The illustrious billionaire

chapter 3

standing in front of a judge and jury, they’d have cleared her of murder.

She stood, frozen to the spot, her expression suitably confused as she

considered his question. ‘Why would I have trouble sleeping at night?’

Her expression was innocent, her complexion as pure and English as

clotted cream.

He was willing to bet she’d had a traditional English upbringing. She’d

probably attended one of those starched girls’ boarding-schools that

taught the essential rule for surviving in life—namely how to part a man

from his wallet.

The usual technique was to marry a rich guy and then divorce and

take him to the cleaners. The three Rs of female money-making—Reel in

a wealthy guy, Rip him off and Retire.

He wondered why Grace Thacker hadn’t taken that route. Perhaps she

considered it too much bother.

He suppressed his natural inclination to confront her with the

information in his possession and conclude the meeting as swiftly as

possible.

That approach made it all a bit too easy for her, didn’t it? She’d

protest a bit at first, probably bluster and deny everything until she

realised just how much he knew, then she’d probably use tears or s*x to

persuade him not to prosecute. Either way, she’d fly back to London

without her loan and that would be the end of that.

And he didn’t want it to be the end.

She was going to suffer. He wanted her to feel some of the worry and

uncertainty that she’d inflicted on others. And she was worried, he could see it in her eyes. Despite the act, Grace Thacker was nervous.

‘Why would you think I might not be able to sleep at night?’ Her blue

eyes were wide. ‘You mean, because I’m worrying about how we’ll pay

off our debts if you call in your loan?’

No, he hadn’t meant that, but he decided to go along with her. ‘Are

you worried?’

‘Of course.’ She gave him a shy smile that faltered under his grim

stare. ‘So many people are depending on me but you just have to push

that out of your head, don’t you, or you’d go nuts?’

He leaned back in his chair and watched her, searching for cracks,

flaws. Any sign that she had a human streak. Any sign of remorse. But

there was nothing. Just a flicker of wariness that suggested that he was

the one who was being unreasonable. ‘So you don’t think about other

people?’

She frowned slightly. ‘Well, it’s hard not to, when you’re responsible

for their income, but it’s important that you don’t let emotion affect

what needs to be done or everyone suffers.’

Memories, vile and deadly, slid into his brain and this time there was

no holding them back.

Suddenly he was eight years old again. Eight years old and totally alone.

Starving hungry. Frightened. Lost in the dark. Surrounded by menacing and

unfamiliar sounds that all meant danger. Freezing sweat bathed his body

and he rose to his feet and paced across to the window, struggling to free

himself from the dark tentacles of his past.

For a moment he stood still, steadying his breathing, and then he turned to face her, nothing of his feelings showing on his face. ‘So would

you describe yourself as ruthless?’

‘Honestly?’ The corners of her soft mouth lifted. ‘No, I’m not. But I

don’t think you necessarily have to be ruthless to succeed in business.’

‘What about deceitful and manipulative?’ Rafael kept his tone neutral.

‘Are those qualities that you consider necessary for corporate

advancement?’

She stared at him. ‘I don’t understand where this conversation is

going.’

‘No?’ But she was wondering, she had to be.

And suddenly he decided on a course of action.

He was going to show her the consequences of her actions. Personally.

And, in doing so, he was going to make sure that she suffered. Really

suffered. His eyes rested on the neat little suit and the sexy shoes with

the thin, tall heel. Oh, yes, she was going to suffer.

Generally speaking his interest in women’s clothing was only sparked

by the removal process, but he did know that four-inch heels and the

jungle were a less than promising combination. ‘Did you pack a bag,

Miss Thacker?’

‘For what?’

‘I want you to stay for a few days, as my guest.’ He pushed away a

disturbingly clear image of her naked body reclining in his sumptuous

guest bedroom and instead imagined her picking her way along a rough

jungle path in a pair of heels designed for a short stroll round a glittery

shopping mall. ‘You’ve come all this way. There are a few things I’d like to show you, while you’re here.’

Like snakes, spiders and more jungle than you’ve ever dreamed of.

The wariness in her eyes grew. ‘A moment ago you were telling me

that I only had ten minutes. Why would you suddenly invite me to stay?’

Because he was going to drive her tension levels into outer space. And then

he was going to make her sorry. Really, really sorry.

‘I’m always impressed by determination, Miss Thacker,’ he drawled,

suppressing the irony in his tone. ‘You’ve earned yourself extra time.’

There was a flicker of hope in her eyes. ‘You’re prepared to give me

more time?’

‘Providing you agree to let me show you the magic of our rainforest.’

His silky tone didn’t appear to ring any alarm bells because she gave him

a warm, trusting smile.

‘Thank you so much.’ She clasped her hands in front of her. ‘You won’t

regret it. We can chat on the journey.’

Chat? Wondering whether to point out that the word didn’t actually

exist in his vocabulary, Rafael shot her an incredulous glance and then

realised that she truly had absolutely no concept of what lay in store for

her.

By the time he’d finished with her she was more likely to be screaming

than chatting.

‘I look forward to showing you some of the rare and beautiful sights of

my country,’ he purred. ‘I would relish the opportunity to take you to

certain parts which I think would be of interest.’

One of which might well be his bedroom, he thought idly, watching the colour that touched her cheeks. It was true that he preferred to keep his

business life and his s*x life separate, but Grace Thacker couldn’t really

be counted as business because he was going to see to it personally that

her business was finished. Which meant that he could legitimately turn

his attention to pleasure.

‘I hadn’t planned on sightseeing.’

‘I’m talking about visiting the fazenda. The coffee farm that supplies

your chain. It’s right that you should know more about the product you

sell.’ He watched her carefully but she simply smiled and the smile put

dimples in her cheeks and made her seem even younger.

‘I couldn’t agree more. I’d love to visit the coffee growers. My father

insisted on doing that bit when we originally set up the deal. What a

great idea.’

Ignoring the dimples and the sudden heat in his loins, Rafael suddenly

wanted to laugh.

For sheer bald front, you couldn’t fault her. By now she had to be

wondering just how much he knew about her and yet there wasn’t even

a flicker of guilt in her eyes. Or concern about his proposal to take her

deep into the jungle. She just stood there in her perfectly cut Armani

suit, balancing on four-inch heels, as if tramping through the Brazilian

rainforest was something she’d packed for and which she frequently did

in her spare time.

She clearly had no idea what it took to walk through the jungle in the

heat and humidity.

Five minutes, he said to himself with grim satisfaction. Five minutes

was all it was going to take to have her shrieking about snakes and insects and clinging to him.

Without the heels, the suit and the lip-gloss she’d be lost and

vulnerable.

And she’d turn to him.

And then he’d move in for the kill.

‘Then I will arrange it for tomorrow.’ He rose to his feet. ‘In the

meantime one of the staff will escort you to a room so that you can

change into something more comfortable.’

‘Staff?’

‘Of course, staff.’ He raised an eyebrow in mockery. ‘You thought this

was a one-man band? You think I swing through the trees in a loincloth

and eat pineapples?’

‘Pineapples don’t grow in the Atlantic rainforest.’

She knew that much, then. Which was more than the previous female

he’d brought here, who had clearly been painting her nails through all

her geography lessons.

‘I keep a team of staff in all my houses. It makes my working life more

efficient. Your bag has already been taken up. I’ll see you at dinner.

Maria will prepare some local delicacies.’ He waited for her shiver of

apprehension but she merely smiled.

‘Delicious. Thank you. You’re very kind.’

Kind?

Over the years women had called him many things but never that.

Rafael searched her face for irony but saw nothing except a frank,

ingenuous smile.The smile raked at his nerves. If she was worried then she wasn’t

letting it show and suddenly he was even more determined to put a

serious dent in her composure.

By the time he’d finished with her, she wouldn’t be smiling. She’d be

wet and uncomfortable, her feet would be blistered, her skin covered in

insect bites and she’d think twice before she ripped anyone off again.

But if she played her cards right, he just might be prepared to offer

some physical consolation.

Satisfied that he was well in control of the situation, he turned his

attention back to the string of phone calls that were awaiting him.

Feeling slightly shaky after her meeting, Grace followed Maria, the

housekeeper, up the winding wooden stairs to her bedroom. She didn’t

know whether to be relieved that her ten-minute deadline had been

extended or worried that she’d be spending more time in the company of

Rafael Cordeiro.

She’d expected him to be tough and ruthless. After all, that was his

reputation, wasn’t it? It was just that she hadn’t expected him to be quite

so cold and intimidating.

But it was probably her fault, she thought gloomily. After all, there

was no arguing that her company accounts were less than impressive.

And he wasn’t a man who made allowances for naïvety and

inexperience. He wasn’t a man who made allowances for anything.

Grace glanced upwards, wondering how far up the staircase went. To

her right were windows, offering tempting views of the forest from

different heights, to her left a carved wooden handrail. They seemed to be climbing up to the sky.

At least more time would help her plead her case, she thought as she

walked upwards. She’d have a chance to elaborate on all her plans for

the business. Given time, she was sure that she could show him that,

whatever she lacked in experience, she made up for with sheer

determination and hard work.

She’d been expecting ten minutes in which to present her case and

now it seemed that she’d have considerably longer.

She should be happy, shouldn’t she? Not nervous.

Wondering why he’d suddenly changed his mind, she suddenly

realised that they’d reached the top of the staircase. It opened straight

into a large room, two sides of which were open to the forest.

Realising that they were level with the treetops, Grace walked across

to the carved wooden balcony, which prevented any occupants of the

room plunging down to the forest floor. Thoroughly enchanted, she

turned to the housekeeper with a smile. ‘It’s really beautiful. Like being

in a tree-house.’

A seven-star tree-house.

Even though it had been designed to blend in with nature and provide

an enviable peep into the mysteries of the rainforest, no luxury had been

spared. The room was dominated by a large bed with an intricately

carved headboard that demanded closer scrutiny. The cream silk sheets

were topped with a velvety throw and softened by piles of cushions in

myriad shades of green, which blended with the trees around. A large

woven rug almost covered the wooden floor and a gentle breeze played

with the filmy gauze curtains that hung in the corners of the room, more for decoration than utility.

The woman said something in a language that Grace assumed to be

Portuguese and she gave an apologetic smile, feeling thoroughly

embarrassed. ‘I’m so sorry, I don’t speak a word of Portuguese.’

‘I said that your clothes have already been unpacked. If you need

anything else, you only have to ask.’ Her voice was soft, her English

heavily accented, and Grace nodded.

‘Thank you.’ She cast a rueful glance down at herself. ‘I’m going to

change.’ She felt sticky and uncomfortable and desperate to get out of

her clothes. Not that she’d brought much with her. She’d packed for two

nights in Rio de Janeiro. Just long enough for her to fly out to Forest

Lodge and back before catching her return flight to London.

It hadn’t entered her head that he’d invite her to remain as his guest in

the rainforest.

She felt a burst of optimism. Wasn’t this what she’d hoped for? More

time in which to persuade him to extend the loan? Well, now she had

that time.

‘Dinner is served in two hours, on the terrace. If you would like to

swim then you can use the forest pool. Take the path on your right and

walk for about five minutes. When it forks, go right again.’ Maria gave

her an uncertain smile. ‘If you need anything else, please call me.’

Thinking that all she really needed was an extra dose of courage to go

another round with Rafael Cordeiro, Grace smiled. ‘I’m sure I’ll be fine.

Thank you.’

Deciding that the privacy of her bedroom was preferable to a pool that might have other occupants, Grace chose to ignore the offer of a swim.

Relieved to be able to strip off the suit, she showered and washed her

hair. Fortunately the potential problem of what to wear for dinner was

instantly solved by the fact that, apart from a red swimming costume

packed in case there was a chance to swim in the hotel pool, she only

had three items at her disposal. The scratchy formal suit, which she’d

taken off with a sigh of relief, the combat trousers she’d worn for the

long plane journey from London to Rio and a simple linen dress, packed

to give her something to wear around the hotel in Rio. Three outfits and

three pairs of shoes. Remembering his comments about s*x, she

immediately dismissed the idea of wearing her heels. Obviously the

lightweight hiking boots that she’d worn on the plane were completely

unsuitable, which just left the flat ballet pumps.

Reminding herself that she wasn’t dressing to impress the billionaire

Brazilian, she slipped her feet into the pumps and reached for the dress.

It felt wonderfully comfortable after the heavy suit and by the time

she walked through the main glass atrium of Forest Lodge and onto the

shaded terrace, her confidence was slightly restored. She’d cooled down

and had time to think about the situation.

Everything would be fine. She simply had to let him see her passion

for the business. If he saw just how much she was prepared to give, then

he’d extend the loan.

Her confidence lasted as long as it took her to join him at the table.

He’d changed into a dark shirt and a pair of lightweight trousers. In

the fading evening light he looked masculine, sexy and totally

unnerving.‘Sit down. Drink? Caipirinha?’

She looked at the fresh, exotic-looking cocktail he was drinking. ‘I’d

better not.’ She smiled at Maria, who was hovering. ‘Something non-

alcoholic? Juice would be lovely.’

Rafael gave a faint smile. ‘Keeping your wits about you?’

Grace waited until the drink was in front of her and they were alone

before she replied. ‘You’re very angry with me, aren’t you?’ Hating tense

atmospheres, she decided on the direct approach. ‘I know I’ve made

mistakes but everyone does when they start in business.’

‘Do they?’ He was relaxed and in control, his handsome features

displaying not a flicker of emotion, and she watched with a growing

feeling of helplessness.

How did you communicate with someone like him? Someone who

lived his life through facts and numbers? Did he really feel nothing? And

then she remembered his acrimonious divorce and knew that the man

had to have scars. When life attacked you, it left wounds. She knew that.

Is that what had happened with him? Had he learned to bear his scars

and keep on walking? Had his wife’s abrupt departure stopped him

feeling or had that happened long before his marriage had ended?

‘You’ve never made a mistake, Mr Cordeiro?’

His mouth twisted into a cynical smile and everything about his face

was suddenly brutally hard—his aggressive jaw, the glint in his eyes and

the set of his shoulders. ‘Yes.’

Grace looked at him closely, wondering.

He’d spoken just one word and yet why did she have the feeling that the brevity of his response concealed a weight of suffering? Why did she

feel that, when there was nothing about this man that suggested

weakness or vulnerability? She sensed him wrestling with something

deep and dark. Something he refused to surrender to. Because this man

would never surrender, she knew that. He was a bare-knuckle fighter.

‘Well, I made mistakes, I admit that—’ she broke off and hesitated,

finding it difficult to voice the truth ‘—I was foolish. Naïve.

Inexperienced. Call it what you like.’

He studied her for a long moment. ‘Naïve, foolish and inexperienced.

Are those words you’re using supposed to describe yourself?’

‘If I did that then there’d be no chance that you’d carry on lending me

the money,’ she said lightly, her eyes drawn to the strength of his

forearms. ‘But they’re a fair description of the way I was five years ago

when you first gave me the loan.’

‘How old were you?’

‘Eighteen. Fresh out of school.’ She said the word lightly, careful to

betray nothing of the misery of her school days. ‘Why didn’t you go to

university?’

All sorts of reasons.

Grace dropped her eyes to her plate, seeing the food for the first time.

When had that arrived? It occurred to her with an uncomfortable jolt

that when she was with him she didn’t actually notice anything but the

man. ‘University wasn’t for me.’ Her heart rate increased as they grazed

over a topic that she hated. ‘I wanted to set up the business.’ She’d

needed to prove herself. His fingers played with the stem of his wine glass. ‘You mean you

wanted to start making money.’

Money? Grace frowned. She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t about

the money. Even now, she hardly took much of a salary, choosing

instead to plough her share back into the business. For her, it had never

been about the money, but that sort of honest admission was unlikely to

get her far with a man whose driving force was financial gain. ‘I wanted

something that was mine,’ she said finally, allowing him a small slice of

the truth.

He paused as Maria added more bowls of food to the table. ‘But the

business was your father’s.’

She shook her head. ‘Not the cafés. He was importing the coffee and

selling it on, but the cafés were my idea. When I left school I worked in

a café for a while and I enjoyed it but there were so many things I would

have done differently. I had friends at university in London who had

nowhere nice to meet up during the day and that’s when I had the idea

of setting up on my own. I did some research, found a run-down café

that was in receivership and I bought it with a loan from the bank. I

spent day and night doing it up myself because I didn’t have enough

money to pay anyone else to help.’ She reached forward and helped

herself to some food. ‘There were cracks in the walls that paint wouldn’t

cover so I decided to cover them with huge photographs of the

rainforest. The effect was amazing. Everyone used to come in and ask

“where’s that?” I probably could have started up a second business as a

travel agent.’ Things had seemed so uncomplicated then. She’d started

off with just one objective—to impress her father. ‘Brazil is a beautiful country.’

‘Yes. And the photos made me think about the whole experience I

wanted to offer. It’s quite a crowded market but most of the coffee shops

in existence were targeting young mothers with children and

businessmen dashing in for a quick shot of caffeine.’ She picked up her

fork and frowned. ‘I wanted to create a place where students could meet

up with their friends and enjoy conversation and fantastic music in a

lively environment. The atmosphere was young and vibrant. We played

samba music, sold Brazilian snacks. We had internet points so that the

students could work while they drank their coffee.’ ‘And it was a

success.’

‘Yes. The place was packed and our profit was amazing. It was

incredibly exciting.’ ‘Making money always is.’

Roused out of her memories by his slightly abrasive tone, she glanced

at him, wondering if there was something more behind his comment, but

his handsome face revealed nothing of his thoughts. Was she being over-

sensitive? ‘Yes, well, that’s when I decided that we could do the same

thing in other places. The bank wouldn’t lend me any more money

because I was so inexperienced and they didn’t want to give too much

money to an eighteen-year-old, which was when I approached your

company. Because you were offering business loans to initiatives that

supported Brazilian enterprise, I thought you might help us.’ And the

loan his company had given her had changed her life.

He reached for his wine glass. ‘Your first café made you a profit, no?’

‘Yes.’

‘But now you are not in profit.’ His tone was conversational. ‘That must be very—disappointing.’

‘We spent too much on the refurbishment.’ Grace watched as he drank,

unconsciously following the movement of his throat with her eyes. ‘I

paid a building company to do what I did myself in the first café. They

cost more than I’d budgeted. It was a mistake but it isn’t one I’ll make

again.’

‘No.’ His gaze lingered on her face. ‘You won’t.’

The tension in the atmosphere overwhelmed her and she put her fork

down. ‘You’re going to say no, aren’t you? And it’s just because I haven’t

increased your investment yet.’ Emotion bubbled up inside her. ‘I

haven’t lost your money, either. You haven’t lost anything. You’re a

billionaire—this investment is nothing to you. But it’s everything to me

and the people who work for me.’ She pushed her plate away, suddenly

feeling too sick to even contemplate eating. ‘Why invite me to stay and

visit the coffee farm if you’re just going to say no?’

He didn’t smile. ‘You still have time to change my mind, Miss Thacker.

And I know that the family who own the fazenda would like to meet you

and hear what you have to say.’

‘Hear what I have to say about what?’

She stared at him, her expression blank and uncomprehending. He

made it sound as though she were going to stand up and give evidence.

‘Your business, Miss Thacker. As they are your sole supplier, your

business is their business. Your fortunes are inextricably linked.’

‘That’s true.’

This man held her future in his hands and at that moment the future