by Jennie Lucas
“I’m not,” she bit out, her eyes flashing. “I’ve only kissed one person in my whole life—”
She cut off her words, but it was too late. He stared at her, his heart twisting violently in his chest.
“You’ve never kissed another man? Even now?” He came closer. “Even after all this time?”
She looked up at him, her eyes shooting sparks. “I loved you, Rodrigo. Do you even know what that means? No. You don’t. How could you, when you felt nothing?”
A razorblade lifted to his throat. He tried to keep his grip on reason. He ground out his words. “Why would the man propose, if he’s never even slept with you?”
Her hazel eyes were luminous in the shadows of the ballroom. “Because he thinks it’s the only way he can have me.”
For a moment, Rodrigo couldn’t breathe. Suddenly, it was as if a veil had been lifted from his eyes. He’d been right all those years he’d thought she wasn’t a good liar. She wasn’t. He could always tell on those rare occasions when she tried to lie. Her voice got strangled, her face turned red. He knew when she was speaking the truth.
And he could hear the truth in her voice when she said she’d loved him.
Had he been wrong about her all this time?
He wasn’t wrong about one thing, at least, he told himself fiercely. He wasn’t wrong about her stealing his child away.
“I want to see the baby,” he said tightly.
“Now?”
“Now.”
“Fine,” Lola said coldly. “I’ll get my coat. You can meet him. But that’s it.”
As he followed her out of the hotel ballroom, Rodrigo’s gaze slowly traced down her body. Her generous breasts were even fuller than he remembered, emphasizing her hourglass curves, her tiny waist and perfect hips. She wore no jewelry. She didn’t need jewels. Not when her eyes sparkled in her beautiful face. Not when she had that body. No man in the room could take his eyes off her—and Rodrigo was no exception.
Damn her.
His jaw tensed as he remembered the angry tremble of her voice. We’re better off without you.
It wasn’t true, he thought. He stiffened, remembering his own father. He was nothing like that bastard.
Maybe he didn’t know much about fatherhood or parenting or happy families, but he could at least give his son a name. A stable home. A good childhood.
He could give him everything he himself had never had.
His eyes fell on Lola. Whether she liked it or not, Rodrigo was the one in control now. His eyes traced the full curve of her backside, the span of her tiny waist.
And he intended to have his way. At any cost.
CHAPTER TWO
LOLA WAS IN SHOCK.
Gripping her arm, Rodrigo led her out of the ballroom and helped her collect her coat—a black faux fur—then led her out of the grand hotel. He handed his ticket to the valet, who brought his Ferrari around, gleaming sleekly in the night.
Now, it was just the two of them, alone in his car.
Lola tapped her high heel nervously in the passenger seat as he drove. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
Maybe it was all for the best that he’d found out, she tried to convince herself. She hated lying, mostly because she was so bad at it. At least now it was all in the open.
She hadn’t lied when she’d said she had powerful friends who would help her. Her two best friends were both married to billionaires, Hallie Moretti to the owner of the luxury Campania hotels, and Princess Tess Zacco di Gioreale to a Sicilian prince. Tess was also now a fashion designer in her own right. Lola had had to sneak out of Tess’s first fashion show last week in order to secretly take the evening GED test. She didn’t want her friends to know about it. Not until she knew she’d passed.
Lola hated admitting weakness of any kind. Which was why she’d never told her best friends anything about Jett’s father.
But if Rodrigo tried to take custody, she knew her friends would do anything for her—and their ruthless, adoring husbands would do anything for them.
She wouldn’t let anyone take Jett from her.
Lola exhaled, tightening her hands in her lap as she looked out at the passing lights of the city, traveling east through Manhattan. He hadn’t spoken once since she’d given him the address for her apartment in Murray Hill.
She pointed toward the nondescript apartment building. “That’s it.”
“Is there an attached garage?”
“Garage?” Her lips quirked. “There’s not even a doorman.”
With a sigh, he drove ahead until he found a parking spot on the street. Lola looked at the small parking space dubiously, but Rodrigo swerved the sports car into it with practiced ease. Opening her car door, he held out his hand.
Nervously, Lola took it. As he helped her out of the car, she tried not to notice how it felt to have his larger, stronger hand around her own.
He dropped her hand quickly and she shivered in her coat as they walked past trees with rattling brown leaves, in the heart of chilly November. She’d lived here for almost a year and liked it. It was a safe, comfortable neighborhood, not flashy but good for families, within walking distance of Grand Central Terminal. Her building was full of nice people, such as the kindly widow who occasionally watched Jett, as she was tonight.
Punching in her code to get in the door, she led him to the elevator, and then pressed the button for the fifth floor. At every moment, she was aware of him standing close beside her. They were alone, just the two of them, in this enclosed space.
She was relieved when they reached her floor. She hurried out of the elevator, then down the nondescript hallway. Unlocking her door, she went inside. Rodrigo followed her closely, not touching, like a dark shadow.
Inside, her apartment was quiet, with only a single lamp on in the main room. The furniture had all come with the apartment and, though old, was comfortable enough.
A white-haired lady sat in an overstuffed chair next to the lamp. She looked up with a smile on her lips, knitting in her hands. “Lola, you’re back early—”
The widow’s eyes went wide when she saw Rodrigo, and no wonder. For the year Lola had lived here, she’d never invited any man to this apartment. Now, in the space of a single night, there’d been two different ones: Lola had left for the charity ball with Sergei and returned with Rodrigo.
When the kindly widow had told her she needed to get out and live a little, this probably wasn’t what she’d had in mind.
“Hi, Mildred,” Lola said. “Yes, I was feeling tired.”
“Did you have a nice time?” the elderly woman said stiffly, looking at Rodrigo.
Lola never liked giving too much away. But she didn’t want her neighbor to get the wrong idea. “This is Jett’s father.”
“Oh?” Her eyes went wide. She said with a big smile, “Oh.”
“How was Jett tonight?” Lola said quickly, changing the subject.
“He was an angel. I gave him his bottle and bath. He’s been asleep for about an hour.” Gathering up her knitting, she rose to her feet, a grin on her wrinkled face as she looked between Lola and Rodrigo. “I’m sure you two have things to talk about.”
Uh-oh. Now Mildred was getting the wrong idea. “There’s no need to rush off—”
“Thank you for watching him,” Rodrigo said gravely, holding out a wad of hundred-dollar bills. The widow waved off the money.
“I’m happy to help. Jett’s a little darling. I’m just glad you’re finally here, after all this time,” she added pointedly. “A baby needs a father. Just as a woman needs a husband.”
With those firm words, the widow left.
“I definitely don’t need a husband,” Lola said, her cheeks burning.
“She thinks I abandoned you?” Rodrigo said, looking irritated.
She shrugged. “I�
��ve never spoken of you to anyone. Even my best friends don’t know who Jett’s father is.” Her lips quirked at the corners. “I think they’re under the impression that you’re either married, abusive or a total alcoholic.”
He glowered at her silently, his jaw tight.
Lola cleared her throat. “But you wanted to see Jett.”
Hanging up her coat, she walked into the small apartment’s only bedroom, motioning for him to follow.
A beam of moonlight pooled from the bedroom window to a spot between the bed and the crib wedged against the wall. Going to the crib, Lola looked down at her precious son. The four-month-old was sleeping peacefully, his chubby arms flung up over his head. A swell of love went through her.
“This is Jett,” she whispered.
Rodrigo came up beside her, resting his powerful hands on the edge of the crib. He looked down at their sleeping baby. Lola’s heart lifted to her throat as she looked between them.
Jett looked exactly like his father. She’d never realized it before, because she hadn’t wanted to see it. But they had the same slight curl in their dark hair, the same black Spanish eyes. The baby yawned, showing a single dimple just like his father’s. His dark lashes blinked sleepily.
The powerful media tycoon said in wonder, “He’s so tiny.”
“For now.” A smile lifted her lips as she looked at him. “Someday he’ll be as big as you.”
For a long moment, they stood together, looking down at their son. She was aware of Rodrigo’s hand just inches from hers. She could almost feel the warmth from his skin.
Suddenly, she yearned to tell him everything. To share things she’d never told even Hallie and Tess. Her friends thought Lola was so tough, but the truth was, she’d been scared, coming to New York alone after their breakup. She’d chosen it as her new home in a desperate, hopeless yearning to be closer to her little sisters, the only family she had left. Then she’d been too scared to contact them.
She’d thought of Rodrigo so many times during her pregnancy. When she’d gotten her first ultrasound. When she’d learned she was having a boy. When she’d gone into labor. And every day before, and since.
But she hadn’t contacted him. Because she’d known the man she wanted—the man she’d loved—didn’t exist. And in his place, with the same gorgeous, devastating body and heartbreaking dark eyes, was a man who could destroy her.
Now, Rodrigo lifted his gaze to hers. For a moment, she held her breath. Then his expression shuttered, his face turning cold.
“You should have told me.”
“I couldn’t,” she whispered.
“I’m his father.”
The baby stirred at Rodrigo’s low, harsh voice. Alarmed, she put her finger to her lips and drew him out of the bedroom. Closing the bedroom door softly behind her, she whirled, glaring at him.
“You want to be a father? Then you should know the first rule of parenting is Don’t wake the baby!”
He looked around the modest apartment. “I thought you said you got him a nice apartment.”
“It’s a wonderful place, you jerk!”
“You could have asked to stay at my loft in SoHo. I’m hardly ever there.”
It was so pointlessly cruel, Lola sucked in her breath.
“You tossed me out of your house. You said I disgusted you and you never wanted to see me again! You think I would ever ask you for help after that? I’d die first!”
Her eyes were stinging. She blinked hard and fast. She wouldn’t let herself cry. Only weak people, or children, cried in public and she hadn’t been either for a long time.
Rodrigo’s expression changed. He took a step toward her in the small apartment, his face half hidden by shadow.
“You don’t need to ask for my help, or anyone else’s, ever again.” His voice was low. “Because if the paternity test proves he’s my son, I’m going to marry you.”
A rush went through her. A thrill of terror—or was it joy?
“What?” she whispered numbly.
“For his sake.” His dark eyes burned through her. “You will be mine.”
* * *
Lola’s hazel eyes were astonished. As well they should be.
After three broken engagements, Rodrigo had never planned to propose again to anyone. For any reason. His youthful dreams of love and family and home were just that—dreams.
But looking at his sleeping son, he’d felt a hard shift in his soul that shocked him. Looking down at the baby’s face, so much like his own, he’d remembered his own lonely childhood. And he’d vowed, to the depths of his soul, that his son would never feel like Rodrigo had once felt.
Jett would never believe his father didn’t love him. He’d never feel like a burden, unwanted and unloved, as his parents left him in the care of nannies and neglected him for their own selfish romantic pursuits. His son would have a stable home. His parents would raise him together. There would be no instability in their family life, no revolving door of new lovers and spouses. They would be a family. With the same last name.
Lola might hate Rodrigo now, but she loved their son. That was clear in everything she’d done, even taking the million-dollar check that must have hurt her pride. But she’d done it, because she’d feared Rodrigo might try to take the baby from her.
She’d chosen custody of their son over the vast fortune Rodrigo could have offered her.
She’d made a mistake, taking the child from him. But he’d also made a mistake, believing the very worst of her.
For Jett’s sake, he would try to forgive. They would start fresh. He would accept his responsibility to his son. Lola would do the same.
Or would she?
“Marry you?” She breathed, her eyes wide. “You’re crazy.”
“Our son deserves a stable home. Surely you can see that.”
Lola’s forehead furrowed. “He has one! With me!”
He said stiffly, “I’m willing to forgive you for stealing him from me—”
“I didn’t steal him! I was protecting him!”
“But you have to realize that everything has changed now.”
Her beautiful face looked numb. “It doesn’t mean we have to marry. I know how you feel about marriage.” She took a deep breath. “After all your fiancées cheated on you...”
Rodrigo stiffened, wondering how she’d heard. He certainly hadn’t spoken about it over the years. But some people did know. His exes. Marnie. And gossip had a way of spreading, especially in his industry.
“This is different,” he said coldly. “We’re not in love.”
She didn’t look encouraged by this statement. Shaking her head, she lifted her chin stubbornly. “We can set up some kind of visitation schedule.”
“Are you serious?” He raised his eyebrows. “Shuttling our baby from place to place, coast to coast? Always separated from one parent? Never really sure of where his home is? No.”
“It doesn’t have to be like that. Lots of healthy, happy children have parents who aren’t married—”
“Not my son.”
She glared at him. “Why marriage?”
Rodrigo couldn’t explain to her what his childhood had been like. He’d never fully told anyone, not even the three women he’d claimed to love during his brief engagements long ago. He said shortly, “Is it so strange? I want us both to be there for our son. Every day. And for him to feel safe and loved.”
“And you think he doesn’t feel loved now?” she said indignantly.
“I know you love him, Lola. I can see it in everything you’ve done.” She relaxed slightly, until he added, “Which is the reason you’ll marry me.”
She scowled. “I’m not marrying someone I don’t love.”
Rodrigo drew closer, looking down at her in the small apartment. “You used to love me. Once.”
“I learne
d my lesson, didn’t I?”
“Fine. You don’t need to love me.” His lips curled. “In fact, I’d prefer it if you don’t. It keeps things simpler. But you will marry me, Lola. Soon.” Straightening the cuffs of his tuxedo jacket, he said, “Sleep on it. Once you’ve calmed down, you’ll see I’m right.”
“I won’t!”
Rodrigo looked down at her in the soft glow of the lamplight. His voice was low. “This is a dangerous world. Much can happen. Accidents. Illness. People can die.”
“Are you threatening me?” She gasped.
“What? No!” Jolted, he clawed his hand roughly through his dark hair. “I’m saying a child needs as much protection, as much security and love, as he can get. My parents died, Lola. One, then the other. What happened to yours?”
The blood drained from her face. She’d always refused to speak of her past, but now he knew his suspicions were right.
“You’re an orphan,” he guessed. Biting her lip, she looked away. “So our child already has a mark against him, with no grandparents to love him.” He set his jaw. “I’m an only child. So no uncles or aunts.”
Looking away, she muttered, “I have two sisters.”
His eyebrows raised in surprise. “You do?”
Lola stared at the floor. “I haven’t seen them for a long time.”
Rodrigo sensed some pain there, but he didn’t want to ask. He just pressed his advantage. “So already, our baby is more vulnerable, with no extended family. Don’t you want him to have a father? Think of what I can give him. What I can give both of you.”
She stiffened. “I don’t need more money—”
“Not just money. My name. My time. My protection. My love.”
She froze. “Your love.”
“Yes. A father’s love.” He set his jaw. “Jett needs me as much as he needs you, Lola. I want to be there for him, to help raise him, to teach him how to be a man. Together, you and I can give him a better childhood than we had. Either of us.”
He saw by her expression that his shot hit home. She suddenly looked uncertain, her eyes luminous in the shadowy light.