To Find my Love

By Catherine Dane

Her supermodel sister is missing, last seen on the arm of Brazilian billionaire Rocco Andrade, a man who both frightens and fascinates Marina. But is she in thrall to her sister's abductor? And is he blinded by desire for the woman who wants to blow his secret apart? It's a game of cat and mouse – but who is the cat and who is the mouse?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Catherine Dane
• Release date: Nov 13, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301234226

Catherine Dane

Catherine Dane loves the mystery of romance. Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief? Which would you chose or does love chose you? She loves the mystery of travel. Her favorite view is the one round the next bend. A former UK national newspaper journalist she worked in the movie industry, (she co-wrote Roger Moore's James Bond diary) and worked on locations in New York, Los Angeles, New Orleans, Jamaica, Thailand and England. London born Catherine is now a full time romantic fiction writer. She loves to hear from readers at [e-mail]

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The Passionate Brazilian

Catherine Dane

Copyright (c) 2012 by Catherine Dane

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter One

Marina ripped the page out of the magazine, screwed it violently into a ball and hurled it across the room. 'What have you done with my sister, you smug, self-satisfied son-of-a....?' She wanted to stay angry but she felt the tears of despair pricking again. The picture had been taken at a Rio de Janeiro society charity ball. There he was, white-suited, tall, elegantly handsome donating a large check to the organizers. The site of him had filled her with fury. The last man to see Baby.

What have you done with her? The question screamed in her mind. Baby, her darling feckless younger sister, seen leaving a club in Rio with the Brazilian and since then vanished off the face of the earth.

Rocco Santos de Andrade, billionaire philanthropist, the world's most eligible bachelor and by all reports likely to stay that way. He'd been pictured outside the club with his arm around Baby, almost holding her up as she slumped against him.

'Does your sister keep in regular touch with you?' the Rio police inspector had asked her over the telephone from New York. She had to admit that she didn't. Baby, racketing around the world from one wild celebrity party to the next, often went months without a call, but this was different. Their mother's eightieth birthday; they'd planned it between them for the past year. Baby wouldn't have missed it for the world.

The police inspector had been unconvinced and uninterested, the office of Rocco Santos de Andrade impenetrable. 'Senor Andrade is away. Senor Andrade is taking no calls. Senor Andrade is unavailable.'

Baby's model agency was equally unhelpful. They'd recently dropped her for being unprofessional. She'd turned up late for shoots once too often and sometimes not at all. 'We never knew from one minute to the next where she was,' an exasperated booker told Marina.

Rio was where Baby had last been seen, so the logical place for Marina to start looking. 'I'll find her if it's the last thing I do,' she vowed. She'd raided her savings for the flight to Rio and booked into a small hotel. She had a month before she started her new job. She just hoped it would be long enough to find Baby before her funds ran out.

But where to start? She'd tried the police station. The police had been no more helpful face to face than they had been on the telephone. She had seen it in their eyes. It's just some silly girl gone off with a man. Not this time; not this time. Marina felt it in her bones.

She stood up and crossed to the window, kicking savagely at the screwed up magazine paper ball. The sight of it stopped her in her tracks. She picked it up and smoothed it out hurriedly. The society matron photographed with the Brazilian was identified as Senhora Dona Maria Fernanda Barao, organizer of the charity ball.

The magazine was a recent publication. With any luck Rocco Andrade would still be in Rio and maybe, just maybe this woman could lead Marina to him. It was a long shot, but she had few cards to play.

The charity was called As Criancas de Brasil – Children of Brazil - and its website provided Marina with a telephone number. It was surprisingly easy to set up an interview with the organizer. The charity was new, needing publicity and Marina had stretched the truth a little and told them she represented a New York public relations company, the job she was due to start next month, but not in such a world renowned agency.

The house where the cab driver dropped Marina was on the opulent outskirts of Rio overlooking the ocean. A long flight of white marble steps led up to an open front door where a dark coated manservant stood expectantly. He led Marina through to a vast dim drawing room dominated by ornate Louis Seize furniture and looming oil paintings. Marina, about to perch on an uncomfortable looking sofa was halted mid-sit by a trill of rapid Portuguese and a tiny, well-padded figure, tightly encased in plum. exploded into the room on the highest of heels.

'Not here, not here,' she cried, plump little hands windmilling a kaleidoscope of scarlet nails. 'Through there to the garden.' Marina found herself propelled to the end of the room where double doors opened out on to a terrace and steps led down to rolling emerald lawns. A table was set under the trees and tea laid out on a silver tray.

'Senhora Barao?' she asked tentatively.

'Who else would I be?' the little plump lady barked, beady black eyes flashing.

Marina bit back a response. She wanted to say 'Since you didn't introduce yourself you might have been the help.

'I'm Marina Lesley from ….'

'I know, I know,' interrupted Senora Barao. 'Who else would you be?'

'Tia.' A voice called from the terrace. 'Don't bully the poor girl.'

The man who came down the steps laughing caused the breath to catch in Marina's throat. Tall and tanned, dark eyed; assured easy grace. He kissed Senora Barao on both her round cheeks and turned to Marina his hand outstretched.

'Rocco Santos de Andrade. Has my aunt been treating you very badly?'

'No, not at all,' Marina stuttered. She'd recognized him the moment he'd crossed the lawn. Her mind reeled. Senora Barao was his aunt! She felt stupidly wrong-footed. He had pulled up a chair and seated himself opposite her.

'Don't be fooled by my aunt,' he said. 'Her bite is every bit as bad as her bark.' Senhora Barao tapped him playfully on the arm with the fan she'd been energetically flapping and looked at him adoringly.

'She tells me you're here to interview her about the charity,' he said to Marina conversationally, passing her a plate of wafer thin sandwiches and pouring both ladies tea.

'Yes for Media Communications, New York. We'd like to do a piece to distribute to newspapers in areas with large Brazilian populations throughout the US.'

Marina did her best to recover her composure but the almost imperceptible shake of her hand caused the fragile bone china cup to rattle in its saucer.

Rocco had seen. 'You're a good little liar, Miss Marina Lesley,' he said to himself, 'but not a great one.'

Skeptical when his aunt had told him she was to be interviewed by such a well known organization he'd had an assistant call the New York office only to be told there was no Miss Lesley on their staff.

He could have had his aunt simply cancel but his curiosity was aroused. Why was this Marina Lesley interested in his aunt or her charity?

An indignant screech interrupted his train of thought and his aunt let fly with a stream of Portuguese.

Laughing he turned to Marina and translated. 'My aunt says it's her interview and I am interrupting. I am ordered to be quiet and go away.'

'Please don't go.' Marina had blurted it out before she could stop herself. If he left now she'd lose a golden opportunity.

'On one condition,' he said. His eyes smiled into hers and against her will she found herself wanting to go on looking at him. ''I'll stay as long as you let me take you to dinner tonight.' His invitation had been impetuous but a night out with the mysterious Marina and he might get to the bottom of it. A wicked thought crossed his mind. Getting to the bottom of Marina would be a pleasure indeed. He was very used to beautiful women coming on to him, but there was something unusual about this one. Something set her apart. Her hair was tawny gold, lovely, but it was her eyes. They were different colors; one blue, one green. Intriguing.

Marina could hardly believe her luck. She wanted to shout 'Yes, dinner would be great' but would it look suspicious if she was too eager? Senhora Barao came to her rescue.

'Of course, she will have dinner with you. Take her to the Mondial. I will send my car for her at 7.30. You can tell her all about the wonderful things I do. If I tell her it would sound like boasting.' Senhora Barao bit into a cream éclair and looked inordinately pleased with herself.

'Now, now, Aunt, this lady will get the impression that you are conceited.' He put a fist under his chin and frowned at his aunt in mock concern. A laugh bubbled up in Marina and she tried her best to smother it.

'I would never think such a thing, Senhor Andrade,' she demurred politely once she'd got control of her voice.

'Please call me Rocco, all my friends do.'

Marina's polite smile belied her thoughts. A savage retort flashed into her mind. 'Well, I'm not one of your friends and never will be.' For a moment she wondered how he would react if she had said it out loud.

But caution prevailed and she kept her smile in place as she said, 'Thank you. And I am Marina.'

In other circumstances she might have been attracted to this man; she had to admit he was compelling. It wasn't just the way he fixed her with his liquid dark eyes when she spoke as if what she had to say was the most important thing in the world to him, it wasn't just the olive skin, the set of his well shaped mouth, the black sweep of his hair; there was an inherent masculinity about him that was more than just sex appeal. She couldn't help but like the way he was clearly devoted to his outrageous aunt and the way he teased her lovingly. But he was Baby's abductor. There was no room for 'like'. She needed to hate him. She hardened her heart against the charm of him.

He was getting to his feet. A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. 'Since my aunt has kindly arranged our evening there is nothing left for me to say. Until tonight,' he said, taking her hand and raising it half-way to his lips.

She wanted to wrench her hand away, but she couldn't. He had fixed her with those eyes again, with their fringe of thick lashes no man had a right to. When he'd gone it was as if the brightness had been sucked from the day. A man you could easily fall for. Had Baby? It wouldn't be the first time she'd been involved with the wrong man. On the surface he was all suitability but Marina sensed a dark side to him. She didn't know why. Maybe she was imagining it because of Baby.

* * *

She arrived back at her hotel in style, sent home in Senhora Barao's own chauffeur driven limousine at her insistence. The chauffeur was to call for her at 7.30 to take her to her dinner appointment.

Senhora Barao had revealed herself to be a kindly soul beneath the bombast and Marina warmed to her as the 'interview' progressed. When it was over Marina contrived to turn the conversation to Senhora Barao's nephew.

It was surprisingly easy. The subject of her nephew was obviously dear to her heart. She didn't approve of what she called 'Rocco's floozies'. He should find himself a nice girl and settle down. Marina, seeing an opportunity, remarked she'd seen a recent picture of him with a young blonde girl.

'Huh!' said Senhora Barao, dismissively. She looked drunk or drugged. Goodness knows where she is now?' Marina's heart turned over, trapped, unable to fly to her sister's defense.

She shook the memory off. Tonight she might discover something. She didn't know what had made Rocco Andrade invite her to dinner and hadn't cared, but now she began to wonder why. Did he just hit on any woman who crossed his path? Probably.

She debated what to wear. The restaurant was one of the best in Rio. She wasn't at all sure her wardrobe could live up to it. But by half past seven she was downstairs in the lobby. A last look at her reflection in the mirror had reassured her. Her dress was a designer copy, her diamond earrings paste and her high heeled sandals a bit scuffed on the heels, but overall, not bad.

He was waiting for her at the top of the curve of steps as the limousine drew up and the chauffeur opened the door and helped her out. He began to walk down to greet her but the site of her arrested him. God, she was beautiful.

Her hair, swept up in a knot on top of her head in the afternoon, now fell loose in a tawny blonde swirl around her shoulders. Her cheekbones prominently planed, her oddly colored eyes enhanced by the moss green float of her dress. She was taller than he'd realized, legs slim and shaped to delicate ankles in the high heels.

She felt his stare. For a moment she was unsure, but as he came closer she saw the light of admiration in his eyes, a gleam that was almost predatory. She'd seen that look before from many men. Beauty had been her birthright and a passport to getting on in life. She had never minded. She had a good brain and knew how to use it. She saw her looks as just part of her arsenal. Could she use them on this man? Could she do it for Baby?

Rocco collected himself. She'd think him rude standing there staring as if he was waiting for her to come up to him. He strode down to take her arm and lead her up the red carpeted stairway. Ornate bronze double doors led through to the restaurant and the Maitre D' hurried towards them, almost bowing a greeting.

'You're obviously a regular here,' Marina said, once they were seated at a secluded table. Her voice had an edge. She was still smarting at the Maitre D's addressing her in English as 'the lovely lady'. How many 'lovely ladies' had Rocco Andrade brought here? Plenty, I bet. She wasn't one of his 'lovely ladies' and wasn't about to be. Had Baby been one?

He studied her across the table. Something had displeased her. He wondered what? He had an instinct with women and was rarely wrong.

'Not happy?' he asked.

His bluntness startled her into saying 'I'm not your lovely lady.'

'I never said you were. You are lovely and you are a lady, but you're not mine. So whose lovely lady, are you?'

Marina was disconcerted. He had said it lightly, but she sensed a purpose behind his question that wasn't just casual. She should have had a cover story ready, as far away as possible from anything to do with Baby.

'Nobody's,' she said shortly and ducked her head towards the huge menu the waiter had presented. She'd better start asking some questions of her own. She made her voice pleasantly light and teasing.

'So is this where you bring all the various women in your life? Your aunt seemed to think it was.'

'Where I am concerned my aunt has a vivid imagination. I expect she gossiped about me. She usually does.'

It was an opening and Marina took it. 'She mentioned a picture of you in a magazine with one of your girlfriends,' said Marina guilelessly. 'A blonde - maybe American?'

The lighting in the restaurant was dim but she thought the color drained from his face.