The Billionaire Baby Bombshell

by Paula Roe

  “Yes, I am.”

  His stunned expression gave her no satisfaction as she powered up the window. As the car drove away for the very last time, she knew where she had to be—with people who needed her love and support, who’d been damaged terribly by the actions of someone she’d loved. She needed to help make amends.

  And slowly, the pain in her heart began to retreat.

  Fourteen

  It was Tuesday. Yelena had been gone nearly two days. Two long, arduous, maddening days, days full of work, of papers and files and copious amounts of coffee.

  Days without Yelena.

  Despite the constant influx of people and the work load, Diamond Bay seemed empty somehow. With his mother and Chelsea on a shopping trip in Sydney and Yelena gone, the gaping hole was even more obvious.

  It was so not like him to be this unfocused, this distracted. A handful of times he’d glanced up at his office door, certain Yelena was about to walk in with that mesmerizing hip sway that sucked him in every time.

  But she wouldn’t. He’d seen to that.

  So he’d punished himself by playing every encounter over in his head until, as the early morning sun began to blaze over the horizon, he’d jumped on his bike and zoomed off.

  Now he’d been on the road for an hour but still the grueling heat couldn’t wipe Yelena from his mind.

  He drove, mile after mile of red dust, the hard, throbbing machine between his thighs and the gutsy roar of the engine in his ears as he burned up the road, on his way somewhere, anywhere that didn’t have a memory of her, her mouth and that hot lush skin he’d possessed so completely.

  With the sun blazing high in the sky, he finally paused for a breather. The desert heat hit him full force as he yanked off his helmet, tarmac hot beneath his boots, searing up through his leathers as he swiped the beaded sweat from his forehead.

  No matter how far he rode he couldn’t outrun her. Their last night together spun dizzyingly in his head, forcing him to focus on the one thing he wanted to forget.

  With a curse he hurled his helmet, scowling as it hit the ground in a shower of red dust.

  And in that moment, something deep and yearning inside him cracked wide open. It made him want things, things that only Yelena could give him.

  He recalled the feel of the hot, sweet body beneath his, how she’d welcomed him inside with almost frantic desire in her dark eyes. She’d tasted like always—sexy skin, want barely restrained. She’d looked amazing, from the wild cloud of hair spilling over lush breasts, to the way her waist indented and flared into sinfully curvy hips.

  His groin tightened painfully with the memories. Of dipping his tongue into her belly button before dragging his mouth across that perfect belly, the skin hot and reactive to his touch…

  A perfect belly.

  He paused with a frown. Perfect belly, perfect hips, perfect breasts.

  He snapped in a sharp breath, mind racing backwards. He hadn’t just been swept up in the moment. Her skin was perfect.

  No stretch marks, no C-section scar.

  Realization instantaneously heated into rage, and rage into fiery knives of pain, tiny pinpricks stabbing into every muscle, every nerve.

  She’d lied to him.

  He was on the bike in less than a second, racing back to Diamond Bay, to Yelena.

  To the truth.

  He stormed into the resort like the hounds of hell themselves were snapping at his heels, uncaring of the stares, the whispers left in his wake. His jerking strides devoured the long hallway and when he slapped his hand on Yelena’s office door, it crashed back on its hinges with a satisfying crack.

  Nostrils flared, blood thumping, he took in the empty room at first with fury, then dawning realization.

  She’s gone, you fool.

  He gave a groan before viciously unzipping his jacket and pulling out his phone. He palmed it, poised to dial, but an e-mail reminder flashed on the screen and his whole body stilled.

  Re: Pamela Rush interview

  All his veins felt as if they’d suddenly frozen, leaving him unable to even breathe. Then panic quickly rushed in, forcing his heart rate up, tightening his lungs. With a few taps he was reading an e-mail from a Leah Jackson at Bennett & Harper.

  It was confidential, obviously sent to him by mistake. As fury mounted, he scanned down, finally getting to the original exchange between Yelena and the show’s producer.

  Thanks for fitting us in on Tuesday, Rita, Yelena had written. My client is anxious for the public to hear her story and I’m sure you’ll agree it’s a powerful one. I appreciate you giving us approval over final cut and I’m positive there will be no major problems with this.

  He slumped in the chair, his pounding heartbeat a deep echo in his brain. Then in the next second, he dialed the office phone.

  “It’s Alex Rush. Organize a car and have the airstrip fire up my plane. I’ll be leaving for Canberra in twenty minutes.”

  Yelena stood behind the lighting stand, watching the makeup girl dust Pam’s face with powder. “Are you sure you want me here?” she asked for the third time.

  Pam smiled. “You’ve made all this possible, Yelena. Why wouldn’t I want you here?”

  Chelsea stood beside Yelena, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. She’d taken her suggestion and talked to her mother all right, and it had resulted in a full-blown report for Morning Grace, Australia’s most-watched current affairs/breakfast show. So here they were, in Pam’s sun room in the Canberra “mausoleum” house. Masses of afternoon light streamed through the glass walls, falling squarely on Pam, seated alone on the comfortable couch.

  Guilt swept Yelena’s conscience. Alex was her client, he was the one who’d signed the contract, the one who was paying Bennett & Harper. No matter how much she knew Pam needed to do this, Alex would accuse her of going behind his back. And he’d be right. Yet she was human. Pam had a right to let the public know the real truth, even if it did mean losing Alex’s trust in the process. At least he’d be cleared once and for all for his father’s death.

  Admit it. You’re afraid. Afraid that you’ll reveal everything to him with one look from those all-seeing blue eyes.

  And that would mean losing control of everything she’d worked so hard for since Gabriela died.

  She glanced at Pam, who was studying her with disturbing thoroughness. “We couldn’t wait,” Yelena added. “It was either now if we wanted to make tomorrow’s show, or wait another two months.”

  “I know. It’s time,” Pam said softly, her troubled blue eyes stormy as the makeup girl finally finished. “I need to speak out, especially with that thing in today’s paper.”

  Yelena flushed, knowing Carlos was probably behind the two-part article scheduled to hit Sydney’s Daily Mirror come Monday. She’d got a heads-up barely twenty-four hours before, the promo ad screaming from the front page with voyeuristic glee.

  “I need to let people know the truth,” Pam said softly, her eyes going to Chelsea. Suddenly her face, so elegant and refined, crumpled. “I love you, sweetheart.”

  “I love you too, Mum,” Chelsea choked out. Her fingers tightened around Yelena’s and Yelena squeezed back.

  Here were two amazing women, facing their demons and speaking out to the world. Their strength and courage floored Yelena, her throat tight as she choked back tears.

  Her head was one big mess, what with Alex, Carlos, the upcoming exposé and now Pam’s interview. And sitting back in her little apartment, burning a hole in her briefcase, lay the means to possibly shatter her future: forms for the DNA test that would prove or disprove this ridiculous suspicion regarding Bella’s paternity.

  If Alex wasn’t the father then what would be the point of revealing she’d lied before the results proved it either way? Yet short of stealing his hair or bodily fluids, how could she get a DNA sample without telling him?

  She’d wrestled with her conscience at Diamond Bay until her call to Channel Five had provided a convenient escape. But now, wi
th everything crowding in on her, she couldn’t stop her mind from going there.

  You love him. He needs to be told.

  She glanced up as Grace Callahan settled in the chair opposite Pam, fixed on a mike then nodded to the segment producer.

  The producer called for quiet, said, “And…go!” and they were off.

  “Pamela Rush, can you start from the beginning and tell us why you decided to do this interview after all these months of silence?”

  When Yelena felt Chelsea’s fingers tighten in hers, she gave the teenager a reassuring smile. An awful sadness weighted her heart, creating a pall over what should have been a triumphant moment for her career, for Pam and Chelsea and the truth.

  If these two women could take control and put things right, why couldn’t she?

  It was close to five o’clock before the crew packed up.

  “What’s going to happen to Mum now?”

  Chelsea had been picking at her fingernails for the last ten minutes, her face fraught with concern. “Will she go to jail?”

  Yelena met Pam’s look. The older woman nodded.

  “We don’t know. George says it depends on what the police want to do,” Yelena said, deferring the situation to their newly hired criminal lawyer. “Your mother did provide a false statement.”

  “But there are also mitigating circumstances,” Pam added as Chelsea’s expression turned fearful. “I’ve arranged to go into the station and make a formal statement tomorrow morning.”

  “But she could be arrested,” Chelsea said.

  Pam nodded slowly. “It’s possible, yes.”

  Chelsea clutched her mother’s hand, her fingers firm as her chin went up.

  “Don’t worry, Chelsea.” Yelena smiled bravely even as her heart constricted. “We’ll work this out. And George is one of the best. We’re going to try our hardest to ensure your mother doesn’t spend any time in jail. I’ll be there for you both.”

  After a few tear-ridden hugs, Yelena finally left, giving both Pam’s and Chelsea’s hands another reassuring squeeze and murmuring positive reassurances.

  It took twenty minutes to drive out of affluent Yarralumla until finally hitting the Commonwealth Bridge, another five until she wound her way around Canberra’s multiple roundabouts before turning the corner to her city apartment complex.

  She was going to do her damnedest to ensure the Rushes were not punished further, which meant putting a stop to those slanderous articles. And that meant dealing with Carlos.

  A dark blue Mercedes sat directly in front of her building, a familiar figure standing ramrod straight by the passenger door. Her breath sped out. Even at this distance, she could see Alex’s tension bristle from every muscle in his broad, commanding body.

  She pulled into the basement car park, heart in her throat, dread freezing her fingers as she took the key from the ignition. When she got out and turned, he was right there, hands on his hips, face tight with barely leashed emotion.

  “Alex! What—what are you doing here?” She readjusted the bundle of files she held, a poor barrier of protection.

  With a dark scowl he shoved his phone under her nose. Blinking, she took a step back, but not before she recognized the e-mail on the screen.

  Her heart bottomed out and she winced.

  With a furious question in his eyes, he yanked his phone back. “Get in the car, Yelena.”

  “Why?”

  “Would you prefer we do this out in the open?” His voice bounced off the cement pylons, echoing in the cavernous silence as his eyes skimmed the car park. “Or upstairs in front of your daughter?”

  Yelena’s stomach clenched. She nodded, swinging open the door of her shiny BMW then closing it firmly.

  After he got in the passenger side she expected unleashed fury, a blast of accusations and demands. After the crazy day she’d had, she was fully prepared to accept whatever he threw at her. Yet he just glared at her, blue eyes slowly picking her apart with ruthless efficiency.

  She fidgeted, first with her necklace, then with the edges of the files she still clutched.

  “You went ahead with an interview after I’d specifically told you not to.” He finally got out. “Why?”

  “Because it was Pam’s choice, Alex.”

  “This is not what I hired you for.”

  “But it’s what she wanted.”

  She could see his jaw working as he fought to bring his emotions under control. His eyes, now flashing with bitterness, held something else, something odd and infinitely more scary. “So instead of letting me know, I have to find out via e-mail?”

  “That was a mistake—”

  “Oh, and that makes it all better.” His face contorted into harsh planes, freezing her out. “Do not presume” came his tight reply, “to know anything about what’s happened in my life, Yelena.”

  “How can I, when you don’t tell me?” She took a deep breath. He’s vulnerable and angry, lashing out. “I was there at Pam’s interview. I know your father controlled every aspect of your family’s lives. I know he hit Pam regularly. I know he hit you until you were old enough to fight back.” She paused, remembering Pam’s stiff, heartrending recollection. “You never left home because you were scared he’d start on Chelsea—”

  “Stop.”

  She ignored the dangerous warning. “That night in your office. You were talking about your father leaving your mother alone, weren’t you?”

  “I said, stop!”

  His deafening command made her flinch, the venom washing over her like some horrid stain. With eyes wide and muscles taut, she stared, until the furious lines on his face suddenly melted into anguish, then horror.

  “Yelena, I…” He lifted a hand then quickly dropped it, revulsion reflected in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to… I’d never lay a finger on you, you know that.”

  She took a breath, then another, her whole body humming. “I know.”

  “He never touched Chelsea,” he choked out, his face contorted. “She adored him. And I covered for that bastard because I didn’t want to shatter her illusions.”

  Just like yours were. She could have wept then but one look at his face, his strong, implacable face tinged with self-disgust and she dared not.

  “Chelsea knew, Alex. She’d seen it happen a month before his death,” she said softly. Shock stiffened his body, just before the pain poured in, pain that wrenched at her own heart.

  “That night we were together…when I came home…” He dragged a hand over his face, raw emotion carved into every line, every muscle.

  “Tell me, Alex. Tell me what happened.”

  “I don’t know!” He banged his fists softly on the dashboard. “I came home and he was in the pool. And Mum…”

  “She didn’t fall asleep watching television like she told the police.”

  Still he said nothing, just stared out the window, a faraway look on his face. Yelena placed a tentative hand on his leg, a gesture aimed at soothing, consoling. Yet it was like touching fire-forged steel.

  “Alex. You’re not alone in this. I want to be here for you.”

  His head snapped up so quickly she jumped.

  “How can you when you lied to me?” His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. “When you still lie.”

  “I…”

  “You let me believe Bella was yours.”

  She faced his disappointment, small and still with the burden of guilt he’d unexpectedly laid on her. “How did you know?”

  “No scars or stretch marks.”

  “I see.” She sighed.

  “Is that all you have to say?”

  She shot him a fierce look. “She is mine, Alex, in all the ways that count. My name is on her birth certificate. I raised her, I love her.”

  “But you are not her natural mother.”

  Her heart ripped from her chest, sending a screaming ache into her brain. “No.”

  “Whose is she?” He paused, considering her as a beat passed. Then his face contorted with realizat
ion. “Gabriela’s.”

  “Yes.” One word yet she could barely get it out.

  “So why didn’t you tell me?”

  She felt sudden tears well in her eyes before she quickly blinked them away. “Because Gabriela made me promise before she died. That night I left you, the night your father died…” When she dragged her eyes up to his, his frozen look broke her heart a little more. “Gabriela was involved with Salvatore Vitto.”

  He frowned. “The Spanish drug lord?”

  She nodded. “Gabriela had no idea—they’d been on and off since they’d met a few years back, at some agency party in Madrid.” She couldn’t meet his eyes, knowing her distaste for Gabriella’s multi-boyfriend habit was not the issue right now. “When she returned in June she found out and broke it off, which was when he abducted her. She…” She swallowed. “She called me on the run and I met her at the airport. To make sure we weren’t followed, we crisscrossed Europe for weeks. Then we ended up in Germany.”

  The horror of those few months flooded back, sending her hands trembling. She clasped her fingers firmly together and placed them in her lap.

  “Bella was born on the eighteenth of March, one week before her due date, in a small German hospital with Gabriela registered as me. In order for the dates to fit my pregnancy, I had to claim she was two months premature when I applied for her passport. You can’t fly with premie babies so I had to wait until May to return home.” She took a breath then continued, “Vitto is a vicious, ruthless man. Gabriela had no doubt he’d kill her and take Bella if he ever found out.”

  A small, strangled sound. When she looked up, she thought she saw something more on his face, a small crack in that perfect shield of composure he showed to the world.

  “Why didn’t you come home before Bella was born?”

  “Vitto had Gabriela’s passport. We couldn’t risk getting a new one in Spain, not when he had government officials in his pocket. When we finally got to the Australian embassy in Germany, we’d been anonymous and trouble free for a month. By that time Gabriela was showing and didn’t want to come home. I tried talking her around but you know how stubborn she could be.”