A Tycoon's Secret_A Billionaire Romance Novel

by Avery Laval

  The way she’d wept when she had seen the broken condom, all he’d wanted in the world was to stop her tears. It had always been that way with them. He couldn’t stand the sound of her snuffling—it wounded him in a way no injury could—but he’d learned in the year they’d been together that he had to let her cry just a little, that it was something she needed to do to feel better. God knew why.

  And this time had been no different. He’d heard her sniffles slow and tried to tell her it was okay so she’d calm down, even when he knew that it wasn’t okay—that the mere possibility of her accidentally becoming pregnant with his child—his heir—had him reeling. And then, as if that weren’t enough, she’d thrown him a curveball so unexpected, so utterly surprising, he’d found there were no words to respond.

  Of course, he now realized, it was exactly the sort of thing he should have come to expect from Marissa Madden. After all, he’d been gobsmacked when he’d learned she’d taken up with another man while his side of the bed was still warm. Why would it be that much more shocking to discover that at that very time, she’d also been pregnant with his child?

  The words were like knives in Khalid’s brain. Pregnant. With his child. A child he’d never known had existed. And where was that baby now? He thought he knew her well enough to believe that she would never have terminated a pregnancy without speaking with the father first, but now? He couldn’t be so sure. The thought of it made his gut churn. That would be a betrayal beyond any he could imagine. He couldn’t believe even she was capable of leaving him out of such an important decision.

  And if she’d carried the baby to term? Then somewhere in America his baby was alone right now, growing up without his or her father, all because of her deceit.

  As painful as that option was, he prayed it was the case. If so, that would mean he had a chance to make things right, now, when the baby was still young. Unbidden, an image of a sweet-faced little child, just over two years old, appeared in his mind, with Khalid’s tan skin and the bright green eyes of his mother. His heart seized. To think, if he hadn’t run into Marissa here in Cairo, that child would have grown up believing he’d been abandoned by his father.

  No child deserved that.

  Furiously pacing the small balcony, Khalid stole a look inside the suite. There was no movement. Was she still lying on the bed naked, he wondered, and despite himself, his groin stirred. Damn his sex drive. Look where it had gotten him. He’d take care to keep her at arm’s length from now on. In fact, he realized, the sooner his lawyers took over and sued for custody, the better. If he played his cards right, there was a chance he’d never have to be alone with her again.

  At that very thought, he heard the creak of the balcony door, and knew his private rumination had come to an end.

  “Khalid?” she said.

  He remained turned away from her. He was too angry to speak. He felt like yelling and stomping and breaking the glass dessert bowls all over the tiled balcony floor. Instead, he froze.

  “Khalid,” she said again, her voice more insistent. “Please turn around. There’s more to this story than you know.”

  At that, he wheeled around. “More to the story than that you lied to me and gave birth to a child—my child—without my ever knowing?”

  She swallowed. He saw the muscles working in her throat, saw the twisting of her face, and knew he would not like what came next. Then she nodded. “I lost the baby, Khalid,” she whispered. “In a car accident in the fourth month. That’s why I never told you, why I broke contact all those years ago. I was overcome with grief.”

  I lost the baby. With her words, all emotion drained from Khalid’s body like water running into a drain. All the anger and fury were gone, but so too was that glimmer, however irrational, of hope and excitement at the prospect of becoming a father. So the accident he had read about had cost them their child. No wonder she’d stopped returning his calls and emails. No wonder she’d let her charade fall to the wayside. His shoulders sank, like he was bearing some great weight, and he heaved a sigh. He knew, but did not like, what he had to do next.

  “Pack your bags,” he told her. “Your vacation in Cairo is over.” He strode past her and moved into the suite with certainty, where he picked up his cell phone and started punching in numbers.

  “What do you mean it’s over?” Marissa called, rushing up to him, a frantic edge in her voice. “Who are you calling?” She put her hand on his to still the dialing. He stopped and fixed an angry gaze on her.

  “I’m calling my assistant to tell him to make arrangements for a second traveler on my return to Rifaisa tomorrow,” he said simply. “He’ll need the night to arrange your visa, and see to the necessary additions in security.”

  “My visa? But I have a visa,” she cried. “For Egypt. Where I’m staying for two more days, before going back to Las Vegas.”

  “I’m afraid not,” Khalid said, crossing his arms in front of him. “That was what you were doing, before tonight. Now there is a change of plans. You’re coming to Rifaisa with me, where you’ll stay until I know whether you’re going to be the mother of my child.”

  “That’s preposterous.” She crossed her arms in a mirror of his body language, as if her feminine frame could somehow stand up to his iron determination. “I’m going home. If I’m pregnant, believe me, you’ll be the first to know.”

  Khalid scowled. “Just as I was the first to know about the child of mine you carried before?”

  She gasped and reeled back as though he’d hit her. “I wanted—” she sputtered. “I wanted to tell you in person. I wanted to see the reaction on your face when I told you.”

  “Well, then, enjoy. You’re looking at it right now.”

  Her lower lip started to shake, and he steeled himself for another bout of tears. This time she could cry herself dry, for all he cared. His heart felt like a brick in his chest. His throat felt tight.

  “I’m not coming with you,” she stammered. “I want to be with my family.”

  “Perhaps you don’t understand,” Khalid said, keeping his voice steady and cold. “There’s a chance you’re carrying the heir to the crown of Rifaisa. The future of my country. That is not something I take lightly. And since you can’t be trusted for a second, even with something so sacred as this, you are coming with me. Am I clear?”

  “You can’t do this!”

  “Look around you, Marissa. You’re on my turf now. I can do whatever I choose. And I choose to keep you under my thumb, until we know for sure that you aren’t pregnant.”

  “And if I am?”

  “Then you’ll become my wife,” he said, iron running through his voice and ice through his veins. “In name only.”

  5

  There was no point in arguing further. Khalid was immovable. She finally persuaded him to let her stay through the end of her conference, though he claimed to agree only because he wanted to keep their situation from becoming public and not as a concession to her needs. Any thought of what she needed had gone right out the window when she’d told him about her miscarriage, and he’d showed her he was completely incapable of sympathy.

  When had he become so heartless, she wondered? It wasn’t as if he had ever been Mr. Sympathetic Male of the Year, but at least he’d tried, once upon a time, to be there for her in times of trouble. Now, after she’d told him about the greatest heartbreak of her entire life, he’d accused her of being untrustworthy and then made her a prisoner.

  Back in her own hotel room, she thought of the Rifaisi security guard standing outside her door and felt like screaming. She would scream, if she didn’t think that would have him breaking down the door to investigate in an instant. It infuriated her the way the guard had been so kind and solicitous to her, until she’d asked him about leaving the room and he’d replied with a monosyllabic grunt that she translated to “Absolutely not.” As nice as he seemed, he took his orders from Khalid. It seemed everyone on this side of the world did.

  And now, unless she want
ed to cause an international incident, she did too. She paced through the spacious room, cursing herself and her idiotic notions about “closure.” If this was closure, then she would prefer to leave things wide open, thank you very much. How Grant would laugh when she told him how right he’d been. Except he wouldn’t laugh at all, because this was way past the point of being funny, she thought with a sigh.

  And the worst part was, even as she railed against his dictatorial edict, she could see exactly where Khalid was coming from. She should have told him sooner about her pregnancy and the accident. Because of that mistake, she could understand why he wouldn’t trust her this time around, why no amount of her promises would assure him. If only she had told him about the baby. If only he could understand why she hadn’t.

  She hardly slept at all that night, and when she did, her dreams were so dark she wished she’d stayed awake. The next day moved like molasses as her brain lived and relived the events of the night before. She managed to get through her meetings as though nothing were wrong—a skill she’d picked up when her brother had forced her out of bed three months after the car accident and insisted she throw herself into her work. At the time, she’d resisted, but as the weeks had passed, she’d found her gift for the work made up for her lack of motivation. Campaign after campaign had come off with great success, and slowly, the grief of her loss had faded. It had never disappeared. But it had eased up quite a bit, and with it, the dream of a second chance with Khalid.

  Well, now she had her second chance. But this was not how she’d imagined it. Not at all.

  She was weary from forcing herself through her day when she got back to her hotel room that night. Her new bodyguard trailed behind her and stopped right outside the door. Marissa decided it was a good evening for room service and a hot bath. After all, this might be her last chance at privacy for a long time. Come tomorrow, she’d be traveling to Rifaisa for the first time, along with Khalid and his squadron of aides. And then she’d be trapped there for two weeks. Maybe more.

  Maybe forever.

  Pushing the thought away along with her high heels, she changed out of her constricting suit jacket and pants and slipped into the sheer cotton drawstring pants and matching tank she’d brought as pajamas. She retrieved the room service menu and flopped onto her plush bed, turning on the TV absentmindedly as she flipped through the list of offerings. Nothing appealed to her until she got to the desserts. There she saw a list of familiar treats: cheesecake, apple pie, molten chocolate cake, and some flavors more native to Egypt. She was seized by the urge to order three desserts and call it a night, and was about to pick up the phone and do just that when her eye caught a description of a dish of figs, almonds, honey, and cinnamon, soaked in rich syrup—the dessert she’d had on her lips when Khalid had kissed her last night. She dropped the menu and sighed deeply, lost in the memory of his touch.

  Despite herself, despite the horrible situation it had landed her in, she did not regret one second of their lovemaking. Yes, she wished she’d never run into him, wished she hadn’t gone to his suite, wished like hell that condom hadn’t broken, but she couldn’t wish away the passion they’d shared. That was something too rare, too sacred, and too powerful to ever regret.

  Her appetite vanished and she gave up on dinner. Instead she drew herself a bath in the expansive tub, filled it with rose-scented salts, and surrounded her body with the warm water. A poor substitute for Khalid’s arms, but a much safer one. She closed her eyes and sank deeper into the suds. Her problems started to retreat from her mind. She sighed deeply, imagining herself on a beautiful white boat, sailing across the ocean and away from her troubles. She could almost hear the seagulls in the distance and smell the salt in the air.

  Then she heard the unmistakable sound of a key card beeping at her door.

  Still in the bathtub, she froze. Who was at her door? What had happened to Khalid’s guard? How could anyone have gotten a key? She listened hard and heard the unmistakable sound of the latch releasing and then the door opening and closing with a hushed click. She should scream, she thought, but nothing came out of her mouth. And then it did—a high-pitched, piercing squeal that impressed even her. She followed it up with a loud “Help!” and then launched her dripping body out of the tub and toward the heaping pile of folded towels nearby. “Help!” she hollered again.

  The bathroom door flew open noisily, and Marissa frantically pulled a white towel to her breasts. “Get out!” she cried, looking for a weapon, but before she’d managed to grab hold of the nearest heavy object—a thick glass soap dish—she’d identified her intruder. Her jaw dropped open and she dropped her towel in shock.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded, reaching down as modestly as possible to grab the towel back up and wrap it around her body tightly. Just three feet away from her shivering naked form, Khalid stood at the bathroom door with a wicked smile on his face, arms crossed in front of him like he were watching a show. Annoyance at the fright he’d given her mingled with a tingle of awareness, as he looked her up and down, taking her in as though the towel were as transparent as cellophane. It was true what they said, she thought. The sensations of alarm and sexual attraction were easily confused.

  “Enjoying your bath?” he asked. His eyebrow was quirked in a way that told her that he was enjoying the thought of her bath. Very much.

  “I was,” Marissa spat, pushing down the sexual jolt his scrutiny brought with it. “Until you broke into my hotel room.”

  “I knocked for what felt like a lifetime,” he told her. “Then I started to worry. After a few minutes, my head of security spoke to the hotel management and explained that you were under my protection. They produced a key card in no time flat.” He gave her a nonchalant shrug, as if it were everyday state business to break into a woman’s private room while she tried to relax inside. “I should have known you were in the bath all along. You always tried to hide in the tub whenever you wanted to avoid the world.”

  Marissa groped for the hotel bathrobe, sparks of anger flashing behind her eyes. “Is it any wonder I’m trying to hide when I’m about to be kidnapped?”

  Khalid sighed, and the smile on his face subsided somewhat. “You’re being a tad dramatic, Marissa. I’m treating you to a luxurious trip to one of the most prosperous nations in this part of the world. Everything will be first-class—you’ll want for nothing. And odds are good it’ll only be a couple of weeks. Then you can put Rifaisa—and me—as far behind you as you’d like. Finally have the closure you were so intent on.”

  He uttered this last bit with such spite Marissa winced. “This,” she told him, “is not the closure I had in mind. I still don’t understand why you won’t let me go back to Las Vegas. You’re a powerful man. Surely you can have me followed around like a criminal there just as easily as you can here.”

  He shrugged. “Probably. But I’ve always said, when you want something done right, do it yourself.” Then, with a more serious tone, he added, “Besides, staying close to me is in your best interests, too. There are people out there who would find you a valuable kidnapping prospect if they knew what was going on. And I don’t want you to find out what a real kidnapping feels like. Suffice it to say it wouldn’t involve any long, hot soaks in the tub.”

  She shuddered, not from the chill of the room after the warm bath, but at the truth of what he said. He was a powerful, wealthy man involved closely in the oil business. That made him a target. And targets had a way of radiating out from their centers.

  “I don’t mean to scare you, Marissa,” he said, reaching over and draping the bathrobe she’d been clutching over her shoulders. “Just to impart to you the seriousness of the situation.” His hands lingered on her arms as he wrapped the robe around her. Despite her common sense, Marissa took comfort in them for a moment. Then she turned her back to him so she could shimmy free of the towel underneath and belt the robe tightly around her waist.

  “Have you told anyone about this?” he asked to her b
ack.

  Marissa paused, glad her face was hidden from him. “Just Knox,” she said. “I had to explain why I wasn’t coming back right away.” She didn’t add that she’d also called Grant and Jenna and told them she’d be extending the trip. They were as good as family, and she trusted them with her life, but Khalid might not see it that way. She turned back around, and forced a smile at him. “Tell me you at least trust Knox.” Knox, after all, had introduced them in the first place, and he’d always treated Khalid like a member of the large, rowdy Madden clan.

  Khalid looked up for a moment. “As much as I trust anyone, I suppose,” he said at last, and his words angered her. She pushed past him through the bathroom door and into the main living area.

  “More than you trust me.” She headed for her clothes draped on the bed.

  Khalid followed her and whirled her around, a dark look in his eyes. “You think I don’t wish things were different?” he growled. “I’m just as trapped in this situation as you are.”

  The words stung bitterly. She hated that he felt trapped by her. Hated the scorn that was written all over his face. “Then let me go.” She twisted out of his grasp. “I have a loving family waiting for me back in Las Vegas. With their help, I can take care of myself, and a baby too, if I need to. I don’t need you.”

  Her words only incited him further. “Is that what you want? To raise a baby by yourself, a world away from his father?” His voice was low and bitter, barely more than a whisper. “To bring him or her up far from their birthright? Would you have your son wonder who he really was until he was my age, and only then watch him have to walk away from everything he knows—everything he loves—so that he can fulfill his duties as my heir?”