The Baby the Billionaire Demands Page 12

  “Well?” he said sharply, standing in front of the penthouse door. “You were so worried about getting here on time. What are you waiting for?”

  “Nothing.” But as Lola lifted her hand to knock, she heard people laughing inside the apartment, and hesitated.

  Looking at the huge diamond ring on her left hand, she suddenly wished she’d told Tess and Hallie the news of her marriage over the phone. Earlier, she’d grinned at the thought of seeing the shock on their faces, that Lola, the one who’d bossed the other two girls into telling their ex-lovers about their babies, had suddenly—without warning—married her own baby’s father.

  Because, unlike her friends, Lola had always refused to reveal the identity of her baby’s father. Hallie and Tess had crazy theories about who Jett’s father might be—that the man was married or some kind of criminal. Tess was especially good at coming up with eye-popping theories.

  She hadn’t wanted to tell them the simple truth, that Jett’s father was Lola’s old boss. She’d been trying to forget his existence, and thought if she didn’t say Rodrigo’s name, she wouldn’t think about him, either.

  But now, she felt like she was springing the news on her friends out of nowhere. Hey, you know how I stubbornly refused to tell you anything about Jett’s father? Well, here he is! And he’s a Spanish billionaire! Ha-ha! And guess what? We’re married!

  Well, Lola consoled herself wryly, at least the two women wouldn’t be able to complain about having yet another bridesmaid’s dress gathering dust in their closets for eternity.

  Squaring her shoulders, she knocked hard on the door.

  A moment later, it opened, and she saw Tess’s beaming, pink-cheeked face, her red hair tumbling over her shoulders.

  “Lola!” she squealed. She turned to call over her shoulder, “Hallie! Lola’s here!”

  The brunette came quickly, almost at a run. Lola came inside carrying Jett, Rodrigo following a moment behind her, pushing the empty stroller. Helping her and the baby off with their winter coats, he disappeared behind the closet door. Tess’s eyes went wide, and she looked at Lola, her eyes full of questions.

  “I like your new place, Tess,” Lola said evasively, looking around the gorgeous penthouse, with two-story windows overlooking most of snowy Central Park. “But where’s your furniture?”

  “It hasn’t arrived from Italy yet. We’ve only just got the keys.” She glanced back at her husband, who’d come up behind her. “Stefano wanted to wait and host New Year’s Eve instead—”

  “But Tess insisted on Thanksgiving,” the Sicilian prince said, wrapping his arms around his wife’s waist, who giggled.

  “I’ll host New Year’s Eve,” Hallie’s husband, Cristiano, yelled from the next room.

  “Anyway.” Rolling her eyes, Tess turned to Lola. “We had to have the meal catered, but I knew you and Hallie wouldn’t care if we sat on folding chairs. Love is what matters, right?”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Stefano said, nuzzling his wife. Then he seemed to remember they were surrounded by people, and straightened. His eyes focused on Rodrigo, who’d just closed the closet door. “Cabrera? What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Rodrigo Cabrera!” Tess exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I knew I recognized you!”

  “Hey, Zacco.” Looking at Tess, he said politely, “Thank you for the invitation to Thanksgiving.”

  Tess looked utterly bewildered.

  “Who’s he?” Hallie demanded, her face puzzled as she stared at Rodrigo. “Why is he pushing Jett’s stroller?”

  Behind her, Cristiano wandered in carrying an empty tray. “Table’s all set,” he said with pride, then stopped when he saw Rodrigo. “Who are you?”

  Lola took a deep breath.

  This was it. The moment of her big announcement. She thought she’d feel smug and cheeky. Instead, she just felt awkward.

  “This is Rodrigo Cabrera,” she began. “I used to work for him in California. He’s...um...” She looked at him, then mumbled, “Well, he’s the father of my baby.”

  “What?” Tess said.

  “No, seriously?” Hallie said.

  “That’s not my only news.” Adjusting her baby against her hip, Lola lifted her left hand, letting the huge diamond engagement ring glitter in the light.

  Her friends gasped.

  “I can’t believe it,” Hallie said, grabbing her hand to look closer at the ring.

  “And we’re not just engaged. We’re...we’re married.”

  “Married!”

  “I knew it!” Tess cried, practically bouncing with joy. Reaching out, she stroked Jett’s soft, downy hair. “I knew you wouldn’t love someone who was no good!”

  At the word love, Lola’s cheeks went hot, and she glanced back self-consciously at Rodrigo. But he’d been drawn across the room to accept the raucous, teasing congratulations of the two other men.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Hallie said softly, her soft brown eyes accusing. “We imagined your baby’s father must be a total disaster, since you refused to tell us his name.” She eyed Rodrigo. “He doesn’t seem so bad.”

  Lola looked at her husband. “He’s not.” Her voice trembled a little. “He’s not bad at all.”

  The two women stared at her.

  “Oh, man,” Tess said. “You’ve got it bad.”

  Oh, no! The last thing Lola wanted was for that rumor to go around, especially when Rodrigo was only ten feet away! Lola turned on the redhead with a growl.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. We only got married for the baby’s sake. To be practical.”

  “So you’re not having sex?” Hallie said.

  Lola’s cheeks went hot. “It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a benefit of being married.” Her voice turned husky as her eyes unwillingly returned to her handsome husband. “He’s my baby’s father, and I respect him, and like him so much...”

  Hallie followed her gaze, then the usually sensible brunette said, almost in awe, “Tess is right. You love him like crazy.” She slowly looked over Lola’s black cashmere sweater and leggings and knee-high boots. “It’s written all over you.”

  “Hush!” Lola angrily grabbed Hallie’s arm. “He’ll hear you.”

  The brunette looked bewildered. “And that would be a bad thing?”

  “Yes,” said Tess, looking at Lola’s face. Taking Jett from her arms, the redhead waved for them to follow. “Come in here.” Turning toward the men, she said loudly, “We’ll be in the kitchen.”

  Prince Stefano called, “Need help?”

  “No, we, um, Lola wants a good recipe for pie and she was wondering whether to use butter or shortening for crust.”

  “Oh,” said Stefano, his eyes glazing over.

  “Let’s go watch the game,” Cristiano said heartily. “My father’s already in there, keeping an eye on Esme and Jack. You coming, Cabrera?”

  “What game?” Rodrigo said.

  The other two men laughed. “It’s Thanksgiving, isn’t it? The Cowboys. Come on.”

  “Men and sports,” Hallie sighed with a fond smile, shaking her head as the men disappeared.

  “This way.” Still holding Lola’s baby, Tess led them down the hall to a gorgeous kitchen which looked completely untouched.

  “We’re still waiting for our pots and pans,” she said apologetically. “Stefano offered to buy everything new and have it delivered yesterday, but I just want our old things from Sicily. I didn’t think you’d mind eating off the caterer’s plates.” She bit her lip, suddenly looking worried. “You don’t mind, do you? Is it tacky?”

  “Not at all,” Hallie said soothingly.

  Looking around, Lola said in sudden worry, “But we’re having a real dinner, right?” She added apologetically, “It’s just that it’s Rodrigo’s first real Thanksgiving—”

  “Don’t wor
ry.” Tess’s round face broke into a big smile. “Dinner’s being catered from one of the best restaurants in the city. Well, except for the rolls and pies. Those are being brought by my cousins. Did you hear? They’re running the family bakery now.”

  “Your cousins!” Lola was astounded. “But they’re so young!”

  “Just a few years younger than we are. Old enough to know what they want in life.” Tess’s smile lifted to a grin. “But obviously still learning the business. They called to say they’re running a little late.”

  “But I’m sure Tess didn’t really drag us into the kitchen to talk about pie.” Hallie leaned back against the spotless marble counter, her dark eyes piercing. “What’s going on with you and your new husband, Lola?”

  “And how could you have a wedding without us?” Tess looked suddenly hurt. “We should have been bridesmaids. Just like you were for us.”

  Lola’s first instinct was to refuse to explain, to make an excuse, to grab her babbling baby out of Tess’s arms and wander into the front room to join the men watching football.

  But suddenly, her heart was in her throat. Tears lifted to her eyes.

  “Lola?” Hallie said.

  “Lola, are you all right?” Tess said.

  Her friends looked shocked. They had never seen her vulnerable before. Lola had always prided herself on being the strong one. She was the bossy one giving them advice, not the other way around.

  “I’m sorry,” Lola whispered, wiping her eyes. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “Do you want a cupcake?” asked Tess anxiously.

  “A glass of wine?” asked Hallie.

  It was so typical, Lola unwillingly laughed through her tears.

  Then, with an intake of breath, she told them everything.

  Her poverty and helplessness as a child, seeing her mother work herself to death, seeing her stepfather injured, disabled and finally sent to prison for trying to sell drugs. How Lola had felt, being responsible for her baby sisters when she was still a child herself. How, after their mother’s untimely death, the girls had been dragged away from her, their screams still ringing in her ears. How she’d felt at eighteen, seeing them happy in another family, having forgotten her completely.

  “I decided that money was the only thing that mattered,” she whispered. She looked down. “I did some things I’m not proud of.”

  Hallie patted her shoulder. “We all have. It’s part of being human.”

  “Oh, Lola.” Tess looked heartbroken. “I never imagined. You always seemed so tough.”

  “Like nothing could hurt you,” said Hallie.

  Lola choked out a laugh, then wiped her eyes. “I pushed you guys so hard, while I was a coward in my own life.”

  “No, never,” Tess said loyally.

  “You helped us,” Hallie said.

  “So now let us help you,” the redhead said. “Do you love him?”

  “No, I—” But Lola’s words caught in her throat. Memories flooded through her of Rodrigo tenderly taking care of their baby. Of him caring for her. Of all their days talking, and the hot nights when he’d made love to her again and again. Looking at her friends, she couldn’t lie to them.

  With a shuddering breath, she whispered, “I don’t know.”

  Hallie and Tess looked at each other.

  “You don’t know?” Hallie said gently.

  “I can’t love him.” Lola wiped her eyes. “I did once, last year, before I knew I was pregnant. But when I told him my feelings, he found an excuse to break up with me, and practically tossed me out of California. He doesn’t believe in love. He thinks it only brings pain.” She hesitated, then said quietly, “He was engaged three times before he met me.”

  Idealistic Tess looked shocked. “Three times?”

  “And they all cheated on him before the wedding.”

  “All of them?” Hallie said faintly.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t invite you to the wedding. But as soon as Rodrigo found out about the baby, he insisted we get married at once. A judge was waiting at his loft to marry us right after the paternity test. With his housekeeper and bodyguard as witnesses.”

  “You didn’t even get to plan your own wedding?” Tess said indignantly.

  Lola looked down.

  “It wasn’t so bad,” she said in a small voice.

  “And whoever heard of a man engaged so many times?” Hallie said wonderingly.

  “It happens,” Lola said, a hard edge coming into her voice. She felt suddenly protective of him.

  Tess’s plump face was bewildered. “And all three women cheated on him before the wedding?”

  Lola took a deep breath, wondering if she should tell them the worst, the fear she could barely even admit to herself—that he’d arranged those betrayals himself, either to test their loyalty or have an excuse to end the relationships.

  He’s not like that, Lola told herself desperately. He wouldn’t do something so underhanded.

  The house phone rang on the kitchen counter. Tess picked it up. “Hello?” Her face lit up. “Yes, of course. Send them all up!” Hanging up, she said happily, “That was the doorman. My cousins are here, and so are the caterers!” Moving to the wide, open doorway, she called, “Boys! The food’s here!”

  There was a loud yell of glee, and the trampling of heavy male feet.

  “Will you be all right, Lola?”

  Hallie’s voice was quiet behind her. Lola turned to see the brunette’s worried eyes.

  With a deep breath, she lifted her chin. “Don’t worry about me. I’m just being silly.” Wiping the last of the tears from her eyes, she took Jett back into her arms with a smile. “Rodrigo and I are happy. We have a baby together. We’re married. Friends.” She gave a crooked smile. “And the sex is fantastic.”

  Gentle, romantic Tess looked at her. “But without love, how can it last?”

  Don’t get comfortable, Ulrika Lund had said. You won’t be with him for long. He’ll see to that.

  As Lola looked between the worried faces of her best friends, a trickle of fear went down her spine.

  I have to understand what happened, she thought suddenly. Had her husband really been behind all those betrayals and broken engagements? Or was it just a wild coincidence?

  She’d spoken to his first two fiancées, but not the third, Elise Patel, a world-famous composer who now lived in Los Angeles. Perhaps her story would turn out to be completely different.

  Lola’s eyes narrowed. One way or the other, she would find out the truth.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  IT WAS STRANGE, Rodrigo thought, to have one’s first Thanksgiving at the age of thirty-seven. But no stranger than the rest of it, he supposed.

  He looked down the long table, surrounded by mismatched folding chairs, in this magnificent, half-empty Manhattan penthouse overlooking Central Park. It was strange to be eating a traditional Thanksgiving dinner off the caterer’s rented china, surrounded mostly by strangers.

  Rodrigo knew Prince Stefano Zacco, the luxury fashion mogul, only slightly. His only acquaintance with Cristiano Moretti was that he’d often stayed in the man’s hotels.

  Rodrigo had no memory whatsoever of when Stefano’s wife, Tess, had apparently worked as a waitress at one of his cocktail parties. He’d never met Hallie before, nor Cristiano’s father who’d just come from Italy, nor Tess’s two young cousins, who looked barely old enough to be out of high school, but who apparently now ran the family bakery and, he had to admit, certainly knew how to bake.

  This Thanksgiving was strange, for sure.

  But in some ways, it wasn’t strange at all. It was exactly how Rodrigo had imagined it might be, when he was a child left on his own in Madrid to eat arroz con pollo with the nanny and the cook, as his mother flew off to ski in Aspen with her latest lover, and his cold, distant fathe
r disappeared to quietly rage at a film set.

  Now, as Rodrigo sat at the table, listening to all of the people around him laugh and joke and tease each other, he felt like he was on a film set himself. A scene for a Thanksgiving movie, or an advertisement for any holiday that brought family and friends together for a meal. He ate the butter-basted turkey and cornbread stuffing, the mashed potatoes and gravy and fresh cranberry sauce, and it was all so delicious. After eating a huge plateful of food, he’d gone back for a second—having been told it was tradition to eat until one was utterly stuffed—and afterward, he found himself relaxing into warmth and pleasure, smiling as Lola and her friends good-naturedly fought over who got the wishbone.

  “It’s mine,” Lola said ferociously, holding one side of the wishbone.

  “No way, mine,” Hallie retorted, gripping the other.

  “Let Lola have it,” Tess whispered to Hallie. “She needs it.”

  The brunette instantly released it. “You win.”

  Rodrigo looked between them in confusion. “Why does Lola need it?”

  His wife flashed him a look he couldn’t read. Fear? Regret? Hope? But before he could analyze it, it was gone. She shrugged. “It’s good luck, that’s all.”

  “But why do you need luck more than anyone else?” he persisted.

  She gave him a crooked smile. “I’m married to you, aren’t I?”

  “And I’m married to you,” he pointed out, returning her grin.

  “So maybe you’re the one who needs it, then.” She held out the wishbone. “We’re supposed to wait until it dries, but I’m not that patient. Grab a side, make a wish and pull.”

  As ordered, he grabbed the other side of the wishbone and pulled it, hard and fast, at the same time she did. There was a loud crack.

  Rodrigo lifted his bigger piece of the wishbone. “What does this mean?”

  Lola looked disconsolately at her smaller piece, then sighed. “It means you win.” She gave him a strange look. “What did you wish for?”

  “I didn’t wish for anything,” he said honestly. He looked around them. “I have everything any man could want.”