“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.
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