Virgin: Undone by the Billionaire: The Innocent's Dark Seduction / Count Maxime's Virgin / Untamed Billionaire, Undressed Virgin. Jennie Lucas
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her!
She had told him herself at the wedding reception, there had been no one else since. He remembered the way the waiter at the café this morning had said, “We’ve missed Mademoiselle Ruby today.”
“Who’s Ruby?” Roark had asked.
A friend, she’d answered. Just a good friend.
God, he’d been stupid! Thinking he could trust a beautiful, clever, willful woman like Lia Villani!
He’d overestimated her good heart.
He’d underestimated the depths of her deceit.
She’d lied to him. She’d hadn’t even given him the choice to be part of their child’s life. Instead she’d been so ashamed of her baby’s true parentage that she’d lied about it. Rather than admit that Roark was the one who’d fathered her baby, she’d told everyone her elderly husband had risen from his sickbed to father a child days before his death!
Fury made Roark’s hands shake. She’d tricked him. Lied to him for a year and a half. All the time he was traveling the world, dreaming of her against his will at night, she’d been having his baby. Choosing to keep it a secret. Lying about the baby’s father.
Lying to his face.
Lying to him in bed.
Roark clenched his hands.
And to think he’d actually intended to let Lia go.
He’d meant to keep his promise and leave her alone, no matter what it cost him. He’d actually intended to try and be noble. To give up his own selfish desires for the sake of respecting her wishes.
Noble. He nearly laughed at that now. He climbed into the back seat of his Rolls-Royce.
As the driver made his way to her town house, Roark stared out at the passing traffic. His lips curled back as he barked a cold laugh. He’d admired her. He’d thought she was special. He’d thought she was honest and good.
Now?
He would keep her in his bed. She would stay there, his prisoner, for as long as he desired her.
The world was a selfish place. A man had to take what he could, when he could. And screw the rest.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“WELL, I’m off then,” Mrs. O’Keefe said, picking up her purse and giving her employer a doleful stare. “If you’re sure you don’t want me to stay …”
“I’m sure,” Lia said, wiping her eyes. She tried to smile at her baby, who was sitting next to her on the Turkish carpet in the front room playing with blocks. “I’m fine, really,” she insisted. “I just … I’m a little sad.”
“My dear, it’s been a year and a half since he died. He wouldn’t want you to take on so.”
Of course, Mrs. O’Keefe thought Lia was weeping over Giovanni. How could she explain that she was heartsick over Ruby’s real father, a man who was very much alive but who had no interest in having a daughter, loving a wife or settling down in a home?
“That’s not why I’m crying,” Lia said, wiping her eyes. “It’s … someone else.”
“Someone else?” The Irishwoman’s eyes met hers. “Who?”
Lia shook her head. She was crying over a man who would never, ever forgive her if he ever found out how she had lied.
But he would never find out. Roark was on his way to the Far East, never to return. She should be glad, right? She should be thrilled.
But she wasn’t.
When she’d first found out she was pregnant, she’d hated Roark with such passion she’d thought the only way she could completely love her baby would be to forget the man who’d fathered her.
Now, every day for the rest of her life, Lia would look into her daughter’s eyes and be reminded of an emotion entirely different from hatred. She’d be reminded of the way Roark had tenderly asked her to stay with him. And the way Lia had refused him.
The way she’d lied.
Stop it, she told herself, wiping her eyes fiercely. Stop it.
Ruby gurgled happily, handing her mother a wooden block with the letter L. Lia smiled through her tears as she looked down at her daughter.
“L is for love,” she whispered, giving the block back to her.
She hugged her baby. Ruby would always have the best of everything. The best schools. The best homes in both New York and Italy. The best clothes. A mother who loved her.
There was just one thing that Lia couldn’t give her.
“Don’t feel bad to be the one who’s left behind,” Mrs. O’Keefe said softly. “Don’t feel guilty. Your count will not blame you from heaven if you find someone else to love. You’re young. You need a man of your own. Just as your wee girl needs a father who’s alive on this earth to love her.”
Lia stared at her. Then looked at her baby.
Ruby already had a father who was alive …
Oh, my God, she thought suddenly. What have I done?
She’d told herself that she’d kept Roark and Ruby apart for their own good.
But what if that had been a self-serving lie?
Roark was capable of change. He’d proven that today. He’d said he never wanted to get married … but he’d proposed to her.
Roark had also said he didn’t want to be a father. But he might have changed his mind about that, as well. He might have taken one look at Ruby and wanted to be her dad.
What if Lia had just made the biggest mistake of her life—sending Roark away—not because she thought he would abandon Ruby, but because Lia feared he would hate her for keeping her a secret?
She took in a sudden breath.
Lia’s own feelings meant nothing, compared to her daughter’s needs. She had to put her child first. And no matter how Roark might hate Lia, if there was a chance he might want to be Ruby’s father, she had no choice.
She had to tell him the truth.
“I hope you don’t mind me speaking to you like this,” Mrs. O’Keefe said, tears sparkling in her kind eyes. “I think of you as the daughter I never had. I don’t want you to make the same mistake I did …”
Slowly Lia rose to her feet.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “You’re right.”
The doorbell chimed. Mrs. O’Keefe cleared her throat awkwardly. “I’ll get the door. It’s likely that new stroller I ordered from the shop.”
Nodding absently, Lia grabbed the phone on the elegant table. She dialed the operator and asked to be transferred to the Cavanaugh Hotel. She waited with her heart in her throat.
“I’m afraid Mr. Navarre checked out an hour ago,” the hotel receptionist said.
Hanging up the phone, Lia felt like crying. She was too late.
“Yes?” Mrs. O’Keefe inquired at the door.
“I’m here to see the countess.”
Roark’s voice! He couldn’t be here—couldn’t be!
With a gasp, Lia dropped the phone from her suddenly numb hands. It clattered on the hardwood floor.
The gray-haired widow looked at him, then glanced back at Lia. “Ah,” she said with a sudden grin. “So you’re what all the fuss is about. You’ll do well, I think. Come in.”
And she held open the door.
He