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The Baby The Billionaire Demands
Pregnant, she fled...
But she’ll be the Spaniard’s bride!
Lola Price didn’t dare tell Rodrigo Cabrera she was pregnant, after he spurned her. But now that he’s discovered her secret, he’s determined his child will take his name! While their mutual desire in the marriage bed is undeniable, Rodrigo keeps himself at a distance. Yet fiery Lola won’t be pushed away again. She’ll show Rodrigo that their son and their relationship are worth fighting for!
Indulge in this dramatic secret-baby story!
USA TODAY bestselling author JENNIE LUCAS’s parents owned a bookstore, so she grew up surrounded by books, dreaming about faraway lands. A fourth-generation Westerner, she went East at sixteen to boarding school on a scholarship, wandered the world, got married, then finally worked her way through college before happily returning to her hometown. A 2010 RITA® Award finalist and 2005 Golden Heart® Award winner, she lives in Idaho with her husband and children.
Also by Jennie Lucas
The Sheikh’s Last Seduction
Uncovering Her Nine Month Secret
Nine Months to Redeem Him
A Ring for Vincenzo’s Heir
Baby of His Revenge
The Consequence of His Vengeance
Carrying the Spaniard’s Child
Claiming His Nine-Month Consequence
The Secret the Italian Claims
The Heir the Prince Secures
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.
The Baby the Billionaire Demands
Jennie Lucas
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-1-474-07272-4
THE BABY THE BILLIONAIRE DEMANDS
© 2018 Jennie Lucas
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk
Dedication
To my wonderful editor, Nicola Caws.
I never could have written this trilogy without you.
Dear Reader,
Which is more important—love or money?
After a difficult childhood, Lola Price knows the answer: Money. Having lost her family to tragedy and poverty, she has vowed that now she’s grown up she’ll have so much money she’ll never feel helpless again.
At twenty-four, Lola falls in love with her boss, Spanish media mogul Rodrigo Cabrera. After a hot affair she’s thrilled to discover she’s pregnant—until Rodrigo finds out about her shocking past and coldly tosses her from his house
Heartbroken, Lola flees to New York without telling him about the baby. As much as he now despises her, she’s afraid the ruthless billionaire might try to take her child away.
What will happen when Rodrigo finally learns her secret?
Which will triumph—love or money?
This is the final book in a trilogy about three friends. Hallie’s story was The Secret the Italian Claims. Tess’s was The Heir the Prince Secures. I’ve loved writing these stories about three vibrant, different women and their fiercely powerful men. I hope you love them too.
With warmest wishes,
Jennie
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Dear Reader
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Extract
About the Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
MONEY MEANT EVERYTHING to Lola Price.
Money was the difference between happiness and grief. Between joy and tragedy. She’d learned it at five years old, and every day since.
Growing up in a trailer on the edge of the California desert, in a dusty town where jobs were scarce, she’d seen her mother’s daily struggles to pay the bills after Lola’s father died. Her mother eventually remarried, but it only made things worse.
By the time she was eighteen, Lola had learned that there was only one way to protect the people you loved. One way to keep them safe and close—and alive.
You had to be rich.
So she’d dropped out of high school and moved to Los Angeles. Desperate to save what was left of her family—and without any talent or even a high school diploma—she’d hoped to instantly become a movie star, but her acting career never got off the ground. Without money, she’d lost everything.
Now she had a four-month-old son. And nearly a million dollars. Lola took a deep breath. No one would ever take her family from her again.
Sergei Morozov’s booming voice brought her back to the charity ball, where he’d been swaying with her on the dance floor. “Can I kiss you, Lolitchka?”
“What?” Startled, Lola looked up at him. “Kiss me?”
“Yes. When?”
“Um...never?”
The Russian tycoon winced. Burly and in his mid-fifties, with gray hair on his temples and a strong accent, he was CEO of a large Wall Street firm. He’d also been, until four months ago, her employer. “When you agreed to be my date tonight, I thought...”
“I’m sorry. I don’t feel that way about you.” Around them, couples danced in the gilded hotel ballroom to the orchestra’s elegant music. The children’s charity ball was the social occasion of November in New York. She was just surprised her two best friends, Hallie and Tess, both newly married to billionaires, weren’t here. They loved fancy events like this.
But Lola didn’t see them. As she danced with her former boss—keeping an old-fashioned, almost Victorian distance between them—she saw dark-haired men everywhere in sleek, sophisticated tuxedos who reminded her of another previous boss, Rodrigo Cabrera. The Spanish media tycoon who’d coldly given her a million-dollar check, then tossed her out of his beach house, secretly pregnant and brokenhearted.
Sergei cleared his throat. “If you just need a little more time...”
“That’s not it.” She looked down at the marble ballroom floor. She never should have agreed to a date, she thought. She’d been swayed by her neighbor, a widow who occasionally babysat her son, who’d told Lola she ‘needed to get out and live.’ That, plus the weddings of Lola’s two best friends in rapid succession, had made her feel her own loneliness. When Sergei Morozov had invited her out, she’d convinced herself it might be a healthy step forward, after a hard, lonely year.
Now she wished she’d just stayed at home.
“Some man broke your heart,” he growled. “He abandoned you and your son.”
Lola looked up in astonishment. She’d never spoken about Rodrigo to anyone, not even her best friends. “I never said he abandoned me—”
“You had pregnancy alone. Had birth alone. No man.” His big hands tightened against her back. “Forget the idea of a date. Maybe I just marry you, eh?”
She sucked in her breath. “Marry?”
The burly man looked down at her. “I have wanted you for a long time, Lola,” he said softly. “If marriage is your price, I am willing to pay.”
Lola stared up at him in shock.
Marry him?
Her stomach looped like a roller-coaster.
Sergei Morozov wasn’t a bad man. She’d worked as his secretary throughout her pregnancy. He was rich, arrogant, but not cruel. When she was eighteen, she would have jumped at the chance to marry a man like that.
Too bad for him that Lola was now twenty-five, with a pocketful of money and a scarred, bitter heart.
“I’m flattered, truly,” she said awkwardly, “but—”
“Marry me, zvezda moya. I will cover you with jewels. I will—”
“I’d like to cut in.”
Lola’s heart dropped as she heard another man’s voice, low and dangerous behind her. A voice she knew, though she hadn’t heard it in over a year. A voice she’d never forget.
Slowly, she turned.
Rodrigo Cabrera stood beside her on the dance floor, wearing a sleek tuxedo over his muscular, powerful body.
Dark-haired, dark-eyed, with chiseled cheekbones and a five o’clock shadow along the hard, sharp edge of his jaw, he was even more handsome than she remembered. Power, dark and dangerous and sexy, echoed off him like shock waves.
“Rodrigo?” she breathed.
“Lola.” His cruel, sensual lips curved as he looked down at her. “It’s been a long time.”
Unwilling images went through her of the days and nights of their brief affair. The pleasure. The joy. The laughter. The certainty in Lola that for the first time since she could remember, she was no longer alone...
Now, pain twisted through her, pain she was careful not to reveal on her face. “What are you doing here?”
“Cutting in.” He moved between her and Sergei with almost feline grace. He glanced at the Russian tycoon with casual amusement. “If you don’t mind.”
Sergei scowled. “Of course I mind—”
“It’s all right, Sergei.” Lola put her hand unsteadily on his arm. “I’ll see you shortly.”
Sergei set his jaw. “Once the dance is done, I’ll be back.”
Rodrigo’s eyes flicked to her. “As the lady pleases.”
After Sergei’s grudging departure, the two of them looked at each other.
“So you’re living in New York now,” Rodrigo said coldly.
“Are you here on business?”
He bared his teeth into a smile. “Is there any other reason?”
In spite of everything, Lola’s heart was in her throat as she looked up at him. All the other people in the ballroom, all the laughter and music, faded away.
Slowly, Rodrigo pulled her into his arms. She breathed in his scent, of woodsy musk and soap and something uniquely him. She tried to tell herself she felt nothing, but her knees trembled, and she was glad he was supporting her in the dance.
He glanced back at Sergei, now glowering at them from the edge of the dance floor. “So he wants to marry you.”
“Not everyone hates marriage like you do,” she said unwillingly.
His lips quirked. “Another millionaire falls at your feet.”
“Not everyone hates me like you do.”
“I don’t hate you, Lola.” His voice was low.
She tilted her head back to look at him beneath her lashes. “You don’t?”
“I despise you. That’s different.” His dark eyes gleamed. “You must have spent the million dollars I gave you if you’re looking for a new sugar daddy. Do you intend to say yes? Are congratulations in order?”
Lola narrowed her eyes. She wondered what Rodrigo would say if he knew the real reason she’d taken his payoff money: because she’d found out she was pregnant.
Money meant more to her than pride. It meant safety. Her baby must never know, as Lola once had, how it felt to go hungry. He must never see his mother cry when she couldn’t pay the bills, or be mocked for wearing clothes to school that were too small, or harassed by teachers for falling asleep in class, because he’d spent another night taking care of younger siblings when his mother had the night shift.
And most of all: Jett must never know how it felt to lose his family.
Taking Rodrigo’s money meant no one would be able to take her baby away from her.
No one, that was, except Rodrigo.
She swallowed, her hands tightening on the shoulders of his tuxedo jacket as they danced. A father had rights. And although she still had most of the million dollars that he’d given her, she knew he had billions more. Enough to take whatever he wanted. Even Jett. And that made her afraid.
Because she’d been his secretary once. For over two years before they’d become lovers. She knew how ruthless the Spanish media mogul could be. How he could turn on people savagely if they failed him.
Rodrigo had good reason to believe the worst of her. Why wouldn’t he, after what he’d learned about her past?
But he was in New York on business. He often came here. He even owned a house in SoHo. But they traveled in different circles now. He couldn’t know about Jett.
If he did...
No. He must never know.
Rodrigo’s expression hardened. “Well? Do you intend to marry him?”
“I haven’t decided,” she mumbled.
His arms tightened around her waist. “Is that a lie?”
Lola had no intention of going on another date with Sergei, let alone marrying him. But she wasn’t going to tell him that. She looked up. “Why do you care?”
His dark eyes glinted. “I don’t. I’m just wondering if I should warn him about the kind of woman you really are.”
She stiffened. “What kind is that?”
“You’re very beautiful, Lola.” Rodrigo’s hot gaze traced slowly over her modest, long-sleeved black knit dress. As they danced to the music, he cupped her cheek. “Very.”
Electricity ripped through her body from where he’d touched her. Sparks raced down her spine, shouting, Yes, yes. This was her man, and she’d missed him, oh, how she’d missed him. She’d dreamed of him unwillingly every night from the moment he’d taken her virginity and made her feel—
Rodrigo dropped his hand. “But you’re ugly on the inside. You’ll do anything for money. Anything? Anyone.”
His cruel words were like a blow.
With a deep breath, she cut off the connection between her heart and her brain. She didn’t care if he insulted her, she told herself. She just had to get through this song. Then he’d leave. And she’d make sure she never saw Rodrigo Cabrera again, or put Jett at risk of being taken from her.
Lola tilted her head, looking at him sardonically. “Ah. There’s your famous charm. If you think I’m so horrible, why don’t you go dance with someone else?”
“Why? Are you so eager to be back in your lover’s arms?”
As if she’d ever let Sergei caress her! As the song finally drew to a close, she stopped dancing, nearly trembling with relief. “Okay, song’s over. Not that this wasn’t fun, but—well, it wasn’t. Go find some other woman to torture.”
Rodrigo stopped, looking down at her on the dance floor.
“And that’s all you have to say to me?” he said softly. “After a year?”
Their eyes locked, and for a moment, in spite of her overwhelming fear, the truth rose guiltily to her throat. Once, they’d been so close; once, she’d told him everything.
No. She hadn’t told him everything. And that had been what had destroyed them.
A hulking shadow appeared beside her. “Song is over,” Sergei said sullenly. “I’m taking her back.”
Lola looked at the Russian with gratitude, then glanced one last time at the Spaniard she’d once loved with all her heart. “I guess this is goodbye.”
“I guess so,” Rodrigo said, his dark eyes unreadable. He turned away.
The orchestra started a new song, and couples resumed swirling around them on the dance floor. Lola turned to Sergei. “I’m tired,” she choked out. “Will you please take me home?”
“Konyechna.” Sergei’s voice was soothing. “I’m sure you miss your baby.”
Lola sucked in her breath, praying Rodrigo hadn’t heard. No such luck. As if in slow motion, he turned back to her.
“Baby?”
“Nothing to do with you.” But her voice was strained, even to her own ears. She had to get out of here—fast. Tossing her blond hair as if she didn’t have a care in the world, she turned back to Sergei. “Let’s go...”
But Rodrigo blocked her path. “How old is the baby?”
“None of your business.”
As she tried to walk past him, Rodrigo grabbed her wrist. His black eyes glittered. “How old, damn you?”
“It doesn’t matter!” She struggled, desperately trying to hide her fear. “He’s not yours!”
But as Lola croaked out the lie, her cheeks went red-hot. There was a reason she’d been such a washout as an actress. She was the worst liar in the world.
Searching her gaze, Rodrigo’s eyes suddenly widened. Dropping her wrist, he staggered back.
He knew. She hadn’t told him, but he still knew.
The ballroom started spinning around her. She tried to think of some way to get out of this. But her brain was frozen.
“The baby’s mine,” Rodrigo said in a low voice. “Isn’t it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. She pointed at Sergei. “He’s the father.”
She desperately hoped the Russian tycoon would play along. But Sergei just looked bewildered.
Rodrigo swept him with a dismissive glance, then faced Lola. His cold expression turned to fire as his dark eyes glittered in the light of the ballroom.
“Tell me the truth,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. He gripped her shoulder. “I want to hear you say it.”
“Let me go,” she whispered, her throat closing.
All her fears were crashing around her like bricks. Lola tried to lift her chin, to glare at him, to defy him. Most of all, she tried to think of a good lie.
But looking up at Rodrigo’s hard, handsome face, she knew it would be no good. When it came to him, her lies always betrayed her.
“Tell me, Lola,” he demanded mercilessly.
Heart pounding, she whispered, “Yes. You’re the father.”
* * *
A baby.
Rodrigo staggered back.
She’d had his baby.
The shock of that idea swirled in his brain, leaving him staring down at Lola in confusion.
From the moment Rodrigo had arrived tonight at the charity ball, coming alone as he couldn’t be bothered to choose a date, he’d been the center of attention on the red carpet, not just from paparazzi, but from the other guests. As a wealthy, powerful billionaire, he could build anyone’s movie career instantly across his entertainment empire. Rodrigo was eagerly greeted by famous actors and directors and beautiful women who all wanted a piece of him.
He barely paid attention. He was used to it; bored by it. He didn’t fool himself that these women were after anything but his body, his money or his power. They weren’t interested in him personally.
As a younger man, he’d relished the notice he received from beautiful women. But he’d been desperate then to find love, to get married, to have a home. How else to explain why he’d proposed to three different women in his younger years?
Remembering that disgusted him now. Humiliated him.
Love was for the naive. Only fools believed in a communion of souls. Men, as a rule, weren’t supposed to yearn for such things.
But he once had. Stupidly.
Rodrigo was monogamous by nature. That was his darkest secret. He’d been the only child of wealthy, neglectful parents. Growing up, he’d dreamed of having a loving family and home. Even after he’d first taken over his father’s small film studio in Madrid, he’d wanted some version of the fairy tales he manufactured for a living.
Ridiculous to think of it now. Because he’d swiftly learned his lesson. All three fiancées had cheated on him before the wedding date.
He’d never proposed to Lola Price, of course. He’d never even let himself love her during their brief affair. He was no longer that stupid, or that young, to believe in dreams of love and forever.
But he’d known her. Trusted her. She’d been his assistant for years before she’d been his lover. Working together, day in and day out, he’d been impressed by her determination, intelligence and drive. He’d respected her. Admired her.
But he hadn’t touched her, in spite of her incredible beauty. He’d valued her far too much as his assistant to wreck everything for a brief affair, which was all it could surely be.
Until, one night in Mexico City, after they’d closed a deal, they’d celebrated with too much tequila at a famous restaurant. Then Lola had suddenly leaned over the table and kissed him.
It had been a revelation. An explosion.
They’d had a few incredible months, working together by day, making love by night. It had been—perfect.
Then Rodrigo had learned who Lola really was, deep down. What she’d done when she was eighteen. And that she’d been playing him all along. She’d claimed to love him. But all she’d ever wanted was his money.
He’d been stupidly blind. That was what hurt his pride the most. He’d let himself believe she actually cared. He would never forgive her for that. Or himself...
For the last year, he’d avoided thinking about her. He’d tried to forget. He’d told himself that he had.
Then he’d seen her on the dance floor tonight, in the arms of another man.
Lola.
She’d looked even more dazzling than he remembered, her hazel eyes huge in her beautiful face, her hips swaying in a slinky dress that fit her slender, curvaceous body like a glove. For a moment, when he first saw her, Rodrigo’s heart had twisted.
Then he’d remembered how she’d deceived him, and taken the million-dollar check he’d thrown in her face in his fury. Cold rage had filled every space in his heart, leaving no room for any other emotion.
Lola Price had no shame. She was a liar, a deceitful gold digger. But he’d never imagined that even she could try something like hiding a pregnancy. Stealing his child away.
Rodrigo’s arms tightened as he looked down at her.
She’d lost the tan she’d had in California. Her skin was pale, and she was dressed in head-to-toe black, like a true New Yorker. The knit dress had long sleeves, a high neckline and a hem to the floor. The only skin showing was her face and her hands.
It shouldn’t have been sexy, but it was.
Everywhere he looked, Rodrigo saw something to tempt him, from the shocking beauty of her perfect face, with her high cheekbones, changeable hazel eyes and bee-stung lips, to her long, elegant throat. Even her hands drew him, with their graceful tapering fingers.
