Revenge in Rio Read online

  Revenge in Rio

  by

  Samantha Darling

  Revenge in Rio

  Copyright © 2013, Samantha Darling

  ISBN: 9781937325916

  Publisher: Beachwalk Press, Inc.

  Electronic Publication: October, 2013

  Editor: Leigh Lamb

  Cover: Fantasia Frog Designs

  eBooks are not transferable. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations in articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Back Cover Copy

  Calculated revenge, unexpected passion…

  Business magnate Luca Venancio is returning to Rio to pay his respects to his late brother, and to seduce his once fiancée, Daniella, back into his bed. Five years ago she left him without so much as a word, shunning him and the rich life he could offer in exchange for his younger, reckless brother. Now Luca wants revenge—seduce her and dump her, that’s all he intends to do.

  Blackmailed into a violent farce of a marriage, Daniella had no choice but to comply to protect Luca’s life, even though it meant never being able to see him again. Years later, a twist of fate reunites them, throwing her plans of fleeing Rio out of the window and the love of her life straight back in.

  Luca’s flawless plan soon becomes complicated when he discovers Daniella is expecting his brother’s child. It becomes even more complicated when old passions return. Can he actually go through with seducing her, bedding her, and then discarding her?

  Dedication

  For my Nan, who loves romance stories just as much as me.

  Acknowledgements

  Several amazing people have made this book possible, from the very beginning, to the very end—you know who you are.

  A special thank you has to go out to the wonderful editors at Beachwalk Press, Leigh and Pamela, who worked their literacy magic to scrub my rough stone into a beaming diamond!

  Also an extra special thank you has to go to my dear friends, Christy and Annie. I couldn’t have done this without you both. You are two very special ladies. X

  Chapter 1

  Luca Venancio’s cellphone vibrated against the glass table, interrupting the business negotiations taking place in the boardroom of his New York office. Light flooded the space through the huge, floor-to-ceiling windows, and sharp rays of morning sun bounced on and off of the table. The strong light emphasized several pieces of expensive artwork on the walls. The room’s opulence, with its fiercely modern lines, complimented his lifestyle one hundred percent.

  The private detective’s name flashed on the screen and Luca pressed the receive button, holding the phone to his ear. “Yes, Steve?”

  “Luca, you got a minute?”

  “Sure.”

  He covered the phone with his hand and said, “Gentlemen, excuse me,” while exiting the boardroom. He certainly didn’t want an audience for the rest of the phone call.

  He was playing with fire by walking out on important negotiations worth billions, but he had to take this call. Steve wasn’t due to contact him until his usual Friday morning arrangement, and was three days early. Luca knew something had to be wrong.

  He retreated to the privacy of his office and sat down, resting his elbows on the antique desk, which somehow seemed out of place in his clinical, contemporary office suite. “Okay. I’m listening.” His heart pounded hard in his chest and uneasiness began to creep its way through his body, inch by inch.

  Was she okay? Was she hurt? His mind raced with hundreds of possibilities, each one causing his concern to increase. Not that it should have bothered him. Daniella Venancio had nothing to do with him anymore, and he sometimes found himself questioning why on earth he still checked her wellbeing. Did it ease his pain? Comfort his broken heart? No. Honestly, it often left him even more bitter about their previous relationship, but he still continued with the weekly arrangement, because he just had to know for himself.

  The detective coughed and cleared his throat before he spoke. “Daniella is attending a funeral tomorrow.”

  The awkward, edgy feeling slowly melted away, and Luca’s muscles loosened one by one. He now knew she was still alive. For a second, he didn’t care about anything else, as long as he knew Daniella was all right, that was all that mattered. As much as he despised her for what she’d done to him, he would never in a thousand dreams wish her dead.

  “Whose funeral?”

  “Miguel’s.” The investigator’s voice was assured and confident.

  Luca swallowed hard, and a sudden pain gripped his throat. “When? How?”

  “Your brother was found in the early hours of this morning. I don’t know the exact details, but it looks gang related…”

  Luca listened carefully, taking in the facts of what had happened. A dangerous concoction of alcohol, drugs, and street gangs. His body was numbed by the sad news. A life taken too young. His brother had lived a risky life; the shanty, or favela, was a perilous place. Luca had been in Miguel’s position himself many years ago, and he’d tried several times to help his younger brother start afresh, but Miguel wouldn’t accept Luca’s assistance. There had been animosity between the brothers since they were children and, more recently, Daniella had come between them.

  “How is Daniella?” The question rolled off his tongue before he could stop it. Usually when he received Steve’s phone calls each Friday, he didn’t ask questions. The detective would merely state that Daniella was still in the same location and doing ‘okay’. When he’d hired Steve, Luca had informed him that he didn’t want to know any details—he simply wanted to know she was alive and well. He couldn’t…he wouldn’t let himself get sucked into an emotional mess by asking questions. Love made people weak, the complete opposite of him. Luca would never let himself be trapped by any woman ever again.

  The detective cleared his throat again, his apparent confidence diminishing as hesitation crept in and lingered on the telephone line between the two men.

  “It’s fine,” he reassured the detective who was about to break their one and only rule. “Tell me.”

  “She’s looked better, Luca. She looks weak and has attended a clinic several times recently. The nurse wouldn’t tell me what for.”

  Luca shut his eyes tightly, immediately regretting his question.

  He didn’t need to interrogate Steve about the arrangements, he knew exactly where the funeral would be taking place.

  “I’ll be in touch.” Luca ended the call and sat back on the soft leather. He rubbed his temples with firm fingers, trying to push away the approaching headache.

  He sighed and threw his cellphone onto the desk with a thud and reached into the drink cabinet for the fine Scotch whiskey he kept handy. He took a long and generous swig from the bottle, allowing the peaty taste to numb his throat. Once the burning sensation had faded and he’d managed to process the conversation, Luca poured a second measure into a crystal tumbler. The whiskey rolled around his tongue and he appreciated the expensive quality this time.

  Luca’s head ached and he closed his eyes, remembering the only girl he had ever loved, an emotion he had kept hidden for a long time. He was never short of female company, but none of them meant anything to him except her.

  Opening up his laptop, he typed a password into a protected document, revealing several photographs of Daniella. He ran his thumb over the screen, recalling the touch of her skin, how it once had radiated heat and burned with such desire for him. Just him.

  He should have been concentrating on the sad news of the dea
th of his brother, yet his mind wandered to his past flame, his ex-fiancée. Luca closed his eyes again and saw the first time he’d met her. He’d watched her shopping bags split, a cascade of fresh oranges rolling across the busy road. Cars sounded their horns and bikes rang their bells as she’d stepped out to reach for the fallen goods. Luca rushed behind her, whisking her away from the speeding lorry and into the safety of his arms. Inches away, the dozen oranges were pounded into the tarmac.

  “Você está bem?” Are you okay, he’d asked, her body shaking against his.

  She’d looked up at him, her long eyelashes framing her striking emerald eyes. His arms enclosed around her midriff, holding her body close. Her flyaway mahogany curls had come loose from the ponytail banding and illuminated her face. She’d appeared stumped for words, but managed to mutter a sincere, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He’d met her gaze and sensed an instant connection. He’d felt intoxicated. He’d wanted to know more about her and had needed to see her again. The rest was history. Literally.

  He silently cursed, closing the laptop. He needed to pay his respects to his brother even if he wasn’t welcome. His heartbeat quickened when he thought about Daniella. It pained him to admit it, but she still had an uncontrollable effect on him. Pushing the intercom, he told his secretary to reschedule his earlier meeting.

  He was going back to Rio.

  * * * *

  Luca had tried to sleep through the flight; anything to lessen the overwhelming images of his brother and Daniella. He landed at Rio’s Galeaos International Airport the following morning, slid comfortably into the chauffeur-driven Bentley awaiting his arrival, and headed straight to the cemetery. He’d washed and changed into a fresh tailored suit whilst onboard his private jet and felt ready to take on the day.

  There were many cemeteries around Rio, but he was sure Miguel would be buried beside his parents and fellow gang brothers. It was the nearest cemetery to the favela of Rocinha and was the cheapest service available.

  He hadn’t had the best relationship with his brother, but knew paying his respects was the honorable thing to do. There were at least thirty men present, and he knew they were gang brothers, linked by the matching tattoos on their necks and arms. Lifting a hand to his neck, he traced his fingers over a raised scar left by laser removal surgery. Another reminder of his previous wayward life. He pulled his shirt collar up a fraction higher.

  The rain pelted the roof of the car as he scanned the graveyard, searching for Daniella with the burning desire that slowly overtook him. There was no sign of her and the service was nearing the end. Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself why he was there—for his brother’s funeral and to have his revenge on her. Now was the time. He wouldn’t have dared whilst his brother was alive–he’d had to reluctantly honor their marriage, but now he could play any game he liked. He was determined to make her fall for him again, and he would have her in the palm of his hand within days. He would make her experience the pain, the physical and emotional agony his heart had felt for weeks. Months. Even to this day. He had ached so much he hadn’t been sure if he would ever feel normal again. Over time, he’d managed to suppress the whirlwind of emotions and vowed he would never love again.

  A small figure appeared on the edge of the crowd, and he leaned forward and squinted, trying to focus through the constant rain.

  It was her. The petite frame, the shapely curve of her hips, and the damp curls loosely dancing in the storm’s breeze were so familiar to him. His heart started to pound hard and his palms were clammy. He reached for the handle, threw open the door, and stepped out into the tropical downpour. The last five years vanished in an instant, here she was now in front of him, and he wasn’t going to let her go.

  “Daniella,” he yelled. He didn’t care if Miguel’s gang saw him. “Daniella,” he shouted again, louder this time.

  She turned to face him. Shock was evident on her face, and she started to back away, taking steps out into the rain. The shelter from the large Avores tree no longer protected her from the torrential weather. He sprinted to catch up to her as she was clearly trying her best to outdo him, but heels and the rain slowed her flight and she was no match for his athletic fitness. Reaching out, he grabbed for her, and his hand closed tightly around her fragile wrist. The rapid beating of her pulse radiated through his fingers and mixed with his own. She stopped, but tried to pull away from his grip.

  Luca spoke, still firmly holding on to her wrist. “Daniella, what…why did you run?”

  The rain pelted down, tumbling down their cheeks and soaking their clothes. Fat rain droplets hit against Daniella’s bronzed skin and slid down the v-neck of her dress and he couldn’t drag his gaze away.

  Focus!

  He cursed. He had wanted to see her to get the answers he needed, but his brain had switched a gear and her beauty was distracting him from his purpose. Steve had been right, she had looked better. She was a shadow of her former self. Yet her natural beauty was still visible through the gauntness of her cheeks.

  He had come there with a plan and he was determined to stick to it. He could not let himself be swayed by this woman.

  She tried to pull away and he tightened his hold.

  “You said you would never come back,” she shouted at him through the deafening rain.

  “Well, surprise.” He gloated, unable to help himself.

  She took a deep breath before she answered. “You’re not meant to be here. How did you find out?” Her voice was panicked and her arm trembled.

  “Why do you underestimate me? You weren’t going to tell me that my own brother is dead?” he said, trying to pull her closer.

  Taking a steadying breath, he reminded himself that he needed Daniella on his side for his plan to work.

  “Let go of me please,” she begged, using all of her weight to pull away from him.

  “We need to talk.” He composed himself.

  “No, you need to leave.” She tugged away from his hold and urgency tainted her words.

  Luca kept his grip on her wrist, but lessened the pressure. He caught her look away toward the group of men and the approaching taxi slowly making its way up the dirt track entrance. Her bottom lip trembled, as if she was ready to burst into floods of tears. Dark curls tumbled around her face and shoulders in the breeze, but it didn’t hide the sunken hollows underneath her once expressive eyes. Nor did it hide the fading bruises across her jaw. She pulled the baggy cardigan tightly around her body.

  “Who did this to you?” He gasped, reaching to push her hair aside.

  She flinched, recoiling from his gentle touch.

  “You don’t need to be scared of me. You know I would never hurt you,” he lied, knowing his plan was to intentionally hurt her. Maybe not physically, but emotionally. It was equally as excruciating as physical pain, if not worse. He knew from first-hand experience. Guilt now riddled him as he watched the woman before him wince. How the hell was he going to see through his revenge? It was impossible. She looked ill and weak, and he couldn’t damage her further. Could he?

  “I was just clumsy. It’s nothing.”

  “It doesn’t look like nothing.”

  “Please, Luca, just go. I’m begging you, just leave here. Leave Rio. Leave Brazil,” she pleaded with him, still avoiding his eyes.

  “Let me take you home. My car is over there.” He pointed through the trees.

  “No.”

  “Ei, Venancio! Você não é bem-vindo aqui!”

  Luca turned to face the group of men yelling at him, telling him he was not welcome. He knew they would be armed and ready for a fight.

  Signaling to his chauffeur, the Bentley pulled up beside him within seconds.

  “Get in,” he ordered, opening the door nearest to Daniella and tugging firmly on her wrist.

  She looked back toward the group of men who were now moving closer, and then back to the open car door. The rain still pelted down hard, and both of them were soaked.
r />   “I can’t,” she cried, her eyes fixed on the approaching group.

  “Get in,” he barked, giving her a subtle but firm push toward the car.

  Taking one last look at the group of men and her husband’s grave, Daniella sucked in a deep breath and slid into the car. Luca was beside her within seconds and they were whisked away down the dirt track, heading toward the smoldering heat of Rocinha.

  * * * *

  Venturing deeper into Rocinha, makeshift houses piled upon one another as if deliberately balanced. The contrast was apparent, yet the juxtaposition of the favela and the city blended effortlessly to encompass the luxurious skyscrapers and million dollar homes around Rio’s bay and mountainside.

  A painful silence lingered between Daniela and Luca, covered only by the purring of the car’s engine. His mind was a blur; he couldn’t understand why she had run from him. She had been scared, terrified in fact. He’d felt her pulse racing uncontrollably when he had gripped her arm. Frowning, he ran a hand through his slick, wet hair. Raindrops trickled from the ends of his hair, his nose, and his eyelashes, landing on the car’s leather interior.

  “Daniella, I need answers.” Luca finally broke the icy atmosphere. “Why didn’t you care enough to tell me about Miguel?”

  He turned toward her and she recoiled, pushing herself against the car door, but still held her cardigan tightly across her body.

  “I will get out here,” she said, reaching for the door handle.

  “No, keep driving,” he ordered, glaring at the chauffeur and pressing the central lock button.

  Although he hadn’t been back to the house, he clearly remembered where his brother had lived. It had been his parents’ home and he had grown up there. He would never forget the decrepit building that had desperately needed restoring. Paint had chipped and flaked off of the dreary walls, and the rooms were so small they felt claustrophobic. He had spent many nights sitting on the roof listening to faint arguments between his parents, whilst he dreamed of a better life.