Honeymooning with Her Brazilian Boss by Jessica Gilmore

Author:Jessica Gilmore
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2019-01-07T19:23:07+00:00

* * *

The initial meeting was to start off in the lobby. The three Caetano siblings had offered a tour of the grand-if-decaying hotel before taking the formalities up to the boardroom. Harriet could feel the butterflies tumbling through her stomach as the lift took them back down to the lobby. She’d sat through hundreds of high-powered business meetings in her time with Aion, many involving much higher stakes monetarily than this, but it was clear this particular deal had nothing to do with money. How could it? It was a terrible investment.

Deangelo was tense as he stood next to her, his hands curled into white-knuckled fists, a muscle beating in his jaw. He looked dangerous, more like a prize fighter than a newly rich businessman, and Harriet, steeling herself, slipped her hand into his. ‘We’re meant to be on honeymoon, remember?’

Taking his hand wasn’t purely about their charade. A casual observer might detect no emotion in Deangelo, but Harriet had never seen him so preternaturally still, apart from that one muscle, as if he was concealing some strong emotion, not, as she often thought, a stranger to it.

Whoever these Caetanos were, there was history here. Personal history. History worth spending a great deal of money and time on.

Deangelo didn’t respond as she took a firmer grip of his hand, stiller than she’d ever thought any human could be, until the lift doors opened, revealing the marble lobby beyond. In that moment it was as if he’d flicked a switch, turning himself on, as he strode out of the lift, towing Harriet alongside. His smile was wider than she’d ever seen it, eyes beaming with a frank bonhomie as he slipped an arm around Harriet’s shoulders and held her close.

‘Senhor and Senhorita Caetano? Ola, I’m Marcos Santos and this, this is my beautiful bride, Harriet.’ His accent was thicker than usual, and subtly different. A regional accent, she assumed. ‘Thank you so much for agreeing to meet me, and thank you for the beautiful suite. It’s really made our honeymoon perfect, hasn’t it, querida?’

Harriet forced a matching smile onto her own face. ‘Oh, yes, it’s lovely.’

‘It’s okay if we use English?’ he asked. ‘My wife—’ he squeezed her shoulder proprietarily, and her body jumped to attention, the memory of his touch still imprinted in every nerve ‘—my wife, she doesn’t speak Portuguese.’

The Caetano trio turned to look directly at Harriet as he spoke and she stifled a gasp of shock as they did so. The siblings were all a good fifteen years older than Deangelo, but there was no escaping the similarities in the shape of their eyes, the strong jawline. The arrogant set of all four pairs of shoulders. Maybe a casual observer wouldn’t see the resemblance—Deangelo was taller and broader, his hair curled, his mouth wider, his nose more Roman, eyes amber rather than brown. But she knew every inch of him and could see where the similarities overlapped as if laid out on a map.

She’d known this deal was personal, as personal as it could get.

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