Modern Romance November Books 5-8. Annie West
Marry him?
Her stomach looped like a roller-coaster.
Sergei Morozov wasn’t a bad man. She’d worked as his secretary throughout her pregnancy. He was rich, arrogant, but not cruel. When she was eighteen, she would have jumped at the chance to marry a man like that.
Too bad for him that Lola was now twenty-five, with a pocketful of money and a scarred, bitter heart.
“I’m flattered, truly,” she said awkwardly, “but—”
“Marry me, zvezda moya. I will cover you with jewels. I will—”
“I’d like to cut in.”
Lola’s heart dropped as she heard another man’s voice, low and dangerous behind her. A voice she knew, though she hadn’t heard it in over a year. A voice she’d never forget.
Slowly, she turned.
Rodrigo Cabrera stood beside her on the dance floor, wearing a sleek tuxedo over his muscular, powerful body.
Dark-haired, dark-eyed, with chiseled cheekbones and a five o’clock shadow along the hard, sharp edge of his jaw, he was even more handsome than she remembered. Power, dark and dangerous and sexy, echoed off him like shock waves.
“Rodrigo?” she breathed.
“Lola.” His cruel, sensual lips curved as he looked down at her. “It’s been a long time.”
Unwilling images went through her of the days and nights of their brief affair. The pleasure. The joy. The laughter. The certainty in Lola that for the first time since she could remember, she was no longer alone...
Now, pain twisted through her, pain she was careful not to reveal on her face. “What are you doing here?”
“Cutting in.” He moved between her and Sergei with almost feline grace. He glanced at the Russian tycoon with casual amusement. “If you don’t mind.”
Sergei scowled. “Of course I mind—”
“It’s all right, Sergei.” Lola put her hand unsteadily on his arm. “I’ll see you shortly.”
Sergei set his jaw. “Once the dance is done, I’ll be back.”
Rodrigo’s eyes flicked to her. “As the lady pleases.”
After Sergei’s grudging departure, the two of them looked at each other.
“So you’re living in New York now,” Rodrigo said coldly.
“Are you here on business?”
He bared his teeth into a smile. “Is there any other reason?”
In spite of everything, Lola’s heart was in her throat as she looked up at him. All the other people in the ballroom, all the laughter and music, faded away.
Slowly, Rodrigo pulled her into his arms. She breathed in his scent, of woodsy musk and soap and something uniquely him. She tried to tell herself she felt nothing, but her knees trembled, and she was glad he was supporting her in the dance.
He glanced back at Sergei, now glowering at them from the edge of the dance floor. “So he wants to marry you.”
“Not everyone hates marriage like you do,” she said unwillingly.
His lips quirked. “Another millionaire falls at your feet.”
“Not everyone hates me like you do.”
“I don’t hate you, Lola.” His voice was low.
She tilted her head back to look at him beneath her lashes. “You don’t?”
“I despise you. That’s different.” His dark eyes gleamed. “You must have spent the million dollars I gave you if you’re looking for a new sugar daddy. Do you intend to say yes? Are congratulations in order?”
Lola narrowed her eyes. She wondered what Rodrigo would say if he knew the real reason she’d taken his payoff money: because she’d found out she was pregnant.
Money meant more to her than pride. It meant safety. Her baby must never know, as Lola once had, how it felt to go hungry. He must never see his mother cry when she couldn’t pay the bills, or be mocked for wearing clothes to school that were too small, or harassed by teachers for falling asleep in class, because he’d spent another night taking care of younger siblings when his mother had the night shift.
And most of all: Jett must never know how it felt to lose his family.
Taking Rodrigo’s money meant no one would be able to take her baby away from her.
No one, that was, except Rodrigo.
She swallowed, her hands tightening on the shoulders of his tuxedo jacket as they danced. A father had rights. And although she still had most of the million dollars that he’d given her, she knew he had billions more. Enough to take whatever he wanted. Even Jett. And that made her afraid.
Because she’d been his secretary once. For over two years before they’d become lovers. She knew how ruthless the Spanish media mogul could be. How he could turn on people savagely if they failed him.
Rodrigo had good reason to believe the worst of her. Why wouldn’t he, after what he’d learned about her past?
But he was in New York on business. He often came here. He even owned a house in SoHo. But they traveled in different circles now. He couldn’t know about Jett.
If he did...
No. He must never know.
Rodrigo’s expression hardened. “Well? Do you intend to marry him?”
“I haven’t decided,” she mumbled.
His arms tightened around her waist. “Is that a lie?”
Lola had no intention of going on another date with Sergei, let alone marrying him. But she wasn’t going to tell him that. She looked up. “Why do you care?”
His dark eyes glinted. “I don’t. I’m just wondering if I should warn him about the kind of woman you really are.”
She stiffened. “What kind is that?”
“You’re very beautiful, Lola.” Rodrigo’s hot gaze traced slowly over her modest, long-sleeved black knit dress. As they danced to the music, he cupped her cheek. “Very.”
Electricity ripped through her body from where he’d touched her. Sparks raced down her spine, shouting, Yes, yes. This was her man, and she’d missed him, oh, how she’d missed him. She’d dreamed of him unwillingly every night from the moment he’d taken her virginity and made her feel—
Rodrigo dropped his hand. “But you’re ugly on the inside. You’ll do anything for money. Anything? Anyone.”
His cruel words were like a blow.
With a deep breath, she cut off the connection between her heart and her brain. She didn’t care if he insulted her, she told herself. She just had to get through this song. Then he’d leave. And she’d make sure she never saw Rodrigo Cabrera again, or put Jett at risk of being taken from her.
Lola tilted her head, looking at him sardonically. “Ah. There’s your famous charm. If you think I’m so horrible, why don’t you go dance with someone else?”
“Why? Are you so eager to be back in your lover’s arms?”
As if she’d ever let Sergei caress her! As the song finally drew to a close, she stopped dancing, nearly trembling with relief. “Okay, song’s over. Not that this wasn’t fun, but—well, it wasn’t. Go find some other woman to torture.”
Rodrigo stopped, looking down at her on the dance floor.
“And that’s all you have to say to me?” he said softly. “After a year?”