Salazar's One-Night Heir

by Jennifer Hayward

  Her insides curled into a tight little ball. “It was me who pursued Alejandro. And I do trust him. He’s the only thing I can trust at the moment because you keep lying to me.”

  He gave her a stone-faced look. “Then you’re being a fool.”

  She swung away to the window, a wet heat blurring her eyes as she stared out at the perfectly manicured gardens. She blinked the tears back, fighting the show of emotion, but they fell unbidden down her cheeks.

  “Cecily,” her father rasped, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’re making me make impossible decisions.”

  “Why?” She swung around. “Tell me why so I understand.”

  He raked a hand through his hair. Rested a palm on the window ledge. “My father, in a severe lapse in judgment, made a deal with Paul Macintosh to stud Diablo to Demeter while Diablo was on loan to him. Your grandmother, as you know, was obsessed with beating Adriana, convinced if she had a horse as good as Diablo she could. So my father made it happen. No one was ever supposed to know.”

  “But the groom talked.”

  He frowned. “How do you know about him?”

  “Adriana told me. She said we bought him off.”

  “Unfortunately, yes. My mother was terrified of what would happen to her career if anyone found out...that she could be blacklisted or worse, stripped of her titles. So my father paid him off.”

  “How did you know about it?”

  “The groom came back years later, short on money, threatening to spill the story. I gave him more money hoping that would be the end of it.”

  “But it wasn’t.” She bit the inside of her mouth. “Was that what you were arguing with mother about the day she died?”

  “Yes.” The single word dismantled her insides. “I thought it was better she didn’t know. That neither of you knew. That you focused on your careers.” He shook his head, eyes bleak. “In hindsight, I should have known it was the wrong thing to do. Your mother was so emotional. She’d built her career on those horses. It was,” he said heavily, “my fault.”

  Her heart pulled loose, anger and confusion clawing at her insides. All these years she’d wondered why her father couldn’t love her the way she needed him to...why the aloofness he had always carried had suddenly grown so much deeper, when it had been guilt driving him all along.

  “I was trying to protect you,” he said quietly, eyes on hers. “I’ve always been trying to protect you, Cecily, to do what’s best for you, even when it hasn’t always appeared that way.”

  She got that. She even believed it. But she wasn’t sure she could forgive him for sending her mother off in emotional distress while he went and did business in New York. For taking away her best friend.

  Heat flashed in her father’s eyes. “Don’t you think I wish I’d done things differently? I miss her too, Cecily. Every single day. But I can’t change history. It’s the one thing I can’t do.”

  Her nails dug into her palms. “You could apologize.”

  “A public apology would stain your grandmother and mother’s reputation. Yours. Dismantle everything we’ve built. I won’t break the promises I’ve made.”

  Even if he broke her heart keeping them.

  She pressed her palms to her temples. “The Salazars will level you. Alejandro is a powerful man, Daddy. He’s not just going to walk away from this.”

  Her father’s mouth thinned. “He’s made that clear. Perhaps you should remember that yourself. He is ruthless, Cecily. Have you read the letter he sent?”

  What letter?

  He walked to his desk, came back with a piece of paper he handed to her. She skimmed the letter. The last paragraph sucked the breath from her lungs.

  Should you not respond to this communication by the date indicated, expressing the Hargrove family’s intent to make the public apology outlined above, the Salazar family will proceed with its plans to prosecute to the fullest extent of the law, exposing the lies and criminal business practices the Hargrove dynasty has been built upon.

  The blood drained from her face. She’d thought it would never come to this. She’d thought her father would make the apology. And perhaps, she acknowledged grimly, she’d thought Alejandro might bend given the growing feelings between them. Because she didn’t think he would do this to her.

  Her father trained his gaze on hers. “You think you know him, Cecily...that you can trust him...that he cares for you? Tell him to back off...to leave ancient history where it belongs.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ALEJANDRO ARRIVED HOME late on Thursday evening, his Colombian acquisition complete. He’d left the post-deal celebrations to his legal team and flown on to Kentucky in an effort to talk some sense into Clayton Hargrove, only to have a series of thunderstorms send him home instead.

  Unfortunate with his wedding a week away and his schedule jam-packed. But he’d also been anxious to get home to Cecily. She hadn’t sounded right on the phone when he’d talked to her last night—hadn’t sounded right all week.

  He knew he’d hurt her before he’d left, but giving in to his weakness for her, allowing their relationship to slide back into what it had been was not something he was going to do—not now when they’d developed exactly the kind of safe, solid partnership he’d been looking for. Knowing a confrontation with her father was on the horizon had also been extra incentive to keep his head clear.

  Dropping his briefcase in the living room, he shrugged off his jacket and flicked on a light. Cecily must still be up at the farm. He poured himself a drink and wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling windows to take in a floodlit view of Central Park while he waited for her.

  He’d been giving Clayton Hargrove time to come around—to do the right thing—so he didn’t have to make decisions he didn’t want to make. To choose between the two loyalties rapidly tearing him apart. But Clayton had backed him into a corner instead.

  He couldn’t ask his grandmother to give anymore than she already had. His only remaining option was to call Clayton’s bluff, a card he was loathe to play given what he really wanted was Cecily’s father at the damn wedding.

  Twenty minutes passed. Thirty. Visions of Cecily stranded by the side of a busy highway filled his head. He had put down his empty glass, was about to call her and give her hell for not texting she’d be late when she walked through the door.

  His senses settling, he crossed to greet her. Setting his hands on her waist, he bent to kiss her, but she turned her cheek at the last minute, the kiss landing on her jaw. He frowned and set her away from him. Surveyed her pale face and stiff demeanor. “What’s going on?”

  She threw her purse on a chair. “I flew to Kentucky yesterday to speak with my father.”

  Meu Deus. He’d been hoping to get to him first. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I was trying to handle it myself.” Her gaze was a wintry blue as she trained it on him. “Because you told me once that I’m in charge of my own happiness, so I went to him to get the answers I was looking for.”

  And they hadn’t been the ones she wanted. “What did he say?”

  “He told me the truth. That my grandfather did what we all think he did. That it was a mistake he’s been covering up ever since in order to preserve the legacy of three careers.”

  “Is that what your parents were arguing about the day your mother died?”

  She nodded. “The groom showed up the night before asking for more money. My mother was terrified it would ruin her career when she found out.”

  “At least you know she wasn’t keeping it from you.”

  “But it was unnecessary,” she bit out, mouth trembling. “All of it. If my father had told my mother the truth, if she hadn’t been so upset that day, it never would have happened.”

  “You can’t know that,” he murmured, brushing a thumb acr
oss her cheek. “Your father isn’t responsible for your mother’s death, Cecily. No one is. I know how much you loved her, what a special bond you had, but she’s gone. You need to let her go.”

  “I do,” she agreed, fire glinting in her eyes, “and so do you. This devastation,” she said, waving a hand at him, “this badly miscalculated mistake my grandfather made—it needs to end, Alejandro.”

  “Tell your father to apologize and it will.”

  “He won’t do it. He promised my grandmother and my mother he would never sully their legacies. He’d rather you strip him of every cent he has than break his promise.”

  He clenched his hands by his sides. “So he elects to use you as a pawn instead? He knows exactly what he is doing, Cecily. By putting you squarely in the middle, by tearing my loyalties in two, he won’t have to sacrifice anything. It’s the same insane arrogance your family has been perpetuating for decades.”

  “Funny,” she said quietly, “that’s what he said about you. That I am your power play. That you are only marrying me to secure your heir...that you are enjoying taking away the one thing he values most.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” he bit out. “You know what you mean to me.”

  “I thought I did.” Turbulent emotion swirled in those blue eyes. “Now I’m not so sure.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “Explain.”

  “My father showed me the letter you sent him. You were supposed to be getting him to see reason, Alejandro, not threatening to annihilate him.”

  That made his skin sting. “I gave him time to see reason. I hand delivered him a generous compromise—a much more generous one than most would offer. I was on my way to talk sense into him today when my flight was diverted—time I don’t have. But sometimes, querida, the only thing a man like him understands is the bottom line.”

  “And that worked well didn’t it? You are like two stags engaged in a fight to the finish. There will be no winner in this.”

  He threw up his hands. “What would you have me do?”

  “Drop this,” she said quietly. “We can heal this wound together if we refuse to perpetuate it. You said so yourself when you first proposed marriage.”

  “That was assuming your father was a reasonable man.”

  She regarded him silently. “Is it really so different what he is doing than what you are? He is trying to preserve my family’s honor just as you are yours.”

  “A crime was committed, that is the difference,” he growled. “Don’t make me make impossible decisions, Cecily.”

  * * *

  Exactly what her father had said. Cecily turned away, arms wrapped around herself, feeling like a patchwork quilt she was knitted into so many pieces, the stitches barely holding.

  She’d left Kentucky battered and broken over her father’s refusal to choose her over a decades-old feud. Over the realization his love and duty toward her mother, something that had always been so passionately strong, had superseded his feelings for her. But it had also answered the question she’d asked herself at the very beginning of her and Alejandro’s relationship.

  “Cecily?” Alejandro curved his fingers around her arm and turned her back to him.

  She lifted her gaze to the frustration tangling in his. “I thought I could do it,” she said huskily. “A practical marriage to you for the sake of our child. I thought that what we could have together was better than this secret desire I’ve always had to be loved, because who knew if that even existed for me?

  “And then,” she said, taking a deep breath, “you made me believe in you. You were the one thing in all of this I could hold on to when everything else was crumbling beneath my feet. You were my person.”

  His gaze darkened. “I still am. That hasn’t changed.”

  “No,” she agreed. “I’ve changed. I allowed myself to fall in love with you. I started buying into this dream we were building together and once I started, I couldn’t stop. I want it all, Alejandro. I want that unconditional love we talked about that night at La Reve. I want you to choose me over this feud that is tearing us all apart.”

  He looked as if he’d been sucker punched. “I did choose you. I’m marrying you. We are building a life together.”

  “No,” she said, “you’re marrying me because I’m carrying your child. And maybe because on some level you care for me, because I believe you do. But ours will never be a real marriage. You will never let yourself love because your past has made you too afraid to do it.”

  His face shuttered. “I’m not afraid to love, I refuse to go there because I know it will mess up a perfectly good relationship. Because we have more to consider in this than just us—we have a child on the way.”

  She shook her head. “Allowing yourself to feel won’t mess us up. It will make us better.”

  “It’s inconsequential,” he said curtly. “Love is not a capacity I have, Cecily. I’ve been clear about that from the beginning. I’m not trying to be obstinate, I’m telling you the truth.”

  Her heart dropped at the utterly closed off look on his face. She’d known this was coming, hadn’t she? That she’d been letting her feelings run away with her in the hope the caring she sensed in him might turn into the love she needed. The love she now knew she deserved. But to hear him say it, to reject it so completely, was like a knife to the insides.

  “So what will you do?” she asked quietly. “Take my father to court? Put our child in the center of this war between two families, exactly what your parents did to you?”

  “We will shield them from it,” he rejected. “Ensure that never happens. Your father has a choice, Cecily, let him make it.”

  “So do you. You have the power to make this decision and yet you won’t. I am expected to give up everything for a marriage with a man who will never love me.”

  His hands fisted by his sides. “Cecily—”

  She swiped her purse off the chair. “I think we both need time to think.”

  “About what? We are getting married in a week.”

  “About whether I can do this. Because the man I fell in love with wouldn’t do this to me. He wouldn’t make me make this choice.”

  She turned and stalked to the door. He followed, his face a dark cloud. “Stay and we’ll talk this out. You can’t just walk off into the night like this. You’re clearly emotional.”

  She pivoted to face him, eyes flashing. “I am emotional, Alejandro. So give me the space I’m asking for.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “I have no idea.” She yanked the door open before that last stitch gave. “Given the two males in my life have managed to so thoroughly disappoint me, I feel the need for some distance.”

  * * *

  Gluing his feet to the floor, Alejandro resisted the urge to go after her. It might push her over the edge in the mood she was in. But the thought of her out there alone in New York, even with his credit cards, made him crazy.

  He traced a path back to the bar instead and poured himself another glass of Scotch, his fury growing with every breath. She couldn’t just change the rules of the game at the eleventh hour. Decide she loved him, then walk away. Break the promises she’d made to him and his child.

  Because as much as she’d enjoyed throwing his emotional unavailability at him, he had invested in her too...in this future they were building together. He had trusted her to stick—not to walk out that door in an eerily similar scene to one he’d been privy to far too many times in his life.

  He collapsed in a chair. I want it all, Alejandro. I want that unconditional love we talked about. I want you to choose me over this feud that is tearing us apart.

  He scowled at the amber liquid in his glass. He was the good guy here. He’d been honest about what he was capable of from the very beginning. It was Clayton Hargrove, the arrogant bastard, who was intent
on breaking his daughter’s heart.

  He rested his head against the back of the chair. An envelope on the table caught his eye. Picking it up, he pulled out its contents. The sonogram. Living, breathing proof of the child he and Cecily had conceived together, it knocked the air from his lungs all over again.

  It had all become too real. Too easy to envision the family he and Cecily could have together. How complete the idea of it made him feel. Tempting—too tempting to want to have it all—everything he’d never had.

  Cecily made him want things he knew he couldn’t have. He didn’t have the inherent trust in him to subscribe to that kind of a vision—an unconditional love. He’d given that up a long time ago.

  And hadn’t she just proven his instincts right by walking out that door?

  * * *

  He woke the next morning with a viciously heavy head. Canceling his meetings, he flew to Belgium.

  “I take it this isn’t a social visit,” his grandmother said over coffee the next morning on the porch, eyeing his combustible demeanor.

  He shook his head and gave her the recap, finishing with Cecily’s departure.

  Adriana looked pensive. “What a mess,” she murmured. “Can you really blame her? She feels as if she’s been betrayed by the two men she loves.”

  “Yes,” he bit out, “I can. You don’t walk out on someone when you’re having a disagreement. You talk it out. Work it out.” He lifted a brow. “And who’s side are you on anyway? This is your battle I’ve been fighting.”

  “Yes,” she agreed softly, “and maybe Cecily’s right. Maybe it’s time it ended.”

  Blood pulsed against his temples. “You’re telling me this now?”

  His grandmother took a sip of her coffee. Sat back in her chair. “There’s more to the story of Harper and I than you know. The rivalry we shared was epic, fueled by our mutual ambition. We pushed each other, made each other better. You might even have called us friends in the beginning. But somewhere along the way, it turned toxic, this need to win.”