Salazar's One-Night Heir

by Jennifer Hayward

  * * *

  Cecily knew she was being a shrew, but she was so angry at Alejandro for what he’d done, so sideswiped by the events of the day, she thought it better to say nothing at all than let loose with something she shouldn’t.

  By the time they sat down to dinner on the terrace, she thought she had gotten her emotions firmly under control. A serene, stunning oasis with its hidden nooks and vibrant landscaping, the outdoor space was a slice of heaven in the middle of New York City.

  It went a long way toward soothing her raw edges, a good thing because sitting across from Alejandro dressed in jeans and an old Harvard T-shirt, his hair mussed, feet bare, didn’t exactly put her in a relaxed frame of mind. He was just that gorgeous and looked far too much like the man she’d fallen for in Kentucky.

  “Why this?” she asked, waving a hand around them as his housekeeper, Faith, removed their salad plates and brought them coffee and tea. “Why a home instead of some big shot bachelor penthouse from which you can rule the world?”

  His ebony eyes sparked with warning. “I think that’s enough with the big shot comments, meu carinho. You are twenty-five, not five, no?”

  She sat back in her chair, cheeks hot. Maybe she hadn’t quite reacquired her powers of control.

  “The house,” he elaborated, “was a surprise for me. I was planning on buying something easier to maintain, then my agent showed me this.” He lifted a shoulder. “Maybe it was so many years spent in boarding schools, being shuffled between Brazil and Belgium with my parents living apart. I found I liked the idea of a home.”

  She absorbed the information about the man she really knew nothing about, which was disconcerting to say the least when he had been privy to her most intimate thoughts and feelings.

  “Where did you go to school?” she asked, in an attempt to rectify that.

  “New Hampshire.” He sat back, coffee cup balanced on his thigh. “My parents sent me to an elite boarding school when I was six. The plan was always to build up Salazar’s US operations, so having me and my brother in the States made sense. My father was always traveling and my mother spent most of her time on the road pursuing her equestrian career in Europe.”

  Six. Her heart contracted. She’d always thought the boarding school concept was inhumane, but that was so young.

  “It must have been difficult to live so far away from your family.”

  “It was all Joaquim and I knew. Life at home was hellish—we preferred to be at school. We had each other. And in the summers and on school holidays, we’d be at the farm in Belgium with my grandmother.”

  She sank her teeth into her lip. Absorbed the hard, impenetrable lines of his face. She had the feeling the emotionally closed-off Colt she’d come to know in Kentucky was very much the man sitting across from her—one shaped by his earliest, most painful experiences.

  She took a sip of her tea. Regarded him from over the rim of her cup. “What happened with your parents’ marriage? Were they ever in love?”

  “Madly so, according to my grandmother. It was a passionate, wild, emotional rollercoaster of a ride until my father’s attention wandered a few years after Joaquim was born. Not an unusual occurrence in the society we lived in, but my mother, as you can imagine from her ambitious career, was not the type to turn a blind eye.

  “She raged at him, threatened to divorce him and when neither worked, embarked on a series of affairs designed to win him back. But none ever did. Eventually she gave up and moved full-time to Belgium for her riding career, neither dissolving the marriage nor pursuing it because the arrangement worked.”

  Leaving her children behind in the process. “What’s your relationship with your parents now?”

  “My father and I have never been close. His focus has always been on the business to the exclusion of everything else. My mother—” his face assumed a neutral expression, “is...delicate. She withdrew into herself after the separation, focusing on her riding and her teaching. It would not be a stretch to say she knows some of her students better than she knows Joaquim and I.”

  Her chest tightened. She knew that sense of alienation—the pain that came with being distanced by someone you loved. Her father had withdrawn into himself after her mother’s death with nothing, it seemed, to give to her.

  “That couldn’t have been easy,” she said quietly, “having such a childhood.”

  “Thus my deep, dark, damaged views on love?” His mouth twisted. “It was actually a relief when my parents separated for good. My mother was happier that way. Things became civil. The tension was gone. It made me see how a practical marriage like the one you and I are about to embark on can work. Everyone’s happy...no one gets hurt.”

  She wondered if that could be true. If the practical union she had agreed to with Alejandro was a better choice than her deeply held desire to be loved? After what she’d gone through with Davis, she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t.

  “Practical, however,” Alejandro continued, “will not do for my grandmother. The only way I could extract the concession I did from her was to make her believe we are madly in love—that we and this child are a foregone conclusion. She is anxious to meet you and hear about our wedding plans. I told her we’d stop in on the way home from England.”

  Wedding plans? Meeting Adriana? Her stomach folded in on itself. “I can’t even think about a wedding until my father comes around. I always imagined it would be at Esmerelda.”

  “Then an early October date will give him incentive to see reason.”

  Her jaw dropped. His expression remained firm. “I’m not so concerned people will know our child has been conceived out of wedlock. I do, however, intend for us to be married when it happens.”

  A tumble of words rose to her lips. “But that’s two months away,” she finally managed. “We can’t plan a wedding that quickly.”

  “You will have people to do it for you.”

  Dear God. She stared at him. “And how are we to handle the news of our baby in public? At this anniversary party, for instance. I think it’s too soon to talk about it.”

  “Agreed. Removing it from the equation also increases the likelihood people will buy this is a love match. Which,” he underscored, “is something we need to accomplish in England. It will be a very high profile party—anyone who’s anyone will be there—lots of paparazzi. As our public debut together, it will be our chance to send a clear message to everyone, including your family and mine, that this union is real. That they have no choice but to accept it.”

  A knot formed in her chest, all of it much too much all of a sudden. Perhaps it was the whirlwind wedding he was demanding...the baby she wasn’t ready for...the emotionally explosive day it had been. Or perhaps it was that only a few weeks ago she’d been head over heels for the man she’d thought he was. When acting as if she’d had feelings for him—carrying out this charade—wouldn’t have been an issue—it would have been a reality.

  “Speaking of babies,” he said, pouring himself another cup of coffee from the carafe, “my PA has made you an appointment with the best OBGYN in Manhattan. Better you initiate that relationship now so you can build on it as you go.”

  So he could ensure the Salazar heir was healthy and well protected more likely. It was, after all, the reason she was here.

  She fell quiet as a violet light descended over Manhattan, such a different canvas from the star-infused, inky-black sky she was used to, she was suddenly, achingly homesick.

  Alejandro set his cup on the table. “It’s late. You look exhausted. You should go to bed. I’ll join you in a few minutes after I send a couple of emails.”

  Her shoulders stiffened at yet another order, but she was exhausted. She climbed the stairs to their bedroom, barely able to put one foot in front of the other.

  Did he expect her to share his bed? She thought the answer might b
e yes as she arrived in the sumptuous master suite to find Faith had put her clothes away in the armoire while they had eaten, her toiletries laid out neatly in the opulent, marble and limestone en suite.

  She stared at them, not sure she was ready for this. Sure, in fact, she wasn’t.

  Immersing herself in a cool shower, she attempted to regain her equilibrium. But her nerves grew with every moment that passed. Eventually she would have to share that bed with Alejandro—to get to know the complex, intimidating male she’d agreed to marry on every level. But she needed to trust him again first.

  She understood from their conversations the deep sense of honor that drove him, why he’d done what he’d done, could even accept he’d tried not to hurt her, but he’d damaged them in the place she was the most vulnerable by deceiving her and that was not going to be easy to forgive.

  Clad in her favorite pale pink nightie, she brushed her hair in the black stone mirror that lay as an accent piece against the wall in the bedroom, her pulse a staccato drumbeat in her throat.

  Alejandro walked in moments later. Eyes wary, face lined with fatigue, the same dark stubble shadowing his jaw he’d worn at Esmerelda, he undid his sleek gold watch and set it on the dresser.

  His visible exhaustion unearthed a twinge of guilt. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, “for my behavior today. I’m not myself. I’m overwhelmed, turned upside down. I don’t know which way is up anymore.”

  His expression softened. Dropping his cufflinks on the dresser, he moved behind her, setting his hands on her hips. She jumped, the heat of his touch burning into her skin. He settled his hands more firmly around her. “Try and relax,” he said softly. “I never renege on a promise, Cecily. I will make this right.”

  “What if he never calls—my father?” Her gaze met his in the mirror. “What if he doesn’t come around? Things haven’t always been good between us but he and my horses are all I have.”

  “He will. He loves you. And,” he murmured, “you have me now—the life we will build together. Think of this as your chance to be something other than a Hargrove, to be what you want to be—everything we talked about in Kentucky. I said I would back you one hundred percent and I will.”

  Warmth surged through her. For the first time today, she almost believed it, that everything would be okay, because this man’s will would accept nothing less.

  This was the man she’d fallen for in Kentucky. Was he somewhere within this arrogant stranger she’d agreed to marry?

  He took the brush from her hand and laid it on the dresser. “You were right,” he said softly, “that I didn’t wait for your answer—that I simply assumed you would become my wife. That said, I hope this will make up for the lack of a romantic proposal.”

  Her throat went dry as he captured her left hand and slid a ring on her finger. Perched on a delicate platinum band, the round, brilliant-cut diamond was cast in a halo setting, accented by hundreds of tiny diamonds that flashed in the light.

  It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

  “I thought it fit your vibrant personality,” he murmured. “But if you don’t like it, I can have Jovan make something else.”

  Didn’t like it? He’d had it made for her? She melted.

  “It’s perfect,” she said huskily. “Exactly what I would have chosen. Thank you.”

  He feathered a thumb across her palm, keeping her hand tucked in his. “You need to be wearing the appropriate rock when you walk into that party with me. I think this will do the trick.”

  She stiffened, the glow inside her evaporating. For goodness sake, Cecily, get a grip. Remember what this is.

  “It’s perfect.” She pulled her hand free, channeling the ice princess persona she did so well. “I think you’re right, actually. I need some sleep. I’m sure I’ll feel better in the morning.”

  “Why not now?” His throaty rejoinder unraveled a curl of heat inside her as he bent to bring his mouth to her ear. “We’re engaged now, querida. There’s no reason to hold back.”

  A flood of seductive, heady memories swamped her senses. She pushed them ruthlessly away. She was his convenient wife—the one bearing him his child—nothing more. Just like she’d been for Davis. Paramount to surviving this relationship was going to be keeping her head where he was concerned.

  “Yes there is.” She twisted out of his arms and turned to face him. “We need time to ease into this, Alejandro. For me to learn to trust you again. For me to get to know who you are.”

  He frowned. “You know who I am. We’ve talked about intimate things...deep things. That is who I am.”

  “I thought I knew you,” she corrected. “Now I’m not sure what to believe.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, jaw tight. “Fine. Take all the time you need. But the image we present in public is non-negotiable. We will look madly in love at that party even if you have to channel your best acting job to do it. Are you clear on that?”

  “Crystal,” she murmured. “I’ll start practicing right now.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ALEJANDRO SPENT THE next two weeks working day and night to free himself up for his trip to England, his multi-billion-dollar acquisition occupying the lion’s share of his time. Aware that his fiancée was swimming in the deep end and doing her best to stay afloat, he brought work home with him and had dinner with her each night rather than cast her adrift in Manhattan.

  Which also allowed him to work toward his other goal of proving to Cecily she could trust him. That he was that man she’d known in Kentucky. He found himself sharing pieces of himself he rarely did in an effort to have his fiancée do the same with him. It was going to take time, but slowly, ever so gradually, she was letting down her guard. He was beginning to see glimpses of the woman he’d first gotten to know—the open, vulnerable Cecily she was at the heart of her.

  It infuriated him that her father hadn’t called with an olive branch. As if he truly meant to take the Hargroves’ crime to the grave with him rather than allow it to tarnish the family name. As if he cared more about his legacy than the daughter he’d disowned.

  It was tearing Cecily apart—he could see it in her expressive blue eyes when her vulnerability shone through. Seeking to provide her with a distraction, he pushed ahead with his plans to buy them a place in upstate New York. While his real estate agent searched for the ideal property, he had Cecily work with an architect to envision what her dream stables would look like. Not only had it occupied his fiancée, it had put a sparkle back in her eyes and given them a project they could work on together.

  By the time they boarded the Salazar jet for the anniversary party, they had developed a workable rapport between them. Her continuing to freeze him out was another matter. It wasn’t going to work this weekend with the façade they had to perpetuate, nor was it going to close the gulf that had grown between them. And since eliminating that tension, putting his life back into its pre-Kentucky order, was his number one priority right now, he needed to solve her.

  Watching her now, curled up in a chair beside him as the jet leveled out into a smooth sea of blue, he felt that familiar tug of desire. Dressed in leggings and a sweater that emphasized her soft curves, her legs curled beneath her as she reviewed the architect’s revamped drawings, it was as if she flicked some internal switch inside of him just by being in the same room.

  What would she look like when she started to show evidence of their child? He imagined those lush curves grown ripe with his son or daughter, a powerfully possessive feeling assailing him, one he couldn’t even begin to articulate. She would be even more desirable, if that was possible.

  He ran a palm over his jaw. Sexual frustration was not, he was discovering, a state of being he enjoyed.

  “Happy with them?” he asked, nodding at the drawings.

  She nodded. “They’re getting the
re.”

  “Bring them over. Show them to me.”

  She uncurled herself from the chair and perched on the arm of his, walking him through the drawings. They were impressive. She’d thought of everything: roomy, loose boxes for every horse in the barn, extra wide aisles for grooming, a bathing area done in tile as well as multiple indoor and outdoor schooling rings that took into account the cold New York weather. Eventually, he knew, she wanted to be a coach, helping younger riders just as her mother had done.

  He pointed to one of the outdoor rings. “You might want to put that one next to the ring for the more mature horses. The novices tend to pick up their good habits.”

  She chewed on her lip. “That’s a good idea.” She made a note. Asked if he had any more thoughts. Because he loved the subject, he did, suggesting small refinements here and there. When they were done, she rolled up the drawing and stayed put.

  “Tell me about your friends,” she prompted quietly, “so I’m not walking into this cold.”

  Something he should have done already, but hadn’t in his preoccupation with everything on his plate. He captured her hand in his, smoothing his thumb over her palm. “I have three close friends. Sebastien Atkinson founded the extreme sports club we all joined in college. It’s he and his wife Monika’s anniversary party we’re attending.

  “Stavros,” he continued, “is in pharmaceuticals, based here in New York.” His mouth curved. “He’s a piece of work. You’ll see what I mean when you meet him. He recently married a Greek woman named Calli I haven’t met yet, so you won’t be the only new face.”

  “Did they elope?’

  “Something like that. Antonio,” he concluded, “owns one of the world’s largest construction companies. Italian, very charming, easy to like. He recently married the mother of his son. A child he didn’t know about,” he qualified, “until just a few weeks ago.”