The Baby the Billionaire Demands
Author
Jennie Lucas
Reads
19,9K
Chapters
11
Chapter One
MONEY MEANT EVERYTHING to Lola Price.
Money was the difference between happiness and grief. Between joy and tragedy. She’d learned it at five years old, and every day since.
Growing up in a trailer on the edge of the California desert, in a dusty town where jobs were scarce, she’d seen her mother’s daily struggles to pay the bills after Lola’s father died. Her mother eventually remarried, but it only made things worse.
By the time she was eighteen, Lola had learned that there was only one way to protect the people you loved. One way to keep them safe and close—and alive.
You had to be rich.
So she’d dropped out of high school and moved to Los Angeles. Desperate to save what was left of her family—and without any talent or even a high school diploma—she’d hoped to instantly become a movie star, but her acting career never got off the ground. Without money, she’d lost everything.
Now she had a four-month-old son. And nearly a million dollars. Lola took a deep breath. No one would ever take her family from her again.
Sergei Morozov’s booming voice brought her back to the charity ball, where he’d been swaying with her on the dance floor. “Can I kiss you, Lolitchka?”
“What?” Startled, Lola looked up at him. “Kiss me?”
“Yes. When?”
“Um...never?”
The Russian tycoon winced. Burly and in his mid-fifties, with gray hair on his temples and a strong accent, he was CEO of a large Wall Street firm. He’d also been, until four months ago, her employer. “When you agreed to be my date tonight, I thought...”
“I’m sorry. I don’t feel that way about you.” Around them, couples danced in the gilded hotel ballroom to the orchestra’s elegant music. The children’s charity ball was the social occasion of November in New York. She was just surprised her two best friends, Hallie and Tess, both newly married to billionaires, weren’t here. They loved fancy events like this.
But Lola didn’t see them. As she danced with her former boss—keeping an old-fashioned, almost Victorian distance between them—she saw dark-haired men everywhere in sleek, sophisticated tuxedos who reminded her of another previous boss, Rodrigo Cabrera. The Spanish media tycoon who’d coldly given her a million-dollar check, then tossed her out of his beach house, secretly pregnant and brokenhearted.
Sergei cleared his throat. “If you just need a little more time...”
“That’s not it.” She looked down at the marble ballroom floor. She never should have agreed to a date, she thought. She’d been swayed by her neighbor, a widow who occasionally babysat her son, who’d told Lola she ‘needed to get out and live.’ That, plus the weddings of Lola’s two best friends in rapid succession, had made her feel her own loneliness. When Sergei Morozov had invited her out, she’d convinced herself it might be a healthy step forward, after a hard, lonely year.
Now she wished she’d just stayed at home.
“Some man broke your heart,” he growled. “He abandoned you and your son.”
Lola looked up in astonishment. She’d never spoken about Rodrigo to anyone, not even her best friends. “I never said he abandoned me—”
“You had pregnancy alone. Had birth alone. No man.” His big hands tightened against her back. “Forget the idea of a date. Maybe I just marry you, eh?”
She sucked in her breath. “Marry?”
The burly man looked down at her. “I have wanted you for a long time, Lola,” he said softly. “If marriage is your price, I am willing to pay.”
Lola stared up at him in shock.
Marry him?
Her stomach looped like a roller-coaster.
Sergei Morozov wasn’t a bad man. She’d worked as his secretary throughout her pregnancy. He was rich, arrogant, but not cruel. When she was eighteen, she would have jumped at the chance to marry a man like that.
Too bad for him that Lola was now twenty-five, with a pocketful of money and a scarred, bitter heart.
“I’m flattered, truly,” she said awkwardly, “but—”
“Marry me, zvezda moya. I will cover you with jewels. I will—”
“I’d like to cut in.”
Lola’s heart dropped as she heard another man’s voice, low and dangerous behind her. A voice she knew, though she hadn’t heard it in over a year. A voice she’d never forget.
Slowly, she turned.
Rodrigo Cabrera stood beside her on the dance floor, wearing a sleek tuxedo over his muscular, powerful body.
Dark-haired, dark-eyed, with chiseled cheekbones and a five o’clock shadow along the hard, sharp edge of his jaw, he was even more handsome than she remembered. Power, dark and dangerous and sexy, echoed off him like shock waves.
“Rodrigo?” she breathed.
“Lola.” His cruel, sensual lips curved as he looked down at her. “It’s been a long time.”
Unwilling images went through her of the days and nights of their brief affair. The pleasure. The joy. The laughter. The certainty in Lola that for the first time since she could remember, she was no longer alone...
Now, pain twisted through her, pain she was careful not to reveal on her face. “What are you doing here?”
“Cutting in.” He moved between her and Sergei with almost feline grace. He glanced at the Russian tycoon with casual amusement. “If you don’t mind.”
Sergei scowled. “Of course I mind—”
“It’s all right, Sergei.” Lola put her hand unsteadily on his arm. “I’ll see you shortly.”
Sergei set his jaw. “Once the dance is done, I’ll be back.”
Rodrigo’s eyes flicked to her. “As the lady pleases.”
After Sergei’s grudging departure, the two of them looked at each other.
“So you’re living in New York now,” Rodrigo said coldly.
“Are you here on business?”
He bared his teeth into a smile. “Is there any other reason?”
In spite of everything, Lola’s heart was in her throat as she looked up at him. All the other people in the ballroom, all the laughter and music, faded away.
Slowly, Rodrigo pulled her into his arms. She breathed in his scent, of woodsy musk and soap and something uniquely him. She tried to tell herself she felt nothing, but her knees trembled, and she was glad he was supporting her in the dance.
He glanced back at Sergei, now glowering at them from the edge of the dance floor. “So he wants to marry you.”
“Not everyone hates marriage like you do,” she said unwillingly.
His lips quirked. “Another millionaire falls at your feet.”
“Not everyone hates me like you do.”
“I don’t hate you, Lola.” His voice was low.
She tilted her head back to look at him beneath her lashes. “You don’t?”
“I despise you. That’s different.” His dark eyes gleamed. “You must have spent the million dollars I gave you if you’re looking for a new sugar daddy. Do you intend to say yes? Are congratulations in order?”
Lola narrowed her eyes. She wondered what Rodrigo would say if he knew the real reason she’d taken his payoff money: because she’d found out she was pregnant.
Money meant more to her than pride. It meant safety. Her baby must never know, as Lola once had, how it felt to go hungry. He must never see his mother cry when she couldn’t pay the bills, or be mocked for wearing clothes to school that were too small, or harassed by teachers for falling asleep in class, because he’d spent another night taking care of younger siblings when his mother had the night shift.
And most of all: Jett must never know how it felt to lose his family.
Taking Rodrigo’s money meant no one would be able to take her baby away from her.
No one, that was, except Rodrigo.
She swallowed, her hands tightening on the shoulders of his tuxedo jacket as they danced. A father had rights. And although she still had most of the million dollars that he’d given her, she knew he had billions more. Enough to take whatever he wanted. Even Jett. And that made her afraid.
Because she’d been his secretary once. For over two years before they’d become lovers. She knew how ruthless the Spanish media mogul could be. How he could turn on people savagely if they failed him.
Rodrigo had good reason to believe the worst of her. Why wouldn’t he, after what he’d learned about her past?
But he was in New York on business. He often came here. He even owned a house in SoHo. But they traveled in different circles now. He couldn’t know about Jett.
If he did...
No. He must never know.
Rodrigo’s expression hardened. “Well? Do you intend to marry him?”
“I haven’t decided,” she mumbled.
His arms tightened around her waist. “Is that a lie?”
Lola had no intention of going on another date with Sergei, let alone marrying him. But she wasn’t going to tell him that. She looked up. “Why do you care?”
His dark eyes glinted. “I don’t. I’m just wondering if I should warn him about the kind of woman you really are.”
She stiffened. “What kind is that?”
“You’re very beautiful, Lola.” Rodrigo’s hot gaze traced slowly over her modest, long-sleeved black knit dress. As they danced to the music, he cupped her cheek. “Very.”
Electricity ripped through her body from where he’d touched her. Sparks raced down her spine, shouting, Yes, yes. This was her man, and she’d missed him, oh, how she’d missed him. She’d dreamed of him unwillingly every night from the moment he’d taken her virginity and made her feel—
Rodrigo dropped his hand. “But you’re ugly on the inside. You’ll do anything for money. Anything? Anyone.”
His cruel words were like a blow.
With a deep breath, she cut off the connection between her heart and her brain. She didn’t care if he insulted her, she told herself. She just had to get through this song. Then he’d leave. And she’d make sure she never saw Rodrigo Cabrera again, or put Jett at risk of being taken from her.
Lola tilted her head, looking at him sardonically. “Ah. There’s your famous charm. If you think I’m so horrible, why don’t you go dance with someone else?”
“Why? Are you so eager to be back in your lover’s arms?”
As if she’d ever let Sergei caress her! As the song finally drew to a close, she stopped dancing, nearly trembling with relief. “Okay, song’s over. Not that this wasn’t fun, but—well, it wasn’t. Go find some other woman to torture.”
Rodrigo stopped, looking down at her on the dance floor.
“And that’s all you have to say to me?” he said softly. “After a year?”
Their eyes locked, and for a moment, in spite of her overwhelming fear, the truth rose guiltily to her throat. Once, they’d been so close; once, she’d told him everything.
No. She hadn’t told him everything. And that had been what had destroyed them.
A hulking shadow appeared beside her. “Song is over,” Sergei said sullenly. “I’m taking her back.”
Lola looked at the Russian with gratitude, then glanced one last time at the Spaniard she’d once loved with all her heart. “I guess this is goodbye.”
“I guess so,” Rodrigo said, his dark eyes unreadable. He turned away.
The orchestra started a new song, and couples resumed swirling around them on the dance floor. Lola turned to Sergei. “I’m tired,” she choked out. “Will you please take me home?”
“Konyechna.” Sergei’s voice was soothing. “I’m sure you miss your baby.”
Lola sucked in her breath, praying Rodrigo hadn’t heard. No such luck. As if in slow motion, he turned back to her.
“Baby?”
“Nothing to do with you.” But her voice was strained, even to her own ears. She had to get out of here—fast. Tossing her blond hair as if she didn’t have a care in the world, she turned back to Sergei. “Let’s go...”
But Rodrigo blocked her path. “How old is the baby?”
“None of your business.”
As she tried to walk past him, Rodrigo grabbed her wrist. His black eyes glittered. “How old, damn you?”
“It doesn’t matter!” She struggled, desperately trying to hide her fear. “He’s not yours!”
But as Lola croaked out the lie, her cheeks went red-hot. There was a reason she’d been such a washout as an actress. She was the worst liar in the world.
Searching her gaze, Rodrigo’s eyes suddenly widened. Dropping her wrist, he staggered back.
He knew. She hadn’t told him, but he still knew.
The ballroom started spinning around her. She tried to think of some way to get out of this. But her brain was frozen.
“The baby’s mine,” Rodrigo said in a low voice. “Isn’t it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. She pointed at Sergei. “He’s the father.”
She desperately hoped the Russian tycoon would play along. But Sergei just looked bewildered.
Rodrigo swept him with a dismissive glance, then faced Lola. His cold expression turned to fire as his dark eyes glittered in the light of the ballroom.
“Tell me the truth,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. He gripped her shoulder. “I want to hear you say it.”
“Let me go,” she whispered, her throat closing.
All her fears were crashing around her like bricks. Lola tried to lift her chin, to glare at him, to defy him. Most of all, she tried to think of a good lie.
But looking up at Rodrigo’s hard, handsome face, she knew it would be no good. When it came to him, her lies always betrayed her.
“Tell me, Lola,” he demanded mercilessly.
Heart pounding, she whispered, “Yes. You’re the father.”
* * *
A baby.
Rodrigo staggered back.
She’d had his baby.
The shock of that idea swirled in his brain, leaving him staring down at Lola in confusion.
From the moment Rodrigo had arrived tonight at the charity ball, coming alone as he couldn’t be bothered to choose a date, he’d been the center of attention on the red carpet, not just from paparazzi, but from the other guests. As a wealthy, powerful billionaire, he could build anyone’s movie career instantly across his entertainment empire. Rodrigo was eagerly greeted by famous actors and directors and beautiful women who all wanted a piece of him.
He barely paid attention. He was used to it; bored by it. He didn’t fool himself that these women were after anything but his body, his money or his power. They weren’t interested in him personally.
As a younger man, he’d relished the notice he received from beautiful women. But he’d been desperate then to find love, to get married, to have a home. How else to explain why he’d proposed to three different women in his younger years?
Remembering that disgusted him now. Humiliated him.
Love was for the naive. Only fools believed in a communion of souls. Men, as a rule, weren’t supposed to yearn for such things.
But he once had. Stupidly.
Rodrigo was monogamous by nature. That was his darkest secret. He’d been the only child of wealthy, neglectful parents. Growing up, he’d dreamed of having a loving family and home. Even after he’d first taken over his father’s small film studio in Madrid, he’d wanted some version of the fairy tales he manufactured for a living.
Ridiculous to think of it now. Because he’d swiftly learned his lesson. All three fiancées had cheated on him before the wedding date.
He’d never proposed to Lola Price, of course. He’d never even let himself love her during their brief affair. He was no longer that stupid, or that young, to believe in dreams of love and forever.
But he’d known her. Trusted her. She’d been his assistant for years before she’d been his lover. Working together, day in and day out, he’d been impressed by her determination, intelligence and drive. He’d respected her. Admired her.
But he hadn’t touched her, in spite of her incredible beauty. He’d valued her far too much as his assistant to wreck everything for a brief affair, which was all it could surely be.
Until, one night in Mexico City, after they’d closed a deal, they’d celebrated with too much tequila at a famous restaurant. Then Lola had suddenly leaned over the table and kissed him.
It had been a revelation. An explosion.
They’d had a few incredible months, working together by day, making love by night. It had been—perfect.
Then Rodrigo had learned who Lola really was, deep down. What she’d done when she was eighteen. And that she’d been playing him all along. She’d claimed to love him. But all she’d ever wanted was his money.
He’d been stupidly blind. That was what hurt his pride the most. He’d let himself believe she actually cared. He would never forgive her for that. Or himself...
For the last year, he’d avoided thinking about her. He’d tried to forget. He’d told himself that he had.
Then he’d seen her on the dance floor tonight, in the arms of another man.
Lola.
She’d looked even more dazzling than he remembered, her hazel eyes huge in her beautiful face, her hips swaying in a slinky dress that fit her slender, curvaceous body like a glove. For a moment, when he first saw her, Rodrigo’s heart had twisted.
Then he’d remembered how she’d deceived him, and taken the million-dollar check he’d thrown in her face in his fury. Cold rage had filled every space in his heart, leaving no room for any other emotion.
Lola Price had no shame. She was a liar, a deceitful gold digger. But he’d never imagined that even she could try something like hiding a pregnancy. Stealing his child away.
Rodrigo’s arms tightened as he looked down at her.
She’d lost the tan she’d had in California. Her skin was pale, and she was dressed in head-to-toe black, like a true New Yorker. The knit dress had long sleeves, a high neckline and a hem to the floor. The only skin showing was her face and her hands.
It shouldn’t have been sexy, but it was.
Everywhere he looked, Rodrigo saw something to tempt him, from the shocking beauty of her perfect face, with her high cheekbones, changeable hazel eyes and bee-stung lips, to her long, elegant throat. Even her hands drew him, with their graceful tapering fingers.
As his assistant, Lola had always been well-groomed and professional, as befitted the powerful executive assistant of an entertainment mogul. Now, he saw her beauty and wondered if she was trying to lure the burly, gray-haired Russian scowling beside her. Who was he? Her lover? Her soon-to-be husband?
The thought made him sick.
As the CEO of Cabrera Media Group, an international entertainment conglomerate, Rodrigo was surrounded by beautiful women on a regular basis. His companies produced films and TV series around the world. He owned studios and networks and was about to launch a new streaming media company in South America. He should have been immune to Lola Price’s charms.
But he wasn’t. He still wanted her. Now more than ever. Maybe that was why, for the last year, he hadn’t been able to touch another woman.
After a year of hot, frustrated need, no wonder his whole body felt the effect of being close to Lola now. Even as he learned of her latest betrayal.
Damn her.
“You were pregnant when you left California,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “And you never told me.”
The sparkling lights of the chandeliers, soaring high above in the hotel ballroom, seemed to leave shadows across her beautiful face as couples continued to move around them on the dance floor.
Only the three of them did not move. The burly Russian turned to Lola in shock. “This is your baby’s father? This man?”
She looked pale. “I think you should go, Sergei.”
The man glanced uncomfortably toward Rodrigo. “If you would like me to stay, Lolitchka, if you need help—”
“No, thank you,” she whispered. “It’s better I do this alone.”
“You heard what she said,” Rodrigo bit out. “Get the hell away from her.”
The older man’s eyes narrowed, but he just turned to kiss Lola’s cheek. “If you need me, I am always here.”
The grateful look she threw Sergei made Rodrigo suddenly want to bash his face in. His hands tightened into fists at his sides until the other man left.
Taking Lola’s hand, Rodrigo grimly pulled her away from the crowds. He tried not to notice how soft her palm felt against his. He tried not to feel the electricity that pulsed through his body at that innocent touch.
In a darkened, empty corner of the ballroom, he turned to face her accusingly. “How could you not tell me?”
Lola wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Because I don’t need anything from you. I don’t want anything.”
I want you, Rodrigo. The memory went through him of the trembling ecstasy of her voice, long ago. And I... I love you.
As he looked down at her beautiful face, shadowed by the chandelier’s light, he felt a rush of unwilling emotion as he remembered when she’d first spoken those words.
Two months into their affair, after closing a big business deal in Los Angeles, they’d returned to his beach house in triumph. Drinking wine, they’d lingered at midnight alone on his private beach, around a small bonfire he’d built from driftwood as the moonlight floated down. He could still smell the salt of the sea and vanilla fragrance of her hair as the hot Santa Ana winds blew against their overheated skin. He could hear the crackling of the fire and the roar of the waves when Lola had told him, her voice breathless and trembling, that she loved him.
For an answer, he’d kissed her, drawing her down against the soft blanket on the sand. In that moment, he’d been half out of his mind. In that moment, he’d almost wanted to love her back—
But Rodrigo didn’t want to think of that, or the intensity of the grief and betrayal he’d felt a month later, when he’d learned the truth about her past from Marnie, his longest-serving, most loyal employee.
Sir, Marnie had said sadly. Sir, there’s something you should know about Lola Price—
New anger went through him, pouring over his grief and regret. But even that could not block out his biggest emotion.
Desire.
Even now, with his heart pounding with rage, he wanted her. His hands shook with the effort of not grabbing her and wrenching her into his arms for a kiss. His blood was boiling with the need to take her. To push her against the wall—to kiss her—to make her want him as badly as he wanted her, and make her regret—
Taking a deep breath, Rodrigo narrowed his eyes. “How could you keep my child secret? I never thought even you could sink so low.”
Lola’s cheeks turned white, then red. “I was going to tell you I was pregnant the night you threw me out. But you stopped me—remember?”
Rodrigo did remember that awful night, how she’d shown up at his beach house with joy in her eyes.
I have something to tell you—
Me first, he’d said flatly. I saw the pictures. I know what you did. He’d looked over her scornfully. I know who you are.
Lola’s beautiful face had fallen, her expression suddenly tortured and guilty. Uncharacteristically for her, she hadn’t tried to argue or fight. She’d just accepted his accusations with slumped shoulders. Until, finally, trying to get a reaction out of her, he’d written out the million-dollar check and tossed it in her face.
That’s what you’ve wanted, isn’t it? You were tired of being my assistant and hoped to upgrade your position to be my mistress or, better yet, wife! If money is what you want, here—take it!
Rodrigo had waited, heart pounding, for her to explain. He’d waited for her to throw the check back in his face. He could have forgiven her past. No one was perfect. Certainly he was not. What he couldn’t forgive was her deliberately playing him for a fool, convincing him that she loved him, when all along she’d only had her eye on his wallet.
With a bowed head, she’d looked down at the million-dollar check. Then she’d crushed it in her hand, and left the beach house without a word. And he’d known his worst fears about her were true.
“You lied to me,” Rodrigo said coldly now. “You moved three thousand miles away to keep your pregnancy a secret.”
“You clearly didn’t care about me.” Her hazel eyes glittered. “So why would I think you’d care about our child?”
“It wasn’t for the baby’s sake. You did it to punish me.”
Lola lifted her chin. The cold rage in her expression matched his own.
“You fired me. Tossed me out of your house. Told me you never wanted to see me again. You called me names and threw a check in my face. Why would I ever tell you I was pregnant?”
“So you stole my child away from me. Like a thief in the night.”
She lifted her eyes furiously. “You made it clear you hated me. Why would I want to give you rights over my baby?”
Rodrigo refused to concede her the slightest bit of sympathy. Lola was a greedy, coldhearted gold digger. Hadn’t she proved that, when she’d taken the check?
But she’d taken the check to provide for their child.
Suddenly, he sucked in his breath.
She’d known she was pregnant when she left. If she’d really been a gold digger, she wouldn’t have simply taken his money and disappeared from California. No.
She would have told him about the pregnancy immediately, knowing that, as mother to Rodrigo’s only child, she could have gotten far, far more than a mere million dollars.
But she hadn’t.
Had he been...wrong about her?
He pushed down the emotion rising in his heart. No. He couldn’t believe that. He clenched his jaw.
“So you moved to New York and replaced me with another rich man.”
Lola shook her head. “Sergei was just my boss. I worked for him during my pregnancy, until the baby was born.”
He frowned. “You worked?”
“As his secretary.”
He wasn’t surprised Lola had easily found a new job. She’d been a stellar assistant, and after their breakup, when he’d fired her, he’d still directed his HR staff to give her the glowing reference her work deserved. But, he didn’t understand. “Why would you work? You had my check.”
She lifted her chin. “I’ve kept that money in reserve to provide for the baby. I got us a nice apartment, and have stayed home since he was born, to take care of him. And—” she mumbled, looking away “—I studied for my GED.”
Rodrigo stared at her in shock. “Your what?”
Lola looked at him. “It means General Equivalency Diploma—”
“I know what it means,” he snapped at her. “But why would you need one?”
“Employers expect at least a high school diploma these days, if not a college degree. I was tired of feeling bad about it. So I studied for the test.” She bit her lip. “I took it last week. I haven’t heard yet if I passed.”
“You’re worrying about your résumé?” Jealousy pulsed through him, unwelcome and unreasonable. “That Russian was offering to marry you and cover you with diamonds.”
Lola’s lips lifted bitterly. “I loved one rich man, once.” Her voice was acid. “That experience was enough for a lifetime. My son and I are better off alone.”
Rodrigo’s world was spinning. “Son? What’s his name?”
“Jett. Jett Price.”
He blinked. “You called him what?”
“What’s wrong with it?” she said defensively.
“It sounds like something that might get mentioned in a stock report from Boeing or Airbus. Jet price?”
“No one will think of it that way!”
“His surname should be Cabrera.”
She lifted her chin defiantly. “He’s fine as he is.”
“I want a paternity test. And then—”
“Then what?”
“Then we’ll see,” he said softly.
Lola looked at him for a long moment. Most of the people in his world feared him, and with good reason. He’d built his media empire by being ruthless and unpredictable. Looking down at her, he half expected to see fear. He should have known better.
“We’re better off without you.” Her eyes were defiant. “I won’t let you take my child from me, Rodrigo.”
“And you think you can fight me?” he said softly. “You know what I’m capable of.”
“Yes.” Lola lifted her chin. “And you know me.”
“What does that mean?”
“If you try to take my son from me, you’ll regret it.”
He looked at her incredulously. “You’re threatening me?”
She lifted an eyebrow. “It’s a promise.”
“And how would you fight me?”
“I’ve made some powerful friends.”
Her eyes were cold. Rodrigo thought of her date. Sergei was obviously wealthy, and he’d proposed marriage. Was that the powerful friend she meant?
She’d said she was his secretary. That she’d refused his proposal. But for all he knew, they were lovers. The image came to him of her naked in the man’s arms. The thought made him sick.
Rodrigo had been Lola’s first lover. Of that, there could be no doubt. When they’d first made love, and he’d discovered her virginity, he’d been shocked, exhilarated, intoxicated with pride. Lola, so beautiful and desirable, had somehow still been a virgin at twenty-four.
But she might well have taken lovers since then. Any man would want her. While Rodrigo had been celibate as a monk.
“You and that Russian,” he said with deliberate carelessness, “you are lovers, of course.”
Her lips twisted. “I’ve never even let him kiss me.”
He stared at her. No. It couldn’t be true. Blinking hard, Rodrigo regained his reason. All the time she’d worked for him, he’d thought she was a terrible liar. But he must have been mistaken. Of course she was sleeping with the other man. Why else would he propose? What a little actress she was. Really, he should hire her for his next prestige film. “Liar.”
“I’m not,” she bit out, her eyes flashing. “I’ve only kissed one person in my whole life—”
She cut off her words, but it was too late. He stared at her, his heart twisting violently in his chest.
“You’ve never kissed another man? Even now?” He came closer. “Even after all this time?”
She looked up at him, her eyes shooting sparks. “I loved you, Rodrigo. Do you even know what that means? No. You don’t. How could you, when you felt nothing?”
A razorblade lifted to his throat. He tried to keep his grip on reason. He ground out his words. “Why would the man propose, if he’s never even slept with you?”
Her hazel eyes were luminous in the shadows of the ballroom. “Because he thinks it’s the only way he can have me.”
For a moment, Rodrigo couldn’t breathe. Suddenly, it was as if a veil had been lifted from his eyes. He’d been right all those years he’d thought she wasn’t a good liar. She wasn’t. He could always tell on those rare occasions when she tried to lie. Her voice got strangled, her face turned red. He knew when she was speaking the truth.
And he could hear the truth in her voice when she said she’d loved him.
Had he been wrong about her all this time?
He wasn’t wrong about one thing, at least, he told himself fiercely. He wasn’t wrong about her stealing his child away.
“I want to see the baby,” he said tightly.
“Now?”
“Now.”
“Fine,” Lola said coldly. “I’ll get my coat. You can meet him. But that’s it.”
As he followed her out of the hotel ballroom, Rodrigo’s gaze slowly traced down her body. Her generous breasts were even fuller than he remembered, emphasizing her hourglass curves, her tiny waist and perfect hips. She wore no jewelry. She didn’t need jewels. Not when her eyes sparkled in her beautiful face. Not when she had that body. No man in the room could take his eyes off her—and Rodrigo was no exception.
Damn her.
His jaw tensed as he remembered the angry tremble of her voice. We’re better off without you.
It wasn’t true, he thought. He stiffened, remembering his own father. He was nothing like that bastard.
Maybe he didn’t know much about fatherhood or parenting or happy families, but he could at least give his son a name. A stable home. A good childhood.
He could give him everything he himself had never had.
His eyes fell on Lola. Whether she liked it or not, Rodrigo was the one in control now. His eyes traced the full curve of her backside, the span of her tiny waist.
And he intended to have his way. At any cost.
