“You’ve already hurt me,” she said softly. “What’s one more time?”
“Go back to sleep, Rebecca.” He kissed her palm and placed her hand over her heart. “Dream about kittens and other happy things.”
His hand ghosted over her hair and then he was gone.
Señora Flores knocked on Rebecca’s door the next morning and asked her to come to Alejandro’s office. She was finishing getting dressed so she had the señora tell Alejandro it would be a few minutes. When she finally arrived, he was sitting at his desk, dark head bent over his work. He looked up when she walked in, his eyes skimming her body.
Was that heat she saw? Or disdain? She could no longer tell.
She’d dressed carefully in a pale pink dress with little blue flowers that she knew looked good on her. It helped to give her confidence and she swayed her hips as she entered the room. Alejandro got to his feet and came around the desk.
“You look lovely this morning, Rebecca.”
“Thank you.” Her heart beat a little harder at the compliment.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Well enough.” She cocked her head. “Did you carry me to bed last night or did I imagine it?”
He nodded. “Sí. You were asleep on that cramped chaise. You would have awakened with a knot in your neck.”
She rubbed a shoulder and tried not to think of the things she’d said to him last night. “I think the cramp settled here, quite honestly.”
Alejandro made a noise as he came around behind her. His hands settled on her shoulders and her entire body electrified. He seemed not to notice as he began to rub.
“You must be careful, Rebecca. You are pregnant and must get proper rest.”
“I know I’m pregnant, Alejandro,” she said with a touch of annoyance. But was she annoyed at him for stating the obvious or at the way his hands felt so good digging into her shoulders?
“Then go to bed and don’t insist on sleeping on a cramped chair.” His fingers dug into her shoulders, loosening the tight muscles. She wanted to lean back against him, but she did not allow herself the luxury.
His scent stole to her, and she closed her eyes as she breathed him in. Why couldn’t life be simpler? Why couldn’t they really be in love and planning a happy future together?
“There,” he said, moving away after a few minutes. “That should help.”
Rebecca shrugged her shoulders as he walked around the desk and sat down again. She sank into the chair he indicated. “It feels better. Thank you.”
“De nada.” He shuffled some papers on his desk and then turned them until they faced her. “You will please take this and read it.”
Rebecca had to scoot forward to see what he was showing her. Her heart tripped and heat flashed into her cheeks. “A pre-nuptial agreement.?”
“Sí. Surely you are not surprised?”
Her skin burned. “No, I can’t say that I am.”
A rich man—or woman—had to protect assets. But since she’d told him what Parker and her father had done to her, how they’d tricked her—well, it somehow hurt that he would present her with a legal document that basically said he didn’t trust her. She had to stop looking at it that way, but she couldn’t quite help it.
“You will want to read and sign this morning. We will marry this afternoon.”
Her head snapped up. “So soon?”
“There is no need to wait. You may of course confer with your attorneys about the agreement.”
Rebecca’s belly twisted. But he was right. Why wait? Getting married was simply a step at this point. It wasn’t about love.
She stood and clutched the papers to her chest. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to do some reading.”
“Of course.”
Rebecca returned to her room to find a full breakfast from Señora Flores waiting for her. She took a seat at the table placed by a sunny window and began to read. The document was straight-forward enough and contained no strange or oddly worded clauses. She didn’t need an attorney to tell her what her rights and duties were according to the contract. At the end of an hour, she picked up a pen and signed it, her eyes smarting for some reason.
She started to take it back to Alejandro but changed her mind. Instead, she rang for Señora Flores and asked her to deliver the documents. The housekeeper wore a disapproving look as she took them, though Rebecca didn’t think the look was for her.
“Sí, I will take them. Rest up, señorita.”
Rebecca didn’t see Alejandro again until his sister and brother-in-law arrived, and she went down to meet them. She’d changed into a cream silk dress with a skirt that floated around her knees. She might not be getting married in a church, but it was still her wedding and she wanted to look a little like a bride.
Valencia exclaimed when Rebecca walked into the gathering room where she and her husband Phillipe were seated with Alejandro. All three of them stood and Valencia hurried over. She was stunningly beautiful, a smaller version of her brother with sparkling eyes and long black hair. If Alejandro smiled more, his face would be as warm and welcoming as Valencia’s.
“Rebecca! It is so nice to finally meet you.” She hugged Rebecca, who was a little taken aback at her warmth but also grateful for it. “You are so lovely! No wonder Alejandro is smitten.”
“I… Thank you. It’s nice to meet you too,” she said, a little flustered but also aware that now was not the time to correct Valencia’s mistake. Alejandro was definitely not smitten.
Alejandro didn’t offer up a correction either as Valencia led Rebecca over to the couch where he’d been sitting before she walked in. He put an arm around her and drew her close, and she tried not to shiver at the heat of his body where it touched hers. They sank down together and he motioned to a servant. A moment later he pressed a glass of something cold into her hand.
“I can’t drink champagne.” Tiny effervescent bubbles rose and broke on the surface, leaving little doubt to the glass’s content.
“We are having champagne, amor. You are having sparkling grape juice.”
“Oh, of course.” She sniffed the bubbly white juice, touched by his thoughtfulness. Or maybe it was Valencia who’d thought of it.
“To Alejandro and Rebecca,” Valencia said, raising her glass. “May today be the beginning of a very happy life together.”
They drank to Valencia’s toast, and then rose to get into the limo that would take them to the Registry Hall. Valencia and Phillipe, who only had been able to get away from his business at the last minute, talked and laughed the whole way.
Even Alejandro laughed from time to time. It was clear he adored his little sister. He was almost a different person with her around. More carefree and easy. The frown lines that Rebecca saw so often were not evident now. It made her wistful for the time before when Alejandro had been carefree and easy with her.
Rebecca could see why he didn’t frown with his sister around. Valencia’s personality was infectious. She was a kind, happy person, and she loved her husband to distraction. Rebecca watched the other couple enviously. If Valencia loved her handsome Frenchman, Phillipe worshipped the ground his wife walked on. Their children, who they’d left in France with his parents, were their pride and joy. It was a blessed existence they shared. Rebecca could only hope for a fraction of their happiness once her baby was born, though she held out little hope. Alejandro’s resentment was not likely to fade. If he’d spent five years thinking she’d stolen his deal and planning his revenge, he would not get over being forced to marry her because she was pregnant.
The ceremony was conducted in Spanish with a translator for her—required by law—and over quickly. Though she hadn’t been in Spain the requisite amount of time to marry a citizen, Alejandro somehow got around that detail. It was good to be rich and famous, apparently.
Valencia hugged her tightly after it was over. “I am so glad my brother has you. You will make him happy. He deserves happiness, yes?”
Rebecca smiled tremu
lously. “He does.”
Though right now he looked as if he’d be happier anywhere but standing in the Registry Office with a new bride. At least to her. Fortunately, his discomfort was not apparent to his sister or her husband. Phillipe clapped him on the back and congratulated him profusely, and Valencia hugged him and whispered something in his ear.
After the ceremony, they had a late lunch and then spent the rest of the afternoon shopping for baby furniture. When Valencia first suggested it, Rebecca wanted to protest. She didn’t because she expected Alejandro would put an end to the idea. When he didn’t say anything, she was surprised. He simply wore a look of resignation. She imagined that shopping for baby things so soon, when they’d been married only a couple of hours and she didn’t even look pregnant, was hard on him. It would surely make him recall the last time he’d picked out cribs and bassinets.
She wanted to go to him, wanted to take his hand and squeeze it the way he’d squeezed hers when she’d told him about Parker. Eventually, when they’d strolled into yet another store featuring yet more cribs, Rebecca found herself standing beside him. She put her hand into his and gave it a quick squeeze before joining Valencia, who was cooing over onesies and piling them into a basket.
By the time they arrived back at the villa after dinner, it was late. Valencia and Phillipe retired to their room—they’d tried to stay at the Villa de Música to give the newlyweds privacy, but Alejandro had refused to hear of it—and Rebecca found herself alone with Alejandro in the gathering room where they’d had coffee.
She didn’t quite know what to say to him after spending all day in company, so she set down her coffee cup—decaf, of course—and got to her feet. “I should go to my room. I’m sure you have some business to attend to tonight anyway.”
He’d looked up as she stood. Now, his dark eyes glinted as they raked over her. “We are in the master suite, mi esposa. It would be odd not to share a room now that we are married, sí?”
Oh sweet heaven, how was she going to survive sharing a room with him?
“Yes, I suppose that’s true.”
He stood. “Then we shall retire. Your things have already been moved.”
Of course they had. Once Alejandro made up his mind, he didn’t waste any time in acting.
He took her hand and led her up the stairs. Blood thundering in her ears, she followed him. He let her go through the door first. If she’d anticipated him picking her up and carrying her over the threshold, she would have been disappointed. Fortunately, she’d expected no such thing.
She could see the big king-sized bed in the room that lay beyond the living area. Had she gotten pregnant in that bed? Or had it happened in Dubai?
Alejandro walked over to the bar and poured a sherry for himself. “Would you like anything? Water, perhaps?”
“No, I’m fine.”
Fifteen minutes later, Alejandro hadn’t spoken again. He showed no signs of heading into the bedroom anytime soon. She remembered last night, how she’d pitifully asked him to stay when he’d carried her from the chaise to her bed. He’d refused. What did that mean for tonight? Were they going to sleep in a bed with a mound of pillows between them while they pretended the other didn’t exist?
It was certainly beginning to seem that way.
Finally, she could stand the silence no longer. “How are we to share a room together if you don’t want to be in the same bed with me?”
He looked up from his seat on one of the leather couches flanking the television. He hadn’t turned the TV on, just sort of sank wearily onto the leather with his sherry and a dark look.
“What makes you think that?”
She felt herself coloring. “Last night. You didn’t want to stay, though I asked you to.”
He nodded. “So you remember that.”
“Of course I remember.”
His eyes glittered. “Actually, I do want to share a bed with you. Very much.”
“But last night you wouldn’t stay. You said—”
“Last night we were not married.” He spat the last word as if it were hemlock on his tongue, shocking her.
Hurt speared into her. She decided not to show it, though. She folded her arms and leaned against the opposite sofa, affecting a casualness she didn’t feel. “Why did that matter? We’ve obviously spent the night together before.” She pressed her hand to her stomach. “I have proof.”
His gaze raked her from head to toe. “You look tired, Rebecca. Why don’t you get ready for bed?”
She slipped onto the cushion, facing him. She was tired, but not so tired she didn’t recognize what was happening. He was snappish because of the memories of Anya he’d had to endure today. His sister’s exuberance shopping for baby things had pushed him to the limit, yet he still hadn’t said no to the idea. He should have. Or maybe Rebecca should have.
“I’m sorry you had to go into all those baby stores, but your sister was so excited about it. I know it must have been hard for you to look at baby things.”
The black look on his face didn’t change as he tossed back the sherry. She knew he wasn’t going to open up to her. Not about this. Not about anything.
“I have a better idea,” he said, rising. “Why don’t we get ready for bed together?”
Before she knew what he planned, he pushed her back on the couch, unbuttoning her dress as he did so, his lips following the gaping trail of buttons down between her breasts.
Sensation rocketed through her, so much sweeter now that she was pregnant. She tried to concentrate, to focus on him. She knew what he was doing. Avoiding his feelings about today, only this time he couldn’t order her out of his sight. This time he had to shut her up with his mouth and body.
Rebecca gasped as he shoved her bra down, his mouth closing over her aching nipple. Was it wrong to be happy about his methodology?
Her body grew taut with coiled pleasure, her nipples tightening into hard points, her pussy throbbing with the need to be stroked. Eagerly, despite the ocean of chaotic emotions between them, she went for his shirt, slipping the buttons from their holes clumsily.
Alejandro lifted his mouth from her breasts and thrust his tongue between her lips to tangle with hers. He tasted like sherry, sweet and silky, and she shoved the crisp white shirt from his shoulders, her control slipping away with every caress, every breath.
“Alejandro, I missed you…”
“I need you, Rebecca,” he groaned seconds later.
Butterflies swarmed in her stomach as she kissed him again, fusing her mouth to his almost desperately.
He’d never said that to her before. Not like that. Want, yes. Need, never.
He removed her dress while she shoved his trousers off. Underwear disappeared, and then there was nothing left between them but skin, damp and hot. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he rocked his hips against her. He stopped short of entering her body and she whimpered.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
She could feel his heart throbbing, feel her own pounding in rhythm with it. He dropped his forehead to hers, his breathing ragged.
Rebecca stroked his cheek. “I’m not made of glass, Alejandro. You aren’t going to hurt me—or the baby. If anything feels uncomfortable, I’ll tell you.”
“You are certain?”
She forced him to look at her. “Of course I’m certain. I’m pregnant, not stupid. If it hurts—and I can’t imagine it will considering how much I want you right now—I’ll tell you so.”
His cock nudged her entrance and then he slid forward, very slowly, until they were joined. It hurt, but not in the way he’d imagined. It hurt because it felt so right, and because she loved him. Words she knew better than to say.
“Dios, Rebecca. You feel good. I’ve missed this.”
“I’ve missed it too.” Her throat was tight with emotion. When she’d been in New York, she’d thought it was over. That she would never hear from him again until the moment she found out she was pregnant and knew she’d ha
ve to tell him. Even then, she hadn’t known how he would react. She had pictured many things. Being married to Alejandro, lying beneath him while they joined their bodies again, had been the least likely outcome in her mind.
“It was always good between us, querida.”
“It was. It still is.”
“Sí.”
He pulled back and then thrust deep as her body rose to meet his again and again. It was sometime later when he carried her to the bed where he proceeded to repeat every delicious thing he’d already done to her. When Rebecca fell asleep later, she was boneless with the aftereffects of so much erotic stimulation.
And hopeful for the future for the first time in a very long time…
28
Alejandro threw his pen down and swore violently.
Something was wrong with him. He didn’t feel right. He’d been on the edge of something for days now. Since he’d married Rebecca, in fact. All he wanted to do was return home and lose himself in Rebecca’s body. He should be over this compulsion by now, but it showed no signs of evaporating. Worse, he was growing soft.
Last night, after he’d stripped her naked and made her sob his name, after he’d exploded inside her, eyes squeezed tight because it felt so damned good, he’d fallen into a deep sleep with his body curled around hers. When he’d awakened with a start sometime later, it was nearly two in the morning. He’d gotten up, carefully so as not to wake Rebecca, and gone down to his office.
It was there that she’d found him sometime later, sitting on the sofa with a book of photos on his lap, a glass of whisky beside him. He’d felt hollow inside, and terrified too.
“She trusted me,” he’d said. “I failed.”
Rebecca had put her knees on the sofa, wrapped her arms around him and leaned her head against his. “It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault.”
“I went to tuck her in,” he’d said a long while later, spilling the truth he hadn’t spoken to anyone other than the medical personnel. “She was blue. Her body was swollen with the fluids her heart couldn’t pump. The doctors couldn’t save her.”
Filthy Rich Revenge: A Filthy Rich Billionaires Book Page 17
