian marble floors provided a stunning backdrop for exquisite crystal chandeliers suspended from the double-height ceiling, which gave the room a feeling of lofty grandeur.
Cruz sipped his champagne and looked around the room at the guests who were milling between glass display cabinets admiring jewellery presented on black velvet cushions. Discreet lighting added to the ambiance of the room, and the soft hum of muted conversation was barely disturbed by the faint clink of glasses borne on silver trays by the waiters.
He had come a long way from the favela in Belo Horizonte, and the mine at Montes Claros. He wondered what his guests would think of him if he revealed that once he had spent his days underground digging diamonds out of rock. Few people knew the truth of his background and he preferred to keep it that way. He was not ashamed of the fact that he had clawed his way out of poverty, but he was finding it hard enough to be accepted into high society, and it was better that he was regarded as a man of mystery than a beggar from the gutter, he thought cynically.
He pictured Sabrina when she had visited his Kensington apartment looking the epitome of elegance in a black cocktail dress and pearls. In his head he heard her cool voice crisply informing him that she would not demean herself to have sex with him. She had forgotten her high ideals when he had kissed her at the stables earlier today. His body tightened involuntarily as he remembered her soft moans of pleasure when he had flicked his tongue across her turgid nipples. When he had tumbled her down in the hay she had lost her airs and graces and turned into the sensual wildcat she had been in Brazil.
He shifted his position in an effort to ease the nagging ache in his groin and cursed his impatience that had made him come on to her with an embarrassing lack of finesse instead of his usual laid-back charm. Why was he even bothering to pursue her? he asked himself. At least half the women at the party were sending him signals that they were available and he knew he could have any one of them in his bed with minimum effort on his part. But the only woman he wanted was not here and
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