The Rodrigues Pregnancy. Anne Mather
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why wasn’t she answering her phone? Christian stepped into one of the half dozen elevators that gave access to the upper floors of the building and punched the button for the forty-second floor with unnecessary force. She must have known he’d try to get in touch with her when she wasn’t on board the helicopter. Dammit, what the hell was going on?
His secretary, Dolores Samuels, met him in the foyer of his suite of offices and he guessed his presence in the building had been duly reported. Small and dark and fiery, Dolores showed her Latin heritage in every excitable movement she made, and her hands fluttered expressively when she saw his glowering face.
‘She was not on the flight?’ she asked, her dark eyes wide and knowing, and Christian stared at her.
‘How do you know that?’
Dolores’s tongue circled her lips in deliberate invitation. ‘Because Mike Delano called from the hospital,’ she replied slyly. ‘Mrs Mora arrived there only minutes after you left for the airport.’
Christian’s jaw compressed. ‘So why didn’t you ring me?’ he demanded, turning back towards the corridor outside his room with obvious intent. ‘It would have saved me the trip.’
‘Because she told Mike not to tell you,’ Dolores protested, her expression turning from artful teasing to innocent appeal in a moment. ‘You know what they say?’ She snapped her fingers. ‘Don’t kill the messenger. I am only telling you what Mike Delano said when he phoned a few minutes ago.’
‘Since when does Mike Delano take his orders from Mrs Mora?’ retorted Christian grimly. ‘And why didn’t he ring me instead of you?’
‘I expect because he knew you would turn around and go straight to the hospital,’ exclaimed Dolores, tugging beguilingly on a strand of curling dark hair.
‘And she is Luis’s mother. She didn’t want you to interfere.’
‘She’s his stepmother,’ Christian corrected her shortly, and Dolores’s eyes grew even wider at his aggravated tone.
‘Does it matter?’ she asked. ‘She is old. And she is Tony’s widow. I expect Mike was too intimidated to ignore what she said.’
Christian didn’t know why he felt so infuriated by her argument, but he did. ‘Olivia is not old,’ he said. ‘She is—what? Thirty-seven? Thirty-eight? That is not old, Dolores.’
‘It is to me,’ retorted the girl sulkily. ‘And to you, too, no esta?’ She paused, regarding him curiously.
‘Do not tell me you are interested in the frozen widow.’
Christian realised this was becoming too personal. Dolores had tried to engage him in conversations like this before and he had always put her off. She was too inquisitive, too provocative, and she was a gossip. And since the break-up of the affair she’d had with Tony she’d renewed her pursuit of her present boss with an increasingly flagrant intent.
‘I do not think Mrs Mora would appreciate your assessment of her character,’ he replied obliquely. He had no intention of discussing his association with his late cousin’s wife with her. ‘I suggest you confine yourself to business matters in the future. You are a good assistant, Dolores, but that is the only reason I persuaded Tony to let you keep your job.’
Dolores’s full lips pursed. ‘If you say so,’ she remarked insolently, turning back into her office, and it was only because he was in a hurry to get to the hospital that Christian chose not to challenge her again. But one day he would have to deal with her. He wanted no one to speculate about his efforts on her behalf.
With a gesture of frustration, he pulled out his cell-phone and ordered his chauffeur to bring his car up from the basement garage. Then he walked swiftly back to the elevator.
Sacred Heart Hospital was situated in downtown Miami and long before he reached the quiet enclave off Flagler Street, Christian’s car was snarled in traffic. Perhaps he should have arranged for Luis to be transferred to a hospital north of Miami, he reflected irritably, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He’d chosen to dismiss his chauffeur and drive himself and now, with the rain sluicing against the windscreen and the fumes from countless other vehicles invading the car, he was feeling decidedly put-upon.
Why the hell had Olivia chosen to make her own way to the hospital? he wondered, returning to his earlier gripe. Was it her way of proving she wanted nothing more to do with him? Or was it badness that had prompted her to thwart his plans?
His jaw hardened. She was going to have to deal with him sooner or later. He was one of the executors of the trust that was going to keep her in luxury for the rest of her life. If she didn’t like it, tough. It wasn’t her decision. However she felt about it, that was the way it was going to be.
It was early afternoon by the time he entered the hospital’s car park. It was full, but after a brief altercation with the uniformed security guard, which entailed a hundred-dollar bill changing hands, he was allowed to park in a space designated for staff members only. Then, after getting another soaking crossing to the entrance, he at last reached the lobby of the brightly lit establishment.
He had to run the gamut of more security checks before being allowed to take the stairs to the second floor. There were elevators, but they were all busy, and he was too impatient to wait while wheelchair-bound patients and porters wheeling gurneys took precedence. Besides, he expunged some of his frustrated energies in the act, reaching Luis’s door before he had himself totally in control.
Olivia was sitting beside her stepson’s bed, her hand resting lightly on his where it lay upon the coverlet. She was leaning towards him, speaking softly, when Christian opened the door, and the intimacy of the scene he was interrupting was not lost on him.
There was no sign of Mike Delano, but that didn’t surprise him. If Olivia had prevailed on Mike not to call his employer, the man was hardly likely to be hanging around here. He was probably downstairs in the coffee shop, drowning his sorrows in a double-cream cappuccino.
Christian would speak to him later, but for now he had to contend with a pair of clear grey eyes regarding him with undisguised irritation. Olivia was annoyed; that much was obvious. But he was bloody annoyed, too, and he refused to be daunted by the cool resentment in her gaze.
‘Hi,’ he said crisply, his eyes moving past her to the young man in the bed. ‘Luis.’ His thin lips formed a smile. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘I’m okay.’ Luis managed to return his greeting but his face was still drawn with pain. He looked very pale, Christian thought, his tanned skin bleached almost to the colour of the sheet behind his head. ‘Thanks.’
‘Good.’ Christian came to stand across the bed from Olivia, forcing himself to concentrate on its occupant and not on her. ‘No after-effects of the flight?’
‘Just a bit of jet lag, I guess,’ said Luis bravely. ‘I appreciate you coming with me, Chris. It was good to see a friendly face among all those white coats.’
Christian’s smile flattened, but he was aware that Olivia flicked a glance at him before turning to her stepson again. ‘You didn’t tell me—Christian had escorted you back to Miami, Luis,’ she said, her normally husky voice sharpening with confusion. ‘You know I would have flown back with you myself if I’d known what was going on.’
Once again she afforded Christian a resentful look, but before he could speak Luis intervened. ‘Oh—Chris flew up the day after I had the accident,’ he explained, and Christian saw the way the hand lying in Olivia’s lap balled into a fist at his words. ‘He stayed with me until the doctors said he could arrange the transfer. That was how we flew back together.’
Olivia looked as if she was about to object, but this time Christian beat her to it. ‘I phoned you from San Francisco,’ he explained, meeting her taut gaze with some satisfaction. ‘I thought you realised that.’
He knew she hadn’t, and she knew he was lying, too, judging by the angry