Kitabı oku: «Virgin: Undone by the Billionaire», sayfa 7

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

BE HIS wife?

Lia stared at him in the luxurious hotel suite, her heart pounding.

“You … want to marry me?” she whispered.

“I want to have you in my life.” His eyes were dark, intense. “At any cost.”

She took a deep breath. So nothing had changed. He still didn’t love her. He was merely willing to marry her just to get his own way.

But how long would that kind of marriage last?

And if he knew about Ruby …

He didn’t want a baby. And whatever he said now, he didn’t want a wife, either. A man like Roark would never settle down with anyone.

He admired Lia because he thought she was honest and good. If he ever found out how she’d lied all this time—lied to his face—lied to him as she surrendered her body to his …

He didn’t love her, and he never would.

And if he ever knew the truth, he would hate her.

Hot tears rose to her eyes as she grabbed up clothes from the floor. “I have to go.”

She dressed quickly, then turned to go.

“Lia.”

He rose before her, naked and strong and powerful. Her heart was in her throat as she remembered every inch and taste of his body. The way he’d felt against her.

“I know you want a home and family of your own,” he said quietly. “Those are things I can’t give you. But I’m offering you everything I have. More than I’ve ever offered anyone. I want you, Lia. Come with me. Be my wife.”

She swallowed back the pain of wanting him. Perhaps if she weren’t a mother, she might have been willing to sell herself short for the promise of the life he offered her.

But she was a mother. She had to put Ruby first.

Lia had already made a mistake by sleeping with a man who had no desire to be a father. She wouldn’t compound the mistake now by marrying him.

“I’ve made my decision,” she whispered. “Goodbye.”

“No!” He took her hand.

She turned away. “You gave me your word.”

Sucking in his breath, he dropped her hand.

“Yes,” he said dully. “I promised.”

“Goodbye.” She started running for the door so he wouldn’t see the tears streaming down her face.

But after she’d gotten into the hallway, slamming the door behind her, she leaned back against the door, wracked with silent sobs as she said goodbye to the only man she’d ever kissed. The only man she’d been tempted to love. The father of her child.

I’m doing the right thing, she told herself as she pressed the elevator button with a sob. The best thing for all of us.

So why did it feel so wrong?

She’d left him.

Roark couldn’t believe it. He’d been so certain that she would be his.

He’d just asked her to be his wife.

And she’d refused him.

Perhaps it was for the best, he told himself. He rubbed his head wearily. He’d been a fool to impulsively blurt out the offer. He would have tired of her in a week. In a day. Lia had done him a favor turning him down.

Hadn’t she?

The penthouse, with all its exquisite furnishings, echoed with silence. Marble, crystal, expensive hardwoods—all cheap and ugly now that she was gone.

His phone rang as he got out of the shower.

“The plane’s ready for takeoff, Mr. Navarre,” his assistant said respectfully. “Straight to Lihue with a brief fueling stop in San Francisco. I’ve had the driver pull around the front of the hotel. Shall I send someone up for your things?”

“Don’t bother,” Roark said dully. “I’m traveling light.”

Traveling light. Just as he liked it. He put on his black shirt. His platinum cufflinks. His black pants and black coat of Italian wool.

But as he stuffed a few items into his leather suitcase, he felt strangely numb in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Not since that frozen winter day so long ago when he’d lost so much in the fire.

It’s for the best, he told himself again. It was no good to get too attached. And Lia was the type of woman a man could get attached to. He didn’t want that. They would have driven each other crazy. And yet …

His hands clenched around the handle of his suitcase. He still couldn’t believe that he’d lost her.

Downstairs at the reception desk, he spoke briefly to his assistant who would be following him to Tokyo in a few days’ time. The main floor of the Cavanaugh Hotel was decorated with a thirty-foot-tall Christmas tree that was covered with red glass ornaments. All the joyful faces and colorful lights in the lobby irritated Roark, setting his jaw on edge.

As Murakami handled the hotel bill, Roark went outside. He blinked for a moment in the darkening winter afternoon, his breath turning to white clouds of smoke in the frozen air.

“Sir?”

Without a word, Roark handed the bag to his driver and got in the back seat. As the Rolls-Royce pulled away from the hotel circle, turning south on Fifth Avenue, his chauffeur said, “Did you have a nice visit in New York, sir?”

“My last visit,” Roark muttered, looking out the window.

“I hope you’ll be spending Christmas someplace warm, sir.”

He remembered the heat of Lia’s body, the warmth in her eyes.

The world is full of women, he told himself angrily. He would replace her easily.

And she would replace him. She would find a man who could give her more than Roark ever could. Maybe just some regular guy with a nine-to-five job who would come home every night to their snug little house. A man who would be faithful to her. A man who would be father to her children.

Roark’s body hurt with need for her.

But he’d given her his promise. He’d never thought he would have to keep it. But she’d made her choice to turn him down. He had to respect her decision.

And yet …

He suddenly realized he’d forgotten to give her the twenty-million-dollar check.

The thought whipped through his body, making him sit straight up in the leather seat. “Turn right up here,” he barked out.

“Sir?”

“Thirty-fourth and Eleventh,” he ground out. “As fast as you can.”

When his driver pulled up in front of the old building that held Lia’s office, Roark jumped out of the car. He was too impatient to wait for the slow, rickety elevator, so he raced up the stairs, taking three at a time. He reached the third floor and pushed open the door. His heart was pounding, but not from exertion.

Sarah the receptionist looked up at him in surprised pleasure.

“Mr. Navarre. Did you forget something?” She smiled. “Did you, um, did you want me to take you on the park tour after all?”

Lia wasn’t here. She wasn’t even here. His jaw clenched with suppressed disappointment as he took his checkbook out of his coat’s inner pocket.

“The countess already showed me the park. But she left before I could give her the donation.”

Bending over the table, he wrote a check for twenty million dollars to the Olivia Hawthorne Park Trust and handed it to her.

Sarah goggled at it in her hands. “I’ll get you a receipt.”

“It’s not necessary,” he said. He’d promised Lia he’d never contact her again, then he’d found a loophole to get around his own word of honor. And she wasn’t even here.

Nice, he mocked himself.

“The countess would insist,” Sarah said breathlessly. She quickly wrote out a receipt for a twenty million dollars. “How do you want this announced?”

“What are you talking about?”

“We’ll send out a press release announcing your charitable donation, of course. Do you want this ascribed to you personally, or to your company?”

“Don’t mention it. Don’t mention it to anyone,” he said grimly.

“Ah. Anonymous. Gotcha.” She winked. “You’re quite the do-gooder, Mr. Navarre. Families will enjoy this park for generations to come.”

He growled at her, then turned to go. As he reached the door, he heard her sigh, “Lia will be so sorry she wasn’t here to see this. But she always likes to be home when her baby wakes up from her nap.”

Roark froze, his hand already on the doorknob.

“Baby?”

“She’s the cutest little thing.”

Roark went straight back to the desk. Her eyes went wide as she saw the fierce expression on his face.

“How old is she?” he demanded.

“That’s the most romantic part,” she replied with a sigh. “Ruby was born nine months after the count died. A miracle to comfort Lia in her grief. And Ruby is the sweetest little thing. She’s crawling like crazy … Where are you going?”

But Roark didn’t answer. He pushed open the door, rushing down the stairs in a fury.

A baby.

Lia’d had a baby.

And she’d never told him. She’d deliberately kept it a secret.

He remembered how nervous she’d been when he ambushed her outside her town house that morning. At the time, he’d thought she was just afraid he might try to invite himself into her bedroom. But she’d been nervous he might find out the truth.

Perhaps the baby had been born nine months after the count died, but the man couldn’t be her father. It was impossible. Lia had been a virgin when Roark had first touched 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 took two steps inside the foyer. He filled Lia’s foyer with masculine energy, his black coat whirling around him as he came inside her house.

“What are you doing here?” Lia whispered. “You said you’d never contact me again. I thought you were gone for good….”

“Goodbye, then!” Mrs. O’Keefe sang as she left, closing the door behind her.

“I didn’t come here for you,” Roark said. He looked at the baby sitting on the expensive carpet in front of the marble fireplace, playing with wooden blocks. “I came for her.”

She sucked in her breath. “How did you find out?”

His jaw was hard as he turned on her savagely.

“Why did you tell the whole world that she’s the count’s baby? Why did you never tell me I had a child?”

Her mouth suddenly went dry. “I wanted to tell you.”

“You’re lying!” he said furiously. “If you’d wanted to tell me, you would have done it!”

“What was I supposed to do, Roark? You said you didn’t want a child! You said you never wanted to be a father! And I hated you. When you left me in Italy, I never wanted to see you again!”

“That was your excuse then. What about yesterday, at the wedding? This morning, when we had breakfast? When you showed me the park? When we made love at the hotel? Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I should have told you then. I was afraid you’d hate me.”

His dark eyes froze right through her.

“I do hate you.”

He went into the front room and got down on his knees. He handed a block to the baby, who smiled and chattered nonsense syllables, waving the block at him happily. He looked at her. And looked.

Then he picked the baby up in his arms.

“What are you doing?” she cried.

“My plane is waiting to take me to Hawaii and Japan,” he said coolly. “And I don’t trust you.”

“You can’t think of taking her from me!”

He narrowed his eyes and his lips curved into a cold, cruel smile.

“No. You will come, as well. You will travel with me wherever I wish to go. You will remain in my bed until I am finished with you.”

“No,” she gasped. Be in his bed, have her body possessed by a man who hated her? “I’ll never marry you!”

“Marry?” He barked a laugh. “That was when I thought you were an honest woman with a good heart. Now I know you’re nothing more than a beautiful, treacherous liar. You aren’t worthy to be my wife. But you will be my mistress.”

“Why are you acting like this?” she whispered. “You never wanted to be a father. Why are you acting like I kept something precious from you, when we both know that all you’ve ever wanted is your freedom?”

He just drew his lips back into a snarl.

“You will agree to my demands, or I will take you to court. I will fight you for custody with every lawyer I possess.” He gave her a grim smile. “Believe me, you will run out of lawyers long before I will.”

A cold shiver went through her. She looked at her baby in Roark’s arms. Seeing them together, Roark tenderly holding his child, caused a crack in her heart. It was just what she’d always dreamed of.

Then he looked back at Lia, and all tenderness disappeared from his eyes. Instead she saw only hatred.

Hatred—and heat.

“Do you agree to my terms?”

She couldn’t let him win. Not like this. She wasn’t the kind of woman to surrender without a fight.

She lifted her chin. “No.”

“No?” he demanded coldly.

“I won’t travel with you as your mistress. Not with our child living with us. It’s not decent.”

“Decent?” His dark eyes swept through her like a storm. “You’ve never thought of decency before. In the rose garden. In the broom closet. In my hotel suite.”

“That was different.” Tears rose to her eyes, tears she despised as she glared at him. “If Ruby is with us, that changes things. I’m not going to set that kind of example for her, or give her that kind of unsettled home life. It’s marriage or nothing.”

“You’d rather show her the example of selling yourself in marriage without love—not just once, but twice?”

She flinched.

“I will accept your terms, Roark,” she said hoarsely. “I will sleep in your bed. I will follow you around the world. I will give myself up to your demands.” She swallowed. “But only as your wife.”

He stared at her for a long moment. Then he bared his teeth into a smile.

“Agreed.”

He put out his hand.

She reached out to shake on the bargain. The touch of his skin against her fingers sizzled her as he jerked her close.

“Just remember—becoming my wife was your choice,” he whispered in her ear. He reached his other hand to stroke her cheek, looking into her eyes. “It was your mistake.”

Roark married Lia in a drab little affair at city hall that evening. Mrs. O’Keefe held Ruby and acted as one of the witnesses; his assistant, Murakami, acted as the other witness. No family was in attendance. No friends. No flowers. No music.

Lia wore a cream-colored suit she’d pulled hastily out of her closet. Roark didn’t bother to change out of his black shirt and pants. Why should he act like this wedding meant anything to him at all?

He didn’t smile as they were married. He didn’t look at her. He didn’t even kiss her at the end. He just put a plain gold band on her finger as the judge proclaimed them man and wife.

And he would make his wife pay for what she’d done.

They left city hall for the downtown heliport in a Cadillac SUV. His assistant sat in the front passenger seat, next to the driver, with Roark directly behind him. As they discussed the current financial details of the Kauai and Tokyo build sites—the price of steel was going through the roof—Roark couldn’t stop glancing at Ruby, who was in the baby seat next to him.

He had a daughter.

He could still hardly believe it. As Murakami droned on about the rising costs of concrete, a situation that normally would have been of the utmost importance to Roark, he barely paid attention. He couldn’t take his eyes off his baby. She was yawning now, sucking sleepily from a bottle.

There could be no doubt she was his child. Her eyes were as dark as Roark’s, with the same coloring he’d inherited from his Spanish-Canadian father. She looked just like him.

But she also looked like Lia. She had the same full mouth, the bow-shaped lips. She had the same joyful laugh, holding nothing back.

Roark would just have to ignore that. He despised Lia and didn’t want to be reminded of her features in his baby’s face.

He had the strangest feeling in his heart every time he looked at Ruby. He didn’t know if it was love, but he already knew he would die to protect her.

A totally different feeling than he had for his baby’s mother.

In the third row of the SUV sat Lia and the nanny, who seemed like a sensible, trustworthy sort of woman. But Roark would have her references investigated just in case.

He ground his jaw. His instincts were clearly not as sound as he’d once believed.

God, he hated Lia.

When he remembered the pathetic way he’d lowered his guard at the snow-filled park and spoken of how his family died—something he’d never discussed with anyone—his cheeks went hot. He’d even told her about his humiliating upbringing with his grandfather. The way Charles Kane had despised his low-class blood. The way he’d fired the nannies as soon as Roark began to love them. The way he’d tried to toughen Roark up as a boy, stamping out his childish, desperate yearning for his dead family with harsh lessons and cold comfort.

Roark had revealed himself to Lia in a way he’d never done with anyone in his life.

He had laid his soul bare to her.

Now, remembering how he’d been so determined to blow her mind in bed, practically begging her to run away with him, Roark was overwhelmed with anger and shame.

He would enjoy punishing her. Their marriage vows would be the chains he’d use to destroy her. He would make her regret eighteen months of lies.

She had made Roark want her. The thought still made him furious. She’d made him think she was special, a smart, sexy, loving woman different from the rest. She’d almost made him care.

And all along she’d been playing him for a fool.

“Thanks for coming,” he heard Lia whisper behind him.

“It’s no bother,” Mrs. O’Keefe replied softly, settling back noisily against the leather car seat. “I couldn’t let you and wee Ruby fly off into foreign lands without me, now could I?”

He realized the woman saw more of the truth about the relationship between Lia and Roark than she was letting on. She knew something wasn’t right about this marriage, and didn’t want Lia and her baby to face it alone.

For Ruby’s sake, Roark was glad the woman had agreed to leave New York with them. He’d offered to double her salary for the inconvenience. He wanted his child to receive the best of care. He didn’t want her to be separated from her caregiver, as he’d been as a child.

But he disliked the thought of Lia having a friend. He didn’t want her to have any comfort.

He wanted her to suffer.

But not at the cost of Ruby’s happiness.

The chauffeur parked the Escalade outside the Pier 6 heliport, following with their luggage and the baby seat. Murakami stayed behind as Roark’s chief bodyguard, Lander, awaited them on the tarmac and escorted them to the helicopter.

After a seven-minute helicopter ride, they touched down at the small Teterboro Airport and boarded Roark’s private plane. It was comfortable and luxurious. Roark, Lia, Ruby and Mrs. O’Keefe were the only passengers, waited on by three bodyguards, two copilots and two flight attendants, one of whom brought crackers and juice for Ruby as the other offered Lia a glass of champagne before takeoff.

“Congratulations, Mr. Navarre,” the first flight attendant said, then turned to beam at Lia. “And best wishes to you as well, Mrs. Navarre.”

Mrs. Navarre. The name went through Roark’s soul with a shudder.

He had a wife.

A wife he hated.

Lia paled. As she took the champagne flute in her hand, she glanced uneasily at Roark.

He could see the question in her eyes. What did he intend to do with her?

He coldly looked away. Carrying his briefcase, he passed her without a word. He paused only to kiss the top of Ruby’s tousled head, then went to the couch in the back cabin. He didn’t want to see his wife’s beautiful, troubled face.

She was meaningless to him, he told himself fiercely. Meaningless.

And so she would remain until they arrived in Kauai, where the beach house awaited them with a massive master bedroom overlooking the Pacific.

Then she’d learn her place in his life.