Pregnant, she fled...

But she’ll be the Spaniard’s bride!

Lola Price didn’t dare tell Rodrigo Cabrera she was pregnant, after he spurned her. But now that he’s discovered her secret, he’s determined his child will take his name! While their mutual desire in the marriage bed is undeniable, Rodrigo keeps himself at a distance. Yet fiery Lola won’t be pushed away again. She’ll show Rodrigo that their son and their relationship are worth fighting for!

Indulge in this dramatic secret-baby story!

USA TODAY bestselling author JENNIE LUCAS’s parents owned a bookstore, so she grew up surrounded by books, dreaming about faraway lands. A fourth-generation Westerner, she went East at sixteen to boarding school on a scholarship, wandered the world, got married, then finally worked her way through college before happily returning to her hometown. A 2010 RITA® Award finalist and 2005 Golden Heart® Award winner, she lives in Idaho with her husband and children.

Also by Jennie Lucas

The Sheikh’s Last Seduction

Uncovering Her Nine Month Secret

Nine Months to Redeem Him

A Ring for Vincenzo’s Heir

Baby of His Revenge

The Consequence of His Vengeance

Carrying the Spaniard’s Child

Claiming His Nine-Month Consequence

The Secret the Italian Claims

The Heir the Prince Secures

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

The Baby the Billionaire Demands

Jennie Lucas

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07272-4

THE BABY THE BILLIONAIRE DEMANDS

© 2018 Jennie Lucas

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dedication

To my wonderful editor, Nicola Caws.

I never could have written this trilogy without you.

Dear Reader,

Which is more important—love or money?

After a difficult childhood, Lola Price knows the answer: Money. Having lost her family to tragedy and poverty, she has vowed that now she’s grown up she’ll have so much money she’ll never feel helpless again.

At twenty-four, Lola falls in love with her boss, Spanish media mogul Rodrigo Cabrera. After a hot affair she’s thrilled to discover she’s pregnant—until Rodrigo finds out about her shocking past and coldly tosses her from his house

Heartbroken, Lola flees to New York without telling him about the baby. As much as he now despises her, she’s afraid the ruthless billionaire might try to take her child away.

What will happen when Rodrigo finally learns her secret?

Which will triumph—love or money?

This is the final book in a trilogy about three friends. Hallie’s story was The Secret the Italian Claims. Tess’s was The Heir the Prince Secures. I’ve loved writing these stories about three vibrant, different women and their fiercely powerful men. I hope you love them too.

With warmest wishes,

Jennie

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Dear Reader

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

MONEY MEANT EVERYTHING to Lola Price.

Money was the difference between happiness and grief. Between joy and tragedy. She’d learned it at five years old, and every day since.

Growing up in a trailer on the edge of the California desert, in a dusty town where jobs were scarce, she’d seen her mother’s daily struggles to pay the bills after Lola’s father died. Her mother eventually remarried, but it only made things worse.

By the time she was eighteen, Lola had learned that there was only one way to protect the people you loved. One way to keep them safe and close—and alive.

You had to be rich.

So she’d dropped out of high school and moved to Los Angeles. Desperate to save what was left of her family—and without any talent or even a high school diploma—she’d hoped to instantly become a movie star, but her acting career never got off the ground. Without money, she’d lost everything.

Now she had a four-month-old son. And nearly a million dollars. Lola took a deep breath. No one would ever take her family from her again.

Sergei Morozov’s booming voice brought her back to the charity ball, where he’d been swaying with her on the dance floor. “Can I kiss you, Lolitchka?”

“What?” Startled, Lola looked up at him. “Kiss me?”

“Yes. When?”

“Um...never?”

The Russian tycoon winced. Burly and in his mid-fifties, with gray hair on his temples and a strong accent, he was CEO of a large Wall Street firm. He’d also been, until four months ago, her employer. “When you agreed to be my date tonight, I thought...”

“I’m sorry. I don’t feel that way about you.” Around them, couples danced in the gilded hotel ballroom to the orchestra’s elegant music. The children’s charity ball was the social occasion of November in New York. She was just surprised her two best friends, Hallie and Tess, both newly married to billionaires, weren’t here. They loved fancy events like this.

But Lola didn’t see them. As she danced with her former boss—keeping an old-fashioned, almost Victorian distance between them—she saw dark-haired men everywhere in sleek, sophisticated tuxedos who reminded her of another previous boss, Rodrigo Cabrera. The Spanish media tycoon who’d coldly given her a million-dollar check, then tossed her out of his beach house, secretly pregnant and brokenhearted.

Sergei cleared his throat. “If you just need a little more time...”

“That’s not it.” She looked down at the marble ballroom floor. She never should have agreed to a date, she thought. She’d been swayed by her neighbor, a widow who occasionally babysat her son, who’d told Lola she ‘needed to get out and live.’ That, plus the weddings of Lola’s two best friends in rapid succession, had made her feel her own loneliness. When Sergei Morozov had invited her out, she’d convinced herself it might be a healthy step forward, after a hard, lonely year.

Now she wished she’d just stayed at home.

“Some man broke your heart,” he growled. “He abandoned you and your son.”

Lola looked up in astonishment. She’d never spoken about Rodrigo to anyone, not even her best friends. “I never said he abandoned me—”

“You had pregnancy alone. Had birth alone. No man.” His big hands tightened against her back. “Forget the idea of a date. Maybe I just marry you, eh?”

She sucked in her breath. “Marry?”

The burly man looked down at her. “I have wanted you for a long time, Lola,” he said softly. “If marriage is your price, I am willing to pay.”

Lola stared up at him in shock.

Marry him?

Her stomach looped like a roller-coaster.

Sergei Morozov wasn’t a bad man. She’d worked as his secretary throughout her pregnancy. He was rich, arrogant, but not cruel. When she was eighteen, she would have jumped at the chance to marry a man like that.

Too bad for him that Lola was now twenty-five, with a pocketful of money and a scarred, bitter heart.

“I’m flattered, truly,” she said awkwardly, “but—”

“Marry me, zvezda moya. I will cover you with jewels. I will—”

“I’d like to cut in.”

Lola’s heart dropped as she heard another man’s voice, low and dangerous behind her. A voice she knew, though she hadn’t heard it in over a year. A voice she’d never forget.

Slowly, she turned.

Rodrigo Cabrera stood beside her on the dance floor, wearing a sleek tuxedo over his muscular, powerful body.

Dark-haired, dark-eyed, with chiseled cheekbones and a five o’clock shadow along the hard, sharp edge of his jaw, he was even more handsome than she remembered. Power, dark and dangerous and sexy, echoed off him like shock waves.

“Rodrigo?” she breathed.

“Lola.” His cruel, sensual lips curved as he looked down at her. “It’s been a long time.”

Unwilling images went through her of the days and nights of their brief affair. The pleasure. The joy. The laughter. The certainty in Lola that for the first time since she could remember, she was no longer alone...

Now, pain twisted through her, pain she was careful not to reveal on her face. “What are you doing here?”

“Cutting in.” He moved between her and Sergei with almost feline grace. He glanced at the Russian tycoon with casual amusement. “If you don’t mind.”

Sergei scowled. “Of course I mind—”

“It’s all right, Sergei.” Lola put her hand unsteadily on his arm. “I’ll see you shortly.”

Sergei set his jaw. “Once the dance is done, I’ll be back.”

Rodrigo’s eyes flicked to her. “As the lady pleases.”

After Sergei’s grudging departure, the two of them looked at each other.

“So you’re living in New York now,” Rodrigo said coldly.

“Are you here on business?”

He bared his teeth into a smile. “Is there any other reason?”

In spite of everything, Lola’s heart was in her throat as she looked up at him. All the other people in the ballroom, all the laughter and music, faded away.

Slowly, Rodrigo pulled her into his arms. She breathed in his scent, of woodsy musk and soap and something uniquely him. She tried to tell herself she felt nothing, but her knees trembled, and she was glad he was supporting her in the dance.

He glanced back at Sergei, now glowering at them from the edge of the dance floor. “So he wants to marry you.”

“Not everyone hates marriage like you do,” she said unwillingly.

His lips quirked. “Another millionaire falls at your feet.”

“Not everyone hates me like you do.”

“I don’t hate you, Lola.” His voice was low.

She tilted her head back to look at him beneath her lashes. “You don’t?”

“I despise you. That’s different.” His dark eyes gleamed. “You must have spent the million dollars I gave you if you’re looking for a new sugar daddy. Do you intend to say yes? Are congratulations in order?”

Lola narrowed her eyes. She wondered what Rodrigo would say if he knew the real reason she’d taken his payoff money: because she’d found out she was pregnant.

Money meant more to her than pride. It meant safety. Her baby must never know, as Lola once had, how it felt to go hungry. He must never see his mother cry when she couldn’t pay the bills, or be mocked for wearing clothes to school that were too small, or harassed by teachers for falling asleep in class, because he’d spent another night taking care of younger siblings when his mother had the night shift.

And most of all: Jett must never know how it felt to lose his family.

Taking Rodrigo’s money meant no one would be able to take her baby away from her.

No one, that was, except Rodrigo.

She swallowed, her hands tightening on the shoulders of his tuxedo jacket as they danced. A father had rights. And although she still had most of the million dollars that he’d given her, she knew he had billions more. Enough to take whatever he wanted. Even Jett. And that made her afraid.

Because she’d been his secretary once. For over two years before they’d become lovers. She knew how ruthless the Spanish media mogul could be. How he could turn on people savagely if they failed him.

Rodrigo had good reason to believe the worst of her. Why wouldn’t he, after what he’d learned about her past?

But he was in New York on business. He often came here. He even owned a house in SoHo. But they traveled in different circles now. He couldn’t know about Jett.

If he did...

No. He must never know.

Rodrigo’s expression hardened. “Well? Do you intend to marry him?”

“I haven’t decided,” she mumbled.

His arms tightened around her waist. “Is that a lie?”

Lola had no intention of going on another date with Sergei, let alone marrying him. But she wasn’t going to tell him that. She looked up. “Why do you care?”

His dark eyes glinted. “I don’t. I’m just wondering if I should warn him about the kind of woman you really are.”

She stiffened. “What kind is that?”

“You’re very beautiful, Lola.” Rodrigo’s hot gaze traced slowly over her modest, long-sleeved black knit dress. As they danced to the music, he cupped her cheek. “Very.”

Electricity ripped through her body from where he’d touched her. Sparks raced down her spine, shouting, Yes, yes. This was her man, and she’d missed him, oh, how she’d missed him. She’d dreamed of him unwillingly every night from the moment he’d taken her virginity and made her feel—

Rodrigo dropped his hand. “But you’re ugly on the inside. You’ll do anything for money. Anything? Anyone.”

His cruel words were like a blow.

With a deep breath, she cut off the connection between her heart and her brain. She didn’t care if he insulted her, she told herself. She just had to get through this song. Then he’d leave. And she’d make sure she never saw Rodrigo Cabrera again, or put Jett at risk of being taken from her.

Lola tilted her head, looking at him sardonically. “Ah. There’s your famous charm. If you think I’m so horrible, why don’t you go dance with someone else?”

“Why? Are you so eager to be back in your lover’s arms?”

As if she’d ever let Sergei caress her! As the song finally drew to a close, she stopped dancing, nearly trembling with relief. “Okay, song’s over. Not that this wasn’t fun, but—well, it wasn’t. Go find some other woman to torture.”

Rodrigo stopped, looking down at her on the dance floor.

“And that’s all you have to say to me?” he said softly. “After a year?”

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, in spite of her overwhelming fear, the truth rose guiltily to her throat. Once, they’d been so close; once, she’d told him everything.

No. She hadn’t told him everything. And that had been what had destroyed them.

A hulking shadow appeared beside her. “Song is over,” Sergei said sullenly. “I’m taking her back.”

Lola looked at the Russian with gratitude, then glanced one last time at the Spaniard she’d once loved with all her heart. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“I guess so,” Rodrigo said, his dark eyes unreadable. He turned away.

The orchestra started a new song, and couples resumed swirling around them on the dance floor. Lola turned to Sergei. “I’m tired,” she choked out. “Will you please take me home?”

“Konyechna.” Sergei’s voice was soothing. “I’m sure you miss your baby.”

Lola sucked in her breath, praying Rodrigo hadn’t heard. No such luck. As if in slow motion, he turned back to her.

“Baby?”

“Nothing to do with you.” But her voice was strained, even to her own ears. She had to get out of here—fast. Tossing her blond hair as if she didn’t have a care in the world, she turned back to Sergei. “Let’s go...”

But Rodrigo blocked her path. “How old is the baby?”

“None of your business.”

As she tried to walk past him, Rodrigo grabbed her wrist. His black eyes glittered. “How old, damn you?”

“It doesn’t matter!” She struggled, desperately trying to hide her fear. “He’s not yours!”

But as Lola croaked out the lie, her cheeks went red-hot. There was a reason she’d been such a washout as an actress. She was the worst liar in the world.

Searching her gaze, Rodrigo’s eyes suddenly widened. Dropping her wrist, he staggered back.

He knew. She hadn’t told him, but he still knew.

The ballroom started spinning around her. She tried to think of some way to get out of this. But her brain was frozen.

“The baby’s mine,” Rodrigo said in a low voice. “Isn’t it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. She pointed at Sergei. “He’s the father.”

She desperately hoped the Russian tycoon would play along. But Sergei just looked bewildered.

Rodrigo swept him with a dismissive glance, then faced Lola. His cold expression turned to fire as his dark eyes glittered in the light of the ballroom.

“Tell me the truth,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. He gripped her shoulder. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Let me go,” she whispered, her throat closing.

All her fears were crashing around her like bricks. Lola tried to lift her chin, to glare at him, to defy him. Most of all, she tried to think of a good lie.

But looking up at Rodrigo’s hard, handsome face, she knew it would be no good. When it came to him, her lies always betrayed her.

“Tell me, Lola,” he demanded mercilessly.

Heart pounding, she whispered, “Yes. You’re the father.”

* * *

A baby.

Rodrigo staggered back.

She’d had his baby.

The shock of that idea swirled in his brain, leaving him staring down at Lola in confusion.

From the moment Rodrigo had arrived tonight at the charity ball, coming alone as he couldn’t be bothered to choose a date, he’d been the center of attention on the red carpet, not just from paparazzi, but from the other guests. As a wealthy, powerful billionaire, he could build anyone’s movie career instantly across his entertainment empire. Rodrigo was eagerly greeted by famous actors and directors and beautiful women who all wanted a piece of him.

He barely paid attention. He was used to it; bored by it. He didn’t fool himself that these women were after anything but his body, his money or his power. They weren’t interested in him personally.

As a younger man, he’d relished the notice he received from beautiful women. But he’d been desperate then to find love, to get married, to have a home. How else to explain why he’d proposed to three different women in his younger years?

Remembering that disgusted him now. Humiliated him.

Love was for the naive. Only fools believed in a communion of souls. Men, as a rule, weren’t supposed to yearn for such things.

But he once had. Stupidly.

Rodrigo was monogamous by nature. That was his darkest secret. He’d been the only child of wealthy, neglectful parents. Growing up, he’d dreamed of having a loving family and home. Even after he’d first taken over his father’s small film studio in Madrid, he’d wanted some version of the fairy tales he manufactured for a living.

Ridiculous to think of it now. Because he’d swiftly learned his lesson. All three fiancées had cheated on him before the wedding date.

He’d never proposed to Lola Price, of course. He’d never even let himself love her during their brief affair. He was no longer that stupid, or that young, to believe in dreams of love and forever.

But he’d known her. Trusted her. She’d been his assistant for years before she’d been his lover. Working together, day in and day out, he’d been impressed by her determination, intelligence and drive. He’d respected her. Admired her.

But he hadn’t touched her, in spite of her incredible beauty. He’d valued her far too much as his assistant to wreck everything for a brief affair, which was all it could surely be.

Until, one night in Mexico City, after they’d closed a deal, they’d celebrated with too much tequila at a famous restaurant. Then Lola had suddenly leaned over the table and kissed him.

It had been a revelation. An explosion.

They’d had a few incredible months, working together by day, making love by night. It had been—perfect.

Then Rodrigo had learned who Lola really was, deep down. What she’d done when she was eighteen. And that she’d been playing him all along. She’d claimed to love him. But all she’d ever wanted was his money.

He’d been stupidly blind. That was what hurt his pride the most. He’d let himself believe she actually cared. He would never forgive her for that. Or himself...

For the last year, he’d avoided thinking about her. He’d tried to forget. He’d told himself that he had.

Then he’d seen her on the dance floor tonight, in the arms of another man.

Lola.

She’d looked even more dazzling than he remembered, her hazel eyes huge in her beautiful face, her hips swaying in a slinky dress that fit her slender, curvaceous body like a glove. For a moment, when he first saw her, Rodrigo’s heart had twisted.

Then he’d remembered how she’d deceived him, and taken the million-dollar check he’d thrown in her face in his fury. Cold rage had filled every space in his heart, leaving no room for any other emotion.

Lola Price had no shame. She was a liar, a deceitful gold digger. But he’d never imagined that even she could try something like hiding a pregnancy. Stealing his child away.

Rodrigo’s arms tightened as he looked down at her.

She’d lost the tan she’d had in California. Her skin was pale, and she was dressed in head-to-toe black, like a true New Yorker. The knit dress had long sleeves, a high neckline and a hem to the floor. The only skin showing was her face and her hands.

It shouldn’t have been sexy, but it was.

Everywhere he looked, Rodrigo saw something to tempt him, from the shocking beauty of her perfect face, with her high cheekbones, changeable hazel eyes and bee-stung lips, to her long, elegant throat. Even her hands drew him, with their graceful tapering fingers.

As his assistant, Lola had always been well-groomed and professional, as befitted the powerful executive assistant of an entertainment mogul. Now, he saw her beauty and wondered if she was trying to lure the burly, gray-haired Russian scowling beside her. Who was he? Her lover? Her soon-to-be husband?

The thought made him sick.

As the CEO of Cabrera Media Group, an international entertainment conglomerate, Rodrigo was surrounded by beautiful women on a regular basis. His companies produced films and TV series around the world. He owned studios and networks and was about to launch a new streaming media company in South America. He should have been immune to Lola Price’s charms.

But he wasn’t. He still wanted her. Now more than ever. Maybe that was why, for the last year, he hadn’t been able to touch another woman.

After a year of hot, frustrated need, no wonder his whole body felt the effect of being close to Lola now. Even as he learned of her latest betrayal.

Damn her.

“You were pregnant when you left California,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “And you never told me.”

The sparkling lights of the chandeliers, soaring high above in the hotel ballroom, seemed to leave shadows across her beautiful face as couples continued to move around them on the dance floor.

Only the three of them did not move. The burly Russian turned to Lola in shock. “This is your baby’s father? This man?”

She looked pale. “I think you should go, Sergei.”

The man glanced uncomfortably toward Rodrigo. “If you would like me to stay, Lolitchka, if you need help—”

“No, thank you,” she whispered. “It’s better I do this alone.”

“You heard what she said,” Rodrigo bit out. “Get the hell away from her.”

The older man’s eyes narrowed, but he just turned to kiss Lola’s cheek. “If you need me, I am always here.”

The grateful look she threw Sergei made Rodrigo suddenly want to bash his face in. His hands tightened into fists at his sides until the other man left.

Taking Lola’s hand, Rodrigo grimly pulled her away from the crowds. He tried not to notice how soft her palm felt against his. He tried not to feel the electricity that pulsed through his body at that innocent touch.

In a darkened, empty corner of the ballroom, he turned to face her accusingly. “How could you not tell me?”

Lola wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Because I don’t need anything from you. I don’t want anything.”

I want you, Rodrigo. The memory went through him of the trembling ecstasy of her voice, long ago. And I... I love you.

As he looked down at her beautiful face, shadowed by the chandelier’s light, he felt a rush of unwilling emotion as he remembered when she’d first spoken those words.

Two months into their affair, after closing a big business deal in Los Angeles, they’d returned to his beach house in triumph. Drinking wine, they’d lingered at midnight alone on his private beach, around a small bonfire he’d built from driftwood as the moonlight floated down. He could still smell the salt of the sea and vanilla fragrance of her hair as the hot Santa Ana winds blew against their overheated skin. He could hear the crackling of the fire and the roar of the waves when Lola had told him, her voice breathless and trembling, that she loved him.

For an answer, he’d kissed her, drawing her down against the soft blanket on the sand. In that moment, he’d been half out of his mind. In that moment, he’d almost wanted to love her back—

But Rodrigo didn’t want to think of that, or the intensity of the grief and betrayal he’d felt a month later, when he’d learned the truth about her past from Marnie, his longest-serving, most loyal employee.

Sir, Marnie had said sadly. Sir, there’s something you should know about Lola Price—

New anger went through him, pouring over his grief and regret. But even that could not block out his biggest emotion.

Desire.

Even now, with his heart pounding with rage, he wanted her. His hands shook with the effort of not grabbing her and wrenching her into his arms for a kiss. His blood was boiling with the need to take her. To push her against the wall—to kiss her—to make her want him as badly as he wanted her, and make her regret—

Taking a deep breath, Rodrigo narrowed his eyes. “How could you keep my child secret? I never thought even you could sink so low.”

Lola’s cheeks turned white, then red. “I was going to tell you I was pregnant the night you threw me out. But you stopped me—remember?”

Rodrigo did remember that awful night, how she’d shown up at his beach house with joy in her eyes.

I have something to tell you—

Me first, he’d said flatly. I saw the pictures. I know what you did. He’d looked over her scornfully. I know who you are.

Lola’s beautiful face had fallen, her expression suddenly tortured and guilty. Uncharacteristically for her, she hadn’t tried to argue or fight. She’d just accepted his accusations with slumped shoulders. Until, finally, trying to get a reaction out of her, he’d written out the million-dollar check and tossed it in her face.

That’s what you’ve wanted, isn’t it? You were tired of being my assistant and hoped to upgrade your position to be my mistress or, better yet, wife! If money is what you want, here—take it!

Rodrigo had waited, heart pounding, for her to explain. He’d waited for her to throw the check back in his face. He could have forgiven her past. No one was perfect. Certainly he was not. What he couldn’t forgive was her deliberately playing him for a fool, convincing him that she loved him, when all along she’d only had her eye on his wallet.

With a bowed head, she’d looked down at the million-dollar check. Then she’d crushed it in her hand, and left the beach house without a word. And he’d known his worst fears about her were true.

“You lied to me,” Rodrigo said coldly now. “You moved three thousand miles away to keep your pregnancy a secret.”

“You clearly didn’t care about me.” Her hazel eyes glittered. “So why would I think you’d care about our child?”

“It wasn’t for the baby’s sake. You did it to punish me.”

Lola lifted her chin. The cold rage in her expression matched his own.

“You fired me. Tossed me out of your house. Told me you never wanted to see me again. You called me names and threw a check in my face. Why would I ever tell you I was pregnant?”

“So you stole my child away from me. Like a thief in the night.”

She lifted her eyes furiously. “You made it clear you hated me. Why would I want to give you rights over my baby?”

Rodrigo refused to concede her the slightest bit of sympathy. Lola was a greedy, coldhearted gold digger. Hadn’t she proved that, when she’d taken the check?

But she’d taken the check to provide for their child.

Suddenly, he sucked in his breath.

She’d known she was pregnant when she left. If she’d really been a gold digger, she wouldn’t have simply taken his money and disappeared from California. No.

She would have told him about the pregnancy immediately, knowing that, as mother to Rodrigo’s only child, she could have gotten far, far more than a mere million dollars.

But she hadn’t.

Had he been...wrong about her?

He pushed down the emotion rising in his heart. No. He couldn’t believe that. He clenched his jaw.

“So you moved to New York and replaced me with another rich man.”

Lola shook her head. “Sergei was just my boss. I worked for him during my pregnancy, until the baby was born.”

He frowned. “You worked?”

“As his secretary.”

He wasn’t surprised Lola had easily found a new job. She’d been a stellar assistant, and after their breakup, when he’d fired her, he’d still directed his HR staff to give her the glowing reference her work deserved. But, he didn’t understand. “Why would you work? You had my check.”

She lifted her chin. “I’ve kept that money in reserve to provide for the baby. I got us a nice apartment, and have stayed home since he was born, to take care of him. And—” she mumbled, looking away “—I studied for my GED.”

Rodrigo stared at her in shock. “Your what?”

Lola looked at him. “It means General Equivalency Diploma—”

“I know what it means,” he snapped at her. “But why would you need one?”

“Employers expect at least a high school diploma these days, if not a college degree. I was tired of feeling bad about it. So I studied for the test.” She bit her lip. “I took it last week. I haven’t heard yet if I passed.”

“You’re worrying about your résumé?” Jealousy pulsed through him, unwelcome and unreasonable. “That Russian was offering to marry you and cover you with diamonds.”

Lola’s lips lifted bitterly. “I loved one rich man, once.” Her voice was acid. “That experience was enough for a lifetime. My son and I are better off alone.”

Rodrigo’s world was spinning. “Son? What’s his name?”

“Jett. Jett Price.”

He blinked. “You called him what?”

“What’s wrong with it?” she said defensively.

“It sounds like something that might get mentioned in a stock report from Boeing or Airbus. Jet price?”

“No one will think of it that way!”

“His surname should be Cabrera.”

She lifted her chin defiantly. “He’s fine as he is.”

“I want a paternity test. And then—”

“Then what?”

“Then we’ll see,” he said softly.

Lola looked at him for a long moment. Most of the people in his world feared him, and with good reason. He’d built his media empire by being ruthless and unpredictable. Looking down at her, he half expected to see fear. He should have known better.

“We’re better off without you.” Her eyes were defiant. “I won’t let you take my child from me, Rodrigo.”

“And you think you can fight me?” he said softly. “You know what I’m capable of.”

“Yes.” Lola lifted her chin. “And you know me.”

“What does that mean?”

“If you try to take my son from me, you’ll regret it.”

He looked at her incredulously. “You’re threatening me?”

She lifted an eyebrow. “It’s a promise.”

“And how would you fight me?”

“I’ve made some powerful friends.”

Her eyes were cold. Rodrigo thought of her date. Sergei was obviously wealthy, and he’d proposed marriage. Was that the powerful friend she meant?

She’d said she was his secretary. That she’d refused his proposal. But for all he knew, they were lovers. The image came to him of her naked in the man’s arms. The thought made him sick.

Rodrigo had been Lola’s first lover. Of that, there could be no doubt. When they’d first made love, and he’d discovered her virginity, he’d been shocked, exhilarated, intoxicated with pride. Lola, so beautiful and desirable, had somehow still been a virgin at twenty-four.

But she might well have taken lovers since then. Any man would want her. While Rodrigo had been celibate as a monk.

“You and that Russian,” he said with deliberate carelessness, “you are lovers, of course.”

Her lips twisted. “I’ve never even let him kiss me.”

He stared at her. No. It couldn’t be true. Blinking hard, Rodrigo regained his reason. All the time she’d worked for him, he’d thought she was a terrible liar. But he must have been mistaken. Of course she was sleeping with the other man. Why else would he propose? What a little actress she was. Really, he should hire her for his next prestige film. “Liar.”

“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 learned 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.

Turning away, Rodrigo stopped at the door.

“My son will have my name, Lola. And so will you. This marriage will happen. Accept it.” He gave her a hard smile. “Sleep well tonight. Because tomorrow, you’re both coming home with me.”

* * *

Rodrigo arrived the next day, as promised, bright and early. But his men came much sooner than that.

Lola peeked out the window again. Eight stories below, she still saw the black SUV parked across the street. It had arrived last night, thirty minutes after Rodrigo had left.

For all his fine words about marriage and family and love, she thought bitterly, he didn’t trust her. He’d sent his henchmen to watch her apartment building to make sure she didn’t try to flee with the baby.

They weren’t even married yet, but he was already treating her like a prisoner.

But could she totally blame him? a small voice said inside her. She’d left California and kept their baby a secret for a year.

Shut up, she told that voice angrily.

But she’d finally come to the reluctant conclusion that Rodrigo was right. Their baby needed two parents, his whole family. Lola’s own father had died when she was five, and she’d always felt that loss, somewhere in the back of her mind. In some ways, losing her father was the start of losing everything, because that was when her mom had had to go back to work. She’d earned only a fraction of what her father had, so they’d had to move out of their sunny three-bedroom house and into the trailer.

Now, Lola looked back at her small furnished apartment. She’d packed their meager possessions into three suitcases, leaving the dishware and odds and ends for the next tenant. She and Jett had been happy here, she thought wistfully.

Then she shook her head with a snort, remembering all the nights she’d cried herself to sleep over the last year. It was why she hadn’t invited Hallie to stay here, when her friend had briefly needed a place to stay last summer. Lola couldn’t bear to let anyone see her cry. Well, except Jett, but only because he’d cried even more.

Lola was supposed to be the strong one, the one her friends came to for advice and support, not the one who needed help. She’d pushed Hallie and Tess to get the financial support their babies deserved. She’d pushed them to get their lives together. And look at those two now—happy, in love, joyful. She’d helped them get there. Speaking the brutal truth with love, Lola called it, though her friends sometimes grumbled that her words could be more brutal than loving.

But they didn’t know how scared Lola felt on the inside. She’d worked through her pregnancy because she was afraid to spend the money Rodrigo had thrown at her. Afraid that bad things could happen. And even after a year, she hadn’t been brave enough to contact her baby sisters. Guilt still hung heavily over her at how she’d failed them at eighteen.

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?

She looked at Jett, now stretched out happily on a soft blanket over the rug. Rodrigo was right. As much as she hated to admit it. Jett deserved as much security and love as she could possibly give.

Because parents could die. They could get sick or go to jail. And even if Lola was ever brave enough to contact her sisters, they were still so young, Kelsey fifteen, Johanna only twelve. Whether they now hated her, or they’d forgotten her completely, the truth was, her sisters had a new family now. They’d been lost to her long ago.

Jett was all that mattered. She wanted him to be safe and loved. And from the moment Rodrigo had seen their baby, he’d seemed to feel the same.

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... My name. My time. My protection. My love.

She’d barely slept that night, tossing and turning. Sometime around 3:00 a.m., she’d come to a decision.

She didn’t love Rodrigo, and he didn’t love her. But she would marry him. Their baby deserved that sacrifice.

Yet it wasn’t easy. With a sinking heart, Lola looked back out the window and saw another car had arrived. She recognized, even at this distance, the gorgeous, arrogant man getting out of it. She swallowed hard. Then her jaw set.

Fine, they would marry. But it would be on her terms.

She heard the intercom buzz, and his husky voice demanding entrance. She pressed the button to let him in downstairs. Putting on her coat, Lola picked up her baby. Tucking his blanket into her diaper bag, she waited with a sense of dread.

A few minutes later, she heard heavy steps in the hallway. A hard knock sounded at her door. With a deep breath, she opened it.

Rodrigo’s dark eyes burned through her. “You are ready?”

So much was encompassed in that simple question.

“Yes,” she said.

“Good.” Relaxing slightly, he strode into the apartment, looking so handsome she almost couldn’t bear it. He wore a long, open black cashmere coat that revealed the shape of his broad shoulders and biceps, with a well-cut black shirt and trousers beneath. He was followed inside by his driver and bodyguard, both of whom she knew slightly from the old days.

“Have a long night, did you, boys?” she said to them dryly. As they gathered the suitcases, they glanced at each other. Rodrigo’s smile widened.

“You knew they were watching?”

“Of course I knew,” she snapped at him. “You’re not very trusting.”

“I’m glad you didn’t try to run.”

She pressed her lips together. “There was no point. You convinced me that you’re right.”

“I’m always right.” But even as he spoke the arrogant words, his dark eyes looked her over appreciatively. As befitted the cold November weather, she wore a form-fitting black puffy coat, with a faux-fur-edged hood, and a hem that stretched down over her hips. Her legs were covered with black leggings and her black boots matched her hood, edged with faux fur.

Against her will, she blushed beneath his glance. It enraged her. Why did he still have that effect on her? It didn’t seem fair!

“Is this all, Miss Price?” asked the bodyguard.

“And the stroller by the door.”

As his two henchmen left the apartment with the suitcases and stroller, Rodrigo held out his arm. “Come.”

“Wait.”

At the breathless sound of her voice, Rodrigo looked down at her questioningly.

“Like I said. I realized you’re right. Jett needs a stable home, and a father to raise him. We should marry. Even though we don’t love each other.” Her voice trembled a little. “It’s best for Jett.” She paused. “But—”

“But?” His voice was low and dangerous.

She lifted her gaze. “I just want to make sure we understand each other. This marriage is for duty. For convenience.”

“Convenience?” he repeated.

How could he not know what she meant?

“In...in name only,” she whispered, her teeth suddenly chattering.

He gave a low, hard laugh, his dark eyes glittering in the morning light. “Is that what you think?”

“I mean it, Rodrigo—”

“No.” He cupped her cheek. “You don’t.”

His eyes burned through her, and he slowly lowered his head toward hers.

She sucked in her breath as, against her will, a fire of desire swept through her body that she was helpless to deny. Her toes curled in anticipation, and she closed her eyes, holding her breath, waiting for him to kiss her.

At the last moment before his lips would have touched hers, he stopped. Confused, she opened her eyes.

His face was cruel as he looked down at her with a cold, mocking smile. “In name only, querida?”

Her cheeks suddenly burned. “You arrogant bastard—”

“Come. We have a busy day planned.”

His eyes softened as they rested on the dark-haired baby against her hip. He caressed the baby tenderly on the head. “We will be a family soon, pequeño.” Then he gave Lola a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “No more talk of convenient marriages. You will be conveniently in my bed. And soon.”

“In your dreams,” she retorted. For answer, he gave her a sensual smile.

“Yes. I have dreamed of it, Lola,” he said huskily. “And soon those dreams will be reality.”

Her eyes widened at his admission, and her mouth snapped shut as she recalled all the hot nights when she, too, had dreamed of him. Fuming, she followed him out of the apartment.

When they reached the street, she saw one of his men placing the suitcases in the back of the black SUV, as the other put the stroller in the back of Rodrigo’s sleek luxury sedan.

Lola frowned. “Where are we going?”

Rodrigo opened the sedan door. “A few places.”

Seeing a brand-new baby seat latched securely into the sedan’s back seat, she wondered if his longtime executive assistant, Marnie, had arranged it. She’d always hated that smug busybody, now more than ever. “Where?”

“You’ll see.”

As the SUV turned south, Rodrigo drove Lola and the baby north, to a cutting-edge private clinic on the Upper East Side. As far as she could tell, it had opened up on Sunday, bringing in a full staff, just for their paternity test. Within two hours, they had the results. Jett was Rodrigo’s son.

“I knew it,” Rodrigo said quietly when he got the results.

Lola looked at him irritably. “Then why did you insist on a test?”

“There’s knowing, and there’s knowing.”

“That makes no sense. You could have just trusted me.”

“I needed proof.” He didn’t explain further. When it came to asking for help or showing weakness, Rodrigo was even worse than Lola.

After the clinic, the next stop that morning turned out to be the prestigious white-shoe Manhattan law firm of Crosby, Flores and Jackson, where, amid the hushed elegance of a private office, Lola was presented with a fifty-page legal contract of a prenuptial agreement.

Sitting at the gleaming mahogany desk, she read through it slowly, to the obvious surprise of the lawyers, marking up any clause she didn’t like with a red pen.

Lola had made below average grades in school, but she’d always been good at debate. It was why, when she was twelve, her mother had handed Lola the phone if she needed to convince the electric company to turn the lights back on, or deal with a debt collector. It was also how, after Lola’s failed attempt at a “quick and easy” movie star career, she’d eventually become executive assistant to a powerful tycoon. Lola knew how to absorb and how to deflect. She knew when to pay attention and how.

In short, she knew how to argue.

Even opaque legal language couldn’t confuse her. It was like following a shell game. You just never took your eyes off the ball.

Finally, she set down the papers.

“I have some changes,” she said coolly.

“Do you?” Rodrigo’s voice was amused.

“Yes. Starting with this clause in paragraph Four C...”

In the end, Lola got what she wanted. She negotiated away one financial item after another—the amount of money set aside for alimony, child support, housing and staff levels in case of a divorce—in order to keep the one thing she actually cared about, which was primary custody of Jett. That was the one thing she was never, ever willing to lose.

She marveled that Rodrigo seemed focused on something else entirely: making sure Lola would be punished if she were ever unfaithful during their marriage.

She was amazed he’d be worried about that. As she’d told him, she’d never kissed another man in her whole life. But as she’d heard from a gossipy production assistant, he’d had three fiancées cheat on him. So maybe she could understand, after all.

Whatever the reason, Lola gladly used it to her advantage. The prenuptial agreement was altered. In case of divorce, no matter which of them was at fault, Lola would get custody of Jett. But if she ever cheated on Rodrigo, even after thirty years of marriage, she wouldn’t get a penny. No alimony. No marital property. Nothing but the three suitcases she’d arrived with.

But since she obviously wouldn’t cheat, she’d won. She smiled as they left the law office.

“You never thought of becoming a lawyer?” Rodrigo murmured, his dark eyes gleaming as they pushed the baby’s stroller out of the wood-paneled private office.

“Lawyer?” Lola snorted. “Me?”

“You think like one.”

She shook her head. “I’m not even sure if I passed my GED test.”

They left the law office and got back into the car. As Rodrigo drove her and the baby south toward his SoHo loft, he suddenly asked, “Why did you drop out of high school?”

She looked at him guardedly. “What do you mean?”

“You’re smart, Lola. A fighter.” He shook his head wryly. “Something I’ve sometimes learned the hard way. Why didn’t you go to college? Why did you drop out of high school and go to LA and do—” he hesitated “—what you did?”

Her cheeks suddenly burned. “I had my reasons.”

She couldn’t explain why, at eighteen, she’d been so desperate to earn money, so stupid and naive, that she’d done things she wasn’t proud of. Things that had caused Rodrigo to call her ugly names, six years later. She hadn’t done everything Marnie had accused her of—not even close—but what she’d done was bad enough. And she’d still failed to save her sisters.

But she wasn’t going to explain and let Rodrigo think she was a weakling and a failure, in addition to being a—well, he’d never actually called her a whore. But that was how he’d made her feel.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she looked stonily out the window. Silence fell in the luxury sedan as he drove south through Manhattan, the only sound the yawns of their baby in his car seat behind them.

“You’ve always been quick,” he said, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “If you’d stayed in school—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You could have gone far. You could be a big-time lawyer or CEO of a major corporation by now. Why didn’t anyone convince you to even try?”

She didn’t look at him. A lump lifted to her throat.

She had been good in school once. When she was seven, she’d loved to puzzle over math and read. But after her father’s death, her mother had been too busy and exhausted to help with school. Later, she’d remarried. After Lola’s two half-siblings were born—and especially after her new stepfather was injured on the job—school had become a luxury. It just wasn’t important anymore, not like making sure there was food in the fridge, and caring for her sisters when her stepfather was passed out drunk, and their mother working the overnight shift.

When Lola was fifteen, her mother had died. Bonnie had been feeling bad for months, but put off seeing the doctor, insisting she didn’t have money or time. By the time she’d finally gotten her diagnosis, the cancer was terminal. She’d lived only a few months after that. Her stepfather, trying to cope with the grief and his family’s sudden lack of income, ended up going to prison for dealing drugs. There had been nothing left to hold their family together.

Staring hard out the window of the luxury sedan, Lola wiped her eyes fiercely. She hadn’t even told Hallie and Tess that. Just as she’d never told them anything about her baby’s father, not even Rodrigo Cabrera’s name.

It was the only way Lola knew how to deal with that kind of radioactive pain. To pretend it didn’t exist.

“I didn’t care, all right?” she said numbly, staring hard out the window. “I never cared about college.”

“What do you care about, then?”

Lola thought of her family. Everyone she’d lost. Everyone she’d loved but been unable to save.

Setting her jaw, she whispered, “Protecting what’s mine.”

CHAPTER THREE

THE EARLY NOVEMBER morning was cold and gray as Rodrigo turned the car down Prince Street, turning on Mercer.

Lola rolled down the window, breathing the cool air, relishing the feel against her hot skin. The air made her shiver. Or maybe it was the thought that she’d soon be Rodrigo’s wife. She looked up at the lowering sky. She wondered what Hallie and Tess would say when they were invited to Lola’s wedding out of the blue.

Her lips quirked. They would be surprised, to say the least.

She’d met Hallie Hatfield and Tess Foster last year at a New York single moms’ support group. They’d been the only ones who were pregnant, and they’d soon realized that none of them had told the fathers about the babies.

Her friends were both now happily married. While Lola just prayed she wasn’t making a horrible mistake.

Rodrigo pulled his sedan to the front of a fashionable prewar building in SoHo, where a doorman took his keys.

“Good morning, Mr. Cabrera. In the garage like always?”

“Thank you, Andrews,” Rodrigo said, walking around the car to get the stroller from the trunk. The doorman’s eyes widened when he saw it, and even more when he saw Lola get out and take their baby in her arms.

Tucking sleepy Jett into the stroller, Lola followed Rodrigo into the lobby of the luxurious building, and into an elevator that he accessed with a fingerprint.

On the top floor, the elevator opened directly onto a private foyer. And Lola entered the penthouse loft she hadn’t visited in over a year.

Shivering, she looked around the large, bohemian penthouse loft. Colorful furniture filled the enormous space, and huge windows showed an expansive, unrestricted southern view of the city, to the skyscrapers of Lower Manhattan. She could dimly see the steel and glass building where she’d once worked for Sergei Morozov. Strange to think that Rodrigo could have been unknowingly looking at her, whenever he’d visited New York. So close, but so far apart.

The bare brick walls were decorated with old original movie posters, along with old neon signs, which were no doubt originals, too. Rodrigo had occasionally seen neon signs he liked as he traveled to his movie sets around the world, from Tokyo to Sydney to Berlin. She’d watched in awe as he’d casually bought entire businesses, simply to acquire the signs.

That was Rodrigo, Lola thought, a little bitterly. He’d rip out someone’s beating heart just to tap his toe to the rhythm.

She blinked hard, to make sure no trace of emotion was on her face. She might become his wife, but he’d never possess her. She’d never let herself love him, ever again.

“Miss Price!” The New York housekeeper, Mrs. Farrow, came in from the next room of the loft. The woman’s plump face broke into a big smile. “I’m so glad you’re back. And how exciting, you’re going to be married?”

“Strange, huh?” Lola said, feeling awkward. Especially when the woman was followed by a white-haired, distinguished-looking man Lola didn’t know.

“Not strange. Lovely.” Mrs. Farrow knelt before the stroller, smiling at Jett. “And this is your baby?”

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