Dante: Claiming His Secret Love-Child. Sandra Marton

in those years in Alaska before finally admitting that success in life wasn’t such a bad thing, after all.

      Besides, he was the one who’d get the last laugh.

      Sure, he’d been conned into dropping a big chunk of change buying property he didn’t want for a woman who meant nothing to him, but this wasn’t over. As he’d walked past de Souza, the lawyer had put out his hand.

      “Senhor Orsini?” he’d said politely. “I will expect your phone call.”

      Dante had looked at him blankly. De Souza had cleared his throat.

      “To make an appointment to come to my office, yes? To transfer ownership of Viera y Filho to Senhorita Reyes.”

      “Yeah,” he’d said brusquely, as he’d brushed by the man.

      Now, Dante smiled.

      Why would he transfer the deed to Gabriella?

      She’d wasted her time. No way would he give her the ranch. He’d sell it to the first buyer that wanted it. Or let it go on rotting until every last sign of it had been swallowed up by the surrounding scrub. He would do whatever it took to keep her from profiting from what she’d done to him.

      Still smiling, he turned the key. The engine coughed, then caught, and he headed for Bonito.

      The drive, even the near accident, had done him some good. Cleared his head. He felt a thousand times better, calm and in control, and that was important.

      He was a man who prided himself on being in control.

      Goodbye and good riddance to this place, this cast of characters. He was going home.

      By the time he reached the main road, he was whistling. He felt good. He’d get to the hotel, shower, change, phone down for room service—or no, why do that? The travel agent had faxed him a list of restaurants and bars. This was Brazil and even in a town that specialized in eco-friendly tours, there was sure to be a hot night scene, and Brazilian women were spectacularly beautiful.

      A little rest and relaxation was what he needed.

      He didn’t just feel good, he felt great…

      Until he approached the road that led to the Viera y Filho fazenda and saw distant lights blazing like the fires of hell against the black night sky at the end of that road.

      His good mood disappeared.

      Lights. There was someone in the house. And he knew, instinctively, that someone was Gabriella. De Souza had deliberately misled him. Gabriella hadn’t gone out the door, she’d gone up the stairs.

      The rage he’d fought for so many hours reached out, all but consumed him. To hell with heading back to the States without confronting her. No matter what he told himself, he’d be leaving with his tail between his legs.

      No way, he thought grimly. Not him.

      Dante made a sharp left and headed for Gabriella.