by Tara Pammi
“You look like you’re ready to tip over. Answer my question, pequena. What’s going on?”
She tucked her knees in closer. Tears rolled over her cheeks. “There are two, Diego.”
He raked his mind. “Two... Two what, gatinha?”
“Two heartbeats.”
He pushed her chin up none too gently. “What?”
A shadow descended on her face, her skin a tight mask over the fine bones. “I went to see the doctor today for a routine checkup. She thought it best to do an ultrasound. There are two... Diego, there are twins.”
His mouth slack, Diego couldn’t believe her words. Incredible joy flushed through him. He was going to be a father to not one but two babies. He had no breath left in him. He felt lightheaded, as if nothing could mar his happiness anymore. He was going to have a family—a proper one—with two babies looking to him for everything.
He shivered at the magnitude of what it meant.
It had been a shock when he had first learned of the baby, but now all he felt was exceptionally blessed. As if for the first time in as far as he could remember he had a chance to be something good, to build something good—as if life had finally handed him a good turn.
Gathering Kim tight in his arms, he pressed a kiss to her upturned mouth and tasted her tears.
He pulled back from her, the worry etched into her pinched mouth, the sheer terror in her gaze, puncturing his own joy.
“That’s why you brought Jennie over? Why you’re practicing?”
He cupped her jaw, forcing her to look at him. His mouth felt dry. Words were hitching in his throat. He palmed her back, up and down, looking for words to do this right.
Because he had never been in this position of offering comfort or strength to her—ever. She had never leaned on him for anything. Her unwavering strength was both incredibly amazing and annoying at the same time.
“This is not something where we practice for perfection, gatinha,” he said softly, anxious to remove anything negative from his words. “We just try to do our best.”
“But that’s not enough, is it? Good intentions and effort can’t make up for what’s missing. You told me once your mother had never been able to scrape enough money to feed you properly, but you didn’t care, did you? Because you knew that she loved you.”
“As will you love our children. I told you before—we don’t have to be perfect parents; we just have to love them enough—”
She fought against his grip again, a whimper escaping her. That pained sound sent a shiver racing up his spine.
“Whatever is paining you, I swear I will help you through it, gatinha. Tell me, what is—?”
“I’m not good with babies.” Her words sounded as if they were tortured, as if they were ripped from her. “I’ll never be, so it’s a good thing you’re here. Or else our kids might never stop crying—might turn out just like me, hating their mother.”
Something squeezed in his chest and he released a hard breath, shoving aside his own conflicted emotions for the minute.
“And the fact that you’re exhausted has nothing to do with it?”
She bit her lip. Her uncertainty—something he had never seen—was a shock to his system.
“How do you feel about being a full-time stay-at-home daddy?”
He smiled even as stark fear gripped him. “And what will you do?”
“I’ll do everything else.” She ran her tongue over her lips, her brow tied into that line that it got when she was in full-on thinking mode. “I’ll work, I’ll clean, I’ll cook. I’ll even—” She stopped, as though she had just caught on to the desperation in her words. Her tears spilled over from her eyes, her slender shoulders trembling under the weight of perplexing grief. “I don’t feel anything, Diego.”
His heart stopped for a minute, if that was possible. “What does that mean?”
“For the babies. I don’t feel anything.”
He sucked in a breath, the anguish he spied in her gaze sending waves of powerlessness hurling through him.
“Except this relentless void, there’s nothing inside of me when I think of them,” she said, rushing over her words as though she couldn’t stop them anymore. “I should look forward to it now, at least. I should be used to it by now. At first I thought it was because I was angry with you. Because you were the father. It’s not. It is me. All I can think is how I wish it was anyone but me. Every waking moment. I can’t bear to look at myself because I’m afraid I will see changes I don’t want to. My team is more excited about this than I am. The ultrasound technician was more excited than I was when we looked at them. And now there are two. What if I never feel anything for them? What if all these years of...? What if I never love them? They’ll realize that, won’t they? God, I would just curl up and die if they—”
“Shh...” Diego swallowed past the tears sawing at his throat and hugged her tight, pouring everything he couldn’t say into the embrace. He couldn’t bear to see her like this. This pain—her pain—it hammered at him with the quiet efficiency of a hundred blows.
How blithely had he assumed she didn’t give a damn about anything but herself? How easily had he let her rejection of him color everything else? How easily had he let his own hangups blind him to her pain?
Her cutting indifference every time she had mentioned the pregnancy had been the perfect cover for this terrifying panic beneath. Regret skewered through him.
He pressed his mouth to her temple and breathed her scent in. He had no idea if it was for his or her benefit. “You built a million-dollar company from nothing but your talent and your hard work. Don’t tell me your failure with Jennie tonight means you won’t love our children.”
Her upper body bowed forward, her forehead coming to rest on his shoulder as though the fight was literally deflating her. “I’ve spent years cauterizing myself against feeling anything. I think I did it so well that nothing can reach me now.”
“That’s nonsense.” Diego wrapped his hands around her and tucked her closer to him. “You care about your sister. You told me you tried your best to protect her from your father’s wrath. I’m sure once the babies come you—”
“I’m the reason Liv suffered so much at my dad’s hands. It was my responsibility to protect her. Nothing else.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You think you’re the only one who has a monopoly on guilt?”
Frustration boiled through Diego as defiance crept back into her tone. Her shields fell back into place, the pain shoved away beneath layers and layers of indifference. His hold over her was just as fleeting as always.
* * *
Feeling Diego stiffen against her, Kim slid out of his reach. Her knees threatened to collapse under her, but anything was better than the cocoon of his embrace.
It had felt so good. The temptation to buy into his words that everything would be fine, the need to dump the bitterest truth in his lap, had been dangerous.
Except she was sure there would be nothing but distaste left on his face if she did that. She would take his anger anytime.
That was what living with him was doing to her—slowly but surely eroding everything she had learned to survive.
“How come you’re so good at it?” she threw at him, the pain dulling to a slow ache.
For now there was nothing to do but wait. That was the part that was slowly driving her crazy. There wasn’t a way to make herself feel. There was no switch to turn it on.
“I’m not. But Marissa always has a baby attached to her hip, and I think I’ve picked up a thing or two in all these years.”
An image of a laughing, petite brunette flashed in front of Kim’s eyes. Her mouth burned with the acidic taste of jealousy. Until now she had held on, pretended even to herself that he didn’t matter to her, that falling into his bed four weeks ago had been nothing but a mistake.
“Marissa?”
He nodded slowly, a flat, hardened look replacing the tenderness she had seen seconds ago
, as though he resented Kim even uttering her name. Not as though. He hated it. It was there in the way his stance stiffened, in the way he turned away from her.
“You were...?” Kim swallowed, forcing the lump in her throat down, that acidic taste burning her mouth. “You’ve been with her all these—?”
He shrugged. “Over the years Marissa and I have always drifted toward each other. In between deserting spouses, deaths and even...” His gaze fell to Jennie and his mouth curved into a little smile. “She’s nothing if not maternal.”
The last sentence was like driving a knife into her already torn-up gut. “But you’re not with her anymore because of me?”
His gaze collided with her. “Because you’re pregnant with my child.”
Kim flinched.
“When I learned of your wedding I was furious. Marissa didn’t like my reaction. She gave me an ultimatum. I had to finish things with you if I wanted a life with her.”
“But that means you...” She blinked. “You didn’t come to the island to sed...to sleep with me?” She corrected herself at the last minute.
The arrogant resolve in his eyes dissolved and she sucked in a sharp breath.
“No. I wanted to see you one last time, to show you what I had become. To throw the divorce papers in your face and walk away. Instead I saw you and lost my mind again.”
Bitter disappointment knuckled her in the gut. How pathetic was it that she felt cheated because Diego hadn’t come to find her for some elaborate revenge scheme? That she hadn’t merited even that much of his energy?
Exactly as she hadn’t with her own mother.
She bit out a laugh. It was either that or dissolve into tears. “And I fell pregnant and ruined your plans...and hers.”
He shot up from the couch and materialized in front of her. “It would be so much easier if I could blame you, but we were both there.”
“Oh please. Will you stop with the whole honorable act? I would much prefer seeing the hatred in your eyes than looking for things that are not there.”
“I hurt her, Kim. Not you. The one thing she asked of me was to finish things with you. Because of my insane obsession with you, because of my refusal to leave you alone—” every word out of his mouth reverberated with bitter disgust, and the depth of it slammed into her “—I...I broke her heart, and there’s no way to fix it. I have to live with that guilt my entire life.”
He stepped away from her as though he couldn’t bear to be near her now Marissa had been mentioned, as though even looking at her compounded his guilt.
“I’ll send Anna down. She will look after Jennie,” he said, halting with his hand on the doorhandle. “Make sure you eat something and get some sleep. Think of the babies, if nothing else.”
She sank to the couch as he closed the door behind him. She had hated him for setting her up, for ruthlessly walking away, but he had paid the price for their reckless passion just as she had.
She wished with every cell in her being that he was the ruthless man she had thought him. Because the man he was underneath—kind and thoughtful—how was she supposed to resist him?
He could have thrown her ineptitude in her face, laughed at her fears. Wasn’t that why she had been stewing in it by herself? But he hadn’t.
He had held her, hugged her, tried to make her feel better. He had been genuinely concerned for her. He could make it so easy for her to depend on him, to bask in his concern, to fall deeper and deeper...
That was if she wasn’t already in exactly the situation she had fought so hard against.
Her legs shook as she hugged herself. She needed Diego in her life. No, she wanted Diego in her life. But the gnawing, terrifying truth was that nothing but his honor was keeping him there.
Nothing about her was keeping him there.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT WAS, WITHOUT doubt, a sex party.
Diego had no other name for it. His thoughts had swung from mild curiosity to full-blown agitation when a six-foot bouncer had checked his ID at the entrance and announced that admittance cost ten thousand dollars.
He had spent the better part of the evening trying to find Kim. It was half past ten now, and this was where her colleague had finally directed him to.
The party was in full swing in a two-floor Manhattan loft that had taken him several phone calls to locate. He scowled and moved past a waitress dressed in a French maid’s costume serving hors d’oeuvres.
Soft, sultry music streamed through the richly carpeted foyer from cleverly hidden sub-woofers. Pink neon lights strategically placed on the low ceiling bathed the lounge, illuminating the retro-style furniture and a bar. It was very elegantly done, with a high-class Parisian feel to it.
The lower floor was dotted with futons against the retro chic walls, and in the corner a thin, exotically dressed woman was working massage oil into a naked man’s back. On the other side of the full bar was a huge dance floor, where at least twenty men and women were softly bumping into one another.
He gritted his teeth and loosened his tie. What the hell was Kim doing here? Was this to compensate for the vulnerability she hadn’t been able to hide yesterday? Or was it an act of defiance to rile him up because he had organized her day today?
He glanced up the curving staircase toward the more expansive upper floor. Every muscle in him tightened as his gaze fell on more than one couple getting hot and heavy up there, their moans adding to the soulful music downstairs.
A sudden chill hit Diego. Which floor was Kim on?
Running a hand over his nape, he moved toward the dimly lit lounge. He had no idea what he would do if he didn’t find her on the lower floor. Already every base instinct in him was riled up at the very fact that she was here, of all places.
If he found her with... No, that thought didn’t even bear thinking.
He reached the outer edge of the dance floor, searching for her. He froze at the edge of the crowd as he finally located her. She was right in the center of the crowd, her hands behind her head, moving in perfect rhythm to the music, while a smartly dressed man had his hands around her waist.
His blood roared in his veins. Mine, the barely civilized part in him growled.
She was only dancing, he reminded himself, before he gave in to the urge to beat the crap out of the man touching her. A caveman—just as she had called him.
He slowly walked the perimeter of the crowd.
Her eyes closed, her legs bent, she was moving with an irresistible combination of grace and sensuality that lit a fire in his blood. Every muscle in his body tightened with a razor-edged hunger.
Her hair shone like raw silk. Her mouth was painted a vivid dark red, almost black, like nothing he’d ever seen on her before. Usually her lips shimmered with the barest gloss. A black leather dress hugged every inch of her— cupping her breasts high, barely covering her buttocks. The dress left her shoulders bare, and the exposed curves of her breasts were the sexiest sight he had ever seen.
She’d done the rest of her face differently, too, heavier make-up than he had ever seen. Usually the lack of make-up only served to heighten the no-nonsense, made-of-ice vibe she projected.
It was the opposite today—that outfit, her make-up, everything signaled sexual availability, grabbing attention and keeping it there. Was that why she was here? What had prompted this out-of-character interest in a sex party, of all things?
She looked like his darkest fantasy come true.
Lust knuckled him in the gut. All he wanted to do was pull the dress down until her breasts fell into his hands, past her hips until she was laid bare for him, and then plunge into her until neither of them could catch their breath, until the roar in his blood stopped.
He moved closer to her without blinking, his heart pounding in his ribcage, his skin thrumming with need. Her gaze lit upon him and shock flashed in it. Good—she’d recognized him.
He stepped on the raised platform and roughly collared the guy dancing with her, moved him out of the way.
He palmed her face and tilted it up roughly. “Are you high?”
“What?” Even her question sounded uneven. “Of course not.”
He sniffed her. Nothing but the erotic scent of her skin met his nostrils. His jeans felt incredibly tight. It was all he could do to stop from pressing into her. If he did, he didn’t think he could stop. “Are you drunk?” he said, noting a hoarse note in his own words.
She shook her head, something dangerous inching into her gaze. She ran a hand over her midriff, drawing Diego’s gaze to the dress again. “If you’re just going to spoil my fun...”
He blocked her as she turned away from him, the forward momentum pushing her breasts to graze against his chest. He clamped his fingers around her arm and tugged her.
She turned to face him. A strip of light illuminated the lush curve of her mouth, leaving the rest of her face in shadow. “What are you doing?”
He bent his head and tugged her lip with his teeth. Molten heat exploded in every nerve. His cock ached hard. Her hissing breath felt like music to his ears. “Taking you home.”
She dug her heels in and he loosened his hold. “I’m not ready to leave yet.”
“Yes, you are.”
To hell with all his rules, and with sanity and with whatever crap he had spun to keep things rational between them.
She was his—whether she knew it or not, whether she liked it or not. And not just because she was going to be the mother of his children.
* * *
Kim pulled the flaps of Diego’s leather jacket tighter around her and stepped out of the limo. A gust of wind barreled into her. She folded her hands against her midriff, her mouth falling open as she realized why the drive from the party had taken so long. Diego had been talking non-stop on his cell phone, effectively silencing any questions she had.
They were at a private airstrip. The ground crew was finishing up its prep, and the aircraft was being revved up. A tremor traveled up and down her spine.
She walked toward Diego, who was still talking on his phone.
His gaze traveled the length of her once again, intractable.
“What’s going on?”