Billionaire Boss MD

The three weeks after that, Cybele ticked off the two top items on Rodrigo’s list, over and over. Daily, in fact.

They worked together during the days, discovering yet another area in which they were attuned. It became a constant joy and stimulation, to keep realizing how fully they could share their lives and careers.

Then came the nights. And if their first time and their semi-aborted wedding night had been world-shaking, she’d had no idea how true intimacy would escalate the pleasure and creativity of their encounters. Even those momentous occasions paled by comparison.

It was their five-week anniversary today.

She was in her twenty-second week of pregnancy and she’d never felt healthier or happier. Not that that convinced Rodrigo to change her prenatal checkups from weekly to biweekly. “Ready, mi amor?”

She sprang to her feet, dissolved into his embrace. He kissed her until she was wrapped around him, begging him to postpone her checkup. She had an emergency only he could handle.

He bit her lip gently, put her away. “It’ll take all of fifteen minutes. Then I’m all yours. As always.”

She hooked her arm through his, inhaled his hormone-stimulating scent. “Do you want to find out the gender of the baby?”

He looked at her intently, as if wanting to make sure of her wish before he voiced his opinion. Seemed he didn’t want to risk volunteering one that opposed hers. “Do you?”

She decided to let the delicious man off the hook. “I do.”

His smile dawned. He did want to know, but considered it up to her to decide. Surely she couldn’t love him more, could she?

“Then we find out.”

“So what do you hope it is?”

He didn’t hesitate, nuzzled her neck, whispered, “A girl. A tiny replica of her unique mother.”

She surrendered to his cosseting, delight swirling inside her. “Would you be disappointed if it’s a boy?”

His smile answered unequivocally. “I’m just being greedy. And then, you know how seriously cool it is to be female around here.”

She made the goofy gesture and expression that had become their catchphrase. “Women rule.”

Four hours later, they were back in their bedroom.

They’d made love for two of those, only stopped because they had a dinner date with Ramón and other colleagues in Barcelona.

She was leaning into him, gazing in wonder at his reflection in the mirror as he towered behind her, kissing her neck, caressing her zipper up her humming body, taking extra care of her rounding belly. She sighed her bliss. “Think Steven and Agnes will be happy it’s a boy?”

His indulgent smile didn’t waver. But she was so attuned to his every nuance of expression now, she could tell the question disturbed him. Since it indirectly brought up Mel.

And the mention of Mel had been the only thing to make him tense since they’d gotten married, to make him even testy and irritated. He’d once even snapped at her. She’d been shocked that day. And for a moment, black thoughts had swamped her.

She’d wondered if this fierceness was different from his early moroseness concerning Mel, if now that he was her husband, Mel was no longer simply his dead foster brother, but her dead first husband and he hated her mentioning Mel, out of jealousy.

The implications of that were so insupportable, she’d nearly choked on them. But only for a moment. Then he’d apologized so incredibly and she’d remembered what he was, what Mel had been to him.

She’d come to the conclusion that the memory of Mel was still a gaping wound inside him. One that hurt more as time passed, as the loss solidified. With him busy being the tower of strength everyone clung to, he hadn’t dealt with his own grief. He hadn’t attained the closure he’d made possible for everyone else to have. She hoped their baby would heal the wound, provide that closure.

His hands resumed caressing her belly. “I think they’ll be happy as long as the baby is healthy.”

And she had to get something else out of the way. “I called Agnes this morning and she sounded happier than I’ve ever heard her. She said those who filed the lawsuits weren’t creditors but investors who gave Mel money to invest in the hospital, and that the money was found in an account they didn’t know about.”

His hands stopped their caresses. “That’s right.”

“But why didn’t they ask for their money instead of resorting to legal action, adding insult to injury to bereaved parents? A simple request would have sent Agnes and Steven looking through Mel’s documents and talking to his lawyer and accountant.”

“Maybe they feared Agnes and Steven wouldn’t give back the money without a strong incentive.”

“Apart from finding this an incredibly irrational fear since Mel and his parents are upstanding people, there must have been legal provisos in place to assure everyone’s rights.”

“I don’t know why they acted as they did. What’s important is that the situation’s over, and no harm’s done to anyone.”

And she saw it in his eyes. The lie.

She grabbed his hands. “You’re not telling me the truth.” He tried to pull his hand away. She clung. “Please, tell me.”

That bleak look, which she’d almost forgotten had ever marred his beauty, was back like a swirl of ink muddying clear water.

But it was worse. He pushed away from her, glared at her in the mirror like a tiger enraged at someone pulling on a half ripped-out claw.

“You want the truth? Or do you just want me to confirm that those people acted irrationally, that Mel was an upstanding man? If so, you should do like Agnes and Steven, grab at my explanation for this mess, turn a blind eye and cling to your illusions.”

She swung around to face him. “You made up this story to comfort them. The debts were real. And you must have done more than settle them to make Mel’s creditors change their story.”

“What do you care about the sordid details?”

Sordid? Oh, God. “Did…did I have something to do with this? Are you still protecting me, too?”

“No. You had nothing to do with any of it. It was just more lies Mel fed me, poisoned me with. I lived my life cleaning up after him, covering up for him. And now he’s reaching back from the grave and forcing me to keep on doing it. And you know what? I’m sick of it. I’ve been getting sicker by the day, of embellishing his image and memory to you, to Agnes and Steven, of gritting my teeth on the need to tell you what I figured out he’d done to me. To us.”