Filthy Rich Revenge: A Filthy Rich Billionaires Book

by Lynn Raye Harris

  The doorbell buzzed and she sighed. Janine from down the hall had mentioned a get-together in her apartment this afternoon, but Rebecca didn’t feel like going. Still, it was just like Janine to try and talk her into it, especially when Rebecca was leaving in two days.

  “Just a minute,” she called when the bell buzzed again. When she reached the door, she checked the peephole out of habit.

  The man standing in the hall was definitely not Janine.

  Her breath shortened, her heart plummeting to her toes before shooting through the roof. How could she deal with him? Why was he here? What would she tell him about the baby?

  Tears gathered behind her eyelids as she folded her hands over her belly protectively.

  No, she wasn’t ready. Not yet.

  If she didn’t say anything, maybe he’d go away.

  What was Alejandro doing in New York? And why had he come to see her?

  Maybe he’d had her watched after all. Maybe he knew everything. Cold fear dripped down her spine.

  The seconds ticked away. She couldn’t hear anything but the beating of her own heart. She started to back away from the door but came up short at his voice.

  “I know you’re in there, Rebecca. Open the door.”

  Rebecca closed her eyes. That voice, the crisp Spanish inflections. The sound sent a wave of longing through her. And fury. How dare he show up over a month later and demand she open the door to him. Where was he a month ago? He should have been here, apologizing, begging for her forgiveness.

  Right.

  “Rebecca, open up or I’ll kick it in.”

  She’d like to see that. The door was steel. And yet he was making enough noise that any second doors would start popping open up and down the hall. Worse, she believed he really would try to batter her door down if she didn’t answer. She yanked it open but didn’t undo the chain.

  Alejandro stared down his nose at her. His arrogant, rotten, deceptive nose.

  He looked every bit as delicious as he had over a month ago. He wore Hugo Boss, of course. The tailored grey suit made him appear elegant and commanding. Every inch the captain of industry. He was so amazingly beautiful to her eyes. Any second her heart would crack wide open and she’d be spilling her secrets to him.

  His gaze raked over her. “You are unwell?”

  Did she look that bad? Her doctor said she was healthy, if a little underweight. Alejandro had probably moved on to some elegant, gorgeous woman who simpered and put up with his moods. She felt so dowdy and unattractive just thinking about it.

  And heartbroken, damn him.

  “I’m fine. What do you want?”

  “I wish to talk with you.”

  “Start talking.”

  He nodded at the door. “Can I come in?”

  “No.”

  He pushed a hand through his hair, blew out a breath in annoyance. “It would be easier to let me in, would it not? Or do you prefer your neighbors hear what I have to say?”

  She had no idea what he would say, but no, she didn’t want her neighbors to hear it. She pushed the door closed and slid the chain back. Her stomach chose that moment to roil. All she wanted was to sit down and get this over with. She jerked the door open and turned her back on him, going over to sit on the couch and fold her legs beneath her. Hostility was her only armor against him. She prayed he would not see beneath it to the quivering heart of her.

  He came inside, his grey gaze coolly assessing his surroundings. He seemed unsurprised she was moving.

  Of course. He probably knew everything about her job with the Cahill Group. No doubt he saw it as a betrayal that she would work for Roger, but what else was she supposed to do?

  “You look ill,” he said again as he strode into the living room. His hands were thrust in his pockets. He was so tall, so imposing. And he was standing in her apartment, his presence reminding her of all they’d done together. Her heart throbbed with anger and hurt.

  She shook her head. “It’s nothing. What do you want?”

  “You didn’t cash your severance check.”

  Rebecca blinked. No, she hadn’t. She’d taken it to the bank once, but she’d been unable to deposit it. It felt… dirty somehow. Like accepting it would make everything he’d ever said about her motives true.

  “You came all the way to New York to say that?”

  “No. I came to meet with Layton International’s board.”

  Ah, yes. He was here for business, not for her. It seemed strange to hear something about her company from him. A board meeting that she wasn’t a part of. Hadn’t known about. It made her feel her loneliness more keenly. She’d had a purpose at Layton International. Now she had no purpose but to protect her baby.

  “Just tell me what you want and get out,” she said wearily. Her brain had gone numb. She couldn’t deal with him, couldn’t begin to imagine telling him about the baby she carried. When she got to London and got settled in, she’d give him the news. He’d be angry, but this was her body and her pregnancy and she’d do things her way.

  He reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope. When he tossed it onto the coffee table, she eyed it warily. “If that’s another severance check, you can keep it. I don’t want your money.”

  Perhaps if Roger hadn’t hired her, she would have been forced to cash it. But he had and she had no intention of taking a dime from Alejandro. He’d once called her greedy. Let him wonder why she wouldn’t accept money from him now.

  “It’s not a severance check.”

  Rebecca heaved a sigh and leaned forward to grasp the envelope. Maybe if she opened it, he would leave. Sadness washed over her, but she pushed it away and ripped the packet open to stare at the contents.

  Dashing a hand over her cheeks to wipe away her tears, she tried to sound flippant. “I should refuse, but I won’t.” She clutched the deed, more touched than she wanted to be. She wasn’t going to take his money, but she would take this. One day she would give it to their child.

  “No, La Belle Amelie is yours.”

  “I’ll pay you for it. Just give me time to put together the financing.”

  “No.”

  Rebecca sucked back tears, forced a laugh. She didn’t know how to respond, so she resorted to flippancy. “Honestly, Alejandro, the sex was pretty good, but I doubt it was worth quite this much.”

  His mouth opened, then closed as his gaze fixed on something lying on the table.

  When Rebecca realized what it was, she scrambled for the bag she’d knocked over while reaching for the envelope and shoved the books that had spilled out back inside. Before she could stash the bag beneath the table, Alejandro ripped it from her grasp.

  His expression was a mixture of horror and rage as he yanked a book out and stared at the title. Eyes hot with emotion pinned her like a bug. “What is the meaning of this?”

  She considered for about half a second telling him the books were for a friend. But she couldn’t do it. This baby was his too. And God help her, but she still loved him. She wanted him to know, to be happy about it. And she was terrified at the same time. Terrified he would be angry, that he wouldn’t believe her, that he might try to take the baby away.

  She would never allow that. Never.

  He’d already taken the one thing that had meant the most to her. He would not do so ever again. She’d fight him if he tried. She didn’t have his money, but she had contacts and resources.

  He was staring at her expectantly, anger flashing over his handsome features. And something else too, but she didn’t know what it was. Concern?

  Doubtful.

  Rebecca took a deep breath and tried to smile. “Surprise,” she said softly.

  26

  Soul deep fear riveted Alejandro in place. “How did it happen?”

  His voice was very cold, very controlled. He was almost proud of how emotionless he was—until her face crumpled.

  Before he could say anything, her expression hardened as if she were determined not to show any we
akness. “The usual way, I imagine. We certainly had enough sex, don’t you think?”

  “You are telling me you’re pregnant.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “Yes, Alejandro. I’m pregnant.”

  “How do you know the baby is mine?”

  Her face whitened. She shielded her abdomen with a hand. She’d left him five weeks ago. Plenty of time to dupe some other man into believing she cared for him. Roger Cahill, perhaps? The man was only about twenty years her senior and still perfectly capable of being her lover.

  “How could you ask such a thing? Of course, it’s yours! The doctor estimates seven weeks.”

  Alejandro dropped the book on the table and raked a hand through his hair. Dios. If this baby were really his, how could he go through it again? How could he live each day wondering if it would be the day his baby would die?

  He thought of his precious Anya, of her little body turning blue, the trip to the emergency room, the frantic efforts to revive her. Her eyes haunted him to this day. He would never survive it a second time.

  Hurricane-force emotion whirled inside him. Which was the easier to digest? Rebecca sleeping with another man so soon after she’d left him—which would require the doctor to be wrong about the dates—or the knowledge her baby was his and might very well be vulnerable to the genetic defect that took Anya’s life?

  Solving the baby’s parentage would be easy enough to do. She knew it as well as he did. Which meant she was telling the truth. He went over to where she sat on the couch, her expression one of hurt and misery. She tilted her head back to look up at him.

  He would not be moved by what he saw in her face, no matter than he wanted to drop to his knees and gather her in his arms. “You said you were taking the pill. Did you lie about that? Did you get pregnant on purpose thinking it would gain you Layton International?”

  She shot up from her sitting position, but he was too quick for her. Grabbing her wrist, he prevented the slap she tried to deliver. Her blue eyes reflected hurt and surprise. Awareness shot through him at the contact of skin on skin, though it was only his hand on her wrist. He wondered if she felt it too. What would she do if he lowered his head and kissed her?

  He wanted to. The compulsion shocked him.

  She jerked free and moved out of his reach. “You can be so vicious, Alejandro. Why do you always need to think the worst of people? Sometimes things just happen.”

  He rolled a shoulder irritably. Her barb hit too close to home. “I’m a wealthy man, querida. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman thought to gain advantage by claiming I’d fathered her child.”

  Her jaw went slack as she gaped at him. He could see her processing his words. Imagining children scattered across the world.

  “I have had one child, Rebecca, in spite of what you might think. Fatherhood is not a responsibility I take lightly.”

  Her lips closed in a firm line. “I’m glad to hear it, for our baby’s sake. But I am—was—on birth control. It was a new prescription that obviously didn’t do the job it was supposed to do.”

  He took his phone from his pocket and called the airport, giving instructions to ready his jet for takeoff.

  “What are you doing?” Her voice sounded strained. He ignored her. “Alejandro.” The sound was sharper this time.

  He pocketed the phone and prepared to do battle. “We are returning to Madrid. Tonight.”

  She folded her arms beneath her breasts. He ignored the arrow of heat knifing into his groin. Had her breasts gotten fuller?

  Sí.

  As if she wasn’t beautiful enough already. Need washed over him. To strip her slowly, to lick his way from nipple to nipple, to drop lower and taste her before thrusting hard into her—Dios, he very much wanted to do all these things, and often. For a month he’d thought of almost nothing else. Then she left, and he’d still thought of little else.

  She had more of a spell over him than he cared to let her know.

  “Have a nice flight,” she said with a little wave. “Glad you could stop by.”

  He bared his teeth in a smile he knew she couldn’t mistake for a friendly overture. “I do not use the royal we, Rebecca. You are coming with me.”

  She paled. “No. You aren’t taking this baby away from me, Alejandro. I’ll fight you with everything I have.”

  “And what would that be, mi amor?” He stalked closer, satisfied when she backed away. He was too furious to play games with her. “I have more money and resources at my disposal than you could ever hope to muster in a year of phone calls to all your former contacts. You will accompany me.”

  Her throat worked. “Why are you doing this? I have a job in London, I have a life—”

  “Your life is with me now. You will pack a suitcase, inmediatamente, and come with me.”

  “This is America, Alejandro. You can’t kidnap me and force me onto a plane. We have laws against that.”

  He laughed. Cute of her to try and dissuade him with fear of the American authorities. And completely useless. He would do anything, no matter how ruthless, no matter how underhanded, to win this battle with her.

  Anything to safeguard his child.

  “Nevertheless, you belong to me. You will cooperate, or I will make sure you never see this child again after it is born. I will use any means necessary to win. Do not mistake me.”

  Her breathing grew faster as she battled some deep emotion. Tears, no doubt. He would not be swayed if she lost control. He knew he was being harsh, but icy fear had him in its grip. He would protect this child at all costs. He would never, ever allow Anya’s fate to strike again. This baby would be tested within an inch of its life. So would he. And so would Rebecca. He would leave nothing to chance.

  “Why do you have to be so cruel?” It was little more than a whisper.

  Her words pricked him. But he had no use for misguided attempts to imbue him with guilt. “Life is cruel. Better to face the bull head on, sí?”

  She sank back onto the couch, her breathing irregular. The hairs on his arms prickled. Dios, she’d had trouble breathing once before. Once, when he’d upset her. He would not let that happen again.

  He dropped to his knees in front of her, gripped her shoulders. “Breathe, Rebecca. All will be well. Come with me and I will take care of you both. I promise you.”

  She dropped forward until her forehead was touching his, pulled in deep breaths. He cupped her jaw in both hands, smoothed his thumbs over her cheeks. He’d missed touching her. So much. “Shh, mi querida, don’t fight. Think of something happy, yes?”

  “Easy… for you… to… say….”

  “Kittens,” he said. “Kittens are happy. Or puppies. Sí, think of these things. I will buy you a puppy. Or a kitten. Or both. Just be calm,” he said softly, caressing her slowly, rhythmically. His heart battered his ribs as he worked to soothe her. Because of the baby. It is only because of the baby…

  “You will not… take… my baby. Not—”

  “No, I won’t.” What else could he say? It was imperative she be healthy for their child.

  “Your… word, Alejandro.”

  He knew what he had to do, though it filled him with dread. But he hadn’t faced down dozens of angry bulls in his career only to cower before a task as monumental as this one.

  “You don’t need my word, mi amor. You will have my name.”

  She blinked. “Marriage? You’re asking me to marry you?”

  He stifled the urge to laugh. “Asking? No. We will marry, Rebecca. Our baby will not be torn between us or shuffled from London to Madrid and back on a revolving schedule.”

  He thought she might argue with him. Instead, she nodded. “Then I guess my answer is yes.”

  Rebecca wandered through Alejandro’s villa, looking at bedrooms and trying to decide which would be best for a baby. Señora Flores hovered, always offering tea or food or asking if Rebecca wanted to sit down and rest. It was a far cry from how the woman had behaved when she’d first arrived from Ha
waii all those weeks ago. Then, Señora Flores had treated her with indifference. Now the woman behaved like a worried aunt.

  Rebecca pressed her temples against the headache flaring to life as she took a seat in the library and grabbed a book. She still didn’t know what to do with herself. She was used to working long hours, not hanging around like a pampered house cat. In the few days since she’d boarded Alejandro’s plane in New York and followed him to Spain like a lovesick puppy, she’d quit her new job and gone to a flurry of doctor’s appointments that Alejandro insisted upon.

  He’d barely spoken to her since they’d arrived. She hadn’t quite expected his absence, but she had to admit she wasn’t surprised. He’d gotten what he wanted. He was probably still laughing at how easy it’d been to convince her to accompany him.

  But marrying him was the best decision for their child even if it wasn’t for her. Alejandro would be a good father. A fierce, protective father. His child would never be an afterthought in his life. She was comforted by that knowledge.

  For herself, however, a lifetime of heartbreak lay ahead. He’d gone to extraordinary lengths to take over her company, yet the real punishment would be in living with him and loving him when he was incapable of reciprocating the feeling.

  Unexpectedly, Alejandro returned later that afternoon to collect her for yet another doctor’s appointment. Because of what had happened to Anya, Rebecca didn’t fight him over it. He had a need to be there, a need to be involved and understand everything that happened with her pregnancy. He wanted to protect the baby. If it helped him feel somehow in control of the future, she wouldn’t stop him.

  The appointment was routine. Alejandro was sensible enough about her wish not to have him there for the pelvic ultrasound, but he returned immediately after. They both had blood taken for the genetic testing Alejandro insisted on having, though the baby couldn’t be tested for heart defects until much later. The doctor assured them that if they both were fine, the baby most likely would be too.