Illegitimate Tycoon (8 page)

 
          
The
short hours of sleep had left her horribly disoriented. But events of the past
day quickly came back in a tumble of bruised memories.

 
          
She
turned her head and stared at the empty place beside her. The bedclothes were
rumpled, the pillow still holding the indentation of his head.

 
          
Rafael
had
joined her in bed, but had stayed
on his side. He’d deprived her of his comforting arms.

 
          
No,
that wasn’t true. She had been keeping him at an emotional arm’s length for too
long.

 
          
She
heaved a sigh and levered herself from the pillow-top mattress. It was
certainly the first time they’d shared a bed and not made love. The first time
she could recall when they’d gone to bed with harsh words between them.

 
          
He’d
given her an ultimatum she dreaded to make, for if she gave up her career to
start a family, she could lose her baby again. The pressures she had faced in
getting to the very top of her career would be nothing compared to that
devastation. Yet she knew Rafael would not relent. That he’d push her to be the
wife and mother she had once promised and hoped to be.

 
          
If
only it were that simple.

 
          
“Sleep
well?” he asked.

 
          
She
jerked her gaze toward the overstuffed chair by the window. He sprawled in it
like a feral cat lazing in the sun.

 
          
Her
mouth went dry. His broad shoulders and taut ribbed belly were more impressive
bare. His skin was tanned. The light sprinkling of black hair on his muscled
chest was soft, she knew.

 
          
“I
rested,” she replied, slowly lifting her gaze to his eyes that were wiped clean
of the anger that had roiled in him last night. But she didn’t kid herself into
thinking all was well between them. “When did you come to bed?”

 
          
He
lifted one broad shoulder. “Close to four.”

 
          
And
with so little sleep he still looked devastatingly handsome. Focused. In
control.

 
          
She
was certainly far from having power over her emotions now. Her eyes felt gritty.
Her stomach was a jumble of nerves. And all the grief and guilt she’d suffered
this past year seemed to have doubled overnight.

 
          
He
had to know she’d already tried to be a mother and had failed. That the next
try at having a child might not be successful either.

 
          
She
wet lips that were dry and struggled to find just the right words to tell him
about her miscarriage. That she was now terrified to get pregnant, but that her
arms still ached to hold her baby close to her bosom.
His
baby.

 
          
“Rafael
…”

 
          
“According
to the schedule, you have a shoot in one hour,” he said, his gaze now locked on
his mobile, brow slightly furrowed.

 
          
He
was clearly still angry with her and who could blame him. She couldn’t very
well tell him the truth now and then rush off to get ready for the shoot. He
deserved so much more of her time.

 
          
“Do
you need the bathroom?” she asked, thankful her voice didn’t betray the war
going on inside her.

 
          
“No.
Be my guest.”

 
          
She
wasted no time slipping inside the en suite bathroom and by the time she was
finished she felt a bit more invigorated.

 
          
Yet
as she stood in front of the mirror, she could see every new line that had
etched her face. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the problem at hand,
shoving thoughts of Rafael from her mind. If she excelled at anything it was
applying makeup that looked natural, yet took years, and worries, off her face.

 
          
If
she could only correct the problems with her body just as easily, problems she
wouldn’t have had if she hadn’t developed an eating disorder. But the damage
was done, and her guilt ran bone-deep.

 
          
Tucking
those heartbreaking emotions away, Leila mentally stepped into the role of top
model. With her long hair blown dry and silky straight, she slipped on a
strapless dress and stepped from the bathroom. To her surprise Rafael had added
a crisp white shirt and brown shoes to his ensemble.

 
          
He could’ve been a model
.

 
          
It
wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed her mind. He was that put
together. That sure of himself.

 
          
More
sure than she was of herself at this moment and she hated that indecision in
her. It had been that inability to make a stand for herself and her career when
she had first started modeling that allowed her mother and agent to control her
life. To make choices for her that had nearly cost her life. That left her now
with damage that could prevent her from ever having a child.

 
          
If
she could overcome the fear of
getting pregnant.

 
          
Even
then she’d never forget that first life conceived of love. That beautiful
surprise that had been taken from her far too soon.

 
          
She
blinked back sudden tears and checked her purse. Her new mobile rested within,
the phone her husband had designed for her, a companion to his own unique one.

 
          
It
took every ounce of fortitude to tamp her grief and guilt back in its niche.
Longer still to remember how to bring up the calendar that would refresh her
memory of the location.

 
          
She
rattled off the address, carefully avoiding meeting Rafael’s gaze. “I should be
finished by noon.”

 
          
“Good.
We can take lunch afterward.”

 
          
“That
would be perfect. I’ll call you when I am free.” She slipped her bare feet into
an empowering pair of designer slings and moved to the door with determined
strides that she hoped wouldn’t be interpreted for what they were—a desperate
escape from the past that festered inside her.

 
          
“No
need. I’ll be there with you.”

 
          
That
brought her up short and whirling to face him. “What? Why? You’ll be bored to
tears watching a shoot—it could go on for hours.”

 
          
His
smile came quickly and rocked the hold she had choked on her emotions.
“Querida
, I will never tire of watching
you.”

 
          
A
quiver of excitement skittered through her, but she quickly reminded herself of
his deepest desire—to convince her to give up her career and start a family,
and she knew she had to be strong.

 
          
But
as his dark gaze glided over her it made her feel weak. Her skin pebbled, her
nipples hardened and ached for his touch, and the most damning was the heat in
his eyes that melted her resolve.

 
          
Dangerous.
He was the most dangerous man she’d ever met. A predator who knew how to stalk
his prey—find its vulnerability.

 
          
Yet
even knowing that, she couldn’t find the strength to pull away from him. Moth
to flame.

 
          
They’d
certainly burn together.

 
          
He
crossed to her, dark eyes intent, challenging her to argue with him. “Surely
you have no objections.”

 
          
She
had dozens of them that all danced around her own guilt over lying to the man
she loved beyond reason. But there was no point in voicing them right now, not
when he was this close. Not when he looked at her with such wicked passion that
she was forced to lock her knees to keep from swaying into him. Not when she
desperately wanted him. Now. Tonight. And forever.

 
          
When
the guilt of hurting him was killing her.

 
          
“Of
course not. The first shoot is in an old château,” she said, slipping her model’s
persona on and stepping from their suite, for when she was “the diva,” she was
in control. “A limo should be waiting to take me—” she flicked him a smile over
her shoulder “—take
us
there.”

 
          
“It
sounds fascinating,” he said, closing the door and following her down the
hallway.

 
          
Tension
pulsed in the elevator as the two of them rode it to the lobby. The possessive
hand Rafael kept at her back as he guided her to the concierge desk heaped
tinder on her guilt. Keeping secrets was a dangerous game she had never wished
to play.

 
          
She’d
tell him about the baby they’d lost after the shoot, when they were alone. She’d
bare her soul about her health and hope he understood what had driven her to do
what she’d done.

 
          
And
if he didn’t?

 
          
Fear
crouched in her heart. God help them both then.

 
          
When
they arrived at the shoot, the producer was waiting for her with a smile that
looked strained. Leila suspected Siobhan’s patience had been tested by the
little man beside her who was the representative of the client—Coltere
Fragrance.

 
          
It
was well known that this client often caused trouble on the set. She only hoped
that Siobhan could keep him in line.

 
          
That
thought had barely crossed her mind before the client snapped, “Who’s he?”

 
          
“My
husband,” Leila answered, aware the only way to deal with him was to dare the
little man to object. “Is that a problem?”

 
          
“Guests
are a distraction,” the client said.

 
          
That
was a fact she couldn’t dispute. Especially tall, arrogant husbands who
commanded attention! But Rafael had been to some of her earlier shoots and she’d
not suffered from his presence. Surely now wouldn’t be any different? And if it
did?

 
          
She
would take control. She was, after all, a professional. For this little man to
assume otherwise was an insult to her.

 
          
“I’ve
been in this business long enough to know how to focus,” Leila said.

 
          
“Of
course you do. Now let’s be off,” Siobhan said, putting an end to the man’s
rant.

 
          
Rafael
kept his distance from the overbearing client by pacing the back of the vast
hall in the villa. But he’d only retreated here after he’d seen that Leila and
her producer had the client in control.

 
          
Watching
his wife deal with her business made his chest swell with pride. She was nerves
of steel draped in silk and poise. It was clear that she oversaw every detail
on the set, and was quick to voice her opinion—and will—when necessary.

 
          
She
commanded respect. And she got it without question. He could understand why she
was reluctant to abandon her career, yet he couldn’t see how she could do
justice to this and motherhood too.
Why
couldn’t being his wife and mother to his children be enough for her, like she’d
once dreamed of?

 
          
Rafael
swore under his breath and paced the length of the hall again. Being in this
mansion set him on edge, for it brought back memories of Wolfe Manor with its
lush gardens and imposing facade.

 
          
But
unlike his brothers’ and sister’s childhood home that had fallen into ruin,
this villa was in excellent repair, from the ornate Y-shaped staircase that
gleamed a rich walnut to the period furnishing that screamed opulence.