The Billionaire's Baby Bargain (A is for Alpha)

by Shelli Stevens

  “Marry you?” she repeated unsteadily, her brows drawing together. Confusion swamped her, mixed with a hope she knew was utterly foolish. If Andrés truly wanted to marry her, it had nothing to do with love. “You hardly seem the type to marry.”

  “It certainly wasn’t on my immediate horizon,” he murmured impassively. “But it seems like an optimal solution, don’t you agree?”

  “No,” she sputtered and tried to squirm out from beneath him. “No, I absolutely do not agree. I don’t even like you.”

  Andrés caught both of her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand. He swept a possessive gaze down her body “You may not like me much right now, cariño. But you very much like being in my bed. And you will enjoy the title as my wife.” He gave a hard smile. “Just think of all the money you’ll have access to, and all without having to sell my dirty secrets.”

  “You’re so quick to assume the worst about people, Andrés. Yes, I was a magazine columnist, but I was never going to write some gossip article about you. I didn’t even know who you were. You took the diary from my backpack—the one thing that is absolutely priceless to me.”

  “And your detailed notes about me, cariño? Were they priceless as well?”

  How could she explain that she’d thought she was falling in love? That writing about her romance in Spain could’ve only enriched the article about the lovers in the diary? Andrés would never believe the truth. The mocking look of disdain on his face pretty much guaranteed it. Explaining anything to him would just be a waste of her breath. And besides, her pride also stopped her from admitting how deeply she’d fallen for him in those few days.

  “My notes that I took on you are apparently no more useful than last week’s garbage,” she finally said.

  “Garbage. Exactly how I would describe the magazine you worked for.”

  And now he mocked the job she’d held. Maybe it wasn’t National Geographic, but it had been an honest paycheck from a magazine millions of women respected.

  “Thank you for the reminder of why I will never marry you. You can just go to hell,” she seethed.

  “I’ve been there. Spent my entire childhood in hell.” His expression turned to granite. “Which is why I intend to see that my child does not have to repeat the experience.”

  His gaze was glacial, but the demons she saw beneath the chill sent a shiver through her body that stripped away the remaining anger.

  What had happened to him growing up? Her throat tightened with sympathy that she didn’t want to acknowledge right now. But whatever he’d gone through had obviously been painful.

  “Andrés,” she pleaded and licked her lips, deciding to try to reason with him. “I would never hurt my child. You’ve got the wrong idea about me. I swear I’m not the type of woman you think I am.”

  His stare thawed once more; his attention lowered to her mouth. “Hmm. I believe you said something similar that night in the cabana. But then you proved your words false the very next night, did you not? When you came to my suite?”

  Chloe cringed, knowing she couldn’t deny his words. She’d slept with him—a man she barely knew—without protection or concerns for the future. But he was twisting a situation that she’d seen as beautiful and spontaneous into something sordid and calculating. “Get off me,” she ground out.

  Amazingly, Andrés moved this time. When she sat up she realized the reason why. The limo had stopped.

  Thank God she was finally home. Hopefully she could beat him inside her apartment and lock the door. Though she wouldn’t put it past him to try and break it down.

  She moved across the limo and reached for the door handle, then flung it open. The sight that greeted her shocked her into stillness—stranded the air in her lungs.

  They weren’t outside her apartment building, but on the tarmac of an airfield, where a jet stood waiting in the distance.

  “What’s going on?” She turned to look at Andrés. “I thought you were taking me home?”

  His body still burning with the need to touch her, Andrés gave a slight lift of his shoulder and gestured for her to step out. “Sí, I will take you home.”

  When she didn’t move, Andrés moved around her, stepped out, and then took her arm to pull her from the limo.

  “What are you doing?” Her voice sharpened with alarm; she struggled to keep up as he guided her to the plane. “Andrés?”

  “Taking you home,” he said flatly, hoping to avoid any confrontation but knowing he was being idealistic.

  “On a plane? I live ten minutes from the restaurant.” She tugged at her arm and dug her feet into the ground. “If you think for one moment I’m getting on that plane, you’re obviously nuts.”

  Andrés stopped and turned on his heel to face her, gripping both her elbows and putting his face next to hers. “Basta. You will get on that plane, Chloe, if I have to carry you onto it,” he said resolutely. There was no room to be gentle or let her try to talk her way out of this. If he gave even an inch, he had no way of guaranteeing the safety of his child.

  She grew so pale he almost hoped she’d faint. Then he could simply scoop her up and carry her onto the plane without incident. But then she shook her head, her eyes sparking with fury. “I don’t care how much money you have. You can’t just do whatever you want.” She tried to jerk free, but he tightened his grip.

  “You know that I can, Chloe.”

  “I’ll scream.” Panic settled into her eyes now.

  “And who do you think will come to your aid? Everyone around you is employed by me,” he reminded her. “Do you really think they would go against my wishes to help you? Besides, they’ve been informed that you are reluctant to come with me but are depressed and at risk of hurting yourself.”

  “They’ll never believe that.”

  “Won’t they?”

  She stared at him for a moment, dismay still bright in her gaze. Her lips began to quiver; her expression shifting into one of helplessness. For a moment he hesitated, but then he reminded himself he was doing this for the wellbeing of his child. It had nothing to do with how he felt about Chloe. He clenched his jaw. There was very little he held for her beyond lust and anger.

  But he knew that was a lie by the way his stomach clenched. Shoving aside the possibility of anything more he might feel for her, he muttered, “Make a decision. Will I carry you, or will you walk willingly?”

  She pulled from his grasp, her mouth tight. “I’ll walk.”

  He allowed her to step past him, her steps almost wooden when she climbed the stairs to enter the fuselage of the plane.

  It was only when she was belted into the seat across from him and the plane taxied down the runway did she finally turn to look at him.

  “Why are you doing this, Andrés? What do you want from me?”

  The tension left his body now that she was safely on his plane and they were airborne. “I have already told you.”

  “You can’t be serious about marrying me,” she said with exasperation.

  “I’m quite serious.” From the moment he’d seen her again, realized how much he wanted her still, he’d concluded marriage was the most sensible solution.

  Twin flames of color flared in her cheek. “Well, I won’t do it.”

  “Fine. Then you will be my mistress,” he called her bluff and offered a casual shrug. “Either position will have you lying beneath me in my bed. It of course is your choice, Chloe. I simply thought you would prefer the idea of marital bliss.”

  “Well, I choose neither, and if you think I would ever consider sleeping with you again, you’re completely delusional.”

  Andrés gave a soft chuckle at the image she made. Her shoulders quaked and her eyes flashed fire, but even truly livid with anger, Chloe was difficult to take seriously. In her restaurant uniform, a just-off-the-farm style dress and braided hair, she was a combination of sexy and adorable.

  With the plane having leveled off, he had the urge to pull her onto his lap and kiss away the rigid
scowl marring her face. The blood in his body moved south and his amusement vanished, his smile fading. Dammit. What was wrong with him? Would he ever stop wanting her with this mindless ferocity?

  It didn’t matter. He would have her regardless. And the sooner she accepted it, the better.

  “Let me be clear, Chloe. You will be with me so I can keep an eye on both you and my child.” He unfastened his belt and came to sit in the seat next to her. Reaching up, he cupped her cheek and slid his thumb into the crease of her lips. “And if you think I will be content to spend my nights without you in my bed, then you, cariño, are the one who is delusional.”

  Her head moved in denial, even as awareness flickered in her eyes. She exhaled a ragged hot breath on the pad of his thumb. “I won’t,” she whispered.

  He didn’t reply, just lowered his head to silence any more feeble protests. She struggled to break away from his kiss, but he followed her lips with his own, piercing his tongue into her mouth and claiming her.

  Her struggles ceased when she let out a groan of frustration and leaned into him, returning the kiss heatedly. He made a murmur of triumph, unfastened her seatbelt and pulled her onto his lap.

  He’d meant to maintain control. To distance himself from a kiss that was simply to prove to her how much she wanted him. How compatible they were on this level. But tasting her, feeling the press of Chloe’s curves against his hardness, put his control on a volatile foundation.

  He blindly moved his hand up her ribcage to cup one breast, noticing immediately how much fuller it was with her pregnancy. His stomach clenched and a surprising wave of tenderness swept through him. He gentled the kiss, unable to abandon the sweetness of her mouth as he stroked her taut nipple.

  Her soft whimper of pleasure sent his blood pounding—reaffirmed that Chloe was his. And he would remind her as often as it took until she stopped denying it.

  She was drowning in sensation. Chloe returned Andrés’ kiss with fervor, knowing she should stop him. Each stroke of his thumb across her breast sent shards of pleasure straight through her body.

  It was shocking. At any moment one of his flight attendants could walk through the aisle and see them. But she was helpless to the pleasure and to the passion Andrés seemed determined to remind her they had.

  The familiar heat sank low in her belly, and she knew she was a fool to even try to deny it. Everything inside her craved this reconnection, needed the protection she knew his arms could give her, and wanted to surrender to the passion.

  When he finally lifted his mouth from hers, she let out cry of protest and actually gripped his shirt to try to stop him. Her cheeks flamed with humiliation at his knowing laugh.

  What was she doing? Trying to join the mile-high club with a man who alternately frustrated and captivated her? She pushed off his lap and fumbled to straighten her dress.

  “I think I hate you,” she muttered churlishly.

  “If that was hate, cariño, I’m curious what your definition of love is.” He chuckled, but made no effort to reach for her again.

  The heat in her cheeks grew and she knew her words had been stupid. She looked away from him and out the window instead. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Back to Spain. But then, I think you already knew that.”

  Excitement sparked inside her at having her earlier suspicions confirmed, and she didn’t bother to hide her smug smile. She wasn’t going to Spain.

  “Yes. Actually, I believe I did know. But tell me, Andrés, do you really think they’ll let me into your country without my passport?”

  “With enough money, sí, I imagine I could get you in. However, it will not be an issue seeing as we currently have your passport in our possession.”

  “You what?” she asked faintly, her bravado vanishing. “How on earth did you get my passport?”

  Andrés shrugged. “The same way I acquired the other necessary items from your apartment. I had one of my employees retrieve them.”

  Chloe fell back against the soft leather of her seat, a sense of helplessness growing. It was like some twisted game he played with her, and Andrés always managed to stay one step ahead. “Breaking and entering? You have no limits.”

  She’d thought for sure that the lack of a passport would put a halt to his crazy plans to fly her to Spain. What did he plan to do with her there? Keep her locked up? Her palms dampened and she bit her lip.

  She wanted to cry, or at least scream at him until her throat was dry. Her emotions were on a roller coaster that appeared to have no end in sight.

  It wasn’t fair. This morning she’d woken up with a renewed optimism, determined to find a way to raise her child alone. A child she already loved and hadn’t thought possible. A child Andrés was now determined to take from her.

  Chloe blinked the sudden tears from her eyes. “What kind of man are you?” she demanded raggedly, though she already knew the answer.

  His gaze raked over her, confident and possessive. “The kind who always gets what he wants.”

  Chapter 6

  Chloe woke to a swaying motion and when she opened her eyes, found herself being carried in Andrés’ arms. She blinked, trying to dispel the disorientation after having fallen asleep on the journey.

  It was warm outside, even though it appeared the sun would soon be setting. After over fifteen hours of traveling,-since the plane had stopped to refuel in New York-they’d finally landed in Spain. She’d been asleep moments after stepping into Andrés’s Rolls-Royce.

  He was so strong, carrying her effortlessly. Beneath her back she could feel the hard coil of the muscles in his arms. Even after he’d completely upset her life in the last twenty-four hours, she couldn’t stop the swell of emotion at being in his arms again. Feeling small, vulnerable, and almost cherished. Which was silly. Andrés didn’t cherish her; if anything, he cherished the idea of owning her and the baby inside her.

  She lay still in his arms so as not to tip him off that she’d awoken, and let her gaze slip around their surroundings.

  A manicured green lawn surrounded the white paved driveway he carried her upon. The breath locked in her throat when she saw the villa up ahead. Was this his home? It had the appearance of an old castle, with its grandeur and gray stone walls. It was gorgeous. Spectacular. Her lips parted on a silent sigh of wonder.

  Andrés suddenly glanced down at her. “Ah, you are awake.”

  She stiffened and muttered a husky, “Would you put me down now, please? I’d rather walk.”

  He gave a deep, sensual laugh that sent a tremor through her body. Slowly, he lowered her to the ground and then released her.

  Having spent so many hours traveling in planes and cars, Chloe’s knees immediately buckled when they hit the paved drive. In an instant, Andrés’ hands returned to her waist and she was pulled against his solid length.

  “All right?” he asked gently.

  She nodded and bit her lip, wishing she didn’t need his support. “Where are we?”

  “At my villa in the Catalonia countryside,” he murmured against her ear.

  The large wooden double doors were pushed open and a plump, older woman appeared with a wide grin. “Señor Montero, you have returned.”

  Andrés arrived next to the woman and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “Sí. Buenas noches, Rosa.”

  Chloe cast him a surprised glance, noting the warmth in his tone and the softness in his gaze. Clearly this woman had his affection.

  Switching to English, Andrés said, “Chloe, please meet Rosa, the villa’s housekeeper. I would be lost without her. She is priceless.”

  Rosa blushed and waved a hand in denial.

  “And Rosa, I’d like to introduce you to Chloe Wilkinson. She will be staying with us indefinitely.”

  “Wonderful! I will have a room prepared.”

  “That will not be necessary. She will be staying with me.”

  Chloe’s cheeks burned, but if the housekeeper was scandalized by the announcement she revealed no outwa
rd sign of it.

  Andrés urged Chloe forward and into his villa. He couldn’t help but notice the myriad of emotions flickering across her face as she took in the spacious interior. Her expression showed wonder and obvious appreciation of the tiled floors, stone walls, and high ceilings with antiqued beams.

  He’d purchased his home back in his early twenties, when he’d made his first billion dollars. And now, a decade later, it was still his most prized reflection of his success. The villa would always be the one place where he preferred to spend his time when he wasn’t traveling.

  He kept the furnishings simple yet plush, to invite comfort and relaxation but not overwhelm a guest with extravagance. It was rare, though, that he brought guests to his villa, and he again appreciated Rosa’s discretion and ability to withhold judgment.

  His heart softened at the thought of the mother figure who was his housekeeper now.

  “Come,” he said briskly to Chloe. “I will take you upstairs to our room.”

  Chloe trailed after him and grumbled, “I’d prefer my own room.”

  “I’m sure you would.” His mouth twitched as he led her up the curved staircase that led to the second floor. “But I prefer you in mine.”

  “I won’t sleep with you,” she vowed.

  “It is entirely up to you, but sleeping wasn’t what I had in mind anyway.”

  “Oh. You’re infuriating.”

  Andrés smiled briefly at her frustration. They walked down to the end of the hall on the second floor and he opened a door, gesturing for her to enter.

  She did, though with obvious reluctance. Her gaze swept around the room and he again saw the awe and appreciation in her eyes. But if she was pleased, she did not say anything.

  Instead she turned and faced him, her arms folded across her breasts. “Andrés, please, you can’t mean to keep me here.” She shook her head, her stare beseeching. “You have no reason to.”

  “But I have every reason to, cariño,” he said softly, and walked the few steps to close the distance between them. “You are carrying my child and I must ensure that he comes to no harm. With you here, I can guarantee that you have the best prenatal care available at your fingertips.”