Billionaire's Baby of Redemption

by Michelle Smart

  For a moment he stopped pacing to stare at her, stunned.

  No one—no one—ever alluded to his parents, not to his face.

  His parents’ marriage had been fodder for the press long before his mother’s death. His father, Yuri Abramova, had been a ballet dancer from Moscow from the days of the USSR and had defected to New York in the seventies. Clara had been a Spanish prima ballerina, much younger than her famous husband, whose own fame had soared with her talent until she had eclipsed him in all ways. Their marriage had been volatile and filled with infidelities and jealousy on both sides. Lovers had popped up like cockroaches to sell their stories to an eager press who had known stories of the most famous marriage in the ballet world always sold out its print run.

  In the midst of all this toxicity had been two boys who had both suffered but who had got through it by sticking together and protecting the other.

  If someone had told the young Javier that his twin, his only confidant, would one day betray him for a woman he would have laughed in their face.

  But now their brotherhood was dead, as dead as the mother Javier had worshipped but who had always preferred Luis and as dead as the father who had worshipped Javier and hated Luis.

  His entire past was gone. The grandparents who had raised him and Luis after their mother’s death and father’s incarceration had died within a year of each other a decade ago. Louise Guillem, his mother’s closest friend, who had been like an aunt to them, had died seven years ago. Benjamin, Louise’s son and Javier and Luis’s oldest playmate, was alive and kicking but effectively dead to him.

  They were all gone and yet...

  Inside this woman who stared unblinkingly back at him, life grew. A child. His child.

  An unexpected stab of guilt plunged into his guts.

  Sophie was right. Their child was innocent, just as he and Luis had been innocent. His child deserved more than to be used as a weapon before it had grown bigger than his thumb.

  Staring hard at the mother of his child, he could see in her eyes that already she loved it enough to fight for its best interests in any way she could. As a child he would have given anything to have been on the receiving end of that kind of love from his own mother.

  Was that how Sophie had found the nerve to allude to his childhood and not flinch? How else could she look at him and not recoil in fear at the man who stood before her?

  But she hadn’t been scared when she had turned up at his door with the same documents he’d had remade early that morning in her name...

  Coldly perfect Freya had never displayed any overt fear for him either, but that had been understandable because coldly perfect Freya had never shown any emotions other than on the stage when she came alive in her dance.

  Why wasn’t Sophie scared of him?

  He dragged his fingers down his face and contemplated her some more before nodding slowly. ‘Bueno. I do not know what your expectations of a real marriage are...’

  ‘One that doesn’t give the husband a licence to take a mistress for a start,’ she interjected drily.

  He gaped at this unexpected glimpse of humour. ‘You expect fidelity?’

  He’d had the clause put in that he could take a mistress if he chose as a black-and-white warning that he was committing to a marriage only on paper. Freya hadn’t blinked an eye at it.

  ‘My only expectation is that we both try to make things work.’ She expelled a long breath of air and sat back on the sofa. Taking hold of her glass, she gave him a rueful smile. ‘All we can do is our best. To be faithful, to be honest, to just...try.’

  How could he argue with that? he thought, anger mixing with incredulity.

  Sophie had flipped everything on its head and made it all sound so easy.

  Did she not see that she was asking the impossible? Javier had no idea if he was capable of fidelity; he’d never had a relationship run long enough for him to find out.

  But honesty he could do. He was always honest.

  ‘Do not expect the impossible,’ he warned her darkly. ‘You know the kind of marriage I had envisaged for myself. I like solitude. I always have and always will. I suspect your idea of a real marriage differs greatly from mine.’

  She shrugged. ‘The contract makes clear the kind of marriage you want, my refusal to sign it makes clear it’s not the marriage I want. We’ll both have to make compromises. I’m willing to try if you are.’

  For the first time in his adult life Javier found himself in the uncomfortable position of having to bend to someone else’s will. With Luis there had been much compromise in the way they ran their business but they had been so in tune with each other’s thoughts it had never been an issue. Besides, Luis was his twin. It was a different scenario.

  Sophie was only...

  The mother of his unborn child.

  Damn her, being so reasonable, leaving him little room to manoeuvre.

  The thought of sharing his daily life with another person made his skin crawl. The thought of sharing it with this woman made his chest tighten and his stomach cramp.

  He made sure her attention was fixed on him before giving a sharp nod. ‘Bueno. We will try it your way, but I warn you now, keep your expectations realistic. I live my life to please myself. This is my home and it is run to suit me. I will make accommodations for our child when it is born, but if you want to enter a marriage where the small details of our lives are not already agreed on then you must live with the consequences when you find the reality not to your liking.’

  * * *

  For the third time in as many months, Sophie approached Javier’s front door. This would be her last approach as a visitor. When she stepped through it this time, she would be staying.

  This beautiful villa was going to be her home.

  This was the best course of action, she told herself firmly, for what had to be the hundredth time.

  The past fortnight had passed in a whirl of activity, Sophie busy packing and making arrangements for her new life. She had lived and worked in Madrid for eighteen months but it had never been permanent and she’d lived a minimal life there, always intending to return to England for good when her ballet career was over. Now, embracing that the rest of her life would be spent in Madrid whatever happened in her marriage, she was moving her entire life over.

  She had no idea what Javier had been doing since their short meeting where they had thrashed out an agreement that suited neither of them but was best for their child.

  She would give their marriage her best shot and she would force him to give it his best too. He had agreed to try. She had to hold onto that even if his actions since she’d returned to England had been less than positive.

  He’d politely declined her offer to go to the hospital with her for the first scan, claiming he was too busy, so she had gone with her mother.

  Her mother, bless her gentle heart, had been enthralled with the image on the screen. Her father had spent an age staring at the grainy picture she had given him of it. It had broken Sophie’s heart to tell the loving couple who had adopted her at eighteen months that their grandchild would be raised in Spain, but she had been able to offset their disappointment by promising lots of visits. She knew it had comforted them to know she would be marrying, although it had been another disappointment to them that they wouldn’t meet the groom before the wedding day.

  Her poor parents. They’d masked their disappointment at her unplanned pregnancy well but she’d seen the pained glances they’d exchanged before embracing her and offering their full support.

  Her parents had both been virgins on their wedding day. Sophie had never expected to stay a virgin until her own but she had been waiting for the thunderbolt they had both told her about, that certainty that she had found ‘the one’, the man she would spend the rest of her life with. She would never willingly disappoint them with anything less.

>   Javier was the only man she had looked at and felt her heart and pulses soar.

  She had emailed the scan to him but received no response, either positive or negative. His next message to her had been to confirm the date of their wedding, written in the style of a business memo.

  The man who had threatened to take full custody of their child if Sophie didn’t comply with his demands had so far shown zero interest in it.

  She would force an interest. By the time their child was born in six months, she was determined Javier would be as excited for its arrival as she was. She didn’t expect miracles. She doubted he would be a hands-on father—the thought of that towering inferno of a man changing a nappy evoked hysterical laughter in her—but for their child’s sake she wanted Javier to reach a place where he could open his heart and love it.

  She had to believe he was capable of love. She had to.

  To be fair to him, he hadn’t abandoned her completely. She’d arrived back in the UK to find a chauffeured car waiting for her at the airport, the driver informing her she had him at her disposal until her return to Madrid. When they had settled on the date for her to move in with him, Javier had insisted on sending his private jet to England to collect her. He’d also arranged for a company to collect and transport all her belongings. They should have beaten her here, her stuff all ready for her to unpack in the house she very much hoped would soon feel like home.

  Her heart thudded painfully as she took the heavy knocker in her hand, not yet ready to simply walk into this mansion as if she belonged there. She had barely moved it when the door opened.

  A thin man in a sober suit greeted her with a nod. ‘Miss Johnson, please, come in,’ he said in impeccable English. ‘I am Julio, Mr Casillas’s butler. I run the household staff.’

  Sophie tried to stop her eyes popping out of her head.

  Javier had a butler? Wow.

  On her previous two visits she had seen only one member of staff and had thought little of it. But now she did think about it and realised there was no way a house of these proportions and of such magnificence could be maintained by only one person.

  ‘How many staff are there?’ she asked curiously.

  ‘Nine. Three of us live in. Can I get you any refreshment?’

  ‘I ate on the flight over, thank you.’

  He smiled. ‘Then shall I show you to your room so you can get comfortable?’

  ‘Is Javier not here?’

  ‘Mr Casillas is in a meeting. He will be back this evening.’

  She forced a smile to hide the pierce of disappointment.

  Javier hadn’t said he would be at home to meet her. She had made an assumption that he would want to greet her and make her feel welcome because that was what decent men did for the women carrying their child.

  She had a feeling this was a deliberate act on Javier’s behalf, a throwing down of the gauntlet, a reminder that this marriage was not how he wanted it and he would not have his space encroached.

  ‘Then show me to my room,’ she said with artificial brightness. ‘Has my stuff arrived yet?’

  ‘It was delivered last night,’ he confirmed, leading the way up the grand staircase that spread like wings at the top for the two long sections of the house. He turned right and strode down the wide landing lined with chaises longues and cabinets filled with ancient artefacts until he reached the furthest door at the end and opened it for her.

  Sophie stepped inside and immediately sucked a breath in.

  The room was beautiful.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind but we took the liberty of unpacking for you,’ Julio said. ‘If you are not happy with where your possessions have been put then we will put them where you think more suitable.’

  She grinned, her sense of humour tickled at the butler’s gravity. ‘I’m sure wherever they’ve been put will be fine and if it’s not then I can move them myself.’

  ‘As you wish but please remember we are here to serve. Whatever you require, it is our job to provide it.’

  Slowly she gazed around the fabulous room with its three high, wide windows overlooking Javier’s beautiful garden, the furthest revealing a glimpse of a swimming pool. She opened a door to find a bathroom bigger than her childhood bedroom, another that revealed a dressing room as large as the living room of the flat she had shared with Freya.

  Everything was so soft and clean and feminine...

  Narrowing her eyes, she stared harder and walked back into the bathroom.

  There was not a single masculine product to be found.

  As casually as she could manage, she turned her attention back to the butler, who now stood formally by the bedroom door. ‘Where’s Javier’s room?’

  ‘At the end of the west wing. Would you like me to show you around the rest of the house?’

  It placed a great strain on all her facial muscles to pull a smile to her face but she managed it. ‘No, thank you, Julio. I’m sure you have work you need to be getting on with. I’m happy to explore on my own.’

  ‘If you are sure?’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  After asking once again if she required anything and giving instructions on how to contact the staff for when she did, he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

  When she was alone, the smile on Sophie’s face dropped and she folded her arms protectively around her belly.

  So much for them creating a real marriage. Javier had stuck her as far away from him as he could get her.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  JAVIER SENSED SOPHIE’S presence the moment he stepped through the front door.

  There was nothing of her in his eyeline, everything in the same spotless order it was always in, but he could feel her there nonetheless, as if she had arrived and imprinted herself on the walls. If he closed his eyes he could smell her perfume.

  All day there had been a tight feeling of impending doom playing in his guts that had distracted his thoughts from the important meeting he’d been holding with his lawyer.

  Separating his business interests from Luis’s was proving to be much harder than he’d anticipated, almost as hard as wrapping his head around the fact he would be sharing his home with the Englishwoman who carried his child.

  In the two weeks since he’d seen her he’d carried on as normal. Apart from booking their wedding, that was.

  He’d lodged all the necessary paperwork and arranged for the officiant to marry them here in his home. The ceremony itself would be short and without any fanfare.

  In six days’ time he would be a married man.

  Losing his single status meant nothing to him. He’d always known he would marry when he found the right woman to breed with and continue the Casillas line. Freya had been that right woman, not Sophie. Freya, who would have recoiled at a ‘proper’ marriage as much as he did.

  Not the seemingly sweet, compassionate blonde woman who appeared to have a spine made of much sturdier stuff than he had initially credited her with.

  He had never thought about Freya in his private time. Yet Sophie...

  She was all he could think about, and as hard as he tried to push her from his thoughts, the harder she pushed back, those wide pale blue eyes staring straight into his whenever he closed his eyes.

  She had refused to sign a contract that would have given her an abundance of money each month.

  How could anyone be that selfless? It was not possible. Surely it had to be an act?

  If it wasn’t, if Sophie really was as sweet and giving as she portrayed herself to be, then she would be fragile with it. Sweet things broke easily.

  He did not want to break her but she had to understand that he could. The contract he’d wanted her to sign would have protected her as much as him. A person knew where they were with a contract. You signed it and abided by it, something Benjamin had failed to und
erstand when he’d accused Javier and Luis of defrauding him. Benjamin had signed that contract. Javier could not be held responsible for his failure to read it.

  Without a detailed contract to knit their marriage together, they would have to forge their own path. Sophie spoke of compromise but that was a meaningless word in itself if both parties looked at compromise with different markers.

  He would not allow her to get close to him. Whether she liked it or not, their marriage would never be real in the sense she wanted it to mean.

  He looked at his watch and decided to take a shower before dinner and give himself a few minutes of solitude before he had to face her. He would be undisturbed, his staff knowing not to seek him out. Julio ran his household with military precision. Everyone knew their job and did it well.

  Treading heavily up the stairs, he loosened his tie from round his neck. He opened his bedroom door, went to step inside and came to an abrupt halt.

  Sophie was sitting on the ottoman at the end of his bed, her hand frozen on a stocking she was halfway through rolling up her bare leg.

  After a moment’s pause she turned to him and smiled. Only the stain of colour on her cheeks betrayed any nerves or fear she might have. ‘Good evening, Javier. Have you had a nice day?’

  A swell of rage punched through him, which he did not bother to disguise. Propping himself against the doorway, he growled, ‘What are you doing in here?’

  A small crease formed in her brow. ‘It’s moving-in day. You sent your private jet to collect me, remember?’

  ‘What are you doing in my bedroom?’ he clarified through gritted teeth.

  The crease deepened. ‘Getting ready for dinner. As it’s our first night I thought I would make an effort.’ Then she smiled brightly. ‘I’m afraid there was a mistake and my stuff had been put in a room on the east wing. I could see how busy your staff were, so I moved it over myself. It didn’t take long. I found some empty space in your dressing room to put my clothes in; don’t worry, I didn’t touch any of your stuff. I’ll find space for my books and other bits and pieces tomorrow.’