The Baby the Billionaire Demands Page 13

  Applause and approval went around the table. But he again saw that flash of emotion cross his wife’s face. An emotion that he didn’t understand. Emotion that was quickly veiled as she turned away. “It’s time for dessert.”

  She was hiding something.

  The insidious thought went through him like a hissing snake, twisting and curling from the base of his skull down the length of his spine.

  His wife had a secret. Something she didn’t want him to know.

  What?

  Lola, Tess and Hallie returned from the kitchen with six pies—two each of pumpkin, pecan and apple. With a flourish, Lola cut him a slice of each kind, covered them with whipped cream and slid the plate in front of him.

  “Three slices?” he said, bemused.

  “Try them all, then decide which one you like best.” Kissing his temple, she said, “I want your first Thanksgiving to be perfect.”

  Rodrigo lifted his fork, to do as commanded. But as he tasted each slice of pie, all the buttery, sweet, creamy, crunchy goodness he’d anticipated tasted like ash in his mouth. As he looked at her veiled eyes, a panicked, animal suspicion skittered down his spine.

  What was she hiding?

  Against his will, he was flooded by memories of those other women who’d hidden secrets. Secrets that inevitably ended with Rodrigo looking at pictures of them naked in bed with other men.

  He still wondered who’d sent the photographs. One of his rivals? One of his friends? Whoever it was, they’d hovered in the shadows for a decade, looking out for him. He was grateful to them.

  But he also hated them.

  “So which one do you like best?” said one of Tess’s cousins anxiously.

  “Yes, which?” said the other.

  Standing beside him at the table, Lola looked down at Rodrigo with inscrutable hazel eyes.

  There was no question which woman he liked best.

  His wife.

  He could not bear to lose Lola. Not at any price. They were married now. A family—

  Stop, Rodrigo told himself angrily. He was no longer a weak boy, lonely and desperate to be loved. He’d realized the truth long ago. Anyone he loved, he lost. That was the reality, or at least his reality.

  But he didn’t love Lola. Therefore, he told himself firmly, he had nothing to worry about. His investigator had already assured him she wasn’t in contact with Sergei Morozov, or any other man. And having a home and financial security for Jett meant too much to her. She’d never cheat, not when it would leave her without a penny.

  His shoulders slowly relaxed.

  “Well?” Lola said softly, “What is your answer?”

  “Kiss me,” he said huskily, “and I’ll tell you my favorite.”

  Putting her hand gently on his cheek, Lola lowered her head to his, and softly kissed him, in front of everyone. Her lips were tender and burned through his body. Through his soul. Finally, she pulled away.

  “Pecan,” he said, because it was closest.

  “I knew it.” One of Tess’s cousins looked at the other triumphantly. “I told you it was the best, Natalie.”

  But Rodrigo wasn’t thinking about pie. He looked up at his wife.

  No other woman had ever been so important to him before. His life had become better from the moment Lola had come into it. He had the sudden disquieting thought that she could destroy that happiness, if she chose.

  No, he told himself fiercely. She doesn’t own me. As long as I don’t love her, I can trust her.

  But he saw the evasion of Lola’s gaze, the wistfulness of her smile. And all the warmth and happiness of the day melted away.

  Rodrigo suddenly knew one thing. He had to find out her secret. Before it was too late.

  Before he got another anonymous photograph in the mail.

  * * *

  “Thank you for meeting me, Ms. Patel.” In California a few weeks later, Lola rose from the table in the outdoor patio of the beach café, holding out her hand. “It’s an honor.”

  “The honor is mine,” said the other woman, shaking her hand. Lifting her designer sunglasses to her black, shiny hair, Elise Patel looked around them, blinking in the bright sunshine. “Honestly, it’s the first time I’ve left my studio in weeks.”

  “Composing a new score?”

  “Not just composing. Producing, too.” Dropping her expensive designer handbag carelessly to the rough wood patio floor, she got the waiter’s attention with a snap. “Triple espresso, please.”

  “Triple?” Tucking Jett’s blanket around him in the nearby stroller, Lola said with a laugh, “If I drank that, I’d be awake for weeks.”

  She snorted. “I wish. I’m still trying to wake up, after three hours’ sleep. I only have ten minutes before I need to get back to work.” With a slight smile, she shook her head. “Honestly, I do not have time for this.”

  The famous composer did indeed look a little tired, with dark circles beneath her eyes, wearing oversized jeans and a plain black sweatshirt, though she’d driven up in a two-hundred-thousand-dollar SUV.

  Lola leaned back in her chair. “So why did you agree to meet me?”

  Elise Patel’s lips curved at the edges. “I was curious to meet the woman who actually managed to marry Rodrigo Cabrera.”

  All around them, beautiful people were chatting, sipping their lattes at this trendy beachside café not too far from Malibu. The sun was bright in the California sky, and though it was now mid-December, the air was warm enough that, in the stroller, Jett was wearing just a T-shirt and shorts over his fat baby legs, and Lola wore a simple cotton sundress and sandals, her long blond hair in a ponytail.

  “I wanted to meet you too,” Lola said, sipping her cappuccino. “I’ve already met the other two women who cheated on him, but not you.”

  The composer’s eyes flashed in irritation, then she gave a grudging smile. “You’re direct. I like that. Saves time.” She looked up at the waiter who’d arrived with her espresso. “Thank you.” Taking a sip, she sat back, then sighed with pleasure. “Delicious.” Elise lifted a dark eyebrow. “So did you just invite me here to insult me, or were you curious about me as well?”

  “Curious about one thing.” Lola leaned forward. “Why did you do it?”

  “Why what? Why did I cheat on him?” The other woman rolled her eyes. “That’s a rude question. There’s no reason for me to answer it. Unless you’re afraid you might do the same?”

  “Of course not!” Lola said.

  “It all seems so long ago.”

  “Not even five years.” She knew Rodrigo had ended his engagement to Elise a year before Lola started working for him.

  “Yes, five years. An eternity.” Blowing the steam off her espresso, the composer shook her head good-naturedly. “Do you know how many film scores I’ve written since then? How many awards I’ve won?”

  “Yes, I know you’re very busy and very famous,” Lola said. “Is that why you cheated on Rodrigo? For the attention?”

  “I loved him, I think. But I never saw him.” She took another sip of espresso. “After he proposed to me, he suddenly got very busy with work and disappeared for months. Then a gorgeous production assistant suddenly was bringing me flowers. Asking me about my work. Singing my praises. Offering me foot rubs.” She shrugged. “It happened. It’s not something I’m proud of.”

  “And you ended up falling in love with the other man?”

  “Love? It was just one night.” She snorted. “And the sex wasn’t even good. I regretted it instantly. I might have tried to work it out with Rodrigo, but someone sent him photographs. It was all very strange. If it was meant to be a blackmail attempt, the man never asked for money. He just disappeared.”

  “Disappeared...” Prickles lifted on the back of Lola’s neck. She looked down at Jett, burbling happily in his stroller. The story was too much a du
plicate of the other women’s to be a coincidence.

  “Honestly, looking back I’m almost relieved it happened,” the composer said. “Since he dumped me, I’ve devoted myself to work, and it’s all paid off. Tell Rodrigo that when you see him. Tell him thanks.”

  “Um...all right,” she said, a little surprised.

  Tilting her head, Elise murmured, “I think I can see why he married you.”

  Lola was flattered in spite of herself. “What do you mean?”

  “I heard you were his assistant. You quit your job for him. So you have nothing else going on. You can just follow him around. You’re his trophy. His pet.” Her lips creased. “I think that’s what he actually wanted in a woman all along. So maybe your marriage will survive.” She finished the espresso at a gulp, then tossed a twenty-dollar bill on the table. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  And the other woman left, getting into her expensive SUV and driving fast down the coastal highway.

  Lola stared after her in shock.

  You quit your job for him. So you have nothing else going on. You can just follow him around. You’re his trophy. His pet. I think that’s what he actually wanted in a woman all along. So maybe your marriage will survive.

  She tapped her fingertips angrily on the table. His trophy, was she? His pet? As she signaled for the bill, her heart thrummed with anger. Lola was his wife! The mother of a tiny infant! She had plenty going on!

  But the insult burned through her.

  For most of her life, Lola had prided herself on working longer and harder than anyone else. Just as her mother once had. Being an assistant to a powerful tycoon was long, difficult work, and she’d done well. She’d thrived. And being the logistics and operations manager of their household was no joke. She—

  A man walking through the restaurant patio paused as he went past her table. “Oh. Hello again.”

  Still lost in her indignant thoughts, Lola looked up.

  For a moment, she struggled to recognize him. Tall and blond, wearing a tight T-shirt and board shorts over his muscled body, he was handsome, tanned with a white, gleaming smile.

  A chill went down her spine.

  “Don’t you remember me?” the man said, drawing closer to her table. His eyes seemed to caress her, and so did his smile. “We met by chance a few weeks ago? On the beach?”

  Lola rose up, trembling.

  “Who sent you?” Her voice hardened. “Who hired you?”

  The young man went pale beneath his tan. “What? Nobody!”

  “Tell me!” she demanded, pounding the table.

  “You’re crazy,” he said, backing away nervously. He looked around the patio with its view of the ocean across the street. “She’s crazy!”

  Turning, he practically ran from the café.

  “Don’t ever harass me again!” Lola yelled after him.

  After the man was gone, it took some moments for her to calm down. Blood pounded through her body, making her shake. Ignoring all the open stares, she knelt before the stroller to comfort the baby, who’d started to cry. Trying to comfort herself.

  “Is everything all right, Mrs. Cabrera? What did that man do?”

  Looking up, she saw one of their bodyguards, whom she’d purposefully left behind at the beach house today. And not even her favorite one, Tobias. “What are you doing here, Lester?”

  “Boss told me to keep an eye on you.”

  “To spy on me?”

  The man looked uncomfortable. “He just wanted—”

  “I don’t care what he wanted,” she snapped. “Stop following me.” Tossing money on the table for her cappuccino and croissant, she tucked her bag into the stroller and stomped away from the bodyguard, to her husband’s Mercedes SUV parked behind the café.

  She felt sick.

  Could Rodrigo have hired the handsome stranger, who looked like a cross between a surfer and out-of-work soap opera actor, to try to seduce her?

  Was that why Lester was there—to follow and get pictures?

  No, she told herself fiercely. But her hands shook as she buckled her baby into the SUV and tossed the stroller into the back. Taking calming breaths, she reminded herself that Rodrigo was in San Francisco on business today. He couldn’t know Lola would be at this café with his ex.

  The thought reassured her as she started the engine. Then she stopped, staring out at the blue ocean.

  Elise Patel’s phone number was unlisted. Lola had gotten it from Marnie yesterday. Rodrigo could have easily found out where she planned to be. He could have sent the stranger, either as some kind of loyalty test, or something more malicious.

  Was it possible that Rodrigo was trying to get rid of her, just like the rest? Trying to end this marriage as cheaply and easily as he could, by luring her into an affair—or even just the appearance of one?

  Fear went through her, followed by rage. She gripped the steering wheel.

  Enough of this. She would ask him directly when he got home tonight.

  No. She couldn’t. If Rodrigo was innocent, if this was all just a wild coincidence, he would think she was crazy, for getting so upset over two chance encounters with a man who had been, after all, merely friendly.

  After she got back to the beach house, she spent hours pacing back and forth, unable to decide. She felt like she was losing her mind.

  The truth seemed to be screaming in her face.

  But she didn’t want it to be true. She wanted to be blind, to take whatever comfort she could, for as long as she could, while denying the evidence that was piling up all around her.

  “Mrs. Cabrera?” The housekeeper looked in on her.

  “What?” Lola snapped, turning on her mid-pace. At the other woman’s expression, she instantly felt bad. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Lee. Did you need something?”

  “You received a letter. I’ll just leave it here.” Leaving an envelope on the gleaming wood sideboard, the housekeeper backed away.

  “A letter?” Frowning, Lola came forward. Then she saw the return address. A suburban town in New York.

  Her sisters.

  Heart pounding, she ripped it open.

  The money she’d sent for her sisters’ college fund, the six-figure check she’d sent them as an olive branch, floated gently to the floor.

  They’d returned it. Uncashed.

  Lola’s heart lifted to her throat, choking her. Her sisters weren’t interested in forgiving her. They still hated her...

  But there was a note. Desperately, she clutched at it. The childish uneven handwriting looped in pencil.

  Dear Lola,

  Thank you for sending us this college money. Our parents said we can’t accept it. We have enough and we don’t need charity.

  But they said we should invite you for Christmas. And I think that’s a good idea because we could use a big sister. Not me, cause I have one, but Kelsey could. I’m sick of her always bragging about her memories of you and I’d like some, too.

  I’m sorry I was scared last time. I’m not scared anymore. Please say you’ll come.

  Yours truly,

  Johanna Sandford

  Tears rushed to Lola’s eyes as she crushed the note to her chest. A torrent of conflicting emotions rushed through her.

  The last day Lola saw Johanna, she was just six, riding her bike happily with her older sister on the shaded street in front of their two-story white house with green shutters. When Lola had told the girls she was going to take them away, she’d expected them to cry with joy. Instead, they’d clung to their mother and the family’s golden retriever. Johanna’s face had been terrified. After that, Lola had never been able to face either of her sisters again.

  Now, pain lifted in Lola’s throat, sharp as a razor blade. She blinked fast, looking out through the beach house’s windows. Jett was sleeping in the nursery. The room was shadowy
and silent. In the distance, she could see the pink and orange sunset over the black ocean.

  All these years, she’d been too scared to face them. She’d told herself that they’d either forgotten her, or hated her.

  Only the money—and Rodrigo—had given her the courage to finally contact them, hoping they could forgive her, and let her back in their lives.

  But they’d sent back the money. They didn’t want it.

  They just wanted her to come for Christmas.

  She closed her eyes, holding her baby sister’s note like it was a precious gift. Raw emotions were pouring through her like torrential rain.

  I’m sorry I was scared last time. I’m not scared anymore.

  Then she opened her eyes, as everything became suddenly very clear.

  Later that night, when Rodrigo came home from his trip, she turned on the light where she’d been sitting on the sofa, waiting for him.

  “Lola.” He looked surprised. “I thought you’d be asleep. What are you doing, sitting in the dark?”

  Gripping her hands at her sides, she rose to her feet. “We need to talk.”

  Rodrigo’s black eyes gleamed. “I’m glad you’re awake. I’ve missed you, querida.” He gave her a sensual smile. “I can hardly wait to—”

  “A handsome stranger flirted with me today.”

  He froze, staring at her. “What?”

  She shrugged. “He was just being friendly. It would be no big deal, except it’s the second time he’s tried. And—” she paused “—it’s exactly the same thing that happened to all your other fiancées.”

  His expression changed. “I heard how you spent the morning. Having coffee with Elise Patel.”

  “Did Marnie tell you that?”

  “She mentioned in passing you asked for Elise’s phone number. What I don’t understand is why.”

  “Ulrika Lund came up to me at the awards ceremony in Madrid, while you were giving your speech.” Lola met his eyes evenly. “She had an interesting theory about why all your engagements ended.”

  “Because they were unfaithful,” he said flatly.

  “Yes, but why?”

  He stiffened. “What kind of question is that?”

  “Did you hire men to deliberately seduce them?”