Illegitimate Tycoon (3 page)

 
          
“Of
course.”

 
          
“I
don’t even know you,” she’d protested, though it’d been a weak one that had
encouraged him even more.

 
          
He’d
introduced himself, and surely made more of his lowly title of software
developer than was warranted. But even then he’d had grander dreams. Even then
he’d secretly been working on something new and groundbreaking in the computer
world.

 
          
He’d
touched Leila, no more than a caress of her arm. But a jolt of awareness had
rocked him to his soul. The sexual attraction jarred him, but not nearly as
much as the odd awareness that they were kindred souls.

 
          
“Come
with me, Leila,” he’d said.

 
          
She’d
cast one look at her mother and bit her lip, but she’d gone with him. For one
glorious night and day they’d played like young lovers on holiday.

 
          
He’d
learned that just one year before she’d collapsed on the runway, and had spent
the ensuing long months that followed in a special clinic recovering from the
disastrous effects of anorexia. That she’d let her mother take charge of her
life, and had yet to build up the confidence again to break free from her.

 
          
That
he’d been right all along and she was as lonely as he.

 
          
That
first impulsive date had sparked the whirlwind romance that had rocked the
modeling world and set her mother at instant odds against him. He’d fallen
under Leila’s spell—fallen in love, or as in love as he could be at that
strained time in his life.

 
          
He’d
only known that he’d wanted Leila for more than an affair. He wanted her as his
wife. Wanted a family with her.

 
          
He
proposed marriage, and Leila had eagerly said yes. But she’d made it clear she
wasn’t ready to be a parent yet.

 
          
Neither
was he. They’d agreed that family was something they’d start in a few years,
after they’d both made their marks. After they’d exhausted the freedom of young
love.

 
          
He’d
known then that one day he’d have it all. A home. A gorgeous wife he loved. And
children laughing and playing to chase away the lonely memories of his own
childhood. To give him the family he’d craved, yet had been denied for the most
part.

 
          
But
their wait had stretched from three years into four without Leila and him
having a real home. Without Leila being part of his life for one entire year.

 
          
No
more! They’d both waited too long to see their dreams realized.

 
          
He
slipped the memory card in Leila’s new device and tested it.

 
          
“I’ve
taken the liberty to add a few pertinent applications but you’ll have to
personalize it yourself,” he said, and handed her the mobile.

 
          
Her
fingers brushed his and she jolted, an external reaction to the same bolt of
desire that had shot through him earlier, that still simmered deep inside him.

 
          
“It
looks complicated,” she said. “You’ll have to show me how to use it.”

 
          
“We
have time to do that later.” Once he’d doused his need to be with her. Once he’d
wrestled his control back in place and he could simply enjoy this reunion with
her.

 
          
He
crossed to the tray that had been delivered to their suite and poured an iced
coffee laced with
cachaça
. “Would you
like a drink?”

 
          
“Water
with a twist of lime,” she said. “I had orange juice at the airport.”

 
          
He
grimaced at the near apology in that confession. She rarely drank anything
other than enhanced water which added zero calories. He could count on one hand
the times he’d seen her eat a full meal and he’d certainly never seen her binge
on anything.

 
          
But
then he was careful too, moderate. He didn’t wish to follow in his own father’s
alcoholic footsteps.

 
          
He
turned to offer her the drink and just caught sight of her rushing into the
master bedroom. The closing of the en suite bathroom door echoed softly in the
suite.

 
          
Not
so for the sound of her becoming violently ill. If it were anyone else, he’d
pass it off as a malady.

 
          
But
Leila’s troubled past gave him pause.

 
          
The
unsettling possibility she’d suffered a relapse plagued him as he carried his
garment bag and suitcase into the bedroom.

 
          
An
economy of quick strides carried him into the facility moments after the toilet
flushed. She was at the sink rinsing out her mouth, her face paler than before.

 
          
“Leila,
what’s wrong?” he asked.

 
          
She
shook her head, her eyes bleak. “I’ve been ill. Some stomach virus that refuses
to leave.”

 
          
“Have
you seen a doctor for this?”

 
          
“Yes,
one who was on staff at the shoot gave me an antibiotic, but he did warn me
that if this were a viral infection it would do no good,” she said. “I’ll be
fine.”

 
          
He
gave her a more critical look, wanting to believe her. Yet they’d been apart
too much this year, and she’d clearly lost weight.

 
          
And
though he didn’t want to admit it, there was a nervousness about her that hadn’t
been there before. A withdrawal, almost as if she were hiding something from
him.

 
          
“Have
you tried to lose weight quickly?”

 
          
Leila
swung around to face Rafael. “No! I’m not a victim of bulimia or anorexia
anymore. I simply have a stomach bug. But if you think I’m lying, Rafael, you
are more than welcome to ask my agent or my doctor about my health!”

 
          
Inferno!
He had not expected her to
react with such anger, but then he supposed he deserved it for doubting her.

 
          
“Forgive
me for insinuating you had suffered a relapse,” he said, reaching for her, but
she turned from him and left the bathroom. Left him standing there feeling like
a fool for thinking the worst of her. “I worry, Leila.”

 
          
She
stopped short, shoulders slumping. “I know you do.” She brushed a hand through
her hair in a show of impatience. “I worry about you as well, but this year—”

 
          
Her
hand fluttered in the air, and he reached out and snagged it this time. Pulled
her close to his heart where she belonged and was glad she didn’t resist.

 
          
“Things
will change now,” he said, and gained a shaky nod from her in answer.

 
          
This
past year had been difficult. Their brief weekend in Aruba sandwiched between
her last shoot and his trip to L.A. to consult on the film. This time when they
had parted, he’d resented her career more than ever, for it had pulled her from
him. Her stellar status had taken precedence over their marriage. Over their
plans to start a family.

 
          
He’d
come close to demanding she take a hiatus from her work. That she embrace her
role as his wife again with the same passion as she did her career.

 
          
But
just realizing that was exactly how his tyrannical father would have acted
stopped him.

 
          
His
marriage to Leila was secure. She loved him and he loved her. They’d just let
the outside world infringe too much on their dream.

 
          
No
more.

 
          
Soon
he’d plant his seed in her. They’d have their marriage back on track. They’d
have a child born of love.

 
          
“Dare
I ask what brought on your arrogant smile,” she said.

 
          
His
gaze made a slow glide over her face, her breasts, her hips, before returning
to her expressive eyes. “I was thinking of how beautiful you’d look pregnant.”

 
          
THE
thought of being with child pelted Leila like a cold icy rain. She couldn’t go
through that again, shouldn’t attempt it blithely.

 
          
Yet
like Rafael she longed for a child. A baby to love, to cradle to her bosom. Her
and Rafael’s child, born of love.

 
          
But
she’d tried and failed.

 
          
Last
year Leila had discovered she had been pregnant. But in September, when she had
been just twelve weeks along, nature had taken a horribly wrong turn.

 
          
Leila
had lost her baby. She’d lost a lot of blood. Lost weight. Lost heart over the
tragedy.

 
          
Her
mind ached from the doctor’s warning following her miscarriage. Though she was
well now, there would always be that chance that due to her anorexia, and the
damage it may have wreaked on her body, she could fail to carry a child to term
again.

 
          
The
very last thing Leila wanted was to go through the pain of losing a baby again.
She was afraid to try and fail, even though she still wanted to give Rafael the
family he craved. Her own arms and heart ached to hold the child she’d lost.
Rafael’s baby.

 
          
But
despite her deep yearning for a family, her fear of suffering another
miscarriage had grown into paralyzing terror. More so her fear had been given
strength when a fellow model, who’d also struggled with anorexia early in her
career, had died in childbirth. A woman Leila had admired.

 
          
Yet
as her friend’s body had changed during her pregnancy, the young woman had
relapsed into her old destructive habits. Leila had watched as her friend had
struggled to regain control of her anorexia, but in the end the disease won,
taking her friend’s and the baby’s lives.

 
          
That’s
when Leila’s nightmares had really begun. Now, she wasn’t able to think beyond
the tragedy her friend had suffered. She had lost confidence that she’d be
stronger than the disease.

 
          
Her
inner turmoil turned into a living breathing hell, for though she still longed
to have Rafael’s child grow inside her, she couldn’t—wouldn’t—commit to having
a child only to lose it. She suffered this devastation already and it had
changed her. But how would Rafael, who wanted a family so desperately, bear it?

 
          
Guilt
over keeping her terror and her past pregnancy from Rafael roiled in her until
her fear became a dragon she didn’t know how to slay.

 
          
How
would he react when he learned she’d kept so much from him?

 
          
Not
well, she feared.

 
          
At
the time of her miscarriage he’d been away on some excursion in Brazil, and she
knew she couldn’t tell him such news over the phone. She could have told him
when he returned, in between a break in her hectic schedule, but she’d been so
devastated still, so terribly shocked, that she’d been unable to find the
words. All too soon too much time had passed. Now?

 
          
Leila
had no idea how to even begin to tell her husband what had happened! And the
timing was once again all wrong.

 
          
Leila
pushed past his finely honed form and hurried into her bedroom. She simply
couldn’t deal with it right now, not when her emotions were strained from the
flight. Not when she wanted time alone with Rafael first before she voiced the
truth that she knew could drive him from her.