The Baby the Billionaire Demands

“Excuse me,” he said to the agent as he droned about his client’s high-concept plot. “I have to find my wife.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and pushed his way through the crowds of glamorous, wealthy guests, in the direction Lola had disappeared. Suddenly, Marnie blocked his path. Her thin face was anxious and worried.

“There’s an uninvited guest.”

“Take care of it,” he told her harshly. “I need to find Lola.”

But as he impatiently started to pass her, his assistant stopped him with a tug at his arm. “It’s Sergei Morozov.”

His wife’s old boss from New York? The Russian tycoon who’d wanted to marry her? That grabbed Rodrigo’s attention. He scowled at Marnie. “He wasn’t on the guest list.”

“No. Somehow he snuck in.”

Rodrigo took a deep breath, trying to shake off the sudden tension in his shoulders. What could Morozov be doing here, three thousand miles from New York? Old fears started to creep in. Could Lola have...?

No. He thought of the emotion shining in his wife’s hazel eyes when she told him she loved him. Lola would never cheat on him. He trusted her, as he trusted no one else.

“Let the man stay. I don’t care,” he said suddenly. He turned away. “I need to find my wife—”

“That’s just it, sir.” Marnie stopped him with her solemn, owl-like gaze. “I’m trying to tell you. Mr. Morozov is here. He’s with Mrs. Cabrera.” She hesitated, then said, “They’re together.”

Rodrigo frowned, unable to make sense of his assistant’s words. “Together?”

She bit her lip. “In the back garden. I saw them. Kissing—”

Marnie kept talking, but suddenly Rodrigo couldn’t hear her.

As he looked around the foyer, all the people talking and laughing and drinking champagne suddenly seemed like mere noise to Rodrigo, just smudges of color.

He had no memory of how he walked through the crowds to the French doors overlooking the terrace. He’d only remember the feeling of wading through air like water, feeling like he couldn’t breathe.

Outside in the cold air, he heard his assistant behind him as he walked across the Spanish terrace, looking out into the manicured tropical gardens, lush beneath the moonlight.

But he saw nothing. No one.

Waves of relief went over him. There was no one here. Reason returned to his brain and he started to turn back to Marnie. “You were mistaken—”

Then he saw a gleam of pink chiffon from the corner of his eye. A flash of Lola’s long blond hair.

And Rodrigo saw, in the shadows on the other side of the terrace, the sickening sight of another man embracing his wife.

“Do not worry, zvezda moya,” he heard the Russian croon, holding Lola tenderly in his arms. “You are safe now. With me.”

CHAPTER TEN

SHOCKED, LOLA STRUGGLED in her old boss’s arms.

A moment before, she’d run out on the dark, empty terrace to sob alone, when a man had suddenly appeared from the shadows. At first, she’d thought it was Rodrigo, and unwilling hope had risen in her heart. Then she’d recognized her old boss, Sergei Morozov.

“Sergei? What are you doing here?” she’d said in surprise, choking back her tears.

“What ha

s he done to you, Lolitchka?” he’d said indignantly. “Look at you. Crying. He did this?”

She’d shaken her head vehemently. “No, he—” Then she’d stopped. Because Rodrigo was exactly the reason why she was out here crying alone.

No. That wasn’t fair. He’d told her all along not to love him. Just like he had during the months of their first affair. And just like she had then, she’d let herself care for him anyway.