The doctor’s voice trailed off as she stared at the monitor with her brow furrowed. Ellie felt Diogo’s hand tighten around her own.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
Ellie glanced at him. His handsome features were anxious and vulnerable as he looked from the monitor to the doctor. Ellie realized he was trying to hide his fear.
And the thought struck through her like lightning: he loved this child as much as she did.
“What is it?” Heart in her throat, Ellie could barely manage to whisper the words. “What’s wrong with our baby?”
Dr. Carneiro turned to face them, her thin face lit up with a smile.
“You’re going to have a girl.”
“A girl!” Ellie crowed happily. She turned to Diogo triumphantly. “Ha! You see? I told you it would be a girl!”
“Not a boy?” Diogo said, frowning.
“Yes,” the doctor said.
“What?”
“A boy… and a girl. The girl was hiding behind her brother.”
Ellie and Diogo both blinked at her, uncomprehending.
The doctor gave a laugh. “Look.” They stared where she was pointing. In all the unrecognizable lines and blurs of the monitor, Ellie at first couldn’t see what she was talking about. Then she saw it. Another tiny flickering light. Other arms and legs. Another shape of a head. Another baby.
“Two heartbeats. Twins. Congratulations!”
“Twins?” Ellie gasped.
Two babies to love. Two babies to care for. Two babies who would need everything their parents could give them!
Sucking in her breath, she glanced at Diogo. Just a few months ago, he’d had a vasectomy to prevent having a child. Now he was going to be father of two. A ready-made family. How would he take the news?
“Have you picked any names?” the doctor asked.
Ellie shook her head. “It’s all happened so suddenly. We haven’t really thought about it.” She tried to see Diogo’s face. “We could call the girl Lilibeth. Or maybe Lily?”
He finally turned to face her. Ellie was shocked to see his dark eyes were bright with unshed tears in his handsome, rugged face. “She will be called Ana.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” his sister exclaimed. “Our mother would be so proud.”
Ellie lifted her chin and pleaded, “But my grandmother…”
“My daughter’s name is Ana,” he informed her coldly.
Ellie ground her teeth. Just like a man to not listen to anyone’s feelings but his own! But on the other hand, if his adoptive mother really had saved him from starving on the streets, it seemed a small enough thing to ask.
She closed her eyes. “Ana,” she tried aloud. “Ana Jensen.” Opening her eyes, she nodded. “All right. Ana.”
But Diogo didn’t look grateful. He stared at her, his dark brows lowered.
“Jensen?” he demanded. “Their last name will be Serrador.”
She shook her head. “You expect me to raise the babies in Flint with a name different from mine?” she protested.
“Raise them in Flint?” he thundered. “Are you out of your mind? You are going to live here with me—all of you!”
“I might stay until they’re born. But longer than that? You can’t honestly expect me to remain here forever, sequestered in your penthouse like some trapped princess in a tower!”
“I thought,” he ground out, “that we could raise the children together. I am their father.”
She nodded. “And you will always have access to the children. We’ll work out custody. But—” she raised her chin “—you are not my husband. You will not have access to me.”
Twins.
Looking back at the heartbeats on the monitor, Diogo suddenly saw everything clearly for the first time.
He’d thought that it was enough for him to bring Ellie to Rio. To take care of her, to keep them all safe. But now he saw that he’d been wrong… so wrong.
A son. A daughter.
Without his name.
His precious newborn children wouldn’t be protected. They would be… bastards. Just like Diogo had been.
He still remembered the pain of his childhood. First he’d had no father—then later, no mother. No money. No home.
He’d had to toughen up fast.
He didn’t want his children to grow up that way. He had to protect them. He had to keep them safe.
His hands gripped the edge of the sofa as he looked up again at the blinking lights on the monitor.
He heard the plaintive whisper of a woman’s voice from long ago. Will you marry me? Will you?
But he hadn’t asked her questions; he’d just been furious. Marry her? He’d been incredulous that she would try to pin him down after three dates in as many weeks. If you don’t care about me, she’d whispered, then I’m done with you.
He’d never seen her again. He’d forgotten her swiftly. Until he got the call from the Brazilian lawyer at Christmas last year. She was just found—beaten to death. Your name was in her will.
Diogo’s whole body was tense as he clenched his jaw. He wasn’t going to make that mistake again. Too much was at stake. Ellie was his new chance to do it right—from the very start. The happiness of his children depended on it.
Allow Ellie to take them to the States?
What kind of home would it be for them, caught between two continents, between two families? His children would barely know their father. Perhaps they, too, would hate him….
Maldiçâo, he swore soundlessly, no! He would not let his children suffer—not let them be torn away from the father that loved them! They would be respected. They would be loved.
By both parents.
Ellie was traditional, not like the modern women of the age who were happy to make a go of parenthood alone.
Isn’t it bad enough that my baby will be born without a name? she’d cried. Bad enough that I’m an unwed mother—bad enough that everyone thinks I’m your whore? Are you so selfish that you want to make it true? To take the last bit of pride I’ve got left?
He could solve this problem. For all of them.
Suddenly, it was all so clear.
He looked straight into Ellie’s eyes.
“You will marry me.”
Ellie’s jaw dropped. “What?”
He’d never thought he would propose to any woman, but it was strangely easy. “You will stay here. We will raise our children together. It is simple, Ellie. You will be my wife.”
He waited for her to exclaim with joy, to throw her arms around him, to proclaim her thrilled gratitude. But she didn’t.
She flinched.
“Stop it, Diogo. We know you’re not the marrying kind.”
He frowned at her. “I’ve changed my mind.”
“Just stop it!” Blinking hard, she turned to the doctor. “The babies are healthy, aren’t they? My cycle has never been even, so I didn’t even take a pregnancy test until recently. But I never drank alcohol or—”
“Do not worry. They look fine,” the doctor said soothingly, glancing between them. “The pregnancy is going well. You’ll just need to take good care of yourself.” She gave Diogo a hard stare. “You’ll need to help her.”
“Sim, of course.” Biskreta, he was trying to take care of her as he’d never taken care of any woman—he was trying to make her his bride! Leaning forward, he persisted, “Ellie, I am serious. I wish to marry you.”
She cast her blue gaze on him, then looked away. She didn’t believe him.
The thought was ironic. He’d never thought he would so willingly give up his freedom, but here he was, begging a woman to marry him. Only to have her turn him down!
But Ellie would be his. Diogo wanted to keep her for his children, sim. But also for himself. He would keep her in the nursery. Keep her in his kitchen.
Keep her in his bed.
Diogo had made up his mind. Marriage was the best—the only—solution for all of them.
He glanced back at the monitor. Watching the tiny flickers of
two heartbeats on the ultrasound screen, his own heart enlarged in his chest. He glanced down at Ellie. Her sweet, pale face looked back at him.
“Twins,” she said in a low voice. “Can you handle two?”
“I can handle more than that.” But two children needed two parents. He opened his mouth to inform her that they would be married today, whether she wished it or not.
Then, looking at her pale, beautiful face, he stopped.
He’d seduced Ellie. Gotten her pregnant. Broken up her wedding and dragged her to Rio. He had completely turned her life upside down.
She was the mother of his children. She deserved his care. So why not be gentle? Instead of bullying her into marriage, why not simply woo her? After all—he smiled to himself—he’d never had any woman resist him for long.
“It’s all going to be fine.” He reached out to stroke her hair, quelling the impatience in his blood. “You’ll see.”
Their need to marry was so obvious to him now. He couldn’t imagine why she’d turned him down, but he wouldn’t let any foolish feminine whims prevent him from doing what was best for all of them. He couldn’t.
Tonight, he would give her a chance to catch her breath. Both she and the baby needed a full night’s rest. Tomorrow, he’d lure her with all the skill he possessed. Entice her with the romance all women craved. He would convince her. He would persuade. He’d give her a day of romance. One day.
Then, willing or not, Ellie would be his bride.
CHAPTER NINE
PUTTING ASIDE HER pregnancy book and empty pint of strawberry ice cream, Ellie curled up into a ball beneath the bedcovers and stared at the fire in the stark white fireplace. She heard the hard rain patter against the bedroom windows. Days of sunshine, nights of rain. Listening to the dying crackle of the fire and the wind howling outside, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against Diogo’s pillow.
Such a strange afternoon.
After the ultrasound, Diogo had taken her out shopping, insisting that she buy whatever would make her comfortable for her stay. She’d actually enjoyed their afternoon together. He’d flirted with her. And she’d caught herself flirting back.
Then halfway through the candlelight dinner served by his housekeeper, just as she was tucking into her second plate of lasagna and steamed broccoli, Diogo had gotten a phone call. Without explanation, he’d kissed Ellie on the temple and left her to finish dinner alone!
Staring into the fire, she wondered moodily who’d called him.
Thank heaven she’d had the sense to refuse his marriage proposal. He’d just been trying to alleviate his guilt by pretending to do the right thing. What would he have done if she’d said “yes”? Probably exactly what he was doing now—gone straight to another woman’s arms.
It could have been a business call, she told herself. Some late-night problem with the Mongolian iron mine that required a phone call. It could have been business, right? Right?
Yeah, right.
But he had asked her to be his wife. She still couldn’t believe it. The playboy of the Western world had proposed to her. Who would ever believe it? No one.
So who would ever believe she had refused him?
She pulled the bed’s comforter up to her ears to keep such unsettling thoughts away. The sheets smelled fresh and clean with a faint scent of his cologne. She closed her eyes, pressing her face against his pillow. She yawned, feeling more exhausted than she’d ever felt in her life.
But she knew she couldn’t sleep. Not when, at any moment, he might return and join her in the bed. She yawned. She had to be ready. Ready to fight off not just his seduction, but her own body’s traitorous desire.
“Ellie.”
Diogo was shaking her. She sat up unsteadily from where she’d been sprawled across the bottom half of his bed. The fire was nothing but ash, and the howling of the wind against the windows had faded.
She realized it was morning. The rain had stopped, and as he opened the shades, she blearily saw the gray-pink hue of dawn across the Atlantic Ocean. She felt disoriented in her rumpled pajamas and messy hair.
Diogo, on the other hand, was fresh and impeccably dressed. He looked crisp and handsome. He’d shaved and changed. He now wore gray slacks, a sharp gray vest and crisp yellow shirt. The elegant cut of his clothes only emphasized the hard-muscled body of the warrior beneath.
She wondered what he’d done last night.
She wasn’t jealous, she told herself fiercely. She wasn’t even going to ask. He could go out every night with swimsuit models for all she cared. Ellie would, in fact, be glad because it meant he wasn’t trying to seduce her.
“Bom dia, amorzão.” Diogo held a silver tray. She saw eggs and toast and fruit on a china plate, orange juice in a crystal glass—and a single red rose. “I’ve brought you breakfast.”
She sat up straight in bed. “Breakfast?” she said hopefully as her stomach growled.
But as he leaned over her, placing the tray over her lap, she smelled his woodsy soap on his skin and felt the warmth of his masculine body, and suddenly had to fight hunger for more than just toast.
“Did you sleep well?”
She quickly looked up, hoping he hadn’t caught her ogling his backside. “Yes, thank you.”
He returned her smile frankly. “How am I doing?”
“At what?”
“At serving you.”
She glanced down at the rose on the tray. “You could probably get a job at a Dairy Burger, if the steel business doesn’t work out.”
His smile spread into a grin. “Obrigado.” He opened the napkin and set it on her lap. “I have a busy day planned for us.”
“You’re not going to work today?”
“No, I am going to show you my city. I want you to love it as I do.”
“Why?”
“Does it matter?” He quirked an eyebrow. “Take me up on my offer. Unless, of course, you’ve already had your fill of billionaire tour guides in exotic foreign cities.”
“Well…” It was tempting. She’d certainly always dreamed of traveling as a girl. But…
She took a bite of toast, then resolutely shook her head. “You’re not going to change my mind with a little sightseeing, Diogo. After the babies are born, I’m taking them home.”
“Home can mean a lot of things. A city. A building.” Taking the red rose from the vase on the tray, he gently stroked her cheek with the velvety petals. “Home can mean family.”
The sensation of the rose against her skin caused a shiver to spread down her body—then she felt an answering flutter below her heart, even stronger than the one she’d felt yesterday. And this time, she knew. It wasn’t her heartbeat.
It was her baby.
She gave a little gasp, sitting straight up in bed, pushing away the rose and the tray and the blankets. She put her hands on her belly. She couldn’t feel anything on the outside. But inside…
“What?” Diogo leaned over her with anxiety. “What’s wrong? I’ll get the doctor.”
“No.” She felt the flutter again. Tiny, barely noticeable… but there. “I felt one of the babies move!”
“You did?” His usual arrogant expression dissipated. He looked strangely unsure of himself.
“Yes.” With a delighted laugh, she grabbed his hand and placed it on her belly. “Right here.”
He waited. “I don’t feel anything.”
She moved his hand above her hip bone. “You will.” She sighed. “Although it might take a few months.”
He looked down at her.
“I can wait if you can,” he said quietly.
The air between them electrified. With his hand on her belly, standing over her on the bed, she felt her heart pound. Her eyes dilated. She couldn’t breathe.
“I… I won’t be your mistress, Diogo,” she whispered.
He allowed himself a small, private smile. “I don’t want you to be.”
He didn’t want her anymore?
She should have been reli
eved, but at his words, a cold pain ripped through her heart. She abruptly released his hand, and the baby fluttered in protest.
I’m not going to ask him where he was last night. I’m not, she told herself fiercely. I have too much pride… .
“Where were you last night?” she blurted out, then could have kicked herself.
“Where was I?” He tilted his head, looking down at her. “Only my wife would have the right to ask such a question.”
“Any wife of yours wouldn’t want to know,” she muttered. “She’d probably have a heart attack.”
“Ellie.” He knelt next to the bed. “You have no cause to be jealous. I was home shortly after you fell asleep.”
“Home from where?” Her voice came out an indignant squeak and her cheeks flooded with embarrassment. “And I’m not jealous!”
But of course she was. Desperately. Hopelessly. She’d been heartsick for months, watching from her cubicle as he left his office with one beautiful woman after another on his arm.
And that is exactly how it would be as his wife. He would bed her, pay her bills, give their children a name… but never give her his loyalty or his heart. Her soul would wilt and shrink and die.
She’d promised to stay with him until the babies were born.
Could she survive if he tried to seduce her?
But… could she survive if he didn’t?
“Let me show you my city, Ellie,” he said softly, taking her hand in his larger one. “You won’t regret it.”
The desire to hold on to that hand, to be with him as long as she could, overwhelmed every last bit of common sense. Picking up the rose, she climbed out of bed in her long, white cotton nightgown.
“All right,” she managed. She glanced down at the red rose still in her hand. It smelled of warmth and summer and happiness. “But we’re just going as friends, all right? That’s all!”
From the closet, he selected a new dress of stretchy white lace. “Wear this.”
“It’s lovely.” Gathering the dress in her arms, she collected her things to go take a shower. “But just friends, Diogo,” she warned. “I won’t be your mistress. I mean it!”
“No, you won’t be my mistress.” The sunlight glinted on the sharp teeth of his smile. “I give you my word.”
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