The Illegitimate Tycoon. Janette Kenny
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She took a breath and debated telling him now. Blurting it out in a rush, then suffering his anger in silence throughout tonight’s premiere. No, it would ruin this night for him and he had worked so hard to get to this point in his career.
That smacked of being selfish, and of all her faults, she wasn’t that. Nothing could be gained from telling him now.
She’d waited this long to purge her soul. She could wait another day or so until the time was right. Until she’d enjoyed the pleasure of being Rafael’s wife and lover without any arguments or hurt feelings between them.
“I was just thinking how nice this would be if we didn’t have so many obligations this week,” she said.
He shrugged. “Say the word and we’ll leave here, go somewhere more private. Just us two.”
“So tempting, but you know I can’t do that. We can’t do that.”
“When did our careers become more important than our marriage?” he asked.
“It never has been,” she protested.
One dark brow arched up. “Hasn’t it? In the past year we’ve only managed to be together once, and that was far too brief.”
“I know, but we are both at crucial points in our careers,” she said. “To have shirked our responsibilities and commitments would have had adverse effects we might never have recovered from.”
Especially for her as a model. Right now it was crucial she kept her name out there. That she stayed on top, for that brought in the big money that enabled her to help others. It gave her purpose and pride to have succeeded so well at something. It gave her control.
But she admitted with a heavy heart that she’d also avoided any kind of close encounter with Rafael after the miscarriage. It had been wrong of her, but she had needed to protect herself. Ah, maybe she was selfish.
What else could explain why she’d done that to the one person she trusted implicitly? Fear, that’s what. Losing their baby had been the first tragedy she’d suffered since her recovery from anorexia and it had almost destroyed her.
She had learned a painful lesson. That while she adored Rafael, deep inside was that fear of losing herself if she ever totally put her life in another person’s hands again. She had to guard herself closely, for it would be easy to let one compulsion morph into another. For her to slip back to the destructive ways of her teen years.
“I think there is more bothering you than weariness,” Rafael said, snapping her attention wholly back to him again.
And my God, but this man knew how to probe one’s soul with one long scorching look.
She lifted her gaze just enough to break the magnetic pull that was drawing her closer to him. “I’ve been on a grueling pace for the past six months. Rest is a luxury I haven’t afforded myself.”
His dark eyes narrowed, assessing, as if gauging whether to believe her. “Then I insist you enjoy a good night’s sleep tonight.”
As if she’d be able to do that knowing she had only to reach over to touch him! To slip her arms around that magnificent specimen of masculinity and claim him as her own. That all she had to whisper was I want you and they’d both be lost in a passion so deep and so consuming that nothing or no one else would matter.
“You won’t get any argument from me,” she said, but doubted sleep would come easily for either of them.
Showered, coiffed and makeup carefully applied, Leila slipped into the vibrant blue designer gown that had been provided for tonight’s premiere of Bare Souls. The skirt was sleek and straight with a side slit to allow ease in walking.
The strapless bodice hugged her middle and flared upward like flower petals to cover her breasts. She had just the right amount of faux tan to complement her natural golden coloring and make her skin glow with this electric shade of blue.
Fiery blue diamond studs sparkled at her ears and a matching pendant with a larger diamond would soon hang from a fine golden chain around her neck. She’d slipped a companion dinner ring on her right hand—all had been birthday gifts from Rafael that had stunned and surprised her.
But she still wore her simple wedding set on her left hand, and the tiny diamond solitaire and smaller stones in the wedding band winked back at her as if in approval. For years Rafael had insisted on replacing this set with a more lavish one, but she’d told him flat out she didn’t want to exchange these for new opulent ones.
These rings meant the world to her for they were the first pieces of jewelry Rafael had given her. These were the rings he’d slipped on her finger—the solitaire when he’d gotten down on one knee and proposed, and the delicate wedding ring when they’d stood before the priest and exchanged their vows.
She hadn’t known it was inscribed with meu coraçâo until later when her mother had asked to see them up close and she’d reluctantly demurred removing it, the action seeming wrong to her newlywed status. Her pompous mother had scoffed at both the cheap set and the inscription.
But Leila’s heart had melted to know he’d done this, for while Rafael was passionate, he wasn’t prone to flowery words. She could still count the times he’d told her he loved her.
It was enough, for she believed they’d had a strong marriage based on love. They’d had ordinary dreams of a home and family.
Ah, but neither of their lives had been average. She’d attained great heights with her career again. And with new demands and opportunities came huge rewards.
As for Rafael …
The boy born outside the privilege denied him reached success that trumped her own. That made her achievements pale in comparison.
In short, Rafael was a force to be reckoned with in the business world. More so now.
He’d changed the past year. He now had a ruthless edge that had only been hinted at before. An edge to him that she wasn’t quite sure how to deal with.
Could they regain what they’d once had? Did he even want the same things anymore? Would he still want her when he learned what had happened?
For the first time in her marriage, Leila felt suddenly unsure of her place in Rafael’s life. If he didn’t want her anymore, if he tossed her aside, she didn’t know if she could find the strength to go on. And yet she’d already suffered with worse. Hadn’t she?
One sharp rap came at the door. She whirled to face it and froze, still caught up in the old pain and guilt, caught in that very human urge of fight or flight. Before she could move beyond the fear that was crippling her, the door swung open.
Rafael filled the opening, resplendent in black tie, his tux fitting his broad shoulders, muscled torso and long strong legs to perfection. He was, in essence, the embodiment of sexual charm and masculine charisma.
If she’d been startled when she’d stepped from her shower earlier to find him waiting to do the same, she was thunderstruck now. He could have joined her under the warm spray and she wouldn’t have protested! God knew he had done the same many times before.
So why hadn’t he done so this time? Why hadn’t he pulled her back into the enclosure and made love with her?
Leila had gripped the counter to steady herself as a wave of hot desire had washed over her. He was simply beautiful. Well toned. Tanned. And aroused.
There’d been no mistaking that part of him.
Yet moments later as he’d stepped from the shower gloriously naked and padded into the bedroom, he’d not spared her a glance. She’d wanted to follow. Wanted to run her hands over his body, wanted to kiss him, taste all of him. She’d wanted to ease his need and hers as well, for in his arms she felt whole. Safe. Loved.
“God help us both,” she’d muttered to herself, and had set to work finishing her