The Baby The Billionaire Demands. Jennie Lucas
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a new family now. They’d been lost to her long ago.
Jett was all that mattered. She wanted him to be safe and loved. And from the moment Rodrigo had seen their baby, he’d seemed to feel the same.
Already our baby is more vulnerable, with no extended family. Don’t you want him to have a father? Think of what I can give him... My name. My time. My protection. My love.
She’d barely slept that night, tossing and turning. Sometime around 3:00 a.m., she’d come to a decision.
She didn’t love Rodrigo, and he didn’t love her. But she would marry him. Their baby deserved that sacrifice.
Yet it wasn’t easy. With a sinking heart, Lola looked back out the window and saw another car had arrived. She recognized, even at this distance, the gorgeous, arrogant man getting out of it. She swallowed hard. Then her jaw set.
Fine, they would marry. But it would be on her terms.
She heard the intercom buzz, and his husky voice demanding entrance. She pressed the button to let him in downstairs. Putting on her coat, Lola picked up her baby. Tucking his blanket into her diaper bag, she waited with a sense of dread.
A few minutes later, she heard heavy steps in the hallway. A hard knock sounded at her door. With a deep breath, she opened it.
Rodrigo’s dark eyes burned through her. “You are ready?”
So much was encompassed in that simple question.
“Yes,” she said.
“Good.” Relaxing slightly, he strode into the apartment, looking so handsome she almost couldn’t bear it. He wore a long, open black cashmere coat that revealed the shape of his broad shoulders and biceps, with a well-cut black shirt and trousers beneath. He was followed inside by his driver and bodyguard, both of whom she knew slightly from the old days.
“Have a long night, did you, boys?” she said to them dryly. As they gathered the suitcases, they glanced at each other. Rodrigo’s smile widened.
“You knew they were watching?”
“Of course I knew,” she snapped at him. “You’re not very trusting.”
“I’m glad you didn’t try to run.”
She pressed her lips together. “There was no point. You convinced me that you’re right.”
“I’m always right.” But even as he spoke the arrogant words, his dark eyes looked her over appreciatively. As befitted the cold November weather, she wore a form-fitting black puffy coat, with a faux-fur-edged hood, and a hem that stretched down over her hips. Her legs were covered with black leggings and her black boots matched her hood, edged with faux fur.
Against her will, she blushed beneath his glance. It enraged her. Why did he still have that effect on her? It didn’t seem fair!
“Is this all, Miss Price?” asked the bodyguard.
“And the stroller by the door.”
As his two henchmen left the apartment with the suitcases and stroller, Rodrigo held out his arm. “Come.”
“Wait.”
At the breathless sound of her voice, Rodrigo looked down at her questioningly.
“Like I said. I realized you’re right. Jett needs a stable home, and a father to raise him. We should marry. Even though we don’t love each other.” Her voice trembled a little. “It’s best for Jett.” She paused. “But—”
“But?” His voice was low and dangerous.
She lifted her gaze. “I just want to make sure we understand each other. This marriage is for duty. For convenience.”
“Convenience?” he repeated.
How could he not know what she meant?
“In...in name only,” she whispered, her teeth suddenly chattering.
He gave a low, hard laugh, his dark eyes glittering in the morning light. “Is that what you think?”
“I mean it, Rodrigo—”
“No.” He cupped her cheek. “You don’t.”
His eyes burned through her, and he slowly lowered his head toward hers.
She sucked in her breath as, against her will, a fire of desire swept through her body that she was helpless to deny. Her toes curled in anticipation, and she closed her eyes, holding her breath, waiting for him to kiss her.
At the last moment before his lips would have touched hers, he stopped. Confused, she opened her eyes.
His face was cruel as he looked down at her with a cold, mocking smile. “In name only, querida?”
Her cheeks suddenly burned. “You arrogant bastard—”
“Come. We have a busy day planned.”
His eyes softened as they rested on the dark-haired baby against her hip. He caressed the baby tenderly on the head. “We will be a family soon, pequeño.” Then he gave Lola a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “No more talk of convenient marriages. You will be conveniently in my bed. And soon.”
“In your dreams,” she retorted. For answer, he gave her a sensual smile.
“Yes. I have dreamed of it, Lola,” he said huskily. “And soon those dreams will be reality.”
Her eyes widened at his admission, and her mouth snapped shut as she recalled all the hot nights when she, too, had dreamed of him. Fuming, she followed him out of the apartment.
When they reached the street, she saw one of his men placing the suitcases in the back of the black SUV, as the other put the stroller in the back of Rodrigo’s sleek luxury sedan.
Lola frowned. “Where are we going?”
Rodrigo opened the sedan door. “A few places.”
Seeing a brand-new baby seat latched securely into the sedan’s back seat, she wondered if his longtime executive assistant, Marnie, had arranged it. She’d always hated that smug busybody, now more than ever. “Where?”
“You’ll see.”
As the SUV turned south, Rodrigo drove Lola and the baby north, to a cutting-edge private clinic on the Upper East Side. As far as she could tell, it had opened up on Sunday, bringing in a full staff, just for their paternity test. Within two hours, they had the results. Jett was Rodrigo’s son.
“I knew it,” Rodrigo said quietly when he got the results.
Lola looked at him irritably. “Then why did you insist on a test?”
“There’s knowing, and there’s knowing.”
“That makes no sense. You could have just trusted me.”
“I needed proof.” He didn’t explain further. When it came to asking for help or showing weakness, Rodrigo was even worse than Lola.
After the clinic, the next stop that morning turned out to be the prestigious white-shoe Manhattan law firm of Crosby, Flores and Jackson, where, amid the hushed elegance of a private office, Lola was presented with a fifty-page legal contract of a prenuptial agreement.
Sitting at the gleaming mahogany desk, she read through it slowly, to the obvious surprise of the lawyers, marking up any clause she didn’t like with a red pen.
Lola had made below average grades in school, but she’d always been good at debate. It was why, when she was twelve, her mother had handed Lola the phone if she needed to convince the electric company to turn the lights back on, or deal with a debt collector. It was also how, after Lola’s failed attempt at a “quick and easy” movie star career, she’d eventually become executive assistant to a powerful tycoon. Lola knew how to absorb and how to deflect. She knew