Janette Kenny
BAD BLOOD
Illegitimate Tycoon

Rafael stood at the back of the room watching Leila, wanting to share every moment of his life with her again.

Desperate to share the future with her as well, to grow old with her, to watch their children grow into adults.

To be content with Leila by his side.

But this past year had changed them both. She had become a different woman. There was a remoteness about her that troubled him. A shadow in her eyes that begged forgiveness. But from what?

His gut twisted at the possibilities. Had he been so driven to be a success, to prove that his eldest brother Jacob’s money hadn’t been wasted on him, that he’d let the one good thing that had happened in his life slip through his fingers? Had he already lost her to her career? To another man?

No, he couldn’t believe his Leila would cheat on him. It was simply that she was not ready to give up her career yet, which meant he had to convince her that the dreams they’d woven together before they married were just as strong now. Just as viable.

BAD BLOOD

A powerful dynasty, where secrets and scandal never sleep!

THE DYNASTY

Eight siblings, blessed with wealth, but denied the one thing they wanted – a father’s love.

A family destroyed by one man’s thirst for power.

THE SECRETS

Haunted by their past and driven to succeed, the Wolfes scattered to the far corners of the globe.

But secrets never sleep and scandal is starting to stir …

THE POWER

Now the Wolfe brothers are back, stronger than ever, but hiding hearts as hard as granite.

It’s said that even the blackest of souls can be healed by the purest of love …

But can the dynasty rise again?

ALL ABOUT THE AUTHOR…

For as long as JANETTE KENNY can remember, plots and characters have taken up residence in her head. Her parents, both voracious readers, read her the classics when she was a child. That gave birth to a deep love for literature, and allowed her to travel to exotic locales – those found between the covers of books. Janette’s artist mother encouraged her yen to write. As an adolescent she began creating cartoons featuring her dad as the hero, with plots that focused on the misadventures on their family farm, and she stuffed them in the nightly newspaper for him to find. To her frustration, her sketches paled in comparison with her captions.

Her first real writing began with fan fiction, taking favourite TV shows and writing episodes and endings she loved – happily ever after, of course. In her junior year of high school she told her literature teacher she intended to write for a living one day. His advice? Pursue the dream, but don’t quit the day job.

Though she dabbled with articles, she didn’t fully embrace her dream to write novels until years later, when she was a busy cosmetologist making a name for herself in her own salon. That was when she decided to write the type of stories she’d been reading – romances.

Once the writing bug bit, an incurable passion consumed her to create stories and people them. Still, it was seven more years and that many novels before she saw her first historical romance published. Now that she’s also writing contemporary romances for Mills & Boon, she finally knows that a full-time career in writing is closer to reality.

Janette shares her home and free time with a chow/shepherd-mix pup she rescued from the pound, who aspires to be a lap dog. She invites you to visit her website at www.jankenny.com. She loves to hear from readers – e-mail her at janette@jankenny.com.

BAD BLOOD
Illegitimate Tycoon
Janette Kenny

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Chapter One

THE crush of beautiful people in this small town on the French Riviera was a treat for the senses, but only one beauty captured Rafael da Souza’s attention. She always had from the first moment he had met her in London.

His desire for her had never waned during the five years they’d been married. Nothing would ever change that.

He knew the exact moment strikingly beautiful supermodel Leila Santiago walked into a room, even if he was already prepared. And he was certainly ready for this reunion, body and soul!

Even before they had married, they’d mutually agreed to wait before starting their family. It had been important to both of them that they focus on their careers first. That they enjoyed life and especially each other.

And they had.

Well, almost …

Rafael’s brow pulled as he looked back on what was now the fifth year of their marriage. He could count the times he’d been with Leila over this past year on one hand. Her career and his had taken quantum leaps, bigger than either of them could have imagined, but such success came at a terrible price for it had pulled them both in different directions.

Leila had been involved on two whirlwind global tours, her beautiful face splashed on glossy magazine covers around the world. Rafael’s time had volleyed between being technical adviser on one film and developing a cutting-edge mobile phone device that was light-years ahead of the competition.

He and Leila had only managed to find one fleeting weekend to spend together in Aruba following a photo shoot there. Moments alone, undisturbed by their busy careers, had always been precious between them, and although Rafael had tried to talk to Leila about his desire to start a family, the time had gone by too quickly.

“We’ll talk about it at the film festival in France,” she’d promised in Aruba as she’d planted hot kisses across the taut planes of his belly. And then she’d taken his mind off family and his dream with bold caresses and long leisurely kisses that he’d been starving for.

They’d ended up in bed, arms and legs entwined. Tongues dueling in carnal love. Bodies thrusting together in the most passionate sex he’d ever had with her.

When he was buried deep in her, clutching her to his heart, he felt whole, and they’d both gotten lost in loving the night away. And then their idyll had been over. Rafael had left with the rising sun after Leila had dropped the bombshell that she wouldn’t reschedule an upcoming shoot in order to accompany him to his brother Nathaniel’s wedding. He’d been too angry and hurt to do more than offer a clipped, “Fine, I’ll see you in France.”

Now, he certainly intended to do more than talk about starting a family. They would have an entire week together in France. While their days would be busy with promotions and such, their nights would be devoted to each other.

His heart warmed at the thought of having children with Leila, of having a home with her that wasn’t empty or flat.

He’d never had that in his entire life. His mother had loved him, yes, but she had always held at least two jobs at a time to support them, and she had worked incredibly long hours. He had hardly seen her as a child.

As for a home, their small flat in Wolfestone might have been the place Rafael had been raised, but the memories there were painful, suffocating. Rafael had felt only freedom when he had left its cloying grasp. He had moved to a modern apartment in London and then, when he had married Leila, they had bought a luxurious penthouse in Rio, far away from the darkness of Rafael’s past.

But though this was his and Leila’s residence, it still lacked that life and energy of a loving family that he had felt missing for so long.

Rafael wanted a real casa with land where his children could play and make good memories to last a lifetime. A place they could call home, a place they’d feel safe. Loved. Everything his aristocratic father had denied him.

Leila knew how much this meant to him and she had shared his dream of having a family.

And, if they were very lucky, they’d realize that dream soon.

Now, as he saw Leila approach and close the distance separating them, his gaze hungrily licked over her like flames on dry tinder, consuming, scorching. It was always like this, the gripping desire that engulfed him whenever they were reunited.

As for his heart.

His heart warmed with emotions that seemed too huge to imagine. He was afraid to look away, to blink, for fear he’d awaken to discover that what he had with her had just been a fantasy.

She was absolutely gorgeous.

And she was his wife. His.

Under the rapid-fire flash of cameras, she strode down La Croisette with her million-dollar smile in place. He knew she wasn’t focused on any one person or thing, that her stunning smile was for her legion of adoring fans.

She knew how to make love to the camera, and the lens loved her. And why wouldn’t it?

She was a fantasy brought to life. The woman every man dreamed of making love to, the woman every woman wished she could emulate.

Perfection. Seductive perfection.

Her mass of golden hair was caught up in a tumble of messy curls that framed a face that had graced every major magazine since she was thirteen. But that gamine child that had launched her career was gone, replaced by a sensual woman who’d worked hard to make a perfectly toned body seem more desirable than voluptuous curves.

Her crimson dress caressed her upthrust breasts and gentle bow of her hips in the warm salt-tinged breeze. He knew every move she made was carefully orchestrated, right down to the metered strides of her long lithe legs supported by killer stilettos. Strong flawless legs that would wrap around his naked flanks in the throes of passion.

Their March rendezvous had reminded him just how much he’d missed her this past hectic year. How he’d taken for granted the exact feel of her silken skin against his fingers and mouth, her erotic scent that clung to him and held tight, her sultry passion that drove him wild in bed and out.

He caught the slight hesitancy in her eyes before she stopped before him, her palms firm on his chest in a familiar way that had been captured on film a thousand times. A touch that left him trembling inside, remembering all that was good between them. All the passion, the pure joy, the bliss of shutting out the world and lying wrapped in each other’s arms.

Her gaze made a slow sweep up to his face, and he felt his own lips pulling into a smile. His hands settled on her trim waist, firm and clearly possessive. Her soft lips beckoned him and he met her halfway for their customary kiss of greeting, but the moment was gone before he could savor it.

Her scent stayed with him though, a provocative perfume that teased the senses. That promised much more. This would be the new fragrance she was here to promote in conjunction with the release of the film of the same name, Bare Souls.

That certainly did not describe them!

For as close as they were with each other’s bodies, they had both kept their own demons securely locked away since the day they’d met. He’d never told her how being William Wolfe’s unwanted bastard had scarred him. She’d never divulged everything pertaining to the near disastrous bout of anorexia she’d suffered at a young age. But he suspected she was still haunted by that episode in her life, and he wondered now if she’d truly fully recovered from the disease.

Those big hazel eyes that had captured the heart of the world at thirteen locked on his and his concerns fled. For a heartbeat it was difficult to breathe. Impossible to think.

Then in a blink the look was gone, replaced with the seductive glint of a woman. The look that had men around the globe drooling after her.

He certainly was not immune! His body responded to the carnal energy arcing between them, and he reached out and cupped her jaw, a simple caress that drew whispers from the crowds.

But it was as if everyone else on the planet faded away until it was just them.

This reaction to each other, this look that they shared and which they had exploited, kept the paparazzi from hounding them with too many questions – specifically about the stability of their marriage this past year.

“How was Nathaniel’s wedding?” she asked.

“Everyone asked about you,” he said, still hurt that she’d not altered her plans for him. “I called you—”

“I know,” she said, her palms shifting against his chest in a small urgent circle, her eyes searching deep into his as if begging him to understand. “I couldn’t get away.”

He nodded, accepting that apology because now wasn’t the place to engage in a deeper conversation. But there was a strained note in her voice that had him wondering if she were having difficulties with her career, problems he didn’t know about.

If his brothers and sister had thought it odd that the most celebrated model of the decade couldn’t demand a day off to attend a family wedding, none of them had mentioned it to him. But then his family was already highly dysfunctional.

They all knew not to expect too much – they were all wary of loving too deeply. And yet love had happened for Rafael. A deep, passionate love that scared him, for he knew that such emotions were fragile. Priceless.

Being with Leila again, knowing she’d be his for an entire week during the film festival, made his skin tighten with anticipation. His heart pounded far harder. Desire. Lust.

Yet, those base emotions were wrapped up in much deeper emotion, like a tight wad that made his blood surge. They had been building toward a far stronger marriage before this past chaotic year.

He fully intended to pick up where they’d left off.

“Our suite is ready,” he said.

“Good. I’m eager to sit down someplace quiet for a while.”

He cut her a quick look as he took her arm. A sliver of uncertainty crossed her features again. There was paleness beneath her makeup as well. Had she been ill?

They walked together into the hotel, and he was grateful that velvet ropes kept the fans and paparazzi at bay. He’d never grown comfortable being in the spotlight – spawned from his youth of being pointed out as the Wolfe bastard. Now was no different.

Though he was no longer the subject of ridicule, he still hated the attention that crashed into his private life.

He took Leila’s arm and escorted her across the elegant lobby, thankful that they met nobody along the way inclined to ask for an autograph or a quick chat. They were left alone still as they took the elevator to their floor, but Rafael didn’t draw a decent breath until he shepherded his wife into their suite and closed off the world behind them. He’d asked for and received a magnificent view of the sea, complete with a private balcony.

“It’s breathtaking,” Leila noted, pulling free of him and crossing to the bank of windows, and Rafael thought how the view paled in comparison to her beauty. “When did you arrive?”

“Yesterday. I came straight from London.”

She faced him then, and backlit with the sun it made her look more fragile and pale. “Were you able to spend much time with your family?”

“I flew in the day of the wedding and left the next morning,” he said, then shrugged when her smooth brow pulled into a frown. “Like you, my schedule was incredibly tight.”

She nodded at that and looked away. How ironic that he’d kept bits of his past secret from her, yet he disliked it when the tables were turned. He simply saw no sense in divulging how despicable his father had been to him, how he’d suffered emotionally while his siblings had endured that plus physical abuse.

Some things were better left buried. He certainly couldn’t see any reason to exhume the dark secrets of his past to his wife.

A good part of his success in business had hinged on his gut feeling to strike deals at opportune moments. This was no different.

“We should coordinate our schedules,” he said, smoothly steering the conversation away from his family and their murky past. “My publicist stressed the importance of us showing support for each other and our projects during the festival, though I can’t imagine not being there for you.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll get my mobile.”

Was there a quaver of distress in her voice?

He glanced back only to find her riffling through a brand-new designer purse, seeming simply distracted. She was unquestionably the most beautiful woman he’d ever known, but her life was as screwed up as his.

They had been two rising stars who’d collided in a glitter of passion. She had reached the pinnacle of a career that now dictated the way she must live.

Leila was a millionaire in her own right – her name a brand that was copied. Emulated. She had endorsements. Fame. A demanding life far apart from his own.

This past year Rafael had moved from the realm of millionaire to billionaire, and the fasttrack world of computer technology meant he always had to stay one step ahead of the competition. He’d honed his rapier-edged instincts in fighting his way to the top of his world, and now he wondered if the changes he saw in Leila had been there all along. If he’d simply been too comfortable with his marriage to recognize his wife wasn’t her usual bubbly self.

She certainly seemed more sure of herself than in the past, yet there was a vulnerability about her that hummed about the edge of her success like a nervous hummingbird seeking nectar. There was something wrong that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

They’d both achieved their goals, but at what price to their personal life? Was their marriage still as strong as it once had been?

He’d find out this week that they’d be together; he’d already planned to spend the bulk of his time in his wife’s company. He’d missed her more than he could possibly express, for tender words had never been easy for him to grasp, much less admit.

It had always been easier to show her how much he loved her with gifts. Like his latest smartphone.

Rafael ran his thumb over the sleek new mobile that was the cutting edge of technology. This was his baby. The wireless device of the future that was featured in the movie Bastion 9, which would premiere here tonight.

But while the phones he’d donated for the elite festival gift bags were silver on black, like the ones that would go on sale tomorrow around the world, this device had a one-of-a-kind liquid magenta shell enhanced with thin black swirls.

Her color.

His mobile was the companion to hers, a reverse of the colors. His and hers phones. A design he’d created as the logo for her own personal line that she’d yet to launch.

“I found it,” she said, holding her old mobile up and squinting at the screen.

He held his palm out for it. “It’ll take me a moment to exchange the chip into the new one.”

Excitement lit her eyes as she crossed to him. “Is that the new device that’s all the buzz?”

He nodded.

“I didn’t know they came in color.”

“They don’t, or at least not for a year and even then never with this design.”

She reached out and laid her hand on his, stilling him. “Is this design your creation as well?”

“It is,” he said, his body surging to life once more by her touch, by the wonder glowing in her eyes.

Her brow furrowed the slightest bit as she studied the intricate swirls. He knew the exact moment she understood the design was much more than lines and curlicues, when she realized this was cursive writing in Portuguese.

“‘My only love,’“ she read, then pressed two fingers to her lips. “It’s perfect.”

He’d thought so too. Had believed she was the only woman he’d ever love from the first moment he’d met Leila five years ago.

Leila had been well into making a stunning comeback in the modeling world, but she’d still been a painfully thin waif with soulful eyes.

And it had been obvious she was very much under her dominating mother’s control. He’d clashed with the “stage mother” immediately, for at the time he was just a developer in a huge software company in London. A nobody, save the unwanted notoriety of being William Wolfe’s bastard, a fact he desperately tried to hide for the shame that it brought on his mother.

Leila Santiago had been the star, hired as the hot model to tout the cutting-edge personal music player he’d developed that recorded and held hundreds of songs.

He’d stood in the shadows of the set watching her, just as he’d watched his siblings play together from afar all those years ago. The longer he’d observed Leila, the more he realized she was dancing to the whims of her domineering mother.

Then as now, Leila’s gorgeous eyes had met his. For a moment he’d seen the pain and uncertainty choking her. Seen the loneliness in her that mirrored his own.

That one look had called to something buried deep inside him. Bare Souls.

She, the lost waif in need of a hero, and he, the unwanted boy desperately needing to find the one person who’d make him feel whole. Make him feel worthy.

Everyone on the set had planned to hit the pubs after the shoot and Rafael had looked forward to getting to know Leila better, but her mother had made it clear that Leila needed to work out instead.

Though Leila seemed at her wit’s end, she didn’t object to her mother’s dictates, as if she were used to acquiescing to the woman.

That had been all the incentive he’d needed to approach the alluring model. That and a good dose of arrogant Brazilian pride!

“Join me for a drink?” he’d asked Leila once he’d gotten her alone.

She’d smiled, though it’d been a nervous one. “My mother has already made plans for a trainer to work with me tonight.”

He cast her plump mother a scathing glance, for if anyone needed a personal trainer it was her. “Why don’t you let her use the workout and you take the night off?”

“With you?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t even know you,” she’d protested, though it’d been a weak one that had encouraged him even more.

He’d introduced himself, and surely made more of his lowly title of software developer than was warranted. But even then he’d had grander dreams. Even then he’d secretly been working on something new and groundbreaking in the computer world.

He’d touched Leila, no more than a caress of her arm. But a jolt of awareness had rocked him to his soul. The sexual attraction jarred him, but not nearly as much as the odd awareness that they were kindred souls.

“Come with me, Leila,” he’d said.

She’d cast one look at her mother and bit her lip, but she’d gone with him. For one glorious night and day they’d played like young lovers on holiday.

He’d learned that just one year before she’d collapsed on the runway, and had spent the ensuing long months that followed in a special clinic recovering from the disastrous effects of anorexia. That she’d let her mother take charge of her life, and had yet to build up the confidence again to break free from her.

That he’d been right all along and she was as lonely as he.

That first impulsive date had sparked the whirlwind romance that had rocked the modeling world and set her mother at instant odds against him. He’d fallen under Leila’s spell – fallen in love, or as in love as he could be at that strained time in his life.

He’d only known that he’d wanted Leila for more than an affair. He wanted her as his wife. Wanted a family with her.

He proposed marriage, and Leila had eagerly said yes. But she’d made it clear she wasn’t ready to be a parent yet.

Neither was he. They’d agreed that family was something they’d start in a few years, after they’d both made their marks. After they’d exhausted the freedom of young love.

He’d known then that one day he’d have it all. A home. A gorgeous wife he loved. And children laughing and playing to chase away the lonely memories of his own childhood. To give him the family he’d craved, yet had been denied for the most part.

But their wait had stretched from three years into four without Leila and him having a real home. Without Leila being part of his life for one entire year.

No more! They’d both waited too long to see their dreams realized.

He slipped the memory card in Leila’s new device and tested it.

“I’ve taken the liberty to add a few pertinent applications but you’ll have to personalize it yourself,” he said, and handed her the mobile.

Her fingers brushed his and she jolted, an external reaction to the same bolt of desire that had shot through him earlier, that still simmered deep inside him.

“It looks complicated,” she said. “You’ll have to show me how to use it.”

“We have time to do that later.”

Once he’d doused his need to be with her. Once he’d wrestled his control back in place and he could simply enjoy this reunion with her.

He crossed to the tray that had been delivered to their suite and poured an iced coffee laced with cachaça. “Would you like a drink?”

“Water with a twist of lime,” she said. “I had orange juice at the airport.”

He grimaced at the near apology in that confession. She rarely drank anything other than enhanced water which added zero calories. He could count on one hand the times he’d seen her eat a full meal and he’d certainly never seen her binge on anything.

But then he was careful too, moderate. He didn’t wish to follow in his own father’s alcoholic footsteps.

He turned to offer her the drink and just caught sight of her rushing into the master bedroom. The closing of the en suite bathroom door echoed softly in the suite.

Not so for the sound of her becoming violently ill. If it were anyone else, he’d pass it off as a malady.

But Leila’s troubled past gave him pause.

The unsettling possibility she’d suffered a relapse plagued him as he carried his garment bag and suitcase into the bedroom.

An economy of quick strides carried him into the facility moments after the toilet flushed. She was at the sink rinsing out her mouth, her face paler than before.

“Leila, what’s wrong?” he asked.

She shook her head, her eyes bleak. “I’ve been ill. Some stomach virus that refuses to leave.”

“Have you seen a doctor for this?”

“Yes, one who was on staff at the shoot gave me an antibiotic, but he did warn me that if this were a viral infection it would do no good,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

He gave her a more critical look, wanting to believe her. Yet they’d been apart too much this year, and she’d clearly lost weight.

And though he didn’t want to admit it, there was a nervousness about her that hadn’t been there before. A withdrawal, almost as if she were hiding something from him.

“Have you tried to lose weight quickly?”

Leila swung around to face Rafael. “No! I’m not a victim of bulimia or anorexia anymore. I simply have a stomach bug. But if you think I’m lying, Rafael, you are more than welcome to ask my agent or my doctor about my health!”

Inferno! He had not expected her to react with such anger, but then he supposed he deserved it for doubting her.

“Forgive me for insinuating you had suffered a relapse,” he said, reaching for her, but she turned from him and left the bathroom. Left him standing there feeling like a fool for thinking the worst of her. “I worry, Leila.”

She stopped short, shoulders slumping. “I know you do.” She brushed a hand through her hair in a show of impatience. “I worry about you as well, but this year—”

Her hand fluttered in the air, and he reached out and snagged it this time. Pulled her close to his heart where she belonged and was glad she didn’t resist.

“Things will change now,” he said, and gained a shaky nod from her in answer.

This past year had been difficult. Their brief weekend in Aruba sandwiched between her last shoot and his trip to L.A. to consult on the film. This time when they had parted, he’d resented her career more than ever, for it had pulled her from him. Her stellar status had taken precedence over their marriage. Over their plans to start a family.

He’d come close to demanding she take a hiatus from her work. That she embrace her role as his wife again with the same passion as she did her career.

But just realizing that was exactly how his tyrannical father would have acted stopped him.

His marriage to Leila was secure. She loved him and he loved her. They’d just let the outside world infringe too much on their dream.

No more.

Soon he’d plant his seed in her. They’d have their marriage back on track. They’d have a child born of love.

“Dare I ask what brought on your arrogant smile,” she said.

His gaze made a slow glide over her face, her breasts, her hips, before returning to her expressive eyes. “I was thinking of how beautiful you’d look pregnant.”

Chapter Two

THE thought of being with child pelted Leila like a cold icy rain. She couldn’t go through that again, shouldn’t attempt it blithely.

Yet like Rafael she longed for a child. A baby to love, to cradle to her bosom. Her and Rafael’s child, born of love.

But she’d tried and failed.

Last year Leila had discovered she had been pregnant. But in September, when she had been just twelve weeks along, nature had taken a horribly wrong turn.

Leila had lost her baby. She’d lost a lot of blood. Lost weight. Lost heart over the tragedy.

Her mind ached from the doctor’s warning following her miscarriage. Though she was well now, there would always be that chance that due to her anorexia, and the damage it may have wreaked on her body, she could fail to carry a child to term again.

The very last thing Leila wanted was to go through the pain of losing a baby again. She was afraid to try and fail, even though she still wanted to give Rafael the family he craved. Her own arms and heart ached to hold the child she’d lost. Rafael’s baby.

But despite her deep yearning for a family, her fear of suffering another miscarriage had grown into paralyzing terror. More so her fear had been given strength when a fellow model, who’d also struggled with anorexia early in her career, had died in childbirth. A woman Leila had admired.

Yet as her friend’s body had changed during her pregnancy, the young woman had relapsed into her old destructive habits. Leila had watched as her friend had struggled to regain control of her anorexia, but in the end the disease won, taking her friend’s and the baby’s lives.

That’s when Leila’s nightmares had really begun. Now, she wasn’t able to think beyond the tragedy her friend had suffered. She had lost confidence that she’d be stronger than the disease.

Her inner turmoil turned into a living breathing hell, for though she still longed to have Rafael’s child grow inside her, she couldn’t – wouldn’t – commit to having a child only to lose it. She suffered this devastation already and it had changed her. But how would Rafael, who wanted a family so desperately, bear it?

Guilt over keeping her terror and her past pregnancy from Rafael roiled in her until her fear became a dragon she didn’t know how to slay.

How would he react when he learned she’d kept so much from him?

Not well, she feared.

At the time of her miscarriage he’d been away on some excursion in Brazil, and she knew she couldn’t tell him such news over the phone. She could have told him when he returned, in between a break in her hectic schedule, but she’d been so devastated still, so terribly shocked, that she’d been unable to find the words. All too soon too much time had passed. Now?

Leila had no idea how to even begin to tell her husband what had happened! And the timing was once again all wrong.

Leila pushed past his finely honed form and hurried into her bedroom. She simply couldn’t deal with it right now, not when her emotions were strained from the flight. Not when she wanted time alone with Rafael first before she voiced the truth that she knew could drive him from her.

She hated that. Hated the distancing between them this past year. But she feared getting close to him again as well. Feared losing control of her body.

And yet that’s what her fear was doing now – taking control over her life, her plans, and destroying her dreams.

But how could she risk a repeat of the hell she’d gone through last year? She didn’t know, and the uncertainty and fear were eating her alive.

She looked around the room wildly, desperate to regain control of her rioting emotions. Her gaze latched on to the rolling wardrobe clothes rack.

“Is something wrong, querida?” Rafael asked, his deep voice freezing her in place for a heartbeat.

Tell him. Blurt it all out!

She ached to turn around and run her hands over his strong muscular chest. Wrap her arms around him and hold him tight. Beg him to forgive her for holding the truth from him.

Leila desperately wanted to hold on to the only man she’d ever loved and savor the moment, for that’s all they’d had in a year. Moments.

She’d wanted so much more. She wanted the early days of her marriage back. Wanted the tragedy of her miscarriage forgotten. Wanted to believe that she could bear his child without the mind-numbing fear, that she could be stronger than the disease that had nearly killed her as a teenager. That had killed her friend.

But she couldn’t. Not now. Not before the premiere of the film he’d devoted so much to. Not when the truth could drive an even deeper wedge between them.

“I have to make sure everything I need is here.”

She moved to the rack, desperately pushing those dark thoughts from her mind.

“Then I will leave you to your unpacking and make a few calls. The premier is at eight, two hours from now.”

“I’ll have just enough time to get ready.”

Without his interference. Without him being so close she could pull him to her, hold him, kiss him.

She’d never intended to keep her miscarriage a secret from him, but her fears had sunk deep roots in her. Her only escape had been her career. It had become her anchor with a new twist. She’d developed a compulsive ritual to oversee her wardrobe, and to coordinate each shoot with the photographer beforehand.

She’d gotten to the point now where she would only work with a handful of noted photographers because they understood her process and brought the best out in her.

But her acclaimed status and demands had come at a price as well, for a few other, less experienced photographers had labeled her a control freak.

She frowned at that fault now, knowing on some level it was true. She tore into the array of garments her agency had provided and nearly an hour passed as she lost herself in the preparations, gaining control of her life and her fear again.

It wasn’t easy being at the top of her game. There was no time to sit back on her laurels and savor her position at the top, for there was always a new breed of models eager to knock her off her pedestal.

Time would do that all on its own, of course, as the opportunity for aging models was few and far between. And a model close to thirty was already considered beyond her peak years.

Right now it was crucial that Leila remained focused on her career, and she desperately needed this last campaign to excel. The endowment she would establish off this shoot alone would provide more funding for her clinic for girls battling anorexia and bulimia. So far it had been running on faith and charity. She’d depleted her own funds to shore up their own, but she knew she couldn’t keep doing that, knew she needed to do more.

So it was imperative that she let nothing interfere with the networking she must do here at the film festival to secure her clinic. But try as she might she couldn’t stop thinking about Rafael.

She couldn’t wait to be alone with him, to make love with him, for in his arms the world and its worries faded away.

Leila strode to the closet to hang her personal wardrobe and threw open the doors. And blinked not once but twice. It’d been too long since her things had been next to his. Too long since they’d shared more than a night or two together.

Several masculine suits hung on the rod. Men’s fine leather shoes rested on the closet floor in front of a large wheeled case.

A smile curved her lips as she reached out to stroke the woolen sleeve on a charcoal designer suit jacket. When they’d met, he’d barely been able to afford an off-the-rack suit. Now he wore only ones custom-made to fit his long legs, trim hips and broad shoulders.

“Do they meet with your approval?” he asked, his deep rich voice vibrating along her nerves in a delicious hum.

She turned to him with a smile and felt her heart swell with love. With pride, for he’d come from nothing and worked hard to become one of the wealthiest men in the world.

“Yes, I’m impressed by the quality of the cloth and the cut. But then you won me over years ago wearing just faded jeans and a stark-white jersey that hugged your chest—” she paused, striding to him on legs that oddly trembled “—as I long to do now.”

A deep growl of pleasure rumbled from his chest as she glided her palms over his honed muscles. “This past year that we’ve spent apart has nearly killed me.”

“Me too,” she said, her guilt once more threatening to steal the joy she felt at being in his arms.

Rafael was such a handsome man. So strong inside. So giving to her. So good.

Yet the core of steel within him could be unbendable as well. He was a proud man, slow to trust. And she’d betrayed that bond. Would he be forgiving when she confessed her lie?

“Why the sad look, querida?”

She took a breath and debated telling him now. Blurting it out in a rush, then suffering his anger in silence throughout tonight’s premiere. No, it would ruin this night for him and he had worked so hard to get to this point in his career.

That smacked of being selfish, and of all her faults, she wasn’t that. Nothing could be gained from telling him now.

She’d waited this long to purge her soul. She could wait another day or so until the time was right. Until she’d enjoyed the pleasure of being Rafael’s wife and lover without any arguments or hurt feelings between them.

“I was just thinking how nice this would be if we didn’t have so many obligations this week,” she said.

He shrugged. “Say the word and we’ll leave here, go somewhere more private. Just us two.”

“So tempting, but you know I can’t do that. We can’t do that.”

“When did our careers become more important than our marriage?” he asked.

“It never has been,” she protested.

One dark brow arched up. “Hasn’t it? In the past year we’ve only managed to be together once, and that was far too brief.”

“I know, but we are both at crucial points in our careers,” she said. “To have shirked our responsibilities and commitments would have had adverse effects we might never have recovered from.”

Especially for her as a model. Right now it was crucial she kept her name out there. That she stayed on top, for that brought in the big money that enabled her to help others. It gave her purpose and pride to have succeeded so well at something. It gave her control.

But she admitted with a heavy heart that she’d also avoided any kind of close encounter with Rafael after the miscarriage. It had been wrong of her, but she had needed to protect herself. Ah, maybe she was selfish.

What else could explain why she’d done that to the one person she trusted implicitly? Fear, that’s what. Losing their baby had been the first tragedy she’d suffered since her recovery from anorexia and it had almost destroyed her.

She had learned a painful lesson. That while she adored Rafael, deep inside was that fear of losing herself if she ever totally put her life in another person’s hands again. She had to guard herself closely, for it would be easy to let one compulsion morph into another. For her to slip back to the destructive ways of her teen years.

“I think there is more bothering you than weariness,” Rafael said, snapping her attention wholly back to him again.

And my God, but this man knew how to probe one’s soul with one long scorching look.

She lifted her gaze just enough to break the magnetic pull that was drawing her closer to him. “I’ve been on a grueling pace for the past six months. Rest is a luxury I haven’t afforded myself.”

His dark eyes narrowed, assessing, as if gauging whether to believe her. “Then I insist you enjoy a good night’s sleep tonight.”

As if she’d be able to do that knowing she had only to reach over to touch him! To slip her arms around that magnificent specimen of masculinity and claim him as her own. That all she had to whisper was I want you and they’d both be lost in a passion so deep and so consuming that nothing or no one else would matter.

“You won’t get any argument from me,” she said, but doubted sleep would come easily for either of them.

Showered, coiffed and makeup carefully applied, Leila slipped into the vibrant blue designer gown that had been provided for tonight’s premiere of Bare Souls. The skirt was sleek and straight with a side slit to allow ease in walking.

The strapless bodice hugged her middle and flared upward like flower petals to cover her breasts. She had just the right amount of faux tan to complement her natural golden coloring and make her skin glow with this electric shade of blue.

Fiery blue diamond studs sparkled at her ears and a matching pendant with a larger diamond would soon hang from a fine golden chain around her neck. She’d slipped a companion dinner ring on her right hand – all had been birthday gifts from Rafael that had stunned and surprised her.

But she still wore her simple wedding set on her left hand, and the tiny diamond solitaire and smaller stones in the wedding band winked back at her as if in approval. For years Rafael had insisted on replacing this set with a more lavish one, but she’d told him flat out she didn’t want to exchange these for new opulent ones.

These rings meant the world to her for they were the first pieces of jewelry Rafael had given her. These were the rings he’d slipped on her finger – the solitaire when he’d gotten down on one knee and proposed, and the delicate wedding ring when they’d stood before the priest and exchanged their vows.

She hadn’t known it was inscribed with meu coraçâo until later when her mother had asked to see them up close and she’d reluctantly demurred removing it, the action seeming wrong to her newlywed status. Her pompous mother had scoffed at both the cheap set and the inscription.

But Leila’s heart had melted to know he’d done this, for while Rafael was passionate, he wasn’t prone to flowery words. She could still count the times he’d told her he loved her.

It was enough, for she believed they’d had a strong marriage based on love. They’d had ordinary dreams of a home and family.

Ah, but neither of their lives had been average. She’d attained great heights with her career again. And with new demands and opportunities came huge rewards.

As for Rafael …

The boy born outside the privilege denied him reached success that trumped her own. That made her achievements pale in comparison.

In short, Rafael was a force to be reckoned with in the business world. More so now.

He’d changed the past year. He now had a ruthless edge that had only been hinted at before. An edge to him that she wasn’t quite sure how to deal with.

Could they regain what they’d once had? Did he even want the same things anymore? Would he still want her when he learned what had happened?

For the first time in her marriage, Leila felt suddenly unsure of her place in Rafael’s life. If he didn’t want her anymore, if he tossed her aside, she didn’t know if she could find the strength to go on. And yet she’d already suffered with worse. Hadn’t she?

One sharp rap came at the door. She whirled to face it and froze, still caught up in the old pain and guilt, caught in that very human urge of fight or flight. Before she could move beyond the fear that was crippling her, the door swung open.

Rafael filled the opening, resplendent in black tie, his tux fitting his broad shoulders, muscled torso and long strong legs to perfection. He was, in essence, the embodiment of sexual charm and masculine charisma.

If she’d been startled when she’d stepped from her shower earlier to find him waiting to do the same, she was thunderstruck now. He could have joined her under the warm spray and she wouldn’t have protested! God knew he had done the same many times before.

So why hadn’t he done so this time? Why hadn’t he pulled her back into the enclosure and made love with her?

Leila had gripped the counter to steady herself as a wave of hot desire had washed over her. He was simply beautiful. Well toned. Tanned. And aroused.

There’d been no mistaking that part of him.

Yet moments later as he’d stepped from the shower gloriously naked and padded into the bedroom, he’d not spared her a glance. She’d wanted to follow. Wanted to run her hands over his body, wanted to kiss him, taste all of him. She’d wanted to ease his need and hers as well, for in his arms she felt whole. Safe. Loved.

“God help us both,” she’d muttered to herself, and had set to work finishing her hair and makeup. By the time she’d entered the bedroom, he’d been gone.

But now he was back. Tall. Solemn. Sexy as hell.

His dark gaze licked over her, slowly, exacting, a visual caress that left her trembling with need again. Finally, those dark magnetic eyes lifted to hers.

She saw appreciation there and some other emotion that defied explanation. It was a look she’d never seen before, there and gone in a blink. Yet it fed her earlier unease just the same, allowed it to gain a foothold. To grow into another obstacle she didn’t need or want.

“We need to leave in five minutes,” he said, his voice calm, steady, when her emotions felt as if they were bouncing off the walls.

She swallowed the sudden dryness in her throat and nodded, realizing she still held the blue diamond pendant in her hand. “I’m ready except for my shoes and this stubborn necklace. I can’t manage the clasp.”

His brows tugged into a disagreeable line for a heartbeat, then quickly smoothed again. “Maybe I can help.”

He pushed from the doorway and came toward her, long legs moving with masculine grace. A predator tracking his quarry.

And she certainly felt trapped, for the guilt of withholding the truth from him was ballooning within her.

A shiver rocketed through her as he took the necklace from her and studied the clasp. Yet a smile touched her mouth as she watched him, knowing that rapier-quick mind of his was likely already designing a better clasp for the necklace, one that was user-friendly.

An odd heaviness expanded in her as Rafael fitted the necklace around her neck and managed the clasp with surprising ease. If only he could do the same for her health issues. But she’d seen a specialist, and the doctor hadn’t been able to assure her that she wouldn’t suffer another miscarriage.

The blue diamond pendant felt heavy and cold resting between her breasts. Not so for his hands that felt hot and possessive as he briefly skimmed her bare shoulders.

“You look stunning,” he said.

“Thank you. So do you,” she said, pulling away from him as smoothly as she could so it didn’t look as if she was running from him. “You’ll clearly attract the eye of every woman here tonight.”

He laughed, a rich sound she hadn’t heard in far too long. And even that did odd things to her insides.

Good heavens, she would never be able to force a bite down tonight as nervous as she was in his company. Not the way her stomach had been of late.

She slipped her feet into strappy heels, the silver stilettos giving her added height. Now she was nearly eye level with him. On more of an equal footing. And that put her even closer to that devastatingly sensual mouth of his that she longed to kiss.

Damn! Why was she suddenly so obsessed with sex?

“Ready?” she quipped.

“Whenever you are,” he said in that same rich tone that hummed along her senses.

She moved to the door. If they didn’t get out of this quiet suite, they’d end up in each other’s arms. In bed. Locked in passion.

Or battle?

Yes, because she couldn’t keep her secret much longer. And she knew he’d be angry when he found out the truth.

She didn’t want to fight with Rafael tonight. This was special to him. To them.

“I hope the lines aren’t too long,” she said, focusing on what was to come instead of Rafael da Souza.

“We’ll soon see.”

He closed the door behind her and kept pace at her side, not touching her but so close his aura seemed to encircle her. Dwarf her. That was an odd comfort that she grasped on to.

He’d always been her protector. Always had been the one person she could confide in.

And yet she hadn’t been able to when it had mattered most!

The fangs of guilt eating at her faded away as they stepped into the limelight. Even in his presence, she still felt like a rare bird in a cage, photographed and ogled endlessly. Being out among the masses was vastly different from a shoot where it was just her and the lens. When she was in control.

She’d never liked this side of her career. This star worship that was as shallow and fake as the artificial minilights twinkling above them.

Before they reached the elevators, she saw the people clustered in the lobby waiting. An old panic began bubbling inside her and she immediately slowed, her gaze searching for another means to avoid this crush.

His hand came up to rest at the small of her back. “Take a breath, meu amor.”

She did, then another longer, deeper one. “I don’t see anyone I know, at least not personally.”

There was no shortage of celebrities waiting in their finery for the elevator. Though she was comfortable strutting her stuff in front of a camera, she hated competing one-on-one with her peers face-to-face!

In her eyes, she always came up lacking. She was still the chubby girl whom her mother had taken in hand and had taught how to rid herself of weight. Who’d learned a dangerous lesson that had nearly taken her life.

“This way,” Rafael said, herding her to the last elevator on the left where three men and an elegant woman waited.

She didn’t know them, but it was clear by their welcoming expressions that they knew Rafael well. It was the first time that she could recall someone recognizing him before her and the feeling was startling. Almost freeing.

“Good to see you, Rafael,” the older of the men said as he extended his hand. “The new phones look fantastic in the gift bags. Before the festival is over, everyone will be clambering for one of them.”

Rafael smiled as he shook hands with the man. “I certainly hope so. Please, allow me to introduce my wife, Leila Santiago. Leila, this is the producer of Bastion 9.”

Introductions were quickly made, and Leila discovered the woman was the producer’s wife. The other gentleman was the writer, having just won an award for his original script on a previous movie.

“Our daughter is a true fan of yours,” the woman said, surprising Leila. “She dreams of being a model one day and you are the woman she’s determined to emulate.”

“I wish her much success,” Leila said. And none of the heartache.

She fervently hoped that the girl was blessed with a body that remained lithe. That she avoided the pitfalls that had nearly cost Leila her life. That if she did fail, she would be able to find help quickly at a place like her private clinic, where Leila had already given aide to countless other young girls.

The elevator doors opened and they trooped into the waiting car. Before others could crowd in behind them, she saw Rafael punch the button to close the doors.

She flashed him a grateful smile which he acknowledged with a nod and wink that did odd things to her insides and calmed her as none of her inner talks could. If only he could shut out the rest of the world so easily.

“We have an exciting surprise lined up at the party,” the producer said. “You must make an effort to be there at the launch of it.”

“Of course,” Rafael said before she could say a word. “We wouldn’t dream of missing it.”

She would. She’d prefer a night alone with her husband. She wanted to unburden her soul. But it would have to wait.

The elevator doors whooshed open and she pushed her way out, eager to get away from strangers. To catch a breath that wasn’t laced with the spicy scent that was uniquely Rafael’s.

But she got no more than three steps before he was at her side. “Are you all right?”

“You know I dislike small closed spaces,” she said.

“As much as I despise the cameras that follow us around.” He huffed a breath, and she felt his annoyance vibrate through her in a liquid wave.

Yes, this was her world. She’d gladly guide him through it – as long as he stayed close.

“This red carpet we’re about to trod down en route to the Palais du Cinéma is hellish for me too,” she admitted.

“You are serious?”

“Very. It’s different when it’s just me and the camera. I’m in control then. But they—” she nodded at the throng ahead of them “—they are calling the shots now.”

“Only if you let them, Leila.”

He was right, of course. Still it served to remind her how to get through this crush.

“Just smile. Pretend you see a dear friend just beyond the camera.”

“Is that what you do?” he asked.

“Sometimes.” But usually she looked for him in the crowd, even though she knew he’d not be there.

He took a breath, then nodded and touched his fingers to her back again. “Let’s go, then. The sooner we get through this ordeal, the sooner we can find our seats at the cinema.”

And then they’d face the endless swirl of afterpremiere parties, the first having already been decided by him. She didn’t mind, for one was just like the other. Privacy was a hard-won commodity here.

When they’d reached their plush seats at the cinema, Leila allowed herself to relax. Celebrities, movie moguls and industry professionals all moved to their seats before the lights dimmed.

Later, as the credits rolled, she was stunned at how much Rafael had invested in this film, and not just in the technical support he’d given. As the producer in the elevator had said, every complimentary bag held Rafael’s new mobile device. They were as much the talk of the evening as the movie itself with those in the audience activating their phones now.

“I didn’t realize they were all operational,” she said.

He gave a careless shrug. “I simply provided a month’s complimentary service.”

The cost of such a move stunned her, for though she knew he’d achieved great wealth in the past year, she’d never dreamed he could afford such extravagance! Did she really know this man next to her at all?

The yacht had been decorated to mimic the set of the movie, a futuristic panorama right down to the uniforms of the waitstaff. The food was lavish. The drinks plentiful.

Stars glittered in an indigo sky and on the decks of the yacht as well. Leila had adored the nightlife in the early days of their marriage, and would party until dawn with Rafael. But the past few years her enjoyment of the jet-set gaiety had waned.

Even now the best French champagne tasted bitter to her. And the man she’d married seemed a powerful stranger.

He commanded attention. People knew his name. Influential people in all walks of life.

Gone was the carefree young designer who’d created some technological wonder at a time that everyone clambered for something new and groundbreaking. He was a star in his world just as she was in hers.

Only she’d been a comeback queen. It had been grueling to step back in front of the camera after her recovery and she’d been determined to succeed.

Rafael had been her savior then. He’d taken her away from the madness and the pressures of the modeling world. He’d become the barrier that her controlling mother could never break down.

He’d let Leila make her own decisions regarding her career and she had become strong. She owed him everything – including the truth that burned in her soul.

“Rafael da Souza is without a doubt the most handsome man here,” a ravishing starlet said, a champagne flute dangling from her jeweled fingers and lust glittering in her blue eyes that were fixed on him.

“I agree,” Leila managed to say in a controlled tone, her Brazilian blood bitten with jealousy that this young woman would openly flaunt her desire for Rafael in front of her! “But then, I’ve always thought he was the most handsome man I’ve ever met.”

“You know him?” she asked, looking at Leila then.

Leila forced a smile, knowing the second when the actress recognized her. “I’m his wife.”

And after delivering that statement, Leila walked straight toward her husband. She lifted a flute of champagne off a tray as Rafael turned to talk to a beautiful woman who’d just approached him.

A woman whom he seemed glad to see!

Leila downed the fine wine so fast that her head took a dizzying spin. She refused to rationalize that women threw themselves at Rafael often, for his finely chiseled features and intense dark eyes were too magnetic for any woman to resist, including herself. But he was her husband!

Her sting of jealousy was warranted. Wasn’t it?

She wouldn’t sit on the sidelines tonight and watch others flirt with him! God forbid if he welcomed their attention, as he seemed to be doing now with this green-eyed beauty at his side.

“There you are,” Leila said in an affected purr as she slipped her arms around his muscled one, bringing his startled gaze snapping to hers. “I’ve missed you.”

His brows slammed together, then smoothed one trebling pulse later. “Have you now?”

“I thought perhaps you’d give me a tour of the yacht.”

“Later,” he said, and flicked an apologetic look at the other woman.

Before Leila could protest, the woman who’d garnered Rafael’s attention spoke directly to her. “I’ve admired your work for years. You make modeling look effortless when I know it is very hard work.”

Again she trotted forth her patent smile when she felt anything but pleasant. Her head was still in the clouds from drinking two glasses of champagne on a nearly empty stomach.

“Are you a model?” Leila asked the woman who was as tall as she, enviably lithe and naturally beautiful with a crown of soft brown curls and arresting jade-green eyes.

“Katie is a costume designer,” came a deep voice behind her, a voice laced with a distinct English accent. “An excellent one, I may add.”

Leila whipped around and stared up at the intruder. The bottom fell out of her queasy stomach as a pair of royal-blue eyes locked on hers.

“Nathaniel,” Leila said, noting that the film star was as tall and broad shouldered as Rafael. That their family resemblance was further established with features that were just as finely chiseled.

The look of love Nathaniel and Katie exchanged caught her by surprise. The celebrated star wasn’t acting now. This was genuine affection.

“Katie and I were sorry you couldn’t make the wedding,” Nathaniel said, moving to his wife now and slipping an arm around her shoulders.

“As was I,” she replied, her apologetic smile flicking from him to Rafael.

The accusatory glint in her husband’s intense eyes scorched through her. He didn’t add that she would have known who Katie was if she had accompanied him to his brother’s wedding. He didn’t have to, for his eyes said it all.

The yacht took a sudden dip and her stomach heaved along with it. Terrified she’d become ill in front of the world, she muttered an apology and fled toward the lower deck and the toilets.

She kept the contents of her queasy stomach, only to find that Rafael had stayed on her heels and was waiting for her to exit.

“Are you ill?” he asked.

She shook her head, for how did one explain one was sick at heart?

“Absolutely not,” she said. “I drank too much champagne on an empty stomach. The movement of the boat made me woozy. Being on the water always does that.”

His brow narrowed, as if considering her words. “That is a convenient answer.”

“It’s the truth. I find these parties cloying,” she said. “Maybe I’ve just been on too hectic of a schedule of late to appreciate the party crowd, but right now I’d kill for some quiet time where I could just relax.”

He gave a curt nod. “Then let’s leave.”

She pressed a hand against the muscled wall of his chest and shivered at the heat and power beneath her palm. “Stay and enjoy your party.”

He closed his hand over hers, but his dark gaze gave nothing away of what he felt. “I wouldn’t dream of it. If we part company on the first night, the paparazzi will have a field day with speculation.”

All for show.

Nobody understood the need for publicity stunts more than she. She’d lend Rafael her support, and he’d do the same for her at the premier of Bare Souls. She never doubted he’d be there for her.

But would he once he’d learned what she’d kept from him?

“Besides,” he continued, “I’ve thought of nothing except getting you alone.”

“Very well,” she said. “Get me out of here.”

Rafael kept his thoughts secreted on the short boat ride from the yacht to the dock. He’d said nothing when the boat had picked up speed and Leila had taken his hand in a death grip.

The tremors rocketing through her told him everything he needed to know then. She wasn’t fine by any stretch of the imagination. She was putting on a brave front, and if there was one thing he understood, it was how to stand tall in the face of adversity.

His troubled childhood had taught him that bitter lesson!

That’s when he’d buried his own pain of being William Wolfe’s unwanted bastard into learning the intricacies of computers, discovering what made them work, and what to do to make them work better.

He suspected Leila did the same with her modeling. That was her escape, or perhaps her triumph and celebration, over her bout with anorexia.

His gaze lifted to La Croisette and the cluster of fans, paparazzi and celebrities moving about. The tents crowding the beach were the same, though the lights were more subdued. More intimate.

At one time they’d have enjoyed the nightlife. Now he selfishly wanted Leila to himself. The question remained if she was still eager to be alone with him.

“Would you like to take in the sights before turning in?” he asked, stopping well before the flood of lights spilling from the Palais du Cinéma.

She looked at the active scene they’d soon walk into and shivered. “No. I’ve no interest in becoming one of the hundreds in the nightclubs.”

He released a sigh of relief. “What about the secluded beach? Just us walking, like we used to do.”

Music danced on the balmy night air, but he felt the shift in her mood from tense to relieved.

“I’d enjoy that, as long as it takes me away from the spotlight.”

He couldn’t agree more, and was relieved she felt the same. There was a change in Leila that he’d never seen before, and wasn’t quite sure how to deal with. But part of her seemed closed off even to him. Distant. What had happened this past year while they had been embroiled in their careers to put those shadows in her vibrant eyes?

Rafael certainly intended to find out once they were alone. He eased them past the barriers that served to keep the onlookers out and took a trail that wound to a secluded stretch of sand. It wasn’t wide and it wasn’t pretty, but it was quiet.

“I applaud you for avoiding the paparazzi and the guards,” she said, pausing to slip off her heels before they started down the warm sandy coast.

“I was lucky.” Just like he’d been all the times he’d sneaked into Wolfe Manor so he could play with his half brothers and sister, defying his father’s edict.

He shook off those old painful memories and held on to the good ones. He’d made a solid connection with his siblings over the years, though he didn’t keep in touch with all of them. But then his family had remained fractured, with each of his half siblings emotionally or physically scarred by their father.

Rafael had worried that he would not be able to love another person up until the day he’d met Leila. Even during that first year of marriage he’d wondered if what he felt was real. If he’d awaken to discover it had all been a dream.

He glanced down at Leila now, whose features seemed suddenly lighter, freer. He surrendered to his own smile, for there was something about defying the norm that made his own adrenaline surge.

“Feeling better?” he asked, twining his fingers with hers as they struck off down the beach.

“Much. The air is so refreshing.”

He made a sound of agreement, though every breath he took drew her sweet scent deeper into his soul. The tension of being the object of so much attention began easing, yet he sensed Leila hadn’t let go of it yet.

“I’ve missed this,” she said at last.

“The beach?”

“The peace and quiet with you.”

The exact opposite of her lifestyle. Right now at this moment their separate worlds were miles apart. But if they didn’t put a stop to this madness they’d lived with for a year, their marriage would surely suffer. Perhaps it already had.

“Why push yourself so hard in your career now? “

“If I don’t fight to stay on top of it I could end up on the fringe of this business outside of a year.”

Rafael suddenly felt tension seep into his bones. Surely this would happen anyway once they started the family they’d agreed on? Or had that changed?

“It sounds as if you intend to keep working.”

“I do,” she said without hesitating.

Was she serious?

He wanted a wife and the family he’d long to have. A home. A normal family that he’d always been denied.

He wanted Leila back in his life now, not off somewhere on a shoot dragging their children along. Leaving him behind. Lonely. Forgotten. Rejected.

“And what about children, Leila? I thought we’d agreed that when we started a family, you would be a full-time mother. You’d place our children above everything, and most certainly above your career. Are you telling me now that has changed? “

Chapter Three

RAFAEL held on to his emotions as silence roared between them, obliterating the soothing sounds of the surf washing over the sands and the excited beat of music pulsing in the warm night air.

He’d asked a simple question, one they’d agreed upon before they’d gotten married. The answer should be instant, in keeping with her promise.

“Many mothers work as well as look after their children, Rafael,” she said, which sounded like she was building up to an admission that she’d had a change of heart.

He bit off a curse and jammed his hands into his trouser pockets when every cell in his body goaded him to shake sense into his wife. The last thing he needed to do was lose his temper. He had to remain calm. Rational. Or as rational as he could be when his dreams of a family were teetering on the edge.

“Most women with children hold down a job because they have to. You most certainly do not need to work.”

“I disagree with you,” she fired back. “Many women work because it gives them purpose.”

“You think being a mother won’t do that?”

He wished he could see her face, but the velvet night swallowed up the details. The tension he felt rocketing through her though was very real, and very telling.

“I can’t think of anything on earth that would be as soul-satisfying as having a child,” she said at last, her voice breaking a bit with genuine emotion. “But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t work in moderation. I love my career, Rafael. Through it, I’ve been able to help other young girls who suffer with eating disorders. I’ve made a difference in their lives.”

He was well aware of the clinic she’d established in Rio and he was proud of all she’d achieved. He was aware, too, that of late she’d suffered a financial setback there. A setback that he could have easily funded for her. But when he’d offered to secure her clinic under his business umbrella in March, she’d thanked him before she’d flatly refused his help.

He’d not brought the subject up again, but now he had to know. “What about your business manager? Doesn’t he oversee those issues for you?”

“Yes, but I have final say. Especially with the clinic. It’s important to me that I keep a close watch over it,” she said.

Leila had as much pride as he. She was also clearly set on having control over her career as well as her charity.

He understood that, for he was the same. But of late he suspected that her drive to make crucial decisions in her life had edged to the extreme. It wasn’t just the little things she needed to evaluate. She was micromanaging everything.

Their marriage and future family as well?

She couldn’t give up her career, and she wouldn’t put the management of her charity into anyone else’s hands. She insisted she could keep a finger in her work and still be a mother – which she was obviously again trying to put off starting.

He sucked in a breath, then another, but his nerves were still snapping like ribbons in the wind. He knew full well how part-time work could eventually suck up all the hours in a day. He knew, too, how devoted – no, driven – Leila was with her career.

Which made the thought of her being a working mother all the more troubling. A baby could easily be shuffled off while she was busy on a set, cared for by strangers.

Just like his youth? Passed from one neighbor to another while his mother cleaned houses for a meager living. And later, when he was left alone in their small flat when his mother couldn’t support them and her various causes with just one job.

Rafael ground his teeth in annoyance, for he’d vowed at an early age that no child of his would endure that type of life. His children would have a home and two parents to come home to every day. They would know they were loved. Wanted. Cherished.

He took her hand and lifted it to his mouth, placing a light kiss on her fingers. A shiver rocketed from her into him, telling him she wasn’t immune from him at least.

“Leila, I am tired of us being apart and waiting to start a family,” he said. “I want a wife who lives with me again. I want a home and children.”

He heard her clear her throat, felt another tremor skitter through her. “God knows I’ve missed you. But what you are asking me to give up right now is unreasonable.”

“No, I am speaking from experience,” he reasoned softly. “I lived with a mother who worked all her life, not one but two jobs. I know what it is like to be alone, and I will not put our child through the same.”

Before she could answer, a couple’s low laughter intruded on them, followed by a barbed comment from a man. He glanced at the sound, noting with irritation that two couples were coming their way, all close to being lost to drink, he’d guess.

“Let’s return to our suite,” he said, pulling Leila away from the approaching group.

“Gladly.”

By the time they’d wended their way through the crowd and into their hotel in brittle silence, Rafael’s emotions were stretched to breaking point. At this rate any further conversation about children would likely end in an argument. Yet how could he rest until he knew what had changed Leila’s mind?

Dammit, they’d made these plans long ago. Had he simply deluded himself into thinking their marriage and their love was strong?

“It is clear to me that you need to decide what you want,” he said, his voice sounding suddenly cold. “A family with me. Or your career.”

“Perhaps it is fate’s choice to make and not mine.”

There was something in her tone that chilled him. Something heart-wrenching in the shadows lurking in her eyes.

Without another word, she slipped into the bedroom. Instead of following, he stood there alone, dreading that there was far more to her prophetic comment than he would like.

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