Book TwoNote: This is a spin off of the last story which ended in chapter Forty-one. They are completely different stories merged together because both stories are short. I tried to expand but that would be adding meaningful details to both stories. I hope you enjoy. ‘Who is the father of your baby, Sylvia?’Holding her six-month-old baby on her hip, Sylvia Browne had been smiling with pride and pleasure across her family’s two-hundred-year-old farmhouse, lit with swaying lights and filled with neighbors and friends for her sister’s evening wedding reception. Now, pushing up her black-rimmed glasses, Sylvia faced her younger sister with a sinking feeling in her heart.Who is the father of your baby?People rarely asked that question anymore, since Sylvia always refused to answer. She’d started to hope the scandal might be over.‘Will you ever tell?’ Becky’s face was unhappy beneath her veil. At nineteen, her sister was an idealistic new bride with romantic dreams of right and wrong.

He looked around the room again, at the paper plates with the potluck dinner, at her homemade gown, clearly not believing her. He set his jaw. ‘I’m just surprised your father couldn’t do better for Becky. Even if money is tight.’Sylvia folded her arms, feeling ice in her heart. ‘He couldn’t,’ she whispered. ‘My father died four months ago.’She heard Xavier’s intake of breath. ‘What?’‘He had a heart attack during harvest. We didn’t find him on his tractor until later. When he didn’t come home for dinner.’‘Oh, Sylvia.’ Xavier took her hand in his own. ‘I’m sorry.’She felt his sympathy, felt his concern. And she felt the rough warmth of his palm against her own—the touch she’d craved for the past year and all the five years before. Her fingers curled over his as longing blistered her soul.With an intake of breath she ripped her hand away.‘Thank you,’ she said, blinking back tears. She’d thought she was done grieving for her father, but she’d spent most of the day with a lump in he

Adriana da Costa.Sylvia could still see those cold, reptilian eyes, that skinny, lanky body. Xavier had dated the Brazilian supermodel briefly in New York several years ago, while Sylvia was his live-in personal assistant. She could still hear Adriana’s pouting voice. Why do you keep calling here? Stop calling.Find the whiskey, you stupid cow. Xavier always gets thirsty after sex.Sylvia cleared her throat. ‘Adriana da Costa, the bikini model.’‘Yes.’‘The one Celebrity Star magazine just called the sexiest woman alive.’‘She’s a selfish narcissist,’ he said sharply. ‘And for the short time we were together, she was always insecure. Only one woman has ever made her feel so threatened. You.’‘Me?’ Sylvia gasped. ‘You’re out of your mind! She would never feel threatened by me!’Xavier’s dark eyes gleamed. ‘She complained to me constantly. Why did I always take your calls, but not hers? Why did I always have time for you, day or night? Why would I leave her bed at 2:00 A.M. in order to

Inside the cabin, Xavier sat down in the white leather seat. A flight attendant offered him a glass of champagne, which he accepted. It had been harder than he’d expected to convince Sylvia to come. She sat across from him, suddenly glaring at him beneath her dark lashes.Was she angry at him for some reason? God knew why. He was the one who should be angry. She’d left him in the lurch a year ago. In an act of pure charity, he’d allowed her to quit her job. It had been the act of a saint. He’d barely managed to patch up the hole she’d left in his office.‘You’d better have a very trustworthy babysitter in Rio,’ she growled, refusing the offer of champagne.He finished off the crystal flute. ‘Maria Silva.’She blinked. ‘Your housekeeper?’‘She was my nanny when I was young.’‘You were young?’ Sylvia said sardonically.Xavier’s throat closed. Against his will, memories of his happy childhood washed over him, of playing with his older brother, of the wrestling and fighting, of his nanny’s

Ten minutes later, Xavier paced beneath the hot sun across his rooftop terrace. He stopped, staring down at Ipanema Beach across the Avenida Vieira Souto. He could hear the loud music from the crowds celebrating below. Lifting his eyes, he looked past the throngs of people, past the yellow umbrellas and food vendors to the shining waves of the surf, trying to calm his pounding heart.Now Sylvia was here, everything would soon be sorted out. Oliveira and Adriana would both believe that they were in love. They had to believe. Otherwise….No, he wouldn’t let himself think about failure, not even for an instant. He couldn’t lose his father’s company, not now that it was finally within his grasp. He gripped the railing, glaring at the bright horizon of blue ocean. All along the coastline, tall buildings vied with the sharp green mountains for domination of the sky.He’d changed into khaki shorts and an open, button-down shirt over a tank top, with flip-flops on his feet, Carioca-style. He