The Baby The Billionaire Demands

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

The thought made him sick.

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

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

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

Damn her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Desire.

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

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

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

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

I have something to tell you—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suddenly, he sucked in his breath.

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

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

But she hadn’t.

Had he been...wrong about her?

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

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

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

He frowned. “You worked?”

“As his secretary.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jett. Jett Price.”

He blinked. “You called him what?”

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

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

“No one will think of it that way!”

“His surname should be Cabrera.”

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

“I want a paternity test. And then—”

“Then what?”

“Then we’ll see,” he said softly.

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

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

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

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

“What does that mean?”

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

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

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

“And how would you fight me?”

“I’ve made some powerful friends.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not,” she bit out, her eyes flashing. “I’ve only kissed one person in my whole life—”

She cut off her words, but it was too late. He stared at her, his heart twisting violently in his chest.

“You’ve never kissed another man? Even now?” He came closer. “Even after all this time?”

She looked up at him, her eyes shooting sparks. “I loved you, Rodrigo. Do you even know what that means? No. You don’t. How could you, when you felt nothing?”

A razorblade lifted to his throat. He tried to keep his grip on reason. He ground out his words. “Why would the man propose, if he’s never even slept with you?”

Her hazel eyes were luminous in the shadows of the ballroom. “Because he thinks it’s the only way he can have me.”

For a moment, Rodrigo couldn’t breathe. Suddenly, it was as if a veil had been lifted from his eyes. He’d been right all those years he’d thought she wasn’t a good liar. She wasn’t. He could always tell on those rare occasions when she tried to lie. Her voice got strangled, her face turned red. He knew when she was speaking the truth.

And he could hear the truth in her voice when she said she’d loved him.

Had he been wrong about her all this time?

He wasn’t wrong about one thing, at least, he told himself fiercely. He wasn’t wrong about her stealing his child away.

“I want to see the baby,” he said tightly.

“Now?”

“Now.”

“Fine,” Lola said coldly. “I’ll get my coat. You can meet him. But that’s it.”

As he followed her out of the hotel ballroom, Rodrigo’s gaze slowly traced down her body. Her generous breasts were even fuller than he remembered, emphasizing her hourglass curves, her tiny waist and perfect hips. She wore no jewelry. She didn’t need jewels. Not when her eyes sparkled in her beautiful face. Not when she had that body. No man in the room could take his eyes off her—and Rodrigo was no exception.

Damn her.

His jaw tensed as he remembered the angry tremble of her voice. We’re better off without you.

It wasn’t true, he thought. He stiffened, remembering his own father. He was nothing like that bastard.

Maybe he didn’t know much about fatherhood or parenting or happy families, but he could at least give his son a name. A stable home. A good childhood.

He could give him everything he himself had never had.

His eyes fell on Lola. Whether she liked it or not, Rodrigo was the one in control now. His eyes traced the full curve of her backside, the span of her tiny waist.

And he intended to have his way. At any cost.

CHAPTER TWO

LOLA WAS IN SHOCK.

Gripping her arm, Rodrigo led her out of the ballroom and helped her collect her coat—a black faux fur—then led her out of the grand hotel. He handed his ticket to the valet, who brought his Ferrari around, gleaming sleekly in the night.

Now, it was just the two of them, alone in his car.

Lola tapped her high heel nervously in the passenger seat as he drove. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

Maybe it was all for the best that he’d found out, she tried to convince herself. She hated lying, mostly because she was so bad at it. At least now it was all in the open.

She hadn’t lied when she’d said she had powerful friends who would help her. Her two best friends were both married to billionaires, Hallie Moretti to the owner of the luxury Campania hotels, and Princess Tess Zacco di Gioreale to a Sicilian prince. Tess was also now a fashion designer in her own right. Lola had had to sneak out of Tess’s first fashion show last week in order to secretly take the evening GED test. She didn’t want her friends to know about it. Not until she knew she’d passed.

Lola hated admitting weakness of any kind. Which was why she’d never told her best friends anything about Jett’s father.

But if Rodrigo tried to take custody, she knew her friends would do anything for her—and their ruthless, adoring husbands would do anything for them.

She wouldn’t let anyone take Jett from her.

Lola exhaled, tightening her hands in her lap as she looked out at the passing lights of the city, traveling east through Manhattan. He hadn’t spoken once since she’d given him the address for her apartment in Murray Hill.

She pointed toward the nondescript apartment building. “That’s it.”

“Is there an attached garage?”

“Garage?” Her lips quirked. “There’s not even a doorman.”

With a sigh, he drove ahead until he found a parking spot on the street. Lola looked at the small parking space dubiously, but Rodrigo swerved the sports car into it with practiced ease. Opening her car door, he held out his hand.

Nervously, Lola took it. As he helped her out of the car, she tried not to notice how it felt to have his larger, stronger hand around her own.

He dropped her hand quickly and she shivered in her coat as they walked past trees with rattling brown leaves, in the heart of chilly November. She’d lived here for almost a year and liked it. It was a safe, comfortable neighborhood, not flashy but good for families, within walking distance of Grand Central Terminal. Her building was full of nice people, such as the kindly widow who occasionally watched Jett, as she was tonight.

Punching in her code to get in the door, she led him to the elevator, and then pressed the button for the fifth floor. At every moment, she was aware of him standing close beside her. They were alone, just the two of them, in this enclosed space.

She was relieved when they reached her floor. She hurried out of the elevator, then down the nondescript hallway. Unlocking her door, she went inside. Rodrigo followed her closely, not touching, like a dark shadow.

Inside, her apartment was quiet, with only a single lamp on in the main room. The furniture had all come with the apartment and, though old, was comfortable enough.

A white-haired lady sat in an overstuffed chair next to the lamp. She looked up with a smile on her lips, knitting in her hands. “Lola, you’re back early—”

The widow’s eyes went wide when she saw Rodrigo, and no wonder. For the year Lola had lived here, she’d never invited any man to this apartment. Now, in the space of a single night, there’d been two different ones: Lola had left for the charity ball with Sergei and returned with Rodrigo.

When the kindly widow had told her she needed to get out and live a little, this probably wasn’t what she’d had in mind.

“Hi, Mildred,” Lola said. “Yes, I was feeling tired.”

“Did you have a nice time?” the elderly woman said stiffly, looking at Rodrigo.

Lola never liked giving too much away. But she didn’t want her neighbor to get the wrong idea. “This is Jett’s father.”

“Oh?” Her eyes went wide. She said with a big smile, “Oh.”

“How was Jett tonight?” Lola said quickly, changing the subject.

“He was an angel. I gave him his bottle and bath. He’s been asleep for about an hour.” Gathering up her knitting, she rose to her feet, a grin on her wrinkled face as she looked between Lola and Rodrigo. “I’m sure you two have things to talk about.”

Uh-oh. Now Mildred was getting the wrong idea. “There’s no need to rush off—”

“Thank you for watching him,” Rodrigo said gravely, holding out a wad of hundred-dollar bills. The widow waved off the money.

“I’m happy to help. Jett’s a little darling. I’m just glad you’re finally here, after all this time,” she added pointedly. “A baby needs a father. Just as a woman needs a husband.”

With those firm words, the widow left.

“I definitely don’t need a husband,” Lola said, her cheeks burning.

“She thinks I abandoned you?” Rodrigo said, looking irritated.

She shrugged. “I’ve never spoken of you to anyone. Even my best friends don’t know who Jett’s father is.” Her lips quirked at the corners. “I think they’re under the impression that you’re either married, abusive or a total alcoholic.”

He glowered at her silently, his jaw tight.

Lola cleared her throat. “But you wanted to see Jett.”

Hanging up her coat, she walked into the small apartment’s only bedroom, motioning for him to follow.

A beam of moonlight pooled from the bedroom window to a spot between the bed and the crib wedged against the wall. Going to the crib, Lola looked down at her precious son. The four-month-old was sleeping peacefully, his chubby arms flung up over his head. A swell of love went through her.

“This is Jett,” she whispered.

Rodrigo came up beside her, resting his powerful hands on the edge of the crib. He looked down at their sleeping baby. Lola’s heart lifted to her throat as she looked between them.

Jett looked exactly like his father. She’d never realized it before, because she hadn’t wanted to see it. But they had the same slight curl in their dark hair, the same black Spanish eyes. The baby yawned, showing a single dimple just like his father’s. His dark lashes blinked sleepily.

The powerful media tycoon said in wonder, “He’s so tiny.”

“For now.” A smile lifted her lips as she looked at him. “Someday he’ll be as big as you.”

For a long moment, they stood together, looking down at their son. She was aware of Rodrigo’s hand just inches from hers. She could almost feel the warmth from his skin.

Suddenly, she yearned to tell him everything. To share things she’d never told even Hallie and Tess. Her friends thought Lola was so tough, but the truth was, she’d been scared, coming to New York alone after their breakup. She’d chosen it as her new home in a desperate, hopeless yearning to be closer to her little sisters, the only family she had left. Then she’d been too scared to contact them.

She’d thought of Rodrigo so many times during her pregnancy. When she’d gotten her first ultrasound. When she’d learned she was having a boy. When she’d gone into labor. And every day before, and since.

But she hadn’t contacted him. Because she’d known the man she wanted—the man she’d loved—didn’t exist. And in his place, with the same gorgeous, devastating body and heartbreaking dark eyes, was a man who could destroy her.

Now, Rodrigo lifted his gaze to hers. For a moment, she held her breath. Then his expression shuttered, his face turning cold.

“You should have told me.”

“I couldn’t,” she whispered.

“I’m his father.”

The baby stirred at Rodrigo’s low, harsh voice. Alarmed, she put her finger to her lips and drew him out of the bedroom. Closing the bedroom door softly behind her, she whirled, glaring at him.

“You want to be a father? Then you should know the first rule of parenting is Don’t wake the baby!”

He looked around the modest apartment. “I thought you said you got him a nice apartment.”

“It’s a wonderful place, you jerk!”

“You could have asked to stay at my loft in SoHo. I’m hardly ever there.”

It was so pointlessly cruel, Lola sucked in her breath.

“You tossed me out of your house. You said I disgusted you and you never wanted to see me again! You think I would ever ask you for help after that? I’d die first!”

Her eyes were stinging. She blinked hard and fast. She wouldn’t let herself cry. Only weak people, or children, cried in public and she hadn’t been either for a long time.

Rodrigo’s expression changed. He took a step toward her in the small apartment, his face half hidden by shadow.

“You don’t need to ask for my help, or anyone else’s, ever again.” His voice was low. “Because if the paternity test proves he’s my son, I’m going to marry you.”

A rush went through her. A thrill of terror—or was it joy?

“What?” she whispered numbly.

“For his sake.” His dark eyes burned through her. “You will be mine.”

* * *

Lola’s hazel eyes were astonished. As well they should be.

After three broken engagements, Rodrigo had never planned to propose again to anyone. For any reason. His youthful dreams of love and family and home were just that—dreams.

But looking at his sleeping son, he’d felt a hard shift in his soul that shocked him. Looking down at the baby’s face, so much like his own, he’d remembered his own lonely childhood. And he’d vowed, to the depths of his soul, that his son would never feel like Rodrigo had once felt.

Jett would never believe his father didn’t love him. He’d never feel like a burden, unwanted and unloved, as his parents left him in the care of nannies and neglected him for their own selfish romantic pursuits. His son would have a stable home. His parents would raise him together. There would be no instability in their family life, no revolving door of new lovers and spouses. They would be a family. With the same last name.