by Jennie Lucas
Of course she would. He was her first.
His jaw tightened. He never would have seduced her if he’d known. He had a rule. No virgins. No innocent hearts. He never brought anyone to his bed who might actually care.
And he’d just seduced an innocent virgin. The friend of Darius’s wife.
He felt a low self-hatred. After Nadia, he’d vowed never to get involved with anyone again. Why risk your capital on an investment that was a guaranteed loss? Might as well flush your money—or your soul—straight down the drain.
He thought again of Wuthering Heights. He’d never read the book, but he knew it ended badly. It was romance, wasn’t it? That always ended badly. Especially in real life.
Santiago silently dressed, then picked up his overnight bag. But he hesitated at the door, still hearing the wistful echo of her voice.
Don’t you believe in anyone? Anything?
He’d lied to her. He’d told her he believed in himself. But the real answer was no.
Belle would wake up alone in bed and find him gone. No note would be needed. She’d get the message. He really was the heartless bastard he claimed to be.
As if there was ever any doubt, he jeered at himself. Regret and self-loathing filled him as he turned down the hall.
He wished he’d never touched her.
CHAPTER TWO
SHIVERING IN THE warm July twilight, Belle stood on the sidewalk of Santiago’s elegant residential street on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. She watched well-dressed guests step out of glossy chauffeured cars, climbing up the steps and ringing at his door, to be greeted by his butler.
A butler, she thought bitterly. Who had a butler in this day and age?
Santiago Velazquez—that was who.
But the butler wasn’t the problem. Belle watched a crowd of beautiful young socialites, giggling and preening, hurry up the steps of his brownstone in six-inch heels and designer cocktail dresses.
She looked down at her own loose, oversized T-shirt, stretchy knit shorts and flip-flops. She wasn’t wearing makeup. Her brown hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail. She’d fit in at his fancy party like a dog driving a car.
She didn’t belong here. And she didn’t want to see Santiago again—ever—after the cold way he’d treated her after they’d slept together in January. Losing her virginity in a one-night stand with the heartless, cynical playboy was a mistake she would regret the rest of her life.
But she couldn’t leave New York. Not without telling him she was pregnant.
Pregnant. Every time she thought of it, she caught her breath. It was a miracle. She didn’t have any other word to describe it, when seven years ago she’d been told very firmly by a doctor that it could never happen. Pregnant.
A dazed smile traced Belle’s lips as she rested her hands gently over the wide curve of her belly now. Somehow, in that disastrous night when Santiago had seduced her, this one amazing, impossible thing had happened. She’d gotten her heart’s deepest desire: a baby of her own.
There was just one bad thing about it.
Her smile faded. Of all the men on earth to be her unborn baby’s father...
She’d tried to tell him; she’d left multiple messages asking him to call her back. He hadn’t. She’d been almost glad. It gave her a good excuse to do what she wanted to do—leave New York without telling him he was going to be a father.
But her friend Letty had convinced her to make one last try. “Secrets always come out,” she’d pleaded. “Don’t make my mistake.”
So, against her better judgment, here Belle was, stopping at his luxury brownstone on her way out of town. The last place she wanted to be.
Just thinking of facing Santiago for the first time since he’d snuck out of her bed in the middle of the night, she wanted to turn and run for her pickup truck parked two blocks away, then head south on the turnpike, stomp on the gas and not look back until she reached Texas.
But she’d already made the decision to try one last time to give him the life-changing news that he was going to be a father. Belle always tried to do the right thing, even if it hurt. She wasn’t going to turn coward now. Not over him.
Tightening her hands into fists, Belle waited until the last limousine departed, then crossed the street in the fading twilight. Her body shook as she walked up the stone steps and knocked on the big oak door.
The butler took one look at her, then started to close the door as he said scornfully, “Staff and delivery entrance at the back.”
Belle blocked the door with her foot. “Excuse me. I need to see Santiago. Please.”
The butler looked astonished at her familiar use of his employer’s first name, as if a talking rat had just squeaked a request to see the mayor of New York. “Who are you?”
“Tell him Belle Langtry urgently needs to see him.” She raised her chin, struggling to hide her pounding heart. “It’s an emergency.”
With a scowl, the butler opened the door just enough for her to get through. The soles of Belle’s flip-flops slapped against the marble floor of the mansion’s elegant foyer. She had one brief glimpse of the beautiful, wealthy society crowd in the ballroom, sipping champagne as waiters passed through with silver trays. Then she sucked in her breath as she saw the party’s host, head and shoulders above the crowd. With his height and dark good looks, Santiago Velazquez towered over his guests in every way.
The butler pointed down an opposite hallway haughtily. “Wait in there.”
Through the door, Belle found a home office with leather-bound books and a big dark wood desk. Knees weak, she sank into the expensive swivel chair. Her cheeks still burned from seeing Santiago from a distance. Thinking of seeing him face to face, she was terrified.
The night he’d taken her virginity, passion and emotion had been like a whirlwind, flinging her up into the sky, to the stars, scattering pieces of her soul like diamonds across the night. It had been so sensual, so spectacular. More than she’d even dreamed it could be.
Right until the moment he’d abandoned her, and she’d had to go down to breakfast alone. She’d had to hide her hurt and bewilderment, and smile at Letty and Darius and their baby, pretending nothing had happened, that nothing was wrong. That was how cold-hearted Santiago was. He’d only promised one night, true. But he hadn’t even been able to stick that out.
Leaving Fairholme, she’d returned to her tiny apartment in Brooklyn, which she shared with two rude, parent-funded roommates who’d mocked her dreams, her Texas accent—which was barely noticeable!—and her job as a waitress. Normally she would have let their taunts roll off her like water off a duck’s back, but after her night with Santiago, she’d felt restless, irritable and hopeless, as she continued to be rejected at auditions, with a day job that barely paid the bills.
A month later, when she’d discovered she was pregnant, everything had changed. Her baby deserved better than this apartment shared with strangers, an insecure future and unpaid bills. Her baby deserved better than a father who couldn’t be bothered to return phone calls. It was a bitter thought.
Belle had come to New York with such high hopes. After nearly a decade spent raising her two younger brothers, she’d finally left her small town at twenty-seven, determined to make her dreams come true.
Instead, she’d made a mess of everything.
She’d dreamed of making her fortune? She now had ten dollars less in her wallet than when she’d left Texas eighteen months ago.
She’d dreamed of seeing her name in lights? She’d been rejected from every talent agency in New York.
But worst of all... Belle swallowed hard... She’d dreamed that she would finally find love, real love, the kind that would last forever. Instead, she’d allowed herself to get knocked up by a man she hated.
Belle had had enough of New York. She was go
ing home. Her two suitcases were already packed in her truck, ready to go. There was only one thing left on her to-do list.
Tell Santiago Velazquez he was going to be a father.
But now, she suddenly wasn’t sure she could do it. Even seeing him in the ballroom, from a distance, had knocked her for a loop. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she shouldn’t stay...
Santiago pushed through the door. When he saw her sitting in his chair, his glare was like a blast of heat, his tall, powerful body barely contained by the well-cut suit. “What the hell are you doing here?”
After all these months, this was how he greeted her? She stiffened in the chair, folding her arms over her belly. “Good to see you, too.”
Closing the door behind him, Santiago pierced her with his hard, black eyes and said dangerously, “I asked you a question. What are you doing here, Belle? I think I made it very clear that I never wanted to see you again.”
“You did.”
Santiago moved closer in the shadows of the study. “Why did you trick my butler into letting you in, telling him there was an emergency?”
“It wasn’t a trick. It’s true.”
“An emergency. Really.” His lips twisted scornfully. “Let me guess. After all these months, you’re realized you can’t live without me, and you’re here to declare eternal love.”
She flinched at the cold derision in his voice.
“God help any woman who truly loved you.” She took a deep breath, then glared back at him. “Don’t worry. I hate you plenty. More than ever.”
A strange expression flashed across his features, then he gave her a cold smile. “Fantastic. So why did you interrupt my party?”
He was glaring at her with such hatred. How could she possibly tell him she was pregnant with his baby? “I came to tell you... I’m leaving New York....”
“That’s your emergency?” He gave an incredulous laugh. “One more thing to celebrate today, on top of closing a business deal.”
Her hackles rose. “Let me finish!”
“So do it, then.” He folded his arms, looking down at her as if he were king of the mountain and she was just a peasant in the dirt. “And let me get back to my guests.”
She took a deep breath.
“I’m pregnant.”
Her small voice reverberated in the silence of the study. His black eyes widened in almost comical shock.
“What?”
Slowly, she rose from the chair, dropping her arms to her sides so he could see her baby bump beneath her pregnancy-swollen breasts and oversized T-shirt. For a moment, he didn’t speak, and she held her breath, afraid to meet his gaze. Some stupid part of her still hoped against hope that he would surprise her. That he would suddenly change back to that warm, irresistible man she’d seen so briefly that cold January night. That he’d gather her into his arms and kiss her joyfully at the news.
Those hopes were quickly dashed.
“Pregnant?”
She risked a look at him. His jaw was hard, his eyes dark with rage.
“Yes,” she choked out.
She never expected what he did next.
Pulling her close, he put his large, broad hands over her cotton T-shirt, to feel the unmistakable swell of her pregnant belly.
He dropped his hands as if he’d been burned. “You said it was medically impossible.”
“I thought it was...”
“You said you could never get pregnant!”
“It’s a...a miracle.”
“Miracle!” He snorted, then narrowed his eyes. He slowly looked her over. “And here I thought you didn’t have what it took to be on Broadway. No gold digger ever lied to my face so convincingly. I actually thought you were some angelic little innocent. Quite the little actress after all.”
That low, husky, Spanish-accented voice cut right through her heart, and she staggered back. “You think I got pregnant on purpose?”
He gave a low laugh. “You really had me going with the way you defended true love. Letting me find you alone, sobbing in the garden over the fact that you could never, ever have a baby. I’m impressed. I had no idea you were such an accomplished liar.”
“I didn’t lie!”
“Cut the act, and get to the part where you give me a price.”
“Price?” she said, bewildered.
“There’s only one reason you would deliberately trick me into not using a condom when you fluttered your eyes and lured me into bed—”
Her voice came out an enraged squeak. “I never did that!”
“And that’s money. But I’ll admit,” he said carelessly, looking her over, “you earned it. No woman has ever tricked me so thoroughly. Except—” His expression changed, then he set his jaw. “How much do you want?”
“I don’t want money.” The room was spinning around her. “I just thought you had the right to know!”
“Perfecto,” he said coolly. Going to the door, he opened it. “You told me. Now get the hell out.”
Belle stared at him in shock, astounded that any man could react to news of his unborn son or daughter so coldly, refusing to even show interest, much less take responsibility! “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”
“What did you expect?” he drawled. “That I’d fall to one knee and beg you to marry me? Sorry to disappoint you.”
Belle stared up at him, incredulous. She’d waited for twenty-eight years, dreaming of Prince Charming, dreaming of true love—and this was the man she’d slept with!
Anger rose like bile in her throat. “Wow. You figured me out. Yes, I’m desperate to marry you, Santiago. Who wouldn’t want to be the bride of the nastiest, most cold-hearted man on earth? And raise a baby with you?” She gave a harsh laugh. “What an amazing father you would make!”
His expression hardened. “Belle—”
“You call me a liar. A gold digger. When you know I was a virgin the night you seduced me!” She lifted her chin, trembling with emotion. “Was this what you meant when you called me naïve? Did you decide you wanted to be the one to show me the truth about the heartless world?”
“Look—”
“I never should have come here.” Tears were burning the backs of her eyes. But she’d let him see her cry once, that dark January night, and he’d lured her into destruction with his sweet kisses and honeyed words. She’d die before she let him ever see her weak again. “Forget about the baby. Forget I even exist.” Stopping at the door, she looked back at him one last time. “I wish any man but you could have been the father of my baby,” she choked out. “It’s a mistake I’ll regret the rest of my life.”
Turning, she left, rushing past the snooty butler and beautiful, rich guests who looked like they’d never had a single problem in their glamorous lives. She went outside, nearly tripping down the steps into the cooling night air. She ran halfway down the block in her flip-flops before she realized Santiago wasn’t following her.
Good. She didn’t care. When she reached her old 1978 Chevy pickup, she started up the engine with a roar. Her hands didn’t stop shaking until she was past the Lincoln Tunnel.
From the first day they’d met, she’d known Santiago was dark-hearted poison. How could she have been so stupid to let him seduce her?
For one night, let me give you joy. Without strings. Without consequences.
Belle choked out a sob as she gripped the steering wheel, driving south on the Jersey Turnpike. She was thrilled about the baby, but what she would have given to have any other man as the father!
For the last few months, when Santiago hadn’t returned her phone messages, she’d told herself that she and the baby would be better off without him. But part of her had secretly hoped for another miracle—that if she told Santiago she was pregnant, he’d want to be a father. A husband. That th
ey could all love each other, and be happy.
So stupid.
She wiped her eyes. Instead Santiago had not only cavalierly abandoned his unborn baby, he’d insulted Belle and thrown her out of his house for daring to tell him she was pregnant!
The truly shocking thing was that she was even surprised. He’d made his feelings clear from the beginning. He thought babies were a thankless responsibility and love was for suckers.
Belle cried until her eyes burned, then at midnight, pulled over to a roadside motel to sleep fitfully till dawn.
The next day, the hypnotic road started to calm her. She started feeling like she’d dodged a bullet. She didn’t need a cold, heartless man wrecking her peace of mind and breaking their child’s heart. Better that Santiago abandon them now rather than later.
By the third day, as the mile markers passed and she left the green rolling hills of east Texas behind, she started to recognize the familiar landscape of home, and her heart grew lighter. There was something soothing about the wide horizons stretching out forever, with nothing but sagebrush and the merciless summer sun in the unrelenting blue sky.
Feeling a sweet flutter inside her, Belle put a hand to her belly. “So be it,” she whispered aloud. This baby would be hers alone. She would spend the rest of her life appreciating this miracle, devoting herself to her child.
It was still morning, but already growing hot. The air conditioning in her pickup didn’t work, but both windows were rolled down, so it was all right. Though she was lucky it wasn’t raining because one of them wouldn’t roll back up.
As she drew in to the edges of her small town, she took a deep breath. Home. Though it wasn’t the same, without her younger brothers. Ray now lived in Atlanta and twenty-one-year-old Joe in Denver. But at least here, the world made sense.
But as she pulled into the dirt driveway, she abruptly slammed on the brake.
A big black helicopter was parked in the sagebrush prairie, tucked behind her house.
She sucked in her breath. A helicopter? Then she saw the two hulking bodyguards prowling nearby. That could only mean...