Andrés chuckled. “Ah, well, then we must go.”
A short while later they were on the narrow walkway that rested high on the ancient wall that once encircled the city of Girona. There was barely enough room for the both of them to walk side by side, but they managed, never releasing each other’s hands.
“The view from up here,” she whispered in amazement, pausing to look out at the city sprawled below them. “Oh, Andrés, it’s so beautiful.”
He came to stand behind her and nuzzled her neck. “It is. And you are beautiful, cariño.”
She leaned back against him and let out a soft sigh, the romance of the moment not escaping her. There’d been moments when she wanted to go home to Seattle, but at a time like this…her future couldn’t be anything but Andrés and Spain.
“Andrés,” she whispered softly, tilting her head so his lips could graze the sensitive spot between her shoulder and neck. “I’m confused. The way I feel about you…”
“Chloe.” He turned her in his embrace and lifted her chin with one finger. “Marry me, please, my darling.”
He’d used the English endearment instead of cariño this time. The realization softened her heart just a bit, but not enough to let her say the words she desperately wanted to. He asked for all the wrong reasons.
“I can’t,” she murmured miserably. “You know I can’t.”
His nostrils flared, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Why? Because of a word I refuse to say?”
“It’s more than just saying it, Andrés.”
“Cristos.” He shook his head, his jaw tight. “Why do you feel so strongly about love? Why is it important to you?”
“Because my parents had it,” she confessed, wanting desperately for him to understand. “They loved each other so much, there wasn’t anything they wouldn’t do for one another.”
“And it killed them?”
“No…” she said slowly, searching his hard gaze. Stunned he would even make such a dramatic assumption. “A drunk driver killed them. Just over a year ago.”
Andrés’s grip on her loosened and he swore softly under his breath. He lowered his head, touching his forehead briefly against hers. “I’m sorry.”
Her heart ached with the memory, but she found it less difficult to discuss now. As if having Andrés in her life had eased the pain. “Their sudden passing was part of the reason I came to Spain. They met here while backpacking Europe. They always loved this country.”
“And you will too, Chloe.”
She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat, wishing his desire and compatibility for her could be enough. “Andrés—”
“I can’t let you go,” he said huskily. “I won’t.”
But he couldn’t love her, either. Her throat tightened with tears she refused to shed.
And then his mouth was on hers, claiming her and demanding her surrender in at least the physical sense. Chloe couldn’t help but to give in. She wound her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his, kissing him back fervently. Taking his frustrations and passion and matching them with her own.
When he finally lifted his head, they both were breathing unevenly. He caught her jaw between firm fingers and forced her to look at him.
“Promise me you won’t try to leave Spain until the baby is born, Chloe. Promise you won’t leave me.”
She knew what he asked. That even if she refused to marry him, she would agree to stay…and to warm his bed at night. Which brought her full circle to where she’d been when she’d fled Spain just over two months ago. She would become Andrés’s mistress.
“Chloe?”
“I promise,” she heard herself agree on a whisper. “I’ll stay.”
And then she prayed that maybe Andrés was wrong about himself. Because she knew that even though he might not be able to give up his heart, Andrés stole a little bit more of hers with each day that passed.
Later that night, when they returned to his villa, the dynamics between them had shifted. They stood on a fur rug with a fire crackling in the background. Andrés slowly removed her dress and undergarments, his movements tender as she stood trembling in front of him.
His gaze slid over her, smoldering with desire. But there was more, an unfamiliar gentleness and connection that took her breath away. “Ah, you are so lovely, cariño.”
He sank to his knees, clasping her hips lightly. Then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss against the tiny swell where their child grew, tracing her skin with his fingertips.
Chloe’s throat tightened with emotion and she stroked the softness of his thick black hair. The look of wonder on his face was so foreign to his features that a shuddering sigh fled past her lips.
Then Andrés moved lower, his lips burning a trail that led straight into the curls shielding her sex.
“Andrés,” she protested feebly, but he ignored her, delving fingers between her legs to explore the damp folds.
Soft moans escaped her when he stroked her, but when he leaned forward and kissed her most intimate place, she was lost. He leaned in to taste her, touch her. Chloe’s thighs shook and her pulse raced; each flick of his tongue sent her mind spinning with sensation.
When she could barely stand anymore, Andrés eased her down to the rug where the soft fur cushioned her back, then returned between her thighs, his mouth teasing her to hedonistic levels of sensation.
He pushed her over that cliff of pleasure until she was crying out and clutching the rug. And then Andrés moved swiftly between her legs, entering in one smooth thrust while her body still quaked from the aftermath of her release.
“Ah, why can’t I get enough of you?” He lanced his fingers with hers and began to ride her. “What have you done to me, Chloe?”
What had she done to him? Her heart ached with how much she wanted him to see her beyond the woman who carried his child. The woman who gave him pleasure in his bed. If only he saw her for whom she truly was—the woman who was already half in love with him. She closed her eyes, tightening her fingers around his. She lifted her hips to meet his every thrust.
Even though she’d already peaked, the pleasure built again. She gasped when he moved deeper inside her, arching her back to shatter into pieces once more.
“Chloe.” He called her name and then found his own release with a shuddering groan.
A moment later he rolled to his side, still keeping her in his arms. She snuggled against him, pressing her cheek against his damp chest and listening to the furious beating of his heart.
“It’s not you,” he murmured softly.
She frowned, still drowsy from their lovemaking, and tried to figure out what he was referencing. “What isn’t?”
“It’s not only you that I can’t love, Chloe.”
Her heart shattered at his words, and her blood that had pulsed hot became like ice. She tried to push him away, but he held her firmly in his grasp.
“I want you to understand,” he said huskily. “I want to tell you why.”
Chloe stilled in her attempt to escape, the air locking in her lungs. The realization that he was going to confide had everything within her taut with hope. She waited for him to continue, not daring to say anything in case he changed his mind.
“My parents’ relationship was not like what your parents had,” Andrés began cautiously. Was he really speaking of this aloud? He’d never told anyone of his childhood.
Chloe traced a finger over his chest, the movement putting him a bit more at ease. “How so?”
“They married young and had me not long after. My father loved my mother more than anything. There was nothing he wouldn’t have done for her.” His jaw tightened and he forced out the rest of the words. “But my mother fell out of love with him when she met another man. She left one day, simply went to the market and never returned.”
Chloe inhaled swiftly. “Oh, Andrés, I’m so sorry.”
His lips twisted into a humorless smile. “I’m not finished. Nowhere near…” He cl
osed his eyes and continued, trying to not let himself relive anything emotionally. Told the story as if it had happened to someone else. “My father was a broken man and could barely function, let alone take care of his child. He finally drank himself into an early grave.”
“How old were you?”
“Six.”
“Oh God.” She kissed his chest and hugged him tighter. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“There’s not much to say. It is clear my parents didn’t love me enough. My mother not enough to stay, my father not enough to live.”
“But they must have loved you,” she started hesitantly, but he heard the doubt in her words. “Who raised you after your father died?”
“My father’s brother and his family,” he replied in a flat tone, always careful to keep it devoid of emotion. “They were wealthy and had much money to spare, but no love. Any affection they had was invested back into their own child, who was several years older than me. The only time I was paid attention to was when they found a reason to hit me. To tell me that I would amount to nothing…remind me that nobody had ever loved me and nobody ever would.”
Chloe sat up, her eyes wide with horror and shimmering with tears. “No. Oh no, Andrés.”
He stroked the smooth skin of her naked back and gazed up at her, but didn’t really see her; his mind was some place else.
“The abuse was never discovered by the authorities?” she whispered.
“No.”
“My heart breaks for you,” she said unevenly, and one of her tears hit his chest. “And the childhood you were denied.”
“Gracias.” Andrés brushed a kiss across her knuckles. It was almost therapeutic to tell her. The ice around his heart seemed to thaw slightly by her grief for him and from the warmth of her embrace.
What he didn’t tell her was that he’d repaid his uncle and his family for their kindness years later. Acquiring his uncle’s struggling restaurants in a hostile takeover and having them torn down, selling the property at a fraction of their value to have local parks built in their place.
Since then his uncle had lost nearly all his money, and last he’d heard he and his wife had moved to an apartment in the rundown area of town. His cousin, always with behavior trouble, had been arrested recently on drug possession charges.
But that was all in the past now. Today, he was a successful man with billions of dollars to his name and a beautiful woman in his bed, carrying his child.
“There was a light in my darkness. Rosa was the nanny to both my cousin and I, raising us both and giving me hope all those years. Once I bought this villa, I hired her and brought her to live here with me.”
“Now I can see why she’s special to you,” she said softly.
“Sí. She was the only mother figure I had, cariño, and she will be a wonderful nanny to our child when he is born.”
“He? Well aren’t we presumptuous?” she teased. “Does Rosa know that I’m carrying your child?”
“She guessed when Dr. Flores arrived last week with the ultrasound machine.”
“And how did she react?”
“She was thrilled.” He gave a soft laugh. “And then berated me for hours for not marrying you.”
Chloe went silent, and he knew she thought about his proposal again. He considered asking once more, but her answer would remain the same. Perhaps more now that she was aware he would never be able to love her.
But then she snuggled down against him once more and kissed his chest, and Andrés’s body again stirred with desire. With a low growl he rolled her beneath him again. Her mouth parted in surprise and her eyes rounded.
“I did not tell you all of this for pity,” he said roughly, stroking her hip and staring down at her. “I told you so that you might understand why I cannot love anyone. I’m simply not capable of it.”
Even if there were days he wanted to be. Like now, when he held Chloe in his arms. But his mind was too hardened, his heart too numb to the emotion.
Chloe’s gaze flickered with understanding and sadness. He wanted to erase the disappointment he knew was in her heart, so he chose to replace it instead with the passion they both knew existed.
He reached down to cup her breast and drew his tongue across one tight nipple. She moaned softly and slid her hands to his shoulders.
“But cariño, this can be enough,” he said thickly and nudged her thighs apart, sinking slowly into her welcoming heat.
Chloe cried out when Andrés entered her fully. While part of her rejoiced in their joining, her heart was breaking for the child who had never been loved and the adult who now refused to let himself try.
She dug her nails into his back as he moved fiercely inside her. It was almost as if he were exorcising the demons of his past. She took what little he offered and gave everything of herself in return. They hit their release simultaneously, breathing raggedly and clutching each other. When her pulse had slowed and her mind cleared, Chloe’s eyes pricked with tears of hope.
Andrés’s confession of his horrific childhood had forced her to take a new outlook on her situation and on Andrés himself. She was able to see the big picture now, knowing the damage to his soul. His reluctance to love seemed a little more comprehensible, because beneath his hard exterior still laid a vulnerable little boy, terrified of rejection and being abused.
They lay with limbs intertwined, her head on his chest. She listened to his heart, lulled into a sense of peace by the steady rise and fall of his stomach beneath her hand. And soon she was asleep.
When she woke the next day she was still curled up in Andrés’s arms. She held her breath, remembering everything he’d told her last night. Would he regret confessing to her?
The hairs lifted on the back of her neck, and she tilted her head to glance up at him. The air locked in her throat when she found his dark gaze studying her.
“Good morning,” she murmured hesitantly.
“Good morning, cariño.” He pushed a strand of hair off her forehead. “Did you sleep well?”
She nodded and her cheeks warmed. Too well, which seemed to be the case any time she slept with Andrés.
“Bueno. Once we are fully awake, I want to show you the countryside,” he murmured. “But first, let us eat breakfast.”
They spent the next few days together, touring the countryside and seeing parts of Spain that Chloe had had no time to see the last time she was here.
The change in Andrés was nothing if not amazing. He was a carefree, tender, and passionate man. She had fun in his presence and enjoyed a wonderful happiness during the time he’d taken off of work.
Another week passed, and she woke to the exploration of Andrés’s mouth on her neck. She gave a purr of contentment, threading her fingers into his hair.
“You need to pack a bag,” he said softly. “We’re leaving for Valencia this morning.”
“Valencia?” she repeated, surprised at the sudden announcement.
“Sí. Just for the night, I have some business to attend to. We, of course, will be staying at Diablo’s Paraíso.”
“That sounds quite nice actually. I always enjoyed Valencia.”
Chloe walked into the elegant lobby of Diablo’s Paraíso and memories of her summer assailed her. Though she’d been honest when she’d told Andrés she’d enjoyed Valencia, part of her had flinched at being back at the hotel and facing certain recollections.
Andrés’ hand lay possessively on her lower back as he urged her toward the elevators, while a man from concierge followed them with their luggage. She felt the eyes of people around them watching, knew some of them were employees she’d worked with. Did they recognize her as a former employee? Did they recognize Andrés?
A flush stole up her cheeks at her own naiveté. Of course they recognized him; she’d been the only one completely ignorant to who he was and the power he wielded.
She looked about, wondering if she would see her old roommate Betsy, a woman from England who’d also been in the country
on a visa.
“Señor Montero,” a voice purred from behind them.
Every muscle in Chloe tensed in recognition. She wanted to flee into the elevator just feet away. But Andrés was already turning them around to face the person behind them.
Estella Martinez was still as flawlessly beautiful as she had been months ago. The red suit she wore showed off her trim body and long legs. The woman’s gaze glittered with excitement and a lust she couldn’t quite conceal when she stared at Andrés.
Jealousy stabbed through Chloe to see Andrés lean down and kiss the other woman on the cheek.
“Buenos dias, Señora Martinez,” he greeted, and continued to ask her several questions in Spanish about business.
The other woman nodded and replied easily, her attention not moving from his face. But then, just for an instant, it slipped to Chloe. Señora Martinez stumbled on her words and her eyes, full of anger, narrowed with scrutiny.
“Perdón, Señora Martinez,” Andrés said smoothly and switched to English. “You remember Chloe Wilkinson?”
“But of course.” The smile on her lips did not quite reach her eyes. “Welcome back to Valencia and Diablo’s Paraíso, Chloe.”
Her words may have been friendly, but Chloe was not fooled. Right now the other woman was likely wishing her dead. Last time they’d seen each other, Señora Martinez had been vindictive and smug while she’d help cast devastation on Chloe’s life.
But now Chloe was back, and clearly with Andrés. Knowing this gave Chloe the confidence she needed to face the spiteful woman. She leaned closer to Andrés, slipping her arm through his. She gave Señora Martinez a bright smile. “Thank you, Señora. It is lovely to be here again.”
Loathing flashed in the older woman’s gaze. She quickly veiled it. “Well, I will leave you both to get settled. If you’ll excuse me, I have business to take care of.”
Andrés murmured a farewell and then turned them toward the elevator once more. As the lift rose toward the penthouse, she couldn’t help but remember the photo of Andrés and Estella in the tabloid together. Her stomach dropped and she closed her eyes, trying not to think that they might have been lovers at some point.
The Billionaire's Baby Bargain (A is for Alpha) Page 12
