Billionaire's Baby of Redemption

by Michelle Smart

  It had been a fearsome thought that had him clenching his hands into fists and walking out of the bedroom before he could act on it.

  They had not exchanged a solitary word on the drive over.

  Resting a hand lightly to her back, he led her through the old, exclusive apartment building, where a concierge escorted them to the elevator that would take them to Dante’s new penthouse.

  The huge, open-plan space the party was being hosted in was already filled with guests.

  The buzz of chatter increased in volume and excitement as Javier guided Sophie through the throng, his eyes seeking Dante, already keen to get this over with and get the hell out.

  They could stare and gossip about him as much as they liked but his wife was not a piece of meat to be studied and gaped at.

  He’d turned down four parties on their behalf since they’d married. Never minding his loathing of large gatherings, he’d had no intention of putting Sophie in the firing line of the inquisitive eyes he was always subjected to at these things. Now all he could do was get through his business as quickly as he could and get her out of there.

  Swiping them a glass of fruit juice each from a passing waiter, Javier was taking his first sip when Dante approached, the easy smile so reminiscent of Luis’s smile on his face.

  ‘I knew you’d come,’ he said smugly, before introducing himself to Sophie and putting his hands on her bare shoulders to kiss her cheeks in turn.

  Javier clenched his jaw and forced himself to breathe, turning his mind away from the impulse to punch Dante in the face.

  Get a grip of yourself. He’s only greeting her the way he greets everyone; the way all polite society people greet each other.

  His fingers still itched to punch him though.

  Dante called his date over. She was a statuesque model, famed as the elite designers’ clothes horse of choice.

  Her eyes fixed on Javier with a gleam he recognised, part fear, part curiosity, part desire.

  He only just managed to stop his face twisting with disgust.

  The woman was beautiful, that could not be denied, but she did not hold a candle to Sophie. No one did. No one could.

  Dante turned to the woman. ‘Lola, look after Sophie while I steal her husband away. We have business to discuss.’

  If Sophie was bothered about being palmed off, she didn’t show it. She smiled at Javier and gave an almost imperceptible wink.

  ‘I’m afraid I have disappointing news,’ Dante said as he led him into his private office. ‘The sale’s off—temporarily.’

  ‘Oh?’

  Dante opened a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Scotch and two glasses. ‘An illegitimate heir has come out of the woodwork. Her lawyers say she has a claim to the inheritance and therefore a claim to the land.’

  ‘And does she?’

  Dante’s eyes glittered menacingly. ‘I will make sure she doesn’t.’

  Javier shrugged. He couldn’t care less about Dante’s problems. All he cared about was taking his wife home.

  ‘Drink?’

  Javier raised his palm and shook his head.

  ‘Oh, yes, I forgot you don’t drink. That was always Luis’s forte. And speaking of Luis, I’m surprised you’re not in the Caribbean with him. Or are the rumours that you two have ended more than your business relationship true?’

  Javier did not dignify that with a response.

  His private business was no one else’s concern. Dante might be comfortable sharing personal confidences; that did not mean Javier had to follow suit.

  ‘When do you anticipate solving the problem with the illegitimate heir?’ he asked, putting the conversation back on the business footing it should have stayed on.

  ‘A few weeks. Maybe a month. I’ll call you when it’s done. I should warn you though, Luis has asked that I give him the opportunity to make another counter-offer.’

  ‘Whatever he offers, I will top it,’ Javier said flatly.

  Dante raised his glass and grinned. ‘I do love a bidding war.’ He knocked back the Scotch, grimaced and poured himself another. ‘My money would be on you winning.’

  Despite himself, Javier’s curiosity got the better of him. ‘Why?’

  Luis might be the more easy-going of the Casillas brothers but when it came to business he was as razor sharp as Javier. It was what had made them such a good team.

  ‘When I saw him the other week he was all loved-up.’ His grimace that time had nothing to do with the drink. ‘His heart’s not with the business, it’s with his new wife...’

  ‘He’s not married yet,’ Javier interjected.

  Dante’s surprise appeared genuine. ‘You don’t know? Luis and Chloe married yesterday. They released a statement about it this morning.’

  * * *

  Sophie stared around at the crowd of beautifully dressed people all so comfortable in their wealth and standing in society and felt as she’d done on her wedding day: like an imposter.

  She had been so looking forward to this party, had been determined to ignore Javier’s grumpiness about it and embrace something new in this new life of hers, something they could share together.

  Lola, the cat-eyed supermodel, had abandoned her after a few minutes of not-in-the-slightest-bit-subtle questioning that Sophie had stonewalled with non-committal answers all delivered with a smile so as not to hurt her feelings.

  But, honestly, did Lola really expect her to share confidences about her husband with a complete stranger?

  She wished she could have a glass of the free-flowing champagne but she hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol in her pregnancy and was not about to start now.

  Sliding her phone out of her clutch bag, she messaged Marsela to check on Frodo, pretending not to see the inquisitive stares still being directed at her from all corners.

  She missed her little shadow. He was such a playful comfort to her during the days when she felt Javier’s absence like a hole in her heart. She didn’t have a clue what breed he was, some kind of small poodle cross. The vet had suggested a DNA test on him but she’d decided not to. Whatever Frodo was, he was hers and she loved him. He responded to her love in a way she wished so badly that Javier would.

  Javier hadn’t even bothered to comment on her appearance. She’d made such an effort for him, desperately wanting him to be proud to have her on his arm, but he’d looked her up and down and left the room.

  A slap on the face would have been kinder.

  ‘You look lost.’

  The man who’d approached her, who could only be described as a silver fox, smiled.

  She smiled back at the friendly face that matched the unmistakable English voice. ‘Not lost. Just soaking up the atmosphere.’

  ‘Javier abandoned you, has he?’ he said, his words and tone implying he and Javier were acquaintances.

  They wouldn’t be friends. Javier did not have friends.

  ‘He’s talking with Dante.’

  ‘Were you not invited to join them?’

  She pulled a face. ‘It’s about business, something I know nothing about.’

  ‘Ah, yes, you’re a ballerina. I remember watching you perform in The Sleeping Beauty.’

  ‘Did you?’ she asked dubiously. She had been a part of the corps de ballet and utterly inconspicuous in her costume.

  He suddenly looked sheepish. ‘My wife—she’s Spanish—dragged me along to it. I only know you were in it because she told me on the drive over here. Dante told everyone that Javier would be bringing his new wife. You’re the star attraction, you know.’

  ‘Am I?’

  ‘But of course. He’s been hiding you away for months. We all wanted to see you for ourselves and make sure that it wasn’t a vicious rumour that he’d snared another young English ballerina as his bride—’ He cut himself off and winced. ‘My apologies. That
was callous of me.’

  ‘No, it’s fine.’ She adopted nonchalance. There was no point in making a fuss over what everyone was thinking. Javier’s engagement to Freya had been announced with huge fanfare. His marriage to Sophie had not even had an official press release. ‘I’m the second-choice young English ballerina bride.’

  ‘Maybe second choice but I would hazard a guess that you’re not second best.’ His eyes dipped to her belly. ‘Because I can see the other rumour is true too...unless this is where you tell me you’re not pregnant but had an extra helping of cheesecake.’

  Sophie burst into laughter. ‘Yes, I’m pregnant and the great thing about it is I can have as much cheesecake as I like.’

  ‘You won’t find any at this party if Dante’s girlfriend organised the catering.’ He guffawed. ‘Let’s see if we can find some food that isn’t just fit for rabbits. We might find my wife somewhere too. I think she’s abandoned me.’

  Glad of the friendly company, Sophie was about to follow him when she spotted Dante in a corner, chatting with a group of people.

  If his meeting with Javier was done with...

  She craned her neck, then craned some more.

  Where was Javier?

  * * *

  Javier steamed down the dark streets, his hands rammed in his trouser pockets, dodging the evening revellers spilling onto the pavements from the bars and clubs.

  His blood raced with rage. Pure, undiluted, unfiltered rage.

  He had finished his meeting with Dante with his brain burning to learn Luis had married.

  The faint hope he’d unknowingly held onto that his brother would come to his senses and end things with Chloe had been stamped out.

  He had married her.

  Prepared to grab Sophie and insist they leave immediately, he had been confronted with her talking to a handsome man he vaguely recognised.

  Not just talking to him either, he thought grimly, remembering the laughter that had shone on her face.

  She’d been enjoying the man’s company so much that she’d been oblivious to her husband standing only ten feet away watching them.

  In that moment he’d had a choice.

  Either he could go to them, lift the man flirting so shamelessly with his wife into the air and hurl him out of a window or he could leave.

  He’d left without looking back.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket, the third time it had rung.

  He pulled it out and, not looking at it, turned it off.

  Right then he did not want to see or speak to anyone.

  He did not trust himself.

  Right then the urge to inflict the pain coursing through his veins on someone else was too strong to risk, that much self-awareness he did have.

  He walked for miles, detouring through pavements he hadn’t trod on since he was a teenager and his and Luis’s only means of transport had been their legs.

  Thirteen years old they’d been when Madrid had suddenly become their home. To escape the grandparents who’d been little more than strangers to them, they had explored the new streets they lived on, a tight unit, protecting each other as they had always done.

  In every corner lay a memory.

  Eventually he could put it off no longer.

  He slowed his pace as he walked the long driveway to his home and climbed the marble steps.

  Before he could open the door, it swung open.

  Standing there, her face white with fury, was Sophie.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SOPHIE DIDN’T KNOW whether to throw her arms around Javier in her relief or push him down the steps.

  She’d searched everywhere in that huge apartment for him, refusing to believe he would have left without her.

  She’d only confronted the truth when she’d gone outside to look and Michael, his driver, who’d been waiting for them, had gently told her Javier had chosen to walk home.

  That had been three hours ago.

  The realisation that he’d abandoned her with a roomful of strangers had knocked all the wind out of her.

  She’d been too shocked to be angry.

  Then the time had passed while she’d waited for him to come home and the anger had built.

  That anger had been giving way to concern when she had spotted him in the CCTV camera feed she’d sat herself in front of.

  Now she didn’t know how she felt, just that she was so full of contrary emotions that she would either cry or scream.

  He stared back at her, his features taut, a pulse throbbing on his jaw, hands rammed in his pockets, breathing heavily.

  He was the one to break the oppressive silence.

  ‘You need to step out of my way.’

  She shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘Sophie, at this moment I do not trust myself to be anywhere near you. Get out of my way.’

  Holding her ground, she folded her arms across her chest. ‘No.’

  He swore loudly.

  ‘I’m not moving until you tell me why you left me at the party without a—’

  ‘You didn’t look as if you’d care,’ he spat back, suddenly springing to life to brush past her and enter the house.

  She pushed the door shut and turned in time to see him storm up the stairs.

  Barefooted, holding the skirt of her dress up, she pursued him.

  She might be pregnant but she was still quick and she reached the bedroom door before he could slam it shut and lock her out.

  ‘Sophie, you need to leave,’ he told her tightly as he held the door frame, his knuckles white, refusing her admittance. ‘Sleep in another room tonight. We will talk in the morning when I am not so angry.’

  ‘When you’re not so angry? I’m the only one who should be angry. You abandoned me.’

  He winced at her choice of word.

  Good. So he damned well should wince.

  ‘I told Michael I was walking home. I knew he would get you back safely.’

  ‘You left me there. You humiliated me in front of all those people who were already laughing at me.’

  ‘If you felt humiliated you did a fine job of hiding it. You looked like you were having a damned good time without me. Now, I need you to go.’

  ‘I am not going anywhere. You’re not shutting me out, Javier. Why did you leave? Tell me!’

  ‘It was either leave or throw your boyfriend out of the window. Would you have preferred I do that?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I saw you, carina. With that man. Laughing with him.’

  She suddenly remembered the Englishman she’d briefly chatted with, the only bright spot of her entire night. ‘My God, were you jealous? Is that what this is all about?’

  ‘Right now, I do not know anything other than that I cannot trust myself to be in the same room as you and you need to get the hell out of my sight until I am calm.’

  Struggling for air, her heart thumping, Sophie took a step back, saw Javier loosen his hold on the frame of the door and, before he could close it, used the advantage of surprise to push past him and into the bedroom.

  ‘Get out!’ he howled.

  ‘No, I will not! You’re behaving like an idiot. All I was doing was talking. Or is that illegal now? Do I need your permission to talk to a man? Or maybe you would like to cover me in a bin bag when I leave the house? And what do you even care?’ she continued, her voice getting louder as she gathered momentum, all her bottled-up feelings rising like poison inside her. ‘I’m just a possession to you, aren’t I? The second-best wife, not as good as your first choice, not as perfect, not good enough to be taken out in public with pride because I’m only a second-rate ballerina, not as pretty—’

  ‘That’s enough!’

  His roar echoed through the walls as he lunged for her, taking hold of her b
iceps and leaning down to her, his breath hot on her face. ‘Don’t you ever put yourself down again, do you hear me? You are worth a million Freyas. Don’t you see that? You are the most incredible, special person I have ever met in my life and it scares the hell out of me that one day I might hurt you. I felt nothing for Freya and she felt nothing for me and that was safe. You do not make me feel safe. You make me feel things I should never feel and the thought of anyone hurting a hair on your beautiful head makes me want to rip heads off bodies and that’s what I’ve been fighting against since you walked into my life because I know the biggest danger to you is me.’

  If a heart could burst then hers just did.

  ‘Oh, Javier,’ she whispered, a tear spilling down her cheek as she put a trembling hand to his face and gazed helplessly at the eyes that swirled with more emotion than she could have ever hoped to see in them. ‘You are not your father.’

  Javier stared at the beautiful, open face that haunted his every waking and sleeping moment and suddenly he was lost.

  Pushing her against the wall, he kissed her with every ounce of feeling contained inside him.

  Her lips parted to welcome him and then they were clinging together, her arms tight around his neck as he fed on her kisses like a condemned man taking his one last meal.

  A desperation he had never felt before overcame him, a need to touch and be touched, and it hit him like a fever in his brain, the blood that had sprung to life all that time ago for this beautiful, incredible woman awake and crashing through his body, refusing to be denied or ignored any longer.

  He lifted her into his arms and cradled her in them, gazing into her eyes as he carried her to the bed, marvelling with wonder at the colours and emotions he saw in their depths.

  How had he never seen them before?

  And she stared back with equal intensity.

  Laying her on the bed, he put his palm to her cheek and caressed the satin skin his fingers always yearned to touch.

  And then he kissed her again.

  And then he was drowning.

  Working as one as they devoured each other with their mouths, they stripped their clothes off, throwing them without a care for where they landed, the need to be naked in each other’s arms too strong to care for anything but this moment, this here, this now.