Читать книгу Billionaire's Baby Of Redemption - Мишель Смарт, Michelle Smart - Страница 11
ОглавлениеHOT DARKNESS FILLED Javier’s head, swimming like a blood-red fog through him.
He’d known the moment Sophie had come into focus why she was there but his already overwhelmed brain had fought to deny it.
He was going to be a father.
But the mother wasn’t the perfect woman he had sought to bear his children but this waif-like creature who had ignited something in him that should never have been allowed to breathe.
He wanted children. He and his treacherous brother had adopted their mother’s surname the moment they could legally dump their father’s and he wanted to carry that name on to the next generation.
He’d waited his entire adult life for the perfect woman to come along and bear him those children.
Freya had been that woman. Beautiful, coldly perfect Freya, who would have given him beautiful, perfect children and who had not elicited the smallest glimmer of desire in him and shown no desire for him either. Perfection in all ways.
Javier knew the danger of passion. His orphaned state was living proof of those dangers.
The dangerous blood that had swirled in his father lived in his own veins too. It pumped hot and strong inside him, a living thing he was reminded of every time he looked in a mirror.
He should never have allowed Sophie, this warm-blooded, sensitive creature, to come anywhere within his orbit.
She sighed and pulled a business card from the small black bag she carried. She held it out to him with those tiny fingers that had caused such mayhem to his skin when she had touched him.
‘This is the hotel I’m staying at,’ she said quietly. ‘Take the time to process what’s happening and then come and find me when you’re ready to talk.’
‘What is there to talk about?’ he asked roughly, not taking the card, not willing to risk touching her in any way.
He knew what he had to do. There was no point in wasting air discussing what was a foregone conclusion.
He’d walked away from her with his head reeling and the weight of the world crashing down on him. He’d intended to work all the stress out and bring himself to a point where he could trust himself to have this difficult conversation without exploding.
He’d got as far as his car when the implications had really hit him and he’d known that to leave her there would make him as big a monster as the world believed him to be.
‘We’re having a baby, Javier. I would say there’s a lot to talk about.’
‘Not for me there isn’t. If you’re carrying my child then there’s only one thing that needs to be decided on and that’s the date of our wedding.’
She blinked. ‘You are willing to marry me?’
‘My child will bear my name and if you want any kind of financial support from me then you will agree to it.’
Sophie was naïve. Damn her, she’d been a virgin, a fact she had neglected to mention when they’d been ripping each other’s clothes off.
If she had any illusions about him or their future relationship let her have them dispelled now. If she didn’t already know what kind of a man he was—and his failure to seek her out in any form these past few months must have given her some clue—then let her know now.
She would never know it but he was doing her a kindness.
To his surprise, a small smile curved her pretty lips. ‘You don’t have to threaten me. I want us to marry.’
That took him aback. ‘You do?’
Her throat moved as she nodded.
He laughed, a guttural sound that grated to his own ears. For all her naivety and surface sweetness, Sophie was already making the financial calculations of how being his wife would significantly improve her bank account.
But there was no returning laugh from Sophie. Her eyes did not flicker or leave his face. ‘Our child is innocent. It did not choose to be conceived. It deserves to know and be wanted by both its parents.’
He made no attempt to hide his cynicism. ‘If that is true then why wait so long to tell me? You must have known for weeks.’
He was no pregnancy expert but he had studied biology at school and knew the ways a woman’s body worked.
‘I knew within a week,’ she said steadily. ‘I could feel changes happening inside me. I took the test the day after my period was due, so I have known for certain for six weeks. Technically I’m ten weeks pregnant as the due date is taken from the date of my last period. I waited before telling you because I needed my head to be in the right place before I faced you again.’
‘Did you have to research the best ways to leverage cash from the situation?’ he mocked brutally. He had never met a woman who didn’t have cash signs ringing in her eyes.
Having more money than he could spend in a thousand lifetimes was good for many things but leverage was its greatest gift. He’d used his wealth to buy Freya and she, the coldly perfect prima ballerina that she was, had been happy to be purchased. It was what had made her so ideal for him. ‘Is that why you have set your path on marriage to me?’
But, again, there was no flicker in Sophie’s pale blue eyes. ‘I want nothing but what is best for our child.’
From the corner of his eye he saw two security guards approach. They would be making a sweep of the theatre before locking up for the night; the aftershow party taking place in a basement conference room.
If there was one thing Javier despised it was people knowing his business. His family had been fodder for the world’s consumption since before his birth.
He might still be trying to process that he was going to be a father but already he knew that he would do whatever it took to protect his child.
Rubbing his jaw, he took a deep breath. ‘Whatever you say your motives are, our unborn child is the only thing that matters.’
‘Yes,’ she interjected softly.
‘It is late. This is something that needs to be discussed when we have fresh minds. I have had an incredibly difficult day.’ She couldn’t begin to understand how difficult it had been. ‘My driver will take you to your hotel. Get some sleep. You look tired.’
That made her eyes flicker.
‘I’ll have you brought to me in the morning,’ he continued, now walking back to the stairs. He kept his eyes focussed straight ahead of him, no longer wishing to look at the woman who had just detonated a bomb into his already turbulent life.
The bomb was of his own making, he accepted grimly. He was the damn fool who had failed to use a condom for the first and only time in his life.
He was the fool who’d invited her into his home.
Their baby was the consequence of that foolhardiness and, as Sophie had already pointed out, an innocent in all of this.
She remained silent as she kept pace beside him, silent all the way down the stairs and through the foyer. Only when they reached the exit door did she turn to him and say, ‘What time will your driver collect me in the morning?’
‘Arrange that with him.’ He stepped out into the warm night air and strode to his waiting driver.
‘Take Miss Johnson to her hotel,’ he said, then, without a word of goodbye or a second glance at her, set off for his home.
He could feel Sophie’s gaze upon him but kept his sight fixed ahead, increasing his pace.
As he power-walked the three miles to his home, the memories he’d spent two months suppressing came back to him with crystal clarity.
He’d woken that fateful day to the news Freya and Benjamin had married and a barrage of hate mail. Someone had leaked his personal email address online and keyboard warriors had had an excellent time aiming their poisoned ire at him. So angry had he been that he’d dismissed his household staff for the day.
His rage was best kept private. It was safer that way. For everyone.
And then his intercom had rung and he’d looked through the monitor to see Sophie standing there, a thick folder in her arms, which, she had claimed over the intercom, contained private documents of his.
He’d recognised her immediately. Freya’s dance colleague and flatmate. The wallflower who had never met his eye on the few occasions he’d been in her presence. If anyone had inside information on Freya and Benjamin’s treachery that he could use to his advantage it would be her.
It had been a baking summer’s day. She’d been dressed in a thin pale grey shirt dress, her long light blonde hair tied in a loose plait. When she’d removed enormous sunglasses to speak to him and fixed huge pale blue eyes on him, he’d seen compassion shining from them.
Not once in his adult life had he stared anyone in the eye and not seen a glimmer of fear shine back at him. Grown men, titans of industry and power brokers would shake his hand with a nervous laugh; glamorous, self-confident women would give him the come-to-bed eyes with excitement-laced fear.
This young English woman, a petite ballerina with the appearance of a waif, had turned up at his home and displayed not an ounce of fright.
The rage that had been bubbling so furiously inside him had suddenly reduced.
She had given him the sweetest, most sympathetic smile he’d ever been on the receiving end of. ‘How are you holding up?’ she’d asked softly.
In the week since Benjamin had stolen Freya from him, Sophie was the first person to have asked him that. The most he’d received from his twin had been a stoical slap to the shoulder.
He’d invited her in, made her a coffee, led her to the dining room, sat beside her at the huge table with the documents between them and quizzed her.
When she’d professed her innocence in the matter of Freya and Benjamin, he’d been surprised to find he believed her.
This belief had disconcerted him.
She had disconcerted him with those non-judgemental eyes and her subtle yet obvious compassion.
He’d found himself trying to get a rise out of her, asking if she’d read the documents, making it sound like an accusation.
She’d been unfazed and unabashed. She’d nodded and said, ‘Yes, I read through them with Freya. I won’t be sharing them with anyone, so don’t worry.’
‘You won’t share the details with the media?’ he’d asked cynically.
‘If I wanted to share anything with them I would have done so by now. They’ve been camped outside my apartment block all week.’
Something had crept into his veins at that, something he’d never felt before.
That this petite young thing should be harassed with no one there to protect her had set the anger boiling again.
Of course, he knew her waif-like frame belied a physical strength all ballerinas had but that didn’t change what his eyes saw when he looked at her.
Dios, he’d been unable to tear his eyes from her. He had never seen such naturally pink rosebud lips before...
A new kind of tension had sparked to life.
Sophie’s eyes had kept flickering to him, then darting away, pretty colour flushing across her pretty cheeks.
She really was incredibly pretty. How had he not noticed it before...?
He’d found himself leaning closer to her, catching a whiff of a light, floral perfume that had delighted his senses.
‘Speaking with the media would boost your profile,’ he’d pointed out.
A burst of antipathy had glittered in her eyes. ‘I don’t care. I’m not going to add to the frenzy and make things worse for you.’
Again, he’d found himself believing her but also curious...
Worse for him?
She didn’t even know him.
Professional dancers spent their lives fighting to get to the top and when you were as driven as that any advantage for name recognition would be snatched upon. His own mother had been shameless in her quest for media attention.
Sophie had ducked her head and refused to answer questions even when it would have seen her face plastered over the tabloids as a bit player in the biggest scandal Spain—indeed, most of Europe—had had for years.
What was her agenda? Everyone had one, so what was hers? Why go out of her way for him?
He’d leaned even closer and dropped his voice to a murmur. ‘Why are you here?’
The colour already staining her cheeks had darkened, the pale blue eyes darkening with it. It had been the most beguiling sight.
She had cleared her throat, the pink rosebud lips opening and closing as if she were trying to get out words that did not want to be revealed.
It was sheer impulse that had led him to kiss those lips.
What happened next had been utter madness.
Javier increased his pace and inhaled the Madrid autumn night air deeply to counteract the blood thickening all over again at the vivid memories.
She had kissed him back.
And then he had hauled her out of her chair and into his arms.
For a few brief moments all his torment and anger had been dispelled and forgotten.
Sophie’s kisses had been the sweetest he had ever tasted and instantly addictive.
Desire like nothing he had ever experienced had pulsed through him. Heady, hungry and utterly consuming.
He tried to throw the memories off him now, not wanting to remember any more, disgusted with himself for the manner in which he’d used her hot, willing body.
That was his only saving grace, he thought grimly.
Sophie had been utterly willing.
There had been nothing one-sided about it.
In that moment, the madness had lived in both of them.
He’d spread her flat on his dining table, drinking in her hot, sweet kisses as he’d plunged into her that first time. He’d felt the resistance of her body and known in an instant what it had meant.
Her eyes had widened.
He would have pulled out there and then if she hadn’t then smiled at him, put her hands to his face and kissed him so deeply that he had lost all sense of himself.
But as soon as it was over the only thing he’d been able to taste was revulsion, at himself for his actions and at Sophie for throwing away her virginity in such a seedy way and on a man such as him.
But mostly at himself.
They hadn’t used any protection.
He hadn’t used any protection.
He’d needed her gone before he said or did something he regretted.
He felt no pride in remembering how he’d coldly walked to his front door and held it open for her.
She would never know it but he’d been saving her from herself.
And now she was pregnant. Sweet, sweet Sophie was pregnant with his child.
Damn it all to hell.
Javier had experienced only one day worse than this. The day his father had murdered his mother.
* * *
Sophie waited until the driver opened her door before stepping out in front of the imposing Tuscan-style villa that was Javier’s home.
The first time she had been there she had been filled with so many emotions she had hardly taken anything in other than its titanic size.
Now there was an array of sights and smells filling her senses. She’d noticed that increase in her perceptions during the first week of her pregnancy. It was like discovering secrets of the world, an unexpected symptom that warmed her.
She needed all the warmth she could get.
She’d lain in her hotel bed telling herself over and over that she was doing the right thing. Not telling Javier about the pregnancy had never been on the cards. He was the father. He deserved to know and deserved to be involved if that was what he wanted.
She was glad for their child’s sake that he did want to be and that he’d come to the decision of marriage so quickly. For once, it hadn’t been the anguish she always felt at the thought of disappointing her adoptive parents, good, loving, decent people who believed strongly in the sanctity of marriage, but for her child. Her child deserved nothing less.
Sophie often thought of her biological father. Had he ever known of her conception? Had he been party to the decision to abandon her? Or had he spent twenty-four years unaware he had a daughter out there, being raised by people who were strangers to him?
These were just some of the many questions that had haunted her life. She had long stopped seeking answers for them—they all led to dead ends—but had never stopped wondering. She would wonder about the man and woman who had given her life for ever.
Her child would not. Whatever happened between Sophie and Javier, her child would know who both its parents were.
Stepping onto the marble stairs that led to a wrap-around porch, Sophie followed the driver, who had insisted on taking her suitcase, to the front door.
Everything about Javier’s home looked so much richer and more palatial than her first and last visit. Private and secluded from the bustle of Madrid’s busy streets, it screamed opulence. This was the kind of house any self-regarding billionaire would be proud to call home.
Marble pillars flagged the wide oak door that opened before the driver could raise his hand to knock.
Javier stood there, casually dressed in an olive-green shirt unbuttoned at the neck and black jeans that showcased the muscularity of his thighs. Thick stubble covered his jawline. His hooded light brown eyes met hers for the briefest of moments before he nodded his thanks at the driver and dismissed him.
‘Refreshments are being made for us,’ he said as he led her through the grand reception room twice as high as a normal room and adorned with ancient Egyptian relics, including a bust of a sphinx almost as large as Javier himself.
The first time she had been there she had been too overawed at being invited in by the man she had mooned over for so long to pay much attention to anything, but now she was determined to keep an analytical head and pay attention to everything.
‘Is it okay to leave my suitcase in here?’ she asked.
He stopped and turned, a frown creasing his forehead, fleshy, sensuous lips pulling together. ‘Why have you brought your suitcase with you?’
‘I checked out of my hotel.’
Now his eyes narrowed. ‘I hope you are not expecting to move in today.’
‘I’ve checked out of the hotel because my reason for staying in it is done—you know about the baby. I’ll fly back to England when we’ve finished discussing everything and set a game plan out.’
Disconcerted, Javier ran his fingers through his hair. He could read nothing but honesty in Sophie’s wide gaze and he didn’t trust it an inch.
The dreamless sleep he had hoped for had proven fruitless. He doubted he’d had more than an hour of solid sleep.
Sophie was pregnant with his child. The puffiness of her eyes was proof she must have found sleep as elusive as he had, but where his stomach was knotted with thorny barbs she had a calm serenity about her.
She’d had a head start on getting her head around being a parent, he reminded himself grimly. She’d known for certain for six whole weeks and had kept it to herself when she should have told him immediately.
Dios, his head felt ready to combust. All these betrayals, it was like a sickness. Benjamin’s refusal to accept his own negligence and then stealing Freya from him had been only the start, culminating in the disaster that had been the night before, the night when he and his twin celebrated their mother’s memory with a world determined to remember her torrid death rather than her magnificent life, now tainted for ever. Luis, his own twin, had betrayed it and had betrayed him so greatly it felt as if he’d been sucker-punched. The business they had built from nothing would have to be split, the brotherhood that had driven his life rent apart with one gross act of disloyalty.
And he was going to be a father. He was going to marry a woman so far removed from his ideal of what a suitable wife for himself should be that she could be from Venus.
‘Let us discuss our game plan now,’ he said icily, leading her through to one of his four living rooms, his least favourite for relaxing. He would never allow himself to relax again around Sophie. It was too dangerous, especially for her.
Initially he’d planned for their meeting to take place in the dining room but when he’d stepped into it a powerful memory of making love to her on that table had sent a thrill of desire racing through him, so, with a click of his fingers, he’d ordered the documents to be moved.
He indicated the sofas arranged in a square around a coffee table. ‘Take a seat.’
She obeyed his command by sitting gracefully and crossing her legs.
He wished she hadn’t. Until that moment he had refused to pay any attention to her attire but now his eyes focussed on the athletic but decidedly feminine figure clad in fashionably ripped jeans and an oversized thin sweater that fell off the shoulder. She’d left her long blonde hair loose.
A member of his staff entered the room carrying the refreshments he’d ordered and he was glad of the diversion.
He waited until the drinks and pastries had been laid out before seating himself opposite Sophie and pouring himself a coffee. ‘Help yourself.’
Again, she obeyed. Soon she had a palmier on a plate on her lap and was sipping a glass of fresh orange juice.
He allowed himself a slight breath of relief. So far she was displaying all the signs of obedience. Things would be much easier if she were to fall in with his plans without questioning them. He knew little about Sophie but the impression he’d formed before he’d stupidly made love to her had been of a shy woman who had little in the way of spine or gumption.
He’d climbed out of his bed that morning knowing he needed to learn something concrete about the woman he was going to marry, so he had woken the ballet company’s human resources manager, ordering her to email Sophie’s employment file to him. It had been a quick but illuminating read. Sophie had been educated at the same ballet school as Freya, worked for a provincial English ballet company upon her graduation, then followed Freya to Madrid. She’d had no starring roles in any ballet production of note and was described in the file as warm but shy.
It had been illuminating in that it had confirmed his prior thoughts about her.
She was probably so relieved he’d agreed to marry her that she would now agree to anything to keep him onside.
Perfect.
He downed his black coffee and poured another, then waited until she had bitten a delicate amount of pastry before saying, ‘Those documents on the table are for you to read through. They’re the prenuptial agreement you’ll need to sign before we can marry.’
Her eyes remained on his face as she chewed slowly. When she swallowed, a flicker of pink tongue popped to the side of her mouth to lick a stray crumb.
Javier inhaled deeply and forced his attention back to the documents she now leaned forward to pick up, only to be confronted by a glimpse of cleavage as her sweater dipped.
He clenched his hands into fists and commanded his loins to stay neutral.
Sophie was only a woman. There was nothing special about her, nothing that should make his loins twitch and his veins heat. He would not allow the memories of their one time together to trick his body.
She leaned back and casually flicked through the documents he’d woken his lawyer at six a.m. to produce, right after he’d called the human resources manager.
After a few minutes of silence she put the file back on the coffee table and stared at him. ‘This is the same contract you signed with Freya.’
‘With a few modifications.’ Namely the section on children being in the future at a time of his wife’s choosing. That was an issue now taken out of both their hands. ‘Everything about how our marriage is to proceed is laid out in black and white. There will be no ambiguity and no need for us to argue about any issues at any point in the future because they are all set out in this. You will see that you are also generously provided for.’ He would treat her fairly and well. She would be his wife and the mother of his child and he would respect her for both those roles.
Something undefinable sparked in her eyes. ‘Your provisions are generous but the rest of it... I’m not signing this.’
He fixed her with the stare that had been known to make an entire conference room of business people freeze. ‘If you want me to marry you, you will.’
She shook her head slowly. ‘No.’
No. A simple one-syllable word rarely uttered in his earshot and even more rarely directly at him.
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs. ‘Then let me explain it like this. If you won’t sign the contract I will not marry you and I will take custody of our child. If you want to be a mother to it then you will sign. Otherwise you can leave right now and stop wasting my time.’
