The Baby the Billionaire Demands Read online

  “That could work,” he said, smiling. He was glad to see some of the dark cloud lift from her shoulders—and glad to distract her from being angry at him for rushing her into marriage and back to California.

  “It could.” She smiled back, and it was warmer and brighter than the California sun.

  Then her lips twisted mischievously. “I’m warning you. The gift will probably be expensive.”

  Rodrigo shrugged. “Spend whatever you like. What’s mine is yours.”

  “Do you mean that?”

  “I already know you didn’t marry me for my money, Lola.”

  “No.” Her expression darkened. She turned away, her arm resting on the edge of the convertible as she looked out at the ocean. “I married you because you blackmailed me.”

  The brief moment of camaraderie, of shared sunshine, abruptly disappeared.

  Rodrigo turned the convertible off the highway, traveling down a private lane to the edge of tall stone walls that blocked off his compound. He punched in the security code, and the gate slid open. He drove the convertible inside the courtyard, followed closely by his longtime bodyguard, Tobias Watson, in the SUV with all the luggage.

  “Back to home sweet home,” he murmured.

  “Yes,” Lola said, looking up at the beach house.

  Getting out of the convertible, he reached in the back seat of the convertible to unbuckle their baby.

  “I can do that,” she said, alarmed.

  “It’s done.” Gently, he lifted their baby from the car seat and held him in his arms. Lola looked panicked, and then, looking closer, confused.

  “You’re holding him correctly,” she said, clearly shocked. She looked at his face. “How did you learn to hold a baby?”

  “You think I’m completely incompetent?” Rodrigo drawled.

  “You’ve never held a baby in your life.”

  “Then I must be a natural.” He didn’t bother to explain that while she’d been studiously ignoring him on the flight, when he’d been working on his laptop, he’d actually been reading articles about the proper care and handling of infants. He wasn’t going to let Lola lord her greater knowledge over him, or be forced to ask her for the favor of teaching him what to do.

  Once, he would have asked her, without thought, and been willing to humble himself for her. But not anymore. Their relationship was still on too shaky a footing for that. It probably hadn’t helped that he’d bullied her into marriage and returning to California. But he had no regrets. It was the most efficient means of getting what he wanted.

  As they walked toward his sprawling, luxurious beach house, the front door opened. His executive assistant, Marnie McAdam, appeared in the doorway, her eyes eager behind her thick glasses. “You’re back—” Her expression changed when she saw Lola and the baby. “What...what’s she doing here?”

  For an answer, Lola lifted her left hand in a movement so violent it was almost an obscene gesture, to show her the huge diamond ring.

  Marnie’s eyes went wide as she looked between them. “You’re married?”

  “Isn’t it wonderful news?” Lola said.

  His assistant looked pale. A year older than Rodrigo, Marnie McAdam had been a college graduate traveling in Madrid when he’d hired her as his first employee at his new company, Cabrera Media Group, after he’d taken over his father’s small studio. Over the last fifteen years, Rodrigo had come to depend on Marnie for her dedication and loyalty. Before Lola had arrived, she’d been his top assistant.

  No wonder the two women hadn’t liked each other. Marnie was the one who’d told Rodrigo about Lola’s past, telling him all the awful facts as she’d put the photographs in his hands.

  And Lola knew it. She gave the older woman a hard smile.

  He had the sudden alarming image of the two women coming to blows. He was fairly sure Lola, with her hard-edged fearlessness, would emerge the victor. He had no desire to see Marnie in the hospital, so he stepped abruptly between them.

  “That’ll be all for today, Marnie. You can head home.”

  “Whose baby?” She breathed unsteadily, looking at Jett in his arms.

  “Mine,” he said.

  “You didn’t know?” said Lola sweetly. “I thought you might have arranged things for us in New York.”

  “No,” Rodrigo said. “She didn’t.” He looked at Marnie. “We might need some additional baby furniture, though. I’ll contact you later.”

  “Of course, Mr. Cabrera.” Turning to Lola, she said, “Congratulations.”

  Lola glared at her. “You heard what he said. Get going.”

  Biting her lip, Marnie looked at Rodrigo.

  “Thank you, Marnie,” he said, more kindly.

  With a nod, she turned and hurried to her car. As the older woman drove out of the gate, Rodrigo turned on Lola coldly. “Was that really necessary?”

  His wife didn’t answer. Taking the yawning baby from his arms, she strode ahead of him into the beach house, proud and scornful as a queen.

  Irritated, he followed her into the house’s enormous great room, with its wall of windows overlooking the beach and bright blue ocean.

  “You can’t hate Marnie for telling me the truth about your past.”

  “The truth?” Lola looked at him incredulously. “Is that what you think?”

  “Are you saying you didn’t pose for those pictures? You didn’t let that man—” But he couldn’t go on. Just remembering the rest of Marnie’s report still made his blood boil with unwilling jealousy and rage.

  Lola’s lovely face was pale as she turned away. “I need to put Jett to bed.”

  “Wait. I’m talking to you—”

  “Not now.” Behind them, two bodyguards were bringing in suitcases from the SUV. Lola pointed at her suitcases. “Can you please take those to the baby’s room?”

  “Baby’s room?” Tobias Watson asked, frowning.

  Glancing at Rodrigo, she said coolly, “I assume there is one.”

  “I told Mrs. Lee to arrange the best guest room,” he said grudgingly.

  As the bodyguard nodded and started down the hall, Lola said without looking at Rodrigo, “I’ll be sleeping in there, too.”

  Without another word, she collected the diaper bag and swept down the hallway, leaving Rodrigo alone in the great room with the amazing view of the Pacific.

  He ground his teeth.

  But he could understand why Lola was already so defensive and irritable. Part of him felt the same. Having her back here, in this house where they’d once been lovers, gave him a sense of vertigo, like an earthquake beneath his feet. Wistful memories of their love affair still lingered in every room.

  Looking slowly around, Rodrigo gave an involuntary shiver. There he’d made love to her against the wall. There they’d lazed Sunday mornings on the sofa. He looked out through the double-story windows. Closing his eyes, he felt the sun burning hot and bright against his face, without the gentle mercy of clouds.

  And there, on that white sand beach, one moonlit night beside the bonfire as the Santa Ana winds blew, Lola had told him she loved him. For answer, Rodrigo had taken her in his arms and kissed her hungrily, as she’d clung to him as if her life depended on it. The explosive heat of that sensual night! He shivered at the memory. They’d always been scrupulously careful about protection, but that one time, they’d been carried away by passion. Which was another way of saying they lost their minds. It was almost certainly the night she’d conceived their baby.

  Turning away, he went to the wet bar and poured himself a drink. A few minutes later, when Lola returned from the baby’s nursery, he saw her before she saw him. She’d long since taken off her coat, but she still wore the same black shirt, leggings and boots she’d been married in. He suddenly yearned to take those off, too. To feel the warmth of her naked skin.

  A flash
of heat went through him.

  He gulped the last of his Scotch, letting it burn his throat as he set down the glass with a bang. “You’re not sleeping in the nursery, Lola. I thought I made myself clear. You’re sleeping in the bedroom. With me.”

  She whirled to face him, her beautiful face wild. “Forget it.”

  Rodrigo took an unwilling step toward her.

  “I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t forget.”

  The memory of all the times he’d kissed her in this house, all the nights he’d made love to her, all their moments of laughter and lazy sensuality and joy burned through him. He had to clench his hands at his sides to keep himself from pulling her roughly into his arms.

  “You forgot me long ago.” Lola looked at him in the warm pink and gold light of the late afternoon sun, her eyes bright. “I’m sure you’ve had lovers here by the score since you tossed me out.”

  “Wrong,” he said.

  He heard her intake of breath. “What?”

  Coming forward, Rodrigo cupped her cheek.

  “I’ve had no other woman here. None,” he whispered. Slowly, he ran his thumb along her tender bottom lip. “Not here, nor anywhere else. For the last year, I’ve hungered for you, Lola. Only for you.”

  “I...” She breathed, trembling beneath his touch. “I can’t believe it...”

  “All this time, I’ve wanted you.” Pulling her body against his own, he whispered, “And now you’re mine, I’m never going to let you go...”

  His lips lowered to hers in a hard, passionate kiss. He held her body fast against his own, giving her no chance to resist. But she didn’t even try. With a soft sigh, she reached her arms up to twist around his shoulders, pulling him down against her with the same hunger.

  And in that moment, the kiss that had started as a mark of possession began to explode in pure light.

  * * *

  Lola hadn’t realized it would be so hard to be back in this California beach house. The short months of their affair had been the happiest of her life.

  Until her past had caught up with her. The most humiliating mistakes of her life. And when he’d discovered them, he’d tossed her aside as if she meant nothing.

  Because she hadn’t. Rodrigo had never loved her. Not even a little.

  But Lola had still been stupid enough to love him.

  Returning to this house today, she’d felt memories burn through her like acid. As she’d tucked their baby into the crib of his lavish new nursery, Lola looked at the little sofa nearby and vowed to herself that she’d sleep there alone every night. But she hadn’t quite believed it, even then. Not when her traitorous body was yearning to be back in Rodrigo’s bed.

  Now, as her husband kissed her, his lips seemed pure fire.

  His powerful arms tightened around her in the sunlit great room of the beach house, with the wide view of the white sand and blue Pacific. His mouth was hot and rough against hers. And the thought of any path that didn’t end with them falling into bed was impossible.

  So what? she thought suddenly. Sex didn’t have to mean anything. It didn’t mean love. It could be just a benefit of marriage, like filing jointly for taxes.

  Lola closed her eyes in ecstasy as he pressed her against the wall, kissing slowly down her throat. She felt the heat of his lips against her skin. His hands gripped her wrists, as if to prevent her from running away.

  As if she could, when this was all she wanted.

  Her eyes fluttered open as he picked her up in his arms, as if she weighed nothing at all. His footsteps echoed against the red tile floors, his dark gaze unreadable as he carried her down the hallway to the enormous master bedroom.

  White stucco walls surrounded the enormous bed, with its four large posters of black twisting wood, and a magnificent view.

  Held in his arms, Lola looked back up at his face. The last time he’d brought her here, it had all been joy and laughter and passion. Because she’d loved him, even if he hadn’t loved her back.

  Now, everything they’d once had was lost.

  Or was it?

  No other woman. She still couldn’t believe it. Even hating her, he had been faithful to her? That didn’t make sense. Why would he be faithful?

  The hazy golden light of late afternoon poured in from the west-facing windows as he set her on the bed, in a pool of warm sunlight. His eyes were dark as he stood above her, beside the bed. Never taking his eyes off her, he loosened the cuffs of his black shirt, then the buttons.

  Her heart was in her throat as she looked up at him. The golden light caressed the hard planes and curves of his powerful, muscular chest, laced with dark hair. He was even more hard-bodied than the last time they’d been lovers, making her wonder if he’d spent the past year in the gym, or perhaps a dojo or boxing ring, getting out his frustrations in that most traditionally masculine of exercise: controlled violence.

  Watching him now, Lola held her breath. Then he reached for her. Slowly, he pulled off her knee-high black boots, one after the other, tossing them to the floor with a noisy skitter of leather against tile.

  Climbing beside her on the bed, he leaned forward to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around the warmth of his skin, feeling the hard muscles of his back.

  He lifted her arms over her head and pulled off her shirt, revealing the black lace bra that barely contained her full breasts.

  His expression was savage. Lowering his head, he kissed her lips hungrily. As his mouth moved slowly down her throat, she gripped his bare shoulders, closing her eyes, letting her head fall back against the pillow. He kissed her collarbone, and then lower, as his hands cupped her breasts over the black lace. He slowly caressed down her body, to her waist, to her belly and the edge of her black leggings.

  He pulled the fabric slowly down her legs. She felt the butterfly-soft stroke of his fingertips move over her thighs, to her knees and calves, all the way to the hollows of her feet. He tossed the leggings aside, leaving her spread on the bed in only her bra and panties.

  He looked at her, his expression dark.

  “You’re mine now, Lola,” he said in a low voice. “To do with as I please.”

  She leaned up to cup his rough, angular cheek. “And you’re mine...”

  Reaching up, she kissed him, softly, seductively, swirling her tongue against his. She heard his soft groan.

  With a low growl, he pushed her back against the bed, covering her body with his own. Reaching behind her, he unhooked her bra with a flick of his thumb, dropping the flimsy lace to the floor.

  A choking sound came from the back of his throat when he saw her full, naked breasts. He gently cupped each one in awe, before kissing the valley between them to the soft slope of her belly, flicking her belly button gently with his tongue. His hands gripped her hips as his head moved lower.

  She closed her eyes, her breath coming in ragged gasps as he kissed her skin along the top edge of her black lace panties, then, soft and slow, he pulled the lace down her hips, down her thighs, and took them off entirely.

  She was naked in his bed, in a golden glow of light, with the windows open and the warm salt air breezes blowing in from the ocean.

  Slowly, he spread her legs apart, kneeling between them. As he lowered his head, she felt the heat of his breath between her thighs. His fingertips slowly stroked up her hips, reaching around to grasp her backside.

  Closing her eyes, she held her breath as he bent to taste her.

  He slowly, ruthlessly, possessed her with his lips and tongue. She gasped with the intensity of pleasure as he splayed her wide with his hands, first lapping her, then moving the tip of his tongue around her taut nub in a sensual swirl that sent her higher and higher, until her whole body panted for release, and her hips started to lift off the bed.

  When he lifted his head, she looked at him, and saw his black eyes glittering with feral ne
ed. In a single movement, he pulled off his trousers and black silk boxers.

  She reached up her arms to him in silent demand. He moved up, and she felt his hard shaft between her thighs.

  Then, as their eyes locked, he slowly pushed himself inside her.

  She gasped as he filled her, inch by delicious inch. She gripped his shoulders, feeling him deep inside her, and hard, so hard. Slowly, he pulled back to thrust again, even deeper this time. She started to tremble as pleasure drew her back in a wave so high it threatened to drown her.

  He rode her harder, faster. She held her breath, feeling dizzy as joy lifted her higher and higher still. Until suddenly, as he filled her to the hilt, pleasure exploded inside her, flinging her past the sky, into the stars.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  RODRIGO LOOKED DOWN at Lola as she cried out with pleasure, her face incandescent with joy. He gripped her shoulders, barely keeping himself from exploding into her.

  He’d thought he could keep his distance, to make this about their bodies, only about sex. He was wrong. It wasn’t just her body.

  It was her face. Her voice. It was her.

  Lola.

  The only one he’d wanted. The one he’d dreamed about for the last year, in hot, unwilling dreams. Every morning, he’d woken up, still aching for her.

  Now, at last, she was his. Forever.

  And you’re mine, she’d said.

  Her claim washed through his soul. He trembled. He gloried in his possession of her.

  But he could not surrender in his turn. Could not give himself fully. Not to Lola, or any woman.

  But his hands were shaking as he gripped her. When he saw her burst with pleasure, a rush went through his body, through his soul, with a pounding roar.

  Cupping her face in his hands, he said urgently, “You’re mine forever. You’ll never betray me. Say it.”

  “I’ll never betray you,” she said breathlessly, her beautiful face rosy with passion, her half-lidded eyes bright with ecstasy. And he believed her.