Sinclair Glenna - HIS Billionaire Roman

HIS A Billionaire Romance, Part 1 of 3

Glenna Sinclair

Copyright © 2015

All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

Table of Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

Chapter 1 What do you say when you see your nemesis standing right outside your door? “Hi,” I croaked and wrapped my arms around my middle. I didn’t want to croak. Croaking was the last thing I needed to do when I faced this man. So I tried again. “What are you doing here?” Oh, God! Was that my voice? That breathless ‘I’m about to swoon’ version? This was too much.

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“You knew I was going to find you,” he said quite flatly. “Why on earth would you want to do that?” That was better. Still croaking, but not as bad. Instead of sounding like a geriatric toad, I sounded more like a teenage toad. That was better, right? That gave me some confidence. I straightened up and pushed my chest out. His eyes immediately dropped to my boobs, and it felt as though some high voltage laser had singed them. My brain was

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a little muddled, and I could feel my nipples hardening to pebbles right before his eyes. This was crazy. “Maybe because of that.” He flicked his hand toward my chest in reply to the question I had forgotten I’d asked. But then, as his eyes widened a little, I realized he wasn’t pointing to my chest. He was actually gesturing toward the small, round bump that my belly had become over the last few weeks. I was fifteen weeks pregnant. And he was the father.

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I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’re here because of the baby.” He raised an eyebrow. “What else? Did you think I wouldn’t find out? That I’d let you walk away with my flesh and blood?” There was no amusement in his eyes. They were

chilly

and

staring

at

me

quite

dispassionately. So he was angry. I got that. But he was being unreasonable. “I did what I thought I had to do. Can’t you see that?” I asked him, trying to

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appeal to his better nature. I hadn’t seen any evidence of it, but it had to be there. Any man who wanted a child as fiercely as this man wanted the baby in my womb has to have a better nature, right? I had to believe that. “All I can see is that we are not going to have this conversation on your doorstep.” His tone said it was not up for debate. Yet, I hovered there, trying to look for a way to stall him. I did not want him in my apartment. I did not want him in my space. It wasn’t like he was going to hurt me or

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anything. Nicolas Costa was a lot of things, but he wasn’t the kind of man who went around hurting women. I wouldn’t have agreed to this insane arrangement if he was. I couldn’t believe I was here, standing with Nicolas Costa, about to have his baby. I put myself in a difficult situation, and I didn’t know what to do about it. Dear God…if only my mom were here, she would tell me everything would be alright. Actually, no. First, she would chew my ass out and tell me what an irresponsible, thoughtless thing it was I’d done, and then

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she would wrap her arms around me and tell me she understood why I’d done it and that she loved me. I felt my throat grow tight and scratchy, and I had to blink really hard to push back the tears. My chest hurt. I rubbed it absently…not like it did any good. I missed my mother so much. It had only been three months since she’d died, and I’d not yet gotten used to being without her. I sighed again and stepped back.

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“Come in Mr. Costa.” I kept my voice cool and polite, hoping if I projected that image, I would actually begin to feel it. It was time I stopped running away from the facts—no matter how much I disliked them. The truth was, I was pregnant with this man’s baby and I had signed some legal documents saying that I would give him the baby when it came. It had seemed the right thing to do at the time, and I even collected a partial payment. God, that really does sound bad, like I sold the baby in my womb. But it was

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nothing like that. Nothing like that at all. The baby wasn’t really mine…not really. The fertilized egg was not mine. I was merely a carrier, a human incubator. But that didn’t stop me from feeling like I was this baby’s mother in every sense that mattered. And that was the crux of my problem. I loved it with a fierceness that amazed me. And I didn’t care what this huge hulk of a man said. He would have to go over my dead body to get to the baby, and I intended to let him know that.

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Chapter 2 It all began fairly innocuously. My mom was a maid in Los Angeles, working for a couple of well-known actors, some politicians, and a few rich, but not so famous, business moguls. She’d done it for as long as I could remember in an attempt to keep us off the streets. Her best friend, Constance, was in the same line of work. In fact, they used to work for the same agency. But then Constance got a full-time position with Nicolas Costa, who just happened to be one

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the hottest Hollywood directors the world had seen since Frank Capra or Alfred Hitchcock. She talked about him constantly those first ten years or so. Sometimes I felt like I knew him just from the things Constance said about him. He seemed human. Kind. That is, of course, until he got married. Constance didn’t have much to say about his wife, actress Aurora Parker, or him, really, after their wedding five years ago. It was like her kindly, honest employer had disappeared and was replaced with something out of that old movie, Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

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Then, one day, I went to visit my mom and Constance was talking about the Costas needing a surrogate for their baby. When she mentioned the insane amount they were offering to the right woman, I knew I had to give it a shot. I needed the money. Not too long before then, my mom was diagnosed with cancer, and there was just no way her insurance would cover the amount of chemo she would need. Not only that, but the chemo would make her too sick to work, and that would mean losing her insurance all together. So the burden fell on me, but I

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couldn’t

afford

the

treatments

she

needed—not on a teacher’s salary. After everything my mom had given up for me…being a single mother is never easy, but being an uneducated immigrant only made it that much harder. I hated the thought of my first pregnancy being a surrogacy. And the idea of giving up a child that I would carry for nine months was overwhelming. But I was willing to do anything for her. She was all I had, and she’d given everything just to make sure I had everything she never did. I would never know my father, but I was okay

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with that because my mom loved me so fiercely that I never felt anything was missing from my life. And the idea of doing something that amazing for another couple was exciting. I love kids. I’ve taught kindergarten since I graduated college three years ago. Most of my fellow teachers walk into the school looking like they’d rather be almost anywhere else but there. I’m not like that. I look forward to each and every day with my kids, even when they’re being difficult. So, giving the gift of a child to someone else was

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another motivation. To give life where none had existed before is miraculous. I filled out some paperwork through the Costas’ attorney and waited, spending all my free time going to the doctor with my mom to find out what could be done for her stage 3 lung cancer. Lung cancer. I found it so ironic that a woman who never smoked a day in her life and always yelled at people who dared to smoke anywhere near me would be the one who would get it. The doctors thought she might have gotten it from exposure to all the cleaning chemicals she’d

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used over the years. They said some of the stuff she used was highly toxic if used in huge quantities, which, of course, my mother had always done. Who would’ve thought? I’d almost forgotten about the whole surrogacy thing when I got this phone call one Saturday afternoon. Aurora Parker wanted to know if I’d be willing to come to her house for lunch. I was…there is no word for what I was. Shocked just doesn’t seem to cover it. I expected her husband to be there, too, but she explained that he was scouting locations for a movie he was set to film in

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Ireland and couldn’t make it back, but I’d meet him at our next meeting. Next meeting? Aurora—this beautiful, perfect blond woman who I’d watched in half a dozen movies over the last few years—chose me to carry her child. She said it was because I was a kindergarten teacher. She giggled and said that she knew I wouldn’t be biologically related to the child, but she liked the idea that the baby would be exposed to an academic setting during gestation. I wanted to explain that kindergarten wasn’t exactly an academic

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setting, but she seemed so excited by the idea that I couldn’t argue with her. We met two more times after that initial meeting—once at her country club while she was waiting for a tennis date to arrive, and once more at the house. Nicolas Costa wasn’t at those meetings either. I didn’t actually meet him until after all the medical stuff was done—the exam and whole battery of blood and urine tests they made me take. I felt like I was preparing to go into space or something. The doctor they had working on me even asked for details about my sex life.

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On the one hand, I could see how it was his business whether or not I had ever had a sexually transmitted disease. But did he really need to know when I lost my virginity and whether or not I was into what he termed ‘rough sex’? At one point, about a month into the process, I began to wonder if it was all worth it. After a month of meetings and medical exams and whatever else, I finally met Nicolas Costa. I already knew what he looked like. You couldn’t live in Los Angeles and not know what he looked like. His face was

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constantly on billboards and magazines and those placards on the side of buses all through the city. Yet, meeting him face-toface was so intimidating I almost lost my lunch on his toes. And those toes were covered in Prada shoes that were probably worth more than all my belongings put together. “So, you’re the famous Ana Martinez I’ve been hearing so much about,” he’d said, approaching me with his hand outstretched. “It’s a pleasure to finally put a face to the name.”

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“It’s nice to meet you,” I’d managed to mumble. And that was the extent of our first meeting. He ducked out a few minutes later, blaming

an

urgent

business

matter.

However, I met him a few more times after that, particularly the day they did the first implantation procedure. However, the day after that, everything went to hell. My mom was set to begin chemo the Monday after. Aurora gave me a check the day I signed the contracts, another when I passed the health exams, and a huge check

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the day of the implantation. That was why we had to wait. I was waiting on that check to pay the enormous payment the hospital would want the moment mom checked in for the chemo procedure. The doctor had wanted to admit her the day he found the cancer, then again two weeks later when a CT scan showed that it was more invasive than he had originally thought. But, even with my modest savings and what little my mom had, we couldn’t swing that initial payment. So we waited.

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I wonder now if that had been a mistake. That Sunday, just twelve hours before she was to check into the hospital, my mom died. It wasn’t even the cancer that got her—it was a heart attack. She was joking about making enough meals to feed me while she was gone when she suddenly grabbed her chest and fell over. I tried to do CPR, tried to bring her back, but nothing I did helped. The paramedics said she died instantly, that there was nothing I could do. But I still felt like I’d let her down somehow.

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The funeral was a dark, somber affair. It was all so sudden that even her friends couldn’t wrap their minds around it. At least the funeral gave me something else to think about. That lasted until the last mourner walked out of the little house my mom and I had

shared.

All

that

was

left

then

was…nothing. I was devastated. I didn’t know how I was going to face life without my mother. I was alone. No mom. No dad. No cousins or aunts or uncles—at least, none that I knew. My mom’s family was all back in Mexico, and

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she’d never really made an effort to reach out to them—something about what made her come to the U.S. in the first place. My best friend moved to Texas for college and never came back. As a flight attendant, she was always gone, anyway. I was completely alone. And then Aurora died. I remember Constance pounding on the door—as she had done for the past week, trying to get me out of bed—and she yelled through the thin wood that Aurora was found dead that morning, but thankfully it wasn’t at the house, she said. Apparently, Aurora was in New York by

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herself to attend some fashion show. She was found unconscious in the back of her limo after she was picked up at a restaurant in Manhattan. A drug overdose was the suspected cause. So my mom was dead. And now the prospective mother of my surrogate child was dead. As that thought crossed my mind, I realized with my mom’s death and the funeral and the week-long, self-imposed isolation, I had forgotten to go to the doctor to find out if the implantation of Nicolas and Aurora’s

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embryo had resulted in a pregnancy. I slipped out of the house after a long overdue shower and bought a test at a local pharmacy. And, of course, it was positive. The moment I knew, a wave of absolute unconditional love washed through me. I had a life growing inside of me. And that led to the realization that this baby was all mine. At least, for the moment. I had something to live for, something to get out of bed for. The thought of giving the baby up after delivery tore me apart.

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Then there was Aurora’s death. How could I give the baby up when its mother died of a drug overdose and its father was potentially another junky, or a hard personality who pushed Aurora to her death? How could I sentence a child to live a life without a mother? Without a mother’s love? To have such a powerful father and a full stable of nannies—because that’s how I imagined Nicolas would raise a child as a single father—but no mother to wipe snotty noses and kiss boo-boos? That wasn’t happening if I had anything to say about it. Not even if I

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had to face the wrath of the great Nicolas Costa himself. I sent a check to his address for the money I received from him and his wife, every red cent, with a letter of condolence that said nothing about the existence of the baby. I took off the next day with no intention of ever telling Nicolas Costa about his child. In fact, I never wanted to see him again. After some of the things that had happened between us at the few meetings we had…things I didn’t want to think about,

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especially now that Aurora was dead. All I knew was that Nicolas Costa was not a good man and I didn’t want anything to do with him now or in the future. So, when he showed up at my house, it was downright frightening.

Chapter 3

Nicolas crossed the room then turned and looked at me, his eyes telling me he knew what I was up to and he intended to stop me. My heart was pounding. I pressed my hands to my belly, wishing I could hide the evidence of my pregnancy and we could go back to him not knowing and me planning to raise a child on my own. However, I knew from the look on his face that was not going to happen.

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“We need to talk,” he said. I nodded and waved him to one of my chairs. He looked around, and I saw the place through his eyes—a worn sofa, two mismatched arm chairs, and a threadbare rug in the center. Well, I didn’t care what he thought. I was doing the best I could. It wasn’t like I had billions in the bank like the whole world knew he did. He sat on one of the armchairs and raked his fingers through his hair. He looked so gorgeous then that I felt my heart melt. Nicolas Costa was a beautiful man—and I

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didn’t use that word lightly. Very few men can be called beautiful. But Nicolas…he had the most intense dark eyes, a deep caramel brown that could be almost amber when he was angry or excited. Or aroused. I blushed as that thought crossed my mind. I shouldn’t know what this man looked like aroused. He was married the whole time I knew him. Yet, I did know, and it was a source of deep shame. I watched him and wanted to feel sorry for him. He had, after all, just lost his wife. But I was aware that he had the means

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to crush me completely. That’s why I couldn’t feel sorry for him, why I had to harden my heart. But I’d never been that kind of person. “Would you like some coffee?” He nodded absently. “Thanks.” I went into the small cubbyhole of a kitchen and put on the coffee maker, turning my face as I scooped out the coffee. I hadn’t had a lot of morning sickness, not like some women. However, there was something

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about the smell of coffee that had a power over me that I couldn’t quite overcome. “Does the smell bother you?” I jumped at the sound of his voice almost directly behind me. I didn’t look back as I tried to steady my pounding heart. The kitchen suddenly felt as though the air was being sucked right out of it. “Do you have trouble with the smell of coffee?” he asked again. I nodded. “Some days are worse than others.”

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He nodded as though he understood completely. At my questioning glance, he said, “I’ve read up a lot on pregnancy.” That made me curious. He hadn’t seemed all the interested before. However, I refused to ask. It really wasn’t my business. His

hands

came

down

on

my

shoulders, gentle but firm, and set me ablaze. I sucked in a deep breath as I felt hot white lust burn from somewhere deep in my center and pool just below my abdomen. The same thing had happened once before…but I tried not to think about that moment. I

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wanted to step away from him, wanted to go about my business like he hadn’t come into the room at all. He was so still. What would I see in his eyes if I turned around? Did he know how my body was betraying me, how turned on I was just by the sight of him, by the feel of his touch on my body? It is the hormones, I told myself. All the books said that all the extra blood flow that pregnancy created led to a heightened sense of sexual arousal. That is all it is, right? But a part of me knew that wasn’t true, either. I wanted him with a desperation

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that was new to me, and I was helpless against it. Slowly, he turned me around till I was facing him. I stared at the spot between his shoulder and neck and wondered what it would feel like to run my hands over the muscles there. I could feel my chest tightening, and I was beginning to have trouble catching my breath. The sound of the coffee percolating through the machine and—more importantly—the smell that wafted through the air brought me back to my senses. I jerked away from his touch, marching out of the kitchen

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to my tiny bedroom, dashing into the bathroom before he could say a word. I couldn’t do this. I needed to get him out of my apartment. “Ana?” he called through the closed door. “Are you okay?” “Fine,” I called, as I turned on the water and splashed my face. It crossed my mind to call the police. I had my cellphone in my skirt pocket. But then I realized that Nicolas had a contract I signed that gave him rights to this baby. Any cop in his right mind would never get

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between a man and what was rightfully his. I could claim the baby wasn’t his, but an amniocentesis could prove it was, and I wasn’t about to put this baby in a position in which it would have to endure such an invasive procedure. I’ve watched plenty of reality television and I’ve seen the needles they used to draw the amniotic fluid out of the uterus. I’m not afraid of needles, but that one kind of freaked me out. That left me with few, if any, options. I stepped out of the bathroom and practically walked into his chest. He was

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right there, in the middle of my bedroom. My bed, in all its unmade glory, was just a foot to his left. Could this be any more awkward? “Ana?” He touched my face with the back of two fingers. “You’re pale.” “It’s not every day the father of my baby shows up on my doorstep and demands to talk to me.” “Yes, well, it’s not every day the surrogate carrying my child disappears without telling me the procedure worked.” “How did you find out?”

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He shrugged. “A private detective. It didn’t take much for him to track you down, or for your frequent visits to the obstetrics clinic, or pictures of your growing belly to express the obvious.” “Why would you track me down if you didn’t know about the baby?” His eyes dropped from my face briefly. “I had my reasons.” I felt a little bit of a cold chill wash down my spine at the same time my lower belly began to smolder again. I was afraid I knew what he was talking about, and I really

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didn’t want to entertain what that might mean. His eyes came back up to mine again, and I wanted to fall into them. He was so handsome! I would have to be inhuman to be able to resist his charms. The memory of his lips on mine was still so strong that it might have happened this morning instead of more than three months ago. My lips remembered that touch; my skin remembered the touch of his hands on my back, my ribs…I so wanted him to touch me again. And then I remembered the way he pushed me away that

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afternoon and the shame that rushed over me when I realized that I’d allowed myself to fall into the arms of not only a married man, but the man married to a woman I was quickly considering my friend. I started to walk around him, needing to put space between us. He grabbed my arm and—thanks to that growing baby bump—I lost my balance and fell against his chest. His hands came around me, pressing against the small of my back, forcing me forward just enough that my distended belly pressed against his pelvis.

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“It’s so firm,” he said, a touch of wonder in his voice. He stared down at my belly, his hand coming around to touch the side of it. A lot of women are embarrassed by their growing baby bumps, but I was proud of mine. However, having Nicolas touch me made me conscious of myself in a way I hadn’t been before. I tried to back away again, but he was still holding me with one arm around my waist, his hand pressed to the small of my back. He pulled me close to him again, his

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free hand sliding over my belly to cup the very top curve of the bump. “The baby’s about the size of an apple now. Did you know that?” I nodded. I had an app on my phone that told me each week how big the baby was and what I should be experiencing as far as symptoms went. “It’s amazing to think you have an entire human being growing inside of you,” he said, awe and grief mixed in his voice. It was the first thing he’d ever said that I whole heartedly agreed with.

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I pressed my hand to the top of his, both stilling it from moving any further along the curve of my abdomen and to offer some sort of comfort. I wondered if he was thinking about Aurora. She’d only been gone a little less than three months, just a week and a few days less than my mom. I wondered if he’d grieved the way I had. As I still did. But, somehow, I doubted it. “You’ve been seeing a doctor, right? Everything’s okay?” “Everything’s right on track.” “Do you know what it is?”

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I shook my head. “I’m supposed to get a sonogram in a month that should show the sex. But I haven’t decided yet if I want to know.” “I do,” he said. “It’d make it much easier to prepare the nursery.” And with that, my desire to comfort him was gone. I pulled away and again tried to move around him. This time he let me go. He followed me into the living room, but instead of sitting back in the armchair he’d abandoned earlier, he gestured toward

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the kitchen. “Do you mind?” he asked, reminding me of the fresh brewed coffee. “Go ahead. The mugs are in the cupboard above the sink.” I settled on the couch, as he rummaged around for the cup he wanted, then poured himself a steamy portion of coffee. I could still smell the overpowering aroma, but it didn’t bother me as much now as it had when it was first brewing. It was like my nose had to get used to an unfortunate scent before it signaled my brain that this wasn’t

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something that should cause my lunch to come back up for an encore. He drank more than half the mug as he stood at the sink. I watched his throat muscles move as he did, wondering how he could stand the scalding heat. However, when he lowered the cup and moved to pour more, I could see the exhaustion that left shadows around his dark eyes. It reminded me of the many restless, nightmare filled nights I’d had since my mother died. I wondered if the same thing haunted his nights since Aurora’s death.

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He came around the narrow counter that separated the kitchen from the living room and settled again in the armchair. He glanced at me, his eyes finding my belly again, as though he couldn’t quite make himself believe it was real. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “My mother died,” I said, surprised at how quickly tears rushed to my eyes at the mention of that dark, horrible moment in my life. “It happened just two days after the procedure.”

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“I’m sorry,” he said, a sincerity in his eyes that made me believe the sentiment was real. Then his eyes fell to the floor. “And, I suppose, I didn’t give you much reason to trust me, especially after what happened the last time we saw each other.” I blushed as the memory of that afternoon burst through my mind, as though it had been waiting at the edge of my mind for just this opportunity to shine once again. I’d stopped by their house at Aurora’s request. It was a day before the implantation appointment. She’d called me at lunch time,

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overcome with excitement because the doctor had just called to let her know the eggs she’d donated days before had successfully been fertilized with Nicolas’ sperm and were dividing at the appropriate rate. The doctor felt they would be ideal for the procedure that was already scheduled. Aurora wanted to celebrate, but she was apparently alone. So, she invited me over to have dinner with her and talk about this tiny human being that had yet to be inserted into my body. I was excited, too. The idea of creating life when my mother was facing such a dark

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period in her life had seemed like a nice distraction. But when I arrived at the house, Nicolas was there alone. *** “Aurora went out,” he said quite briskly, as he let me into the house. “But if she invited you over…” “Maybe she forgot.” “That wouldn’t surprise me. She’s done that a lot lately.” Nicolas walked to a nice bar set in the corner of his living room, pouring himself a healthy slug of brandy. As I watched, I

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couldn’t help but think that Constance would have to wash that glass in the morning. “Do you want some? Might be your last chance.” I smiled as the thought of the soon to be baby crossed my mind again. “No. I’ve never been much of a drinker.” “I never used to be, either.” He swallowed the drink he’d just poured himself and turned to the bar as though he was going to pour himself more. But then he pushed away from the bar and

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turned to me. His eyes were dark and smoldering, as though he was thinking thoughts that were too deep to be expressed in anything as simple as a general expression. And then he crossed to me and caught me by surprise by setting his hands on my shoulders. There had been a sort of smoldering attraction between us from the first moment we met. The way he looked at me, the way he asked me questions about this process, about my life, and how having a baby for someone else would change my life. He’d never done anything inappropriate, but

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there was something there, just under the surface, that I’d been unable to ignore. I thought it was just me, just the way I felt as if I knew him because of Constance’s stories of him, the way his face was familiar because of the many pictures I’d seen of him over the years. I had thought that it couldn’t be anything more than that. But now… “Ana,” he murmured in a sexy voice that’d kept me up almost every night since the first time we met, “you feel it too, don’t you?”

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I didn’t know how to answer. I was afraid he was talking about something complete innocent and I would make a fool of myself if I answered that I wanted him, too. Then, I looked up and met his eyes, and I was nearly singed by the heat I saw in their depths. We stared at each other in silence, neither saying a word, yet each communicating in a manner that was as old and as ancient as the mountains. One of his hands moved and cupped my breast. I let out a gasp, both because of the pleasure that shot through me and shock

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that he would want to touch me in such a way. I felt like I was on fire. I should have slapped him, or pushed him away. He was a stranger to me in the most basic way. Yet, I felt like we’d known each other for ages. And so, even though I knew it was a mistake, I held myself still, waiting for his next move. His eyes still on mine, he rubbed the pad of this thumb over my nipple slowly, and it grew even harder than before—impossibly hard. Even though I didn’t want to want this man, my body was doing its best

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to broadcast a totally different message. A more honest message. Then, slowly, giving me enough time to retreat if I wanted to, he drew me to him at the same time he lowered his head and kissed me. It was not like any kiss I’d ever experienced before. There was none of that tentative getting-to-know-you stuff that first kisses seemed to be made of. Nicolas’s kiss was hot and wild and so passionate that I immediately went up in flames. I opened my mouth and he slipped his tongue in, and I began to tremble from the

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curiosity that spoke volumes in his movements. My whole body was responding to this man, and I was lost. I pushed my body against him and sank my hands in his hair. He had one hand on my butt, holding me closer to him, and I could feel the heat of his erection pressing against my belly. It was driving me wild. He broke the kiss and I heard myself whimper in protest. Why did he stop? Then, he began to trail kisses down the side of my neck. I moved my mouth against the column of his neck, using my tongue to taste him,

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and felt him shudder. I couldn’t believe that I was having such an effect on this powerful, sexy man. “I want to feel you,” he murmured against my skin. “I want that, too,” I whispered. The sensations going through my body were nothing like I’d ever known before. I couldn’t seem to get enough of him and, guessing from the smile on his face, he knew it. But the look in his eyes told me he couldn’t get enough of me, either.

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Suddenly, he picked me up and carried me across the room, balancing me on the low edge of the corner bar. He stood between my parted legs and cupped my breasts, gently massaging them, paying particular attention to the hard nipples. My head began to spin as my thighs shook. My breasts were so sensitive and his hands so skillful that I moaned deep in my throat. “Oh, Nicolas, I like that,” I gasped out. “Yeah,” he said, his voice raspy.

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It all seemed so surreal. It couldn’t be real, could it? This was Nicolas Costa, billionaire director and husband to Hollywood screen goddess, Aurora Parker…Aurora. With that, I suddenly remembered that the man touching me, the man making me feel things I had never felt before, was a married man. Not only that, but this married man was the father of the embryo that would be inserted into my uterus first thing tomorrow morning. I felt such disgust for myself that I was sure it was seeping from my pores.

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Nicolas was kissing me again, and I could feel myself melting into a puddle. I began to panic. I needed to do something before I grabbed him and kissed him back like I so badly wanted to do. I wanted to slip my tongue inside his mouth and kiss him with all I had. I wanted to feel his hands all over my body and his mouth everywhere his hands had been. I wanted to… I bit down hard on his lip. “Ouch!” He jerked back, his finger pressed to his lip. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

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“Get off me, you bastard!”

Chapter 4 It was official, I had finally gotten in touch with my inner slut. At least that was how I felt as I ran out of Nicolas and Aurora’s house. Kelly, my best friend, would have been so proud if I’d told her about it. Kelly and I are so different that it’s amazing we’re friends at all. Kelly is a flight attendant who looks like a lingerie model. All those clichés about models? That’s Kelly in a nutshell. I, on the other hand—after that debacle with

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my college boyfriend, Travis—decided I was done with relationships. Besides, there was my mom. But when Nicolas touched me, everything I thought I was just flew out the window. I do not do casual sex. Ever. I’m just not like that. Oh, and my mom was a strict Catholic, which only made things worse. I have only ever had sex with two men in my entire life. Kelly insists that I’m basically a virgin since one of those times was a brief, in-the-backseat-of-his-dad’s-car

encounter

that lasted all of three minutes. Yet, Nicolas made

me

feel

like

everything

I’ve

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experienced before was nothing compared to the magic he could bring into my life. And having him here, in my tiny apartment, made all those feelings come back. “I think about that night a lot,” he said quietly, leaning forward as he cupped his coffee cup in both hands. “I meant to apologize to you, but the next day…it just seemed inappropriate to do it as the doctor was inserting the embryos into…” He gestured toward me, a little color making his naturally

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dark skin look even darker. “And then you disappeared.” “Aurora died.” He nodded, his eyes dropping to his mug. “Yeah. That was a shock to a lot of people.” “But not you?” Something about the way he said it made me wonder about the rumors that floated around in the weeks after her death that Nicolas had something to do with it. A lot of Aurora’s fans suggested that Nicolas had someone slip drugs into her food that

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night—as it clearly and unequivocally was proven by the autopsy that Aurora died of a cocaine overdose. But then a slice of pain rushed across his face, and I knew instinctively that he would never do such a thing. “I knew my wife better than almost anyone. And I knew that she was a brilliant actress who showed the world a façade that covered secrets no one could ever imagine.” “Like drug use.” “Like the fact that the night she died was not the first time she overdosed on some sort of drug.”

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That surprised me. I hadn’t known Aurora long, or very well, but she always seemed like a strong, confident woman. I curled up against the arm of the couch and tried to remember something, anything, in my encounters with her that would suggest she was a woman in the throes of a bad drug habit. But I couldn’t think of a single one. Nicolas

stood,

setting

his

cof-

fee—which was empty once more—on a low table and crossed to the windows. He turned away from me and stared outside. I had a sudden hollow feeling in the pit of my

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stomach. I thought for a moment I might be sick. He must have glanced at me…I don’t know. I was clutching my middle, trying to fight the unpleasant waves rushing through my stomach. And then he was beside me, his hand between my shoulder blades. I looked at him and felt my heart skip a beat. “The last time I touched Aurora was more than a year ago.” I stared at him, not sure what it was he was trying to tell me. “But you were trying to have a baby. She told me. She said you wanted a child,

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that you thought it would complete your family. But she couldn’t carry one because of a heart defect or something.” “There was no heart defect. She just didn’t want to ruin her perfect figure.” Again, I tried to reconcile what he’d just said—words that were wrapped in so much bitterness that my tongue stung from the taste—with the woman I’d met. But I couldn’t. Aurora was so gentle and kind. I’d wanted to hug her every time I saw her because of the sadness that seemed to linger in her eyes.

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“What happened? I mean, between the two of you. You were only married for five years when she died.” He sighed and leaned back against the couch. “Aurora was the biggest mistake of my life.” He shook his head, as his eyes landed on my face again, practically begging me to believe him. “She changed almost as soon as we got home from our honeymoon. She wasn’t the sweet ingénue I met on the set of Paper Men. She was controlling, demanding. She used everything from sex to threats

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to attempts on her own life to get me to do what she wanted.” “Why didn’t you divorce her?” “I had no idea what she might do if I did. She was unstable.” He shifted, clearly agitated. “And it would have ruined her career. I couldn’t take responsibility for that.” There was something that felt hollow about his last words. A memory of Aurora laughing as we talked about my students filled my thoughts for a moment. How could a

woman

who

could

appreciate

the

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unpredictability of children be the same woman he was describing? It just didn’t make sense. He raked his fingers through his hair again, his next words coming out on a deep sigh. “I asked her for a divorce, three years ago, and she tried to commit suicide.” “But…what happened between you two? You were Hollywood’s most romantic couple.” There’d been dozens of magazine articles on them from the time they were dating until a few weeks before her death, and a piece the E! channel did that my mom and I

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stayed up late one night to watch. They seemed so perfect together, as though they were one of those rare Hollywood couples that actually functioned well together. He laughed bitterly. “She began cheating on me right from the start. I caught her bed with the chauffer once. And then I came home early from a trip to Hawaii to scout locations and found her snorting cocaine off of a glass hors d'oeuvre plate we’d gotten as a gift for our wedding. I tried to get her into rehab. I even called her mother. I watched as she begged Aurora to do something about

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her addiction, but even she couldn’t get through to her. Aurora wasn’t interested in being clean. She only wanted what she wanted.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “But, I don’t get it. How come the media never got wind of this?” He shot me a look filled with indignation. “I’m Nicolas Costa.” “Yeah, sure, that explains everything.” “Sarcasm does not become you, and yeah, it should explain everything. The

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paparazzi knows better than to trifle with me.” I raised my eyebrows to show him just what I thought of his arrogance but, inside, I was shaking. Nicolas had a reputation for being a ruthless man. And I wasn’t sure where I stood with this man. Why was he here? What did he want from me? I wrapped my arms around my chest, resting them on the top of my bulging belly. It was almost big enough to serve as a perfect shelf for arms, glasses, almost anything I wanted to sit on it. And the

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peanut inside…she’d be here in less than five months. What would happen then? “Why are you here, Nicolas,” I asked, my voice not betraying the roiling emotions inside of me this time. He studied my face for a long moment, then his eyes fell again to my belly. “It wasn’t Aurora who wanted the baby,” he said softly. “I don’t know how much you know about me, but I came from a large Greek family. My father was a garbage truck driver, my mother a nurse. They worked themselves to death trying to provide

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for me and my seven brothers and sisters. I always imagined I would have a large family, too.” He tilted his head, something like clouds moving across his eyes as a soft smile lifted the corners of his full mouth. “All my brothers and sisters have children now. I love being an uncle. Yet, the idea of holding a baby that’s mine, that’s part of my body, my soul, is the ultimate goal. Everything I’ve achieved in my career, in my life, pales in comparison. I almost couldn’t believe it when Aurora finally agreed to the idea. I

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think it was because all her friends were having kids and she felt left out or something…I don’t know. I never understood what motivated Aurora. But whatever it was…” He looked at me, his hand coming close—but not touching—my belly. “I finally have that one thing that I couldn’t achieve on my own. And I’m not giving it up.” “But this is Aurora’s baby,” I said, grasping at the only straw I could see. “Do you really want a piece of her in your life for the rest of your life?”

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I thought he might get angry, but he only looked pensive for a moment. “That crossed my mind,” he finally said. “But Aurora was a kind, gentle person before the drugs changed her. I think her child will be just as kind and gentle. Especially with the right guidance.” “Your guidance?” He nodded. “Believe me, Ana, I’m well-prepared to be a father to this child.” “But what if I can’t give her up?” He simply shook his head. “You have no choice. You signed a contract.”

Chapter 5 I burst into tears and Nicolas took me in his arms. He seemed to understand even though I wasn’t sure I did. I pressed my face against his shoulder and cried as though I hadn’t cried in a lifetime, holding on to him as a damn broke and all the tears and sobs I’d held in since leaving California unleashed themselves on his linen shirt. I cried for my mom, for him and Aurora, for the poor, innocent little baby that was caught in the middle of this ridiculous triangle. And I cried

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for myself. Nicolas simply held me until the tears slowly subsided. “I’m

sorry,”

I

mumbled

as

I

straightened up, wiping my face with a corner of my t-shirt. “It’s all the hormones and stuff.” “A good cry helps,” he said with a shrug. “Yeah right, like you cry about anything.” A wry smile touched a corner of his lips as he leaned back against the chair. “Sometimes I wish I could.”

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Our eyes met, and a brief something passed between us. It was not like the fire of that one, long ago encounter, but there was something there, and it was tinged with heat. “Your mom…she was ill?” “Cancer.” He nodded. “My dad, too. It started in his pancreas, but it moved quickly to his liver. He was gone less than two months after they first found it.” “I’m sorry,” I said, still rubbing at my cheeks.

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He shrugged. “It was almost ten years ago. But it still hurts, sometimes.” “That’s comforting.” His eyes filled with compassion, and my tears were suddenly close to the surface again. I blinked hard to make them go away. He cupped my face and stared into my eyes, like he was searching for something. “This baby means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” I nodded, unsuccessful in making the tears disappear. A few slipped out of my eyes, wetting his fingers. It was so strange being this close to him. There was that sense

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of being close to someone I knew well, someone I could trust with every deep dark secret I ever had or would have. I had to remind myself that I barely knew this man and the few times we had met, he was distant and then…not distant enough. And my body, it seemed only too willing to defect, to embrace a physical touch that would only cause unrepairable damage to my emotional sanity. I shut my eyes and tried to will away the desire that was building so deep in my soul that it was quickly becoming an itch I would never be able to scratch, but that only

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made it worse. My only thought was: What would it be like to feel his hands all over my body? I quickly opened my eyes again. I couldn’t go there. It simply made no logical sense. “She means everything to me,” I said, refocusing on the question at hand. “She?” “The baby. I always call her she. I’m not sure why.” “You want a girl.” “I would be happy either way, as long as she’s healthy.”

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The truth was, though, that when I dreamt at night—I had the most vivid dreams ever since my pregnancy entered the second trimester—it was always a girl. A boy would be great, too, but I just felt like it was a girl. A little girl I could dress up and whose hair I could curl…I loved her so much already and she didn’t even have functioning lungs yet. “Why did you run? Was it your plan to run off with the baby all along?” I stared at him, shock making my heart pound so hard that my chest actually

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hurt for a second. I pulled away from him and stood. “I think you should go,” I said. “You have to understand that that would be my first assumption when I learned you were pregnant.” He sounded so reasonable that I had to stop and remind myself that he’d just accused me of fraud. I stood at the kitchen counter, my hand resting there as I tried to regain my emotional equilibrium. “Ana…”

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“My mother had just died. And then Aurora died like ten days later. The last thing on

my

mind

was

the

surrogacy

and

everything that went along with it.” “But you found out at some point that the procedure had worked.” “Yes.” I glanced at him. He was still on the couch, watching me with both curiosity and concern. “But it didn’t seem to matter anymore. Aurora was gone and you never gave me the impression you were all that interested in this baby.”

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“Oh, but I am.” He stood up and approached me, his hands held out in front of him as though he was trying to show he meant no harm. “I just couldn’t let Aurora know how much it meant to me. She might have changed her mind, or taken off with you and the baby.” “You really were afraid of her, weren’t you?” A flash of anger crossed his face at that. “Not afraid. Just…aware.” I leaned back against the counter, not sure I could trust my judgment any more. He

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seemed so sincere in everything he’d said tonight. Yet, he seemed to blaming everything on Aurora—and that confused me. Could I really trust him? Could I believe what he was saying about Aurora even though it went against everything I’d seen and experienced in the time leading up to this child’s conception? And what about those kisses we’d shared when he was married to Aurora? What kind of man did that make him? What kind of woman did that make me? His expression softened as he approached me. I saw things in his eyes that

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made me want to trust him, things I thought were sincere. But did I know him well enough to know that? “You scare me,” I said softly. His gaze didn’t move, his eyes studying mine so intently I felt like he could see everything going on inside my head. “You scare me, too,” he admitted. “You don’t strike me as someone who’s scared of anything.” He laughed softly. “You scare me. I’ve never wanted a woman as intensely as I want you.” He moved closer to me, but still he

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didn’t touch me. “And I want this.” He held his hand just an inch from my belly. “You’re used to having your way.” “I’m a determined fellow.” “Arrogant.” “I like things to be orderly.” “Bossy.” “And I love how you taste.” I had nothing to say to that, so I just stared at him. I felt suddenly parched and ran my tongue over my lips to moisten them. He made a sound, and I froze.

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“You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” he said in a raspy voice. He reached out to caress my face, and I saw his hands tremble slightly. For me? He was trembling for me? The thought blew my mind and, apparently, it blew all common sense from my logical side, my heart, and my soul. I stepped toward him, and we were suddenly kissing with an urgency that was as hurried as it was desperate. I ran my hands over his broad shoulders, down his back, and then sank them into his hair, tugging him closer as he

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buried his tongue deep in my mouth. When I sucked gently on it, he groaned, which only made me more frantic for him. He kissed my face and along the edge of my jaw. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against my ear. “I wanted you the first moment I saw you.” I might have returned the sentiment if I could have, but my lips were too busy exploring his, and my throat was so full of need, of pure desire, that it couldn’t give birth to a single word. I wanted to feel him. I wanted his hands all over me. I wanted

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things I couldn’t have put into words if I’d been capable because they were things I’d never wanted, I’d never even known I was capable of. He slipped his hands beneath my tee and cupped my breasts. Bolts of electricity shot through me, and I began to moan and pant. When he flicked my nipple with the tip of his thumb, I cried out. He lifted my tee and I pulled it the rest of the way off of my body, giving better access to all those places that ached for his touch. I felt as though I had hot lava going through my veins. He

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leaned down and closed his mouth over the tip of my nipple, and I almost went off the edge. Somehow, his hand found its way beneath my skirt, and he traced a path to the edge of my panties. I felt moisture pool there, and I wanted so much more. “Please,” I whispered. “Patience, sweetheart,” he said, lifting his head from my breast. “Please,

Nicolas,”

I

begged

unashamedly. He laughed softly and then pushed his thumb against my clit. I cried out as waves of

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pleasure rushed through me so quickly that my knees buckled. He immediately lifted me, carrying me to the couch where his thumb found its way back to my clit again, two of his fingers sliding deep inside of me. I was quickly spiraling out of control, so close to orgasm that I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it. And….Christ! It felt so good. I’d never had an orgasm with a man inside of me before and this…I suddenly understood what the big deal was. “Nico…Nico…Oh God!”

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“That’s right, baby. It’s Nico,” he said, as he pressed his thumb harder on my clit. I came so hard that I lost track of where I was for a moment. His voice pulled me back, the sound of my name on his lips like honey in a warm cup of tea. “You are so sexy. I’ve never been with anyone as responsive as you,” he said, a note of wonder in his voice. He laid me gently against the sofa and pulled away. I wanted to protest, thinking he was abandoning me before we could complete the act he’d begun so long ago. But then

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he was back again, so beautiful in his nakedness. He quickly pulled my clothes from my body and lifted me onto his lap. As I straddled him, he guided his erection inside and, as I sank down on his stiff cock, I was back to that place of overwhelming desire, needing that unscratchable itch to be scratched. He lifted me off him until the tip of his erection was at the mouth of my cunt, and then he paused. “Open your eyes, Ana,” he commanded in a deep, rough voice.

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“What?” “Open your eyes. I want to see your eyes when I enter you.” I opened my eyes and stared at his. It was like gazing into a dark, fathomless pool. Slowly, still keeping his eyes on mine, he brought me down until he was sheathed to the hilt. I could not take my eyes off him, and something shifted in my heart. It was the most erotic experience of my life. Unable to bear the intensity, I shut my eyes again. With each movement, I saw starbursts. I was incoherent. I couldn’t see or

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hear, all I could do was feel. And when he slipped a finger against my clit and labia, I fell apart. He wasn’t far behind me. The sounds of his ecstasy made my head spin. He cried out and his hands buried themselves in my flesh. I reached down, pressed my hands to his where they were clutching my thighs, painful and exciting all at the same time. And then the rigidity went out of his muscles and he collapsed back against the couch, his breathing rough as he tried to regain control. I collapsed against

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him, my chest pressed to his, the movement of our breaths synchronized for a long little while. Later, he carried me to the bedroom, and we lay together. He was gentle, asking if I was okay multiple times before he began to kiss my shoulders, to run his fingertips lovingly over the length of my spine. And then he was inside of me again, moving with a gentleness I hadn’t been sure he was capable of. But he was. He was capable of so much kindness and generosity, taking my body to heights I thought were impossible for me to

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reach. Just before I drifted off, I caught him watching me, his hand tracing circles around my belly button. It would pop out soon. My innie navel would soon become an outie. And they baby’s movements would be strong enough to feel through the layers of muscle and flesh that covered it. I remember thinking how fun it would be to watch him as he felt those first, tentative kicks of his unborn child. And then I was asleep, floating on a false cloud of contentment.

Chapter 6 I woke up feeling slightly disoriented. I ached in several places and the feeling was not unpleasant. I reached for my cell and checked the time. It was not yet six in the morning. Stifling a yawn, I sighed. Why would I be up so early? That was when I remembered. I remembered Nicolas and the night we’d shared. I felt heat fill my body and settle between my legs. I turned to look at him and found the other side of the bed empty. That was odd.

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What could have gotten him out of the bed so early in the morning? I climbed out of bed, once again reminding myself that I would have to find an easier way to do that when my belly got big enough to make normal movement more difficult. Naked, I padded into the bathroom to grab my robe, a stupid smile crossing my face as I realized that Nicolas had already seen more of my body than even I had ever seen. The robe was kind of like closing the gate after the cows were already gone, but my modest side couldn’t help it.

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However, I couldn’t deny I felt good. Worry had plagued many of my nights these past few months. Worry that he would find me, worry that I would lose the baby, worry about money. All that seemed so unimportant right now. It just seemed like everything was going to be alright. Don’t get too confident yet. You know nothing has been settled. That was my inner voice trying to warn me to be pragmatic, but I just couldn’t face it. I was happy and hopeful, and I was not going to allow anything, not even a pesky

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inner voice, put a damper on the way I felt. With that decision made, I tugged my robe closer to my body and went to find my … well, I had no idea what to call him. Not yet, anyway. I found him in the living room. He had my laptop open before him and seemed lost in whatever it was he was doing. But as soon as I stepped in, he lifted his head and looked at me. I don’t know how he knew I was there because my bare feet made no sound. Yet, he’d known. I saw something hot and fierce flash in his eyes for a brief

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moment before they turned so cool that I began to wonder if I’d imagined the heat. “Hi,” I said, sounding nervous even to my ears. “You’re up early.” “I can’t sleep past five.” He shrugged, then gestured to the laptop. “Hope you don’t mind.” I shook my head. “I have nothing to hide.” “You’re an open book, huh?” There was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Heck, I’m practically a billboard. What you see is what you get.”

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He snorted. “Keep telling yourself that. Maybe someday you’ll believe it.” “What?” Hot and cold. Kind and cruel. I didn’t understand what was happening. “You are quite easy to read,” he said. “I’ll give you that.” Somehow the way he said it didn’t sound like a compliment. “But…?” “But, there are parts of you that are darkly mysterious.” Oh-kay??

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I might be slow on the uptake, but even I could sense that there was something else going on here. This was not the man who had made love to me till I was out of my mind with ecstasy. I crossed my arms over my chest as I stared down at him. “What’s going on? Did I do something to offend you?” He didn’t even look up from the computer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

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“I’m talking about you acting like a total jerk. You weren’t like this last night.” “That,” he said with a bored look, “was just sex.” His words hit me like a sucker punch. I drew in a deep breath and let it out in one go. He couldn’t be serious. Tears filled my eyes and I wanted to run to the bathroom, to wash myself clean and then put on as many layers of clothing as I could. I felt vulnerable, and it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. It might have been just sex to him, but it had been something totally different to me.

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I held nothing back, not even my heart. As I stood there, feeling like the greatest fool who ever lived, I felt bile rise to my mouth. I fought it back. I knew I was trembling and my heart was beating too fast, but I didn’t know what to do about it. I wanted to cry, but I was damned if I was going to do it in front of him. So, I clutched my hands at my sides, struggling to hold on to my fragile composure. “Well, you’ve had your fun. Now get out.”

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I saw swift fury fill his face and felt a stab of satisfaction. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?” I looked at his stony face and the icy glint in his eyes, once again pushing back the tears that were so close to the surface. What had happened to my hot, passionate lover? Who was this man, this stranger standing before me? I felt raw and exposed. I drew my robe tighter around my body. His eyes flicked down to my breast, and—to my horror and shame—I felt the nipples harden. I’d had the robe for several years now, and it

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was a bit thin, making my body’s reaction to his gaze quite plain to see. He looked at me, then offered a mocking smile as if to say he knew I had no selfcontrol where he was concerned. I felt the slow heat of shame crawl through my body, and with it came the welcome flame of anger. He was tainting what had happened last night with his cruel behavior and veiled accusations. That was unbearable. “This is my home,” I said, gesturing vaguely around me. “If I want you to go, it’s my right to ask.”

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“Really?” He surged to his feet, his anger quite evident now. “You think I’ll just walk away and leave you—and my baby—like it means nothing? Did you really think that seducing me would give you want you want?” He laughed, a humorless sound that made my head hurt. “You signed a contract, Ana. Nothing about that has changed. I’m not going anywhere without my child.” I stared at him in shock. I could feel my mouth hanging open and quickly shut it. What kind of mind would come up with such

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a twisted bit of logic? I wanted to speak, but I had no idea what to say. I searched his face intently, trying to find a little of the sweet, sexy man I spent the night with, but there was nothing. “You are a deeply disturbed man,” I said finally. I turned and burst into the narrow galley kitchen. I needed a cup of coffee—even if I was stuck with decaf for the sake of the baby. I was disappointed. Very disappointed. And just a little heart sore. Somehow, I had thought that this morning would be

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different. Nothing spectacular really, just a cozy breakfast together as we talked about the baby and how we could make things work. Together. I wasn’t sure what I really expected. I just…I couldn’t bear the idea of giving this baby up. Not now. Not after it had been mine alone for nearly four months. But Nicolas was impossible and…and a little slow, too. Why on earth would a person be so paranoid? He was the one who came after me—all the way to Dallas—after I left California. He made the first move. He

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kissed me that first time. How did that translate to my seducing him? I was so agitated that some of the coffee spilled as I tried to lift the cup. The sharp sting took me by surprise, and I recoiled, spilling more on my hand. My eyes filled with tears as I quickly dropped the cup on the counter and stifled a curse. I turned to the sink, but Nicolas was there before me. He took my hand with a frown on his face. “You need to put it under cold water.” I restrained myself from rolling my eyes. Barely. “Gee, thanks, mister. Whatever

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would I have done without your sage wisdom?” He gave me a measured look. “That is not even remotely funny.” “It wasn’t meant to be!” I tugged again and pain from the burn rushed up my arm. “Give me back my hand!” I pulled extra hard, and he lost his balance. Stumbling back, he hit his head against the cupboard with a thud. He let out a string of swear words, and I flinched. “What growled.

is

wrong

with

you?”

he

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“I’m sorry,” I said in a small whisper. “Give me that hand.” Without a word, I gave him my hand. He narrowed his eyes and then reached out to turn on the faucet and guided my hand beneath the flowing water. His hands were so gentle that I had to choke back a sob. Not for the first time, I wondered what had turned this man into the cynical person that he was. And that was when it hit me. It wasn’t what but who… he’d already told me. His late wife used sex as a way to

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manipulate him. That must be why he was reacting to me this way. It was habit now to be weary of the motivations of the women around him. “You misunderstood,” I said. “When I kissed you, it wasn’t about the baby or trying to manipulate you into forgetting why you were here. I was just…caught up in the moment. He went still. “What?” “Last night, I couldn’t stop thinking about the last time I saw you. And I…I know it was wrong, but I wanted to be with you. I

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know it complicates things, but…” He turned to look at me then. “I wasn’t thinking straight. And I’m sorry. I just…when you look at me like that, all thought just flies out of my head.” It wasn’t a lie. The way he was staring at me…even though his expression was unreadable, I could still feel the heat that existed between us. And it was doing things to my equilibrium that I couldn’t control. After what seemed like an eon, but was probably no more than a few minutes, he turned off the facet and reached for a

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kitchen towel, gently patting my hand, his attention fully on the task. I had my hand now, and I cradled it in the other, even though it didn’t hurt so much anymore. However, I needed the comfort that the action gave me. I had no idea what was going through his head, or if he even believed me, and I found—strangely—that I wanted him to believe me. I wanted it so much, and I didn’t dare examine why it was so important to me.

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He let out a sigh and said, “I was an idiot, wasn’t I?” I could hear the chagrin in his voice. Relief—so

strong

that

it

almost

knocked me off my feet—flowed through me. My knees couldn’t support me, so I leaned against the sink for support. I shrugged, feigning indifference. “Well, I already mentioned that. So there’s no need to repeat it.” “I’m sorry.” “Wow. A man who can apologize. I’m in heaven.” I smiled as I said it.

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He was looking at me strangely. “You’re not upset?” “Well, you ruined my plans for this morning,” I said, trying to pout and failing miserably at it. I felt lighter than air, and I couldn’t help the joy burbling inside of me, just waiting to burst out. “Oh, you had plans….Hmm,” he murmured, his eyes turning smoky. I laughed then and moved a few steps away from him. “Not plans of that sort,” I said, swatting him with the kitchen towel

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and moving back several more steps. “I was thinking more like breakfast.” “Yeah, me too.” He covered the distance between us in a single stride and took me in his arms. When our mouths came together, it was an act of mutual desire.

Chapter 7 I felt uneasy about Nicolas. I was still unclear on what his intentions were. I felt vulnerable…naked. Well, I was literally naked, actually, standing in the bathroom before the mirror, my belly sticking out several inches in front of me. I ran my hand over it like a mother might her child’s brow. I often found myself imagining what this baby would look like. Nicolas was so tall and dark, his hair the same caramel color as his eyes. And Aurora was blond, her eyes blue, and

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tall, but so thin. In my mind, I saw a child with Nicolas’ dark hair but Aurora’s blue eyes, a child as beautiful as a rose that’s just opened its petals. The image made me smile. Then I remembered that I wouldn’t be around to see that child grow into her beauty. “You’re such a loser,” I said to my reflection. “Did you really think one night of good sex would make a man like Nicolas Costa fall in love with you?” I sighed as I closed my eyes for a second.

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I still wasn’t sure what was to happen next. And I was afraid to ask. I went into the bedroom and dug through my dresser for something to wear. As I did, my cell rang. It was Kelly—my dear, sweet friend—calling to check in. “Hey, Kels. What’s up?” “Nothing that can’t be fixed by a night of wild and unrestrained sex,” she said with a grumble that made me laugh. After a long series of disastrous relationships, Kelly had decided to go on a sex fast. She was just

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entering the fifth month and was absolutely miserable. “Must be hell,” I teased. “You can say that again. I haven’t even used my handy pal, you know.” “No….!” I said struggling to keep the laughter out of my voice. “You can laugh all you want, but I tell you, I can feel it shriveling up down there. Pretty soon, it’s going to get all blocked up.” I chuckled softly. I loved talking to Kelly. We’d been best friends for so long. “Where are you now?”

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“We’re in Dubai. We’ll be here for the next couple of days before we fly out again. Can you believe I met this extremely hot dude, and I so wanted to jump him, but I couldn’t.” “Must be tough having to behave,” I sympathized. “Yeah, I’d much rather go after what I want.” “It’s what I admire about you, Kelly.” I wished I could be more like her. Kelly was bold and fearless. She did what she had to do and did not believe in regrets. I wished more

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than anything that I could go after what I wanted, not that I really knew what that was. “How’s my goddaughter? She kicking yet?” I rubbed the small, firm bump that was my belly. “No, not yet—though I seem to be growing larger every day. You do know that she might be a boy, right?” “Well, I would if you would just go check like normal people do,” she grumbled, which made me smile. “When have I ever been normal?”

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“Yeah, whatever…. Heard from the mighty Nicolas Costa?” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I had not only heard from him, but he had shown up on my doorstep, made love to me, and confused the hell out of me. “Ana…what’s the matter?” “He’s here, Kels,” I finally said. “What? Where? In your apartment?” “Yeah.” “When did this happen?” “He just kind of showed up yesterday and refused to leave.”

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Kelly was silent for a moment, and then, “Did you sleep with him?” Was I that obvious? “What? No…!” “Hah, you’ve been in lust with the guy from the get go. Don’t tell me you had him in your clutches and you didn’t even try…?” “Fine, I won’t tell you.” “Ana….” “Jeez, you make me sound like some desperado.”

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“Girlfriend, you haven’t had sex in so long…trust me, I know how desperate you are,” she said with a laugh. “He’s here for the baby,” I said, saying aloud what I’d been denying to myself since the moment I saw him on my doorstep. “He wants to take her from me.” “Then, you have to make him fall in love with you.” I almost laughed, then realized Kelly was quite serious. “Make him fall in love with me,” I repeated. As if that was even a remote

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possibility. I’d have better luck getting Bugs Bunny to fall in love with me. “Not gonna happen.” “You never know. He came quite a ways to find you. He could have just had a lawyer serve you with papers, or send some minion to do his dirty work. But he came in person.” That was true. And it made me wonder—until I turned and found him watching me from the doorway. “Get dressed,” he said. “We leave in less than an hour.”

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Chapter 8 “I’ll talk to you later,” I said into the phone. “Sure,” Kelly said, her voice a little uncertain. “Take care, okay?” “You too,” I said as I hung up. Slipping the phone into the pocket of my robe, I turned back to him. “Where are we going?” “L.A.” “You want me to go with you?”

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He crossed his arms over his chest, a gesture that made him appear more intimidating than he really was. Or maybe it was a gesture that revealed his true character. At that moment, I wasn’t quite sure. “I intend to be there the moment that baby comes. Since my business is in L.A.,” he said, no apology in his voice, “that means you’ll be going with me.” My stomach tightened with tension. Once again, I couldn’t read that mask he often hid behind. It unnerved me how easily he could hide his thoughts and how he could

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shift from being an affectionate lover to a cold and dispassionate stranger in the blink of an eye. I didn’t know what to make of it. “What if I don’t want to leave with you?” I asked carefully. “You don’t have a say in the matter.” And that was it, wasn’t it? We had been playing a game since yesterday, but he was done with all that. His cards were on the table and he was making his play. And, as he’d said the night before, he was Nicolas Costa and Nicolas Costa was probably as rich as Warren Buffet or Bill Gates, rich enough

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to take me to court and squash any argument the legal aid lawyer I’d be forced to turn to could come up with. I had nothing to fight him with and we both knew it. I was like Playdough in his hands, his to play with for as long as I held his interest. And when I didn’t—when this baby was born—he would throw me away like much-used tissue paper. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’re not being reasonable,” I said softly, trying to approach the subject with as much objective calm as I could. However,

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anger flashed in his eyes even as they narrowed. “Let me put it more reasonably then,” he said in a quiet voice that sounded all the more menacing. “You either come with me now, or I’ll place bodyguards on you twentyfour hours a day.” I shivered at the thought of my every movement being watched, but I was not about to let him browbeat me. I shrugged and raised my chin. “So, I’ll be protected. What’s the big deal?”

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He smiled, and it was like watching a predator just before it struck. I stared at him, fascinated, waiting for him to speak. “You’re the one who misunderstands now. The bodyguards won’t be to protect you, but to protect my child. I can’t have you running off again, or purposely doing something

to

hurt

the

child.”

He

straightened a little, dropping his hands to his sides. “How do I know that you’re eating right, that you’re following doctor’s orders and making it to all the appropriate appointments? How do I know you’re doing

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everything required to keep that baby healthy?” He shook his head. “And the moment that baby’s born…you won’t have to worry about it or me ever again.” “You can’t…!” Horror laced my voice, giving birth to the fear and grief that the idea of losing this baby offered. “That’s right, darling. I will take my baby, and you will never see him again. Ever.” Tears stung my eyes. I crossed my own arms over my chest, not in a gesture of

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defiance, but to offer just the littlest bit of consolation to myself. “And if I go with you,” I said softly. “I would see it as compliance. I might consider keeping you in the loop after the baby’s born. Send pictures to you. Let you see him from time to time.” “Just time to time?” “What do you want, Ana? You’re a surrogate. Our contract outlined your involvement in the child’s life.” “Aurora promised me visitation.” “And I’ll honor that.”

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“But only if I come with you.” “Yes. You come to L.A. of your own free will and you stay with me at my house—” “Your house?” I looked over at him. “Why your house?” “I don’t trust you. You ran once already. You didn’t even tell me you were pregnant. I had to find out from a private detective.”

His

eyes—those

expressive

eyes—narrowed again. “Do you know what that was like?” Of course I didn’t. But I could imagine.

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He was quiet for a long minute. “What happened last night…?” I shook my head. “You can consider last night a lapse in judgment that won’t happen again.” I stood up and went to my dresser, dragging out a pair of jeans and random t-shirt. “You should go so I can dress.” “I have an errand to run,” he said as he backed up. “Be here when I get back.” The moment he closed the door and disappeared I sank back down on the bed and began to cry. I couldn’t believe this was

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happening. But it was and there nothing I could do about it. I pulled myself together and quickly dressed, throwing the bulk of my belongings into two duffle bags. I was too depressed to contemplate what it meant to be able to fit most of my belonging into two duffle bags. And then I got my laptop out of the living room and wrote an email to the flight attendant from whom I was subletting this apartment. I felt bad walking out on my six-month lease with her, but Nicolas wasn’t leaving me many options. I promised to make good on

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the rent if she couldn’t find someone else on such short notice. It was the least I could do. Then I sent Kelly an email, aware that she wouldn’t see it immediately. I didn’t want to talk to her just now. But later…I knew I would need her. I didn’t say a word when Nicolas came back

twenty

minutes

men—presumably

the

later

with

two

bodyguards

he’d

threatened me with earlier. They picked up my luggage and led the way downstairs, directing us into a black Cadillac Escalade that was parked at the curb. I could feel eyes on

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me. Cars like this were not common in this neighborhood. I felt like everyone knew what was happening—and that caused shame to settle on my shoulders like boulders, like I’d done something wrong that my Catholic mom would come back and haunt me for. Or maybe she already had. Maybe that’s how Nicolas found me. The thing was, my mom didn’t know what I’d agreed to do. I didn’t tell her. I thought I would wait until I was actually pregnant before I told her I was a surrogate. I thought then it might not be such a shock

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to her. As a Catholic, my mother would be horribly shocked to know that I wasn’t a virgin, let alone that I was pregnant. I thought, maybe, if I told her I was giving life to a child that might otherwise never have had the chance, it would be easier for her to swallow. But I never had the chance. Tears welled in my throat. I missed my mom. I curled up in the car seat and pressed my hands to my belly. I stared out the window and watched the scenery speed by so fast that I couldn’t tell a light pole from a

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street sign. I felt like I was being sent off to a death sentence. A little dramatic, but it fit. Death with a man I thought I could love. How wrong had I been….

Chapter 9 We flew to L.A. on a private jet. Nicolas sat on the opposite side of the aisle from me, talking into his smartphone most of the flight. Like in the car, I stared out the window most of the time. It was funny…my first time on a plane and I was too depressed to enjoy it. When we landed, Nicolas suddenly remembered I existed. He slipped into the chair beside me and leaned close to me.

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“There will likely be paparazzi outside the airport gates and outside the gates of my house. They’ve been hounding me almost constantly

since

Aurora’s…well,

since

everything exploded. It would be great if you’d keep your head down and not encourage any sort of interaction.” “What are you afraid I’d do? Tell them what a great guy you are?” Nicolas just shook his head. “This is my reputation you’re playing with here, Ana. If you think I’m an asshole now, wait until you do something to hurt my career.”

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I believed him. I just nodded, chewing on my lip so roughly that I tasted blood. The flight attendant opened the cabin door. Nicolas stood and grabbed me under my upper arm, leading me to the door. I could hear the paparazzi before I saw them, their voices raised in question like a swarm of bumblebees swarming a hive. Another group of bodyguards were waiting beside another black SUV, this one a Ford Explorer. I climbed into the backseat as I heard one particularly loud paparazzi ask who I was.

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“That your new girlfriend?” the voice asked. “You getting married again, Nicolas?” Talking to him like they were buddies, sitting around a poker table. It was offensive, even to me, and I wasn’t really the target of their questions. “Let’s go,” Nicolas barked to the bodyguard who climbed behind the wheel. The moment we drove through the gates of the private airport, several cars pulled

into

traffic

behind

us,

causing

something of a commotion as they cut off two other cars that were already on the road.

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I looked behind us, outside the back windshield, and was shocked at the insane way a few of the paparazzi were hanging out the windows in order to get pictures of the car. They couldn’t even see Nicolas, yet they were willing to put their lives at risk. “Turn around,” Nicolas said. “There’s no point in watching them. It only encourages them if they see you.” I settled back down in my seat. Nicolas was next to me, reading something on his smartphone. “Is it always like this?”

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“Yeah.” “Is this what it was like for Aurora?” He glanced at me and I caught a glimpse of grief in his eyes. “It was.” “You don’t think—?” “Being constantly in the public life is difficult for everyone. Some handle it better than others. Aurora…I thought she was stronger than she was.” I nodded, thinking again of the excited woman I met nearly six months ago. I remember the way she looked over her shoulder from time to time when we met at

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her country club and that one public restaurant. I thought at the time she was looking for the waiter. Now, I thought she might have been looking to see who was watching. It couldn’t be all that great to be watched all the time. I crossed my legs and looked out the window. I’d lived in L.A. almost all my life. I didn’t want to admit it, but it was nice to be back. All the familiar sights…even the canyons of Mulholland Drive were familiar thanks to my mom’s job. And, of course, I knew the gate of Nicolas’ house from the

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times I’d met with Aurora there. It would be odd, walking into that house knowing that Aurora would never come walking into the room, her long, silk skirts flowing out behind her, or that I would never hear the soft, breathless tone of her voice again. I couldn’t imagine what it was like for Nicolas. I slid out of the car the moment it came to a stop in the circle drive. Nicolas rushed around to my side, taking my arm and pulling me hard against his side.

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“Don’t go wandering off without me, please.” “I’m just walking to the door.” “The paparazzi are everywhere,” he said, gesturing with his chin toward a low section of the wrought iron fence along the side of the property. I could just barely see the flash of a camera’s flash. “I don’t want them getting a clear picture of your face. Then your name will be all over the tabloids first thing in the morning and you’ll never be able to go anywhere on your own again.”

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I glanced at him, but I didn’t say anything. The thing was, I was pretty sure he was right. And that was a little frightening. He guided me up to the front door, careful to stand between me and the paparazzi in the bushes. Once inside, he let go of me like I was a hot potato or something. “Make yourself at home,” he said, gesturing toward the living room at the back of the house. “Constance should have made up a room for you. I told her to put you in the front guest room.” He gestured toward the

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stairs. “It’s the second door on the left at the top of the stairs. Right next to the master.” “Afraid I’ll sneak out in the middle of the night?” I asked, only half serious. “Yes.” And then he disappeared, walking down the hallway that shot off from the entry way and around the side of the grand staircase. I went into the living room and took a water bottle from the mini-fridge in the bar. As I stood there, sipping from the bottle, I remembered how Nicolas had stood here

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that night months ago, drinking a huge slug of brandy from a thick crystal glass. And then I looked at the long, white couch and remembered how Aurora sat beside me the day she told me that she wanted me to be her surrogate. This wasn’t even my house, yet I had so many memories here. It was a little surreal. I wandered to the back doors—gorgeous French doors that looked out on a huge, well-tended garden. There were low bushes, beautiful trees, and roses everywhere. I found myself imagining a little girl

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running around out there, her father lifting her in the air and spinning her around as she laughed down into his face. This was the kind of place where a child would have an idyllic childhood. I touched my belly lightly. “You are a lucky one,” I said to the baby nestled inside. “Mija?” I turned and cried out at the sight of Constance. I ran to her and threw my arms around her neck, so grateful to see someone I knew, someone I loved and whom I knew loved me back, that I was overwhelmed with

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emotion. I pressed my face to her neck and sobbed almost like I had on Nicolas’ shoulder the day before. The difference was, I knew Constance wouldn’t judge me and she wouldn’t play on my vulnerabilities to get me to do something I shouldn’t. “How are you, nina?” I shrugged. “I miss mi madre.” “I know, mija, I know. I miss her, too.” She pulled me close and kissed my forehead. “But she’s okay. You know that.

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She’s looking down on us, and she’s so proud.” I shook my head, more tears falling from my eyes. “She would be ashamed of me. Of what I’ve done.” “No.” Constance touched my belly lightly. “She would be happy to see you bringing life into the world. And this child is even more special because she comes from you.” “You don’t know.”

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“Don’t tell me no sabe, nina,” Constance said. “You may not believe it, but ya se.” If I’d learned anything growing up with a single mom and a woman like Constance, it was that you didn’t argue with a woman who said she knew what she was talking about. So I just nodded, trying in vain to stall the flow of tears. “Te amo,” she whispered against my ear. “Everything will be okay.” I wanted to believe her, but then I saw Nicolas watching us from the hallway. I

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couldn’t read his expression because he was standing in shadow, but the fact that he turned away the moment he saw me watching him told me everything I needed to know. It wasn’t going to be okay. I was held prisoner by a man who was willing to do anything to get what he wanted, including using me to take the child growing in my womb. I wasn’t sure this man was capable of love. He clearly hadn’t loved his wife. How was he going to love a child?

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How could I allow this child to come into the world aware that it would be stuck with a father who couldn’t care less about her emotional wellbeing? I couldn’t. It was as simple as that.

Chapter 10 “Ms. Martinez.” I nodded, more out of habit that anything else. The doctor smiled as he approached me, his hand outstretched. “Dr. Bishop.” “Nice to meet you.” The doctor glanced at Nicolas and did something of a double take. But he caught himself and his voice was quite neutral when he said, “I’m guessing you’re the father.”

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“I am.” Nicolas held out his hand. “Nicolas Costa.” The doctor nodded. He’d clearly known that. The introductions out of the way, the doctor settled on a stool in front of a computer monitor that hung on a retractable arm against the wall. “It’ll be a few weeks before we get your chart from your last doctor, so I’ll have to ask a lot of questions,” Dr. Bishop said as he typed away at the keyboard. “You’re fifteen weeks, correct?”

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“A day short of sixteen weeks,” I said. He nodded. “And you haven’t had any issues in this pregnancy? No bleeding, cramps,

swelling,

excessive

nausea,

or

vomiting?” “No, nothing like that.” “Good. And are you feeling any movements yet?” “No.” Dr. Bishop looked up, his eyes moving from my face to Nicolas’. “That’s perfectly normal,” he said. “Most first time mothers don’t feel any definitive movement until

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about eighteen weeks. I’ve even had a few who didn’t feel anything until twenty weeks.” Nicolas let out a breath near my ear. I glanced back at him, surprised by the tension I could see in his jaw. What did he have to be worried about? I was the one carrying the baby in my belly. “Any morning sickness?” “No. Just a little nausea when I smell things like coffee or cigarette smoke.” “Also normal.” The doctor laughed a little. “A great deterrent for my patients who

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don’t see a reason to avoid caffeine or cigarettes.” “You have patients who smoke during pregnancy?”

Nicolas

asked,

his

tone

incredulous. “Oh, yeah. Some women figure if their mothers did it when they were pregnant with them, there’s no reason for them not to do it with their kids. What they don’t understand is that the damage is sometimes undetectable, but there’s damage just the same.” The doctor was quiet for a moment as he looked through his computer chart. Then

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he frowned, clicking on something several times before he glanced at me. “Is there a family history of diabetes in your family?” I shook my head. “Not that I know of.” “I see here that you only listed medical history for your mother’s side of the family.” My face warmed a little. “I don’t know anything about my father or his family.” “That’s fine,” the doctor said, rolling his little stool over to the examination table and touching my hand lightly. “But it also

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leaves something of a black hole in your medical history.” “She had a whole workup before she got pregnant,” Nicolas said. “They didn’t find anything on that.” Dr. Bishop nodded. “I see that in her chart. You were with Dr. Beattie?” “Yes. My wife’s infertility doctor. However, we decided to go a different direction for the actual pregnancy and delivery.” Dr. Bishop nodded again, clearly one of those men who hated to disagree with anything anyone had to say.

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“Not a problem,” he said. “The workup actually helps. But the problem is, your wife’s urine tested positive for sugar this afternoon.” “I’m not—” I started to say, but Nicolas cut in. “Is that bad?” “Well, sugar usually doesn’t spill into the urine until it is over 180. Normal is under 140. So it is a bit of a concern. I’d like to send her to our lab to have some more testing done. If it’s what’s called gestational diabetes, we can get it under control fairly

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easily.” He patted my hand again. “Nothing to worry about.” He picked up a device that looked kind of like a short, fat microphone and gestured for me to lie back. “Why don’t we listen to that baby’s heartbeat?” Nicolas scooted over and pressed his hand to my shoulder, helping me lower myself against the cheap, flat pillow at the head of the bed. Then, he watched as the doctor pushed aside the oversized t-shirt I was wearing. My belly was exposed, sticking up

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like a four-square ball, my belly button stretched and flattened like someone was pulling at it from multiple different directions. The doctor squeezed a little lubricant on my belly toward the top and pressed the tip of his probe against it. After a second, the room filled with these screeching, annoying sounds, like feedback from a microphone. But then a quick, steady thump could be heard. Thumpthump-thump. I smiled recognizing the confident heartbeat of the baby. Nicolas gasped,

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his hand seeking mine and squeezing as our fingers became intertwined. “That’s amazing,” he whispered. “You haven’t heard it before?” Dr. Bishop asked, a little frown crossing his face. He moved the probe some more, and the heartbeat came back, louder than before. And a little faster, too, if my sense of rhythm was anything like it was in high school. Dr. Bishop caught my eye and asked, “Have you had a sonogram, Ms. Martinez?” “Just once, when I was eight weeks. They said everything looked fine.”

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Dr. Bishop looked as though he wanted to ask another question, but he stopped mid-grunt. He stood and went to the door. A moment later he was back, wiping the lubricant from my belly. “I’m going to have the nurse bring in the sonogram machine so that we can take a closer look at what’s going on in there.” “Is something wrong?” Nicolas asked, quickly letting go of my hand. “I don’t think so. I just want to have a look.”

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But doctors don’t just take a look on a whim. He’d heard something within the heartbeat. And now my heart was pounding, jumping almost as fast as the baby’s. What if something was wrong? What if the baby had some sort of defect or something? Had I done something? Did I not eat enough fruits and vegetables? Should I have avoided tea, too? Was it the fast food tacos that I craved so much my first trimester? As these thoughts whirled through my mind over and over, the nurse brought in the sonogram machine. It seemed to take an

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hour for them to figure out all the cords and get it up and running. And then Dr. Bishop was squeezing more lubricant on my belly and pressing a new probe to my bump. I couldn’t really see what was showing on the computer monitor, but Nicolas was leaning over me like I was as inconsequential as a stack of books, staring at everything the doctor was doing. Then, Dr. Bishop turned the monitor so that we could both see it clearly. “This is the baby’s head,” he said, pointing at a rounded object in the center of

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the screen. “And here are the arms, the legs.” As he said it, I could suddenly see it, the perfectly shaped human being living in my stomach. The baby moved as he talked, jerking its tiny arms as though it had the hiccups or something. It made tears well in my eyes as the sight of this perfect creature suddenly made everything so incredibly real. “And now,” the doctor said, moving the probe lower on my belly, “here is another head, another set of limbs.” “Did the baby move?” Nicolas asked.

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Dr. Bishop smiled as the baby did something like a flip just under the probe, turning so that what we were now looking at must have been its back because I could see the spine as clear as day. “There’re two babies,” I said. “What?” Nicolas looked down at me, his eyes wide with wonder. “That’s right, Mr. Costa,” Dr. Bishop said. “You’re having twins. This sort of thing often happens with infertility treatments.”

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I never thought I’d ever see Nicolas Costa speechless. But he was. Absolutely, mouth-hanging-open speechless. I laughed.

Chapter 11 Did I say I don’t mind needles? I lied. I lay in a hospital bed, my belly itching like I had poison ivy, an IV in my arm, and a plate of half-eaten meatloaf on a rollaway tray beside me. The nurse peeked her head in through the door and shook her head. “You have to eat the whole thing or you’ll have a low blood sugar and we’ll have to infuse you with glucose again.” She smiled

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almost apologetic. “You want to get that IV out of your arm, don’t you?” “I do. I just don’t get this insulin thing.” “I know. It’s complicated.” She came to the bed and sat beside me. “My brother’s diabetic. I never thought about it until I went to nursing school. And then I was dumbfounded by how my parents kept his blood sugars under control back then when doctors knew even less about diabetes than they know now.”

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She stood and picked up the tray. “Why don’t I go see if I can find you an apple or something instead, huh? Might go down easier.” “Thanks,” I said as I watched her walk out of the room. Dr. Bishop sent me to have more blood tests after discovering the second baby hiding in my womb, and the tests came back the next morning showing that my blood sugar was way too high. So he put me into the hospital right away and I’d been here for nearly a week, trying to find an insulin

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regiment that worked with my body. I was highly reactive to insulin, he had told me, so even a tad too much made my sugars go too low and they had to intervene. He wouldn’t let me out of the hospital until I could go two days with a low. So far, the longest we had gone was four hours. The only good thing about being in the hospital was that I hadn’t seen Nicolas in two days. He didn’t want to visit too often. He was afraid it would attract the paparazzi. However, I suspected that wasn’t the real reason. I saw the discomfort on his face

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every time he walked into the room. He didn’t like hospitals. I wondered how he was going to survive forty-eight hours of labor—which is how long it took my mom to give birth to me. She reminded me every time I did something I shouldn’t have in high school. I lay back and closed my eyes, the low volume on the television like white noise from one of those fancy machines Kelly always insisted were the only way she could sleep in almost any time zone. I missed Kelly. She called a few days ago, but I told

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her to stay away. I really didn’t want her to meet Nicolas. I could just imagine the things she would say to him in an effort to help me. But it wouldn’t help. It would only make things worse. I must have drifted off to sleep because the next thing I knew, that kind nurse was standing at my side, injecting glucose into my IV line. “Fifty-two,” she said. I groaned. I was never getting out of this hospital.

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The nurse patted my shoulder sympathetically. “They bumped the numbers down another unit. I think they might have it this time.” And she was right. Two days later, I was pulling on the jeans I’d worn into the hospital only to discover they were too tight around my middle. I pulled my t-shirt down and it, too, was shorter than it had been before. I stuck my head out the bathroom door and caught the kindly nurse just as she was leaving with the debris from the IV she’d just taken from my arm.

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“You wouldn’t happen to have a rubber band, or something, would you?” She glanced at my belly and managed not to laugh out loud. “I’ll go look at the nurse’s desk.” “You need new clothes,” Nicolas said from his perch against the wall by the door. “Thank you for reminding me.” He studied me for a second. “There’s a maternity shop on Rodeo Drive. We can swing by there on the way home.”

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“Sure,” I said. “I can afford…wait, I don’t think I can afford to walk through the doors at a shop like that.” “Who said you were paying?” “I don’t want anything from you, Nicolas.” “Yeah, well, that’s my kid—kids—in there. I can’t have you walking around with your belly hanging out, or wearing cheap clothes that might contain some sort of chemical that could hurt the babies.” I

glared

at

him,

ready

to

say

something that wasn’t very lady-like, but the

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nurse came back then with a rubber band. She even helped me fasten my jeans with it, tugging them closed enough so that I wasn’t exposing myself when Nicolas led the way outside ten minutes later. When we drove down Rodeo Drive, I had flashes of every romantic movie I’d ever seen. And when we walked into the maternity shop and a sales girl looked down her nose at me, I had a very vivid image of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. The only difference was, my Richard Gere was standing next to me.

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“How can we help you, Mr. Costa?” one of the sales girls asked. “We need a complete wardrobe, including lingerie and formal attire. Do you think you can handle that?” The woman bit back a smile. “Of course.” And suddenly I was a princess, pushed into a soft chair and plied with tea and cookies and everything I could ever want. Models who were much taller, much thinner,

and

definitely

not

pregnant,

paraded into the room in a variety of clothes,

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talking about things I would never understand—like cut and seams and the different fabrics—until my head was spinning and I was just saying okay to make them stop. Nicolas stood at a distance, watching. He did that a lot, watching me and the people around me from a distance, like he was directing the action around him instead of participating in it. I would have preferred him to sit by my side and offer his opinion on my choices, but that wasn’t Nicolas. When they brought out the lingerie, I blushed and decided I’d had enough.

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“I’m tired,” I said, standing and nearly toppling the low table that held the tea cups they kept refilling. “Could we just…” Nicolas was immediately at my side. “Of course.” He guided me to the door, then turned to speak to one of his bodyguards. The man disappeared inside as we got into yet another SUV—this one a white Cadillac—and merged into the late evening traffic. “Are you hungry?”

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I nodded. “But I’d have to take a shot, and I’m not sure about doing that in public.” “Then we’ll pick something up and go back to the house.” He glanced out the window—actually looking up from his smartphone—and said, “It’s a nice night. We could eat on the back veranda.” “That actually sounds nice. I feel like I’ve been cooped up inside for too long.” Nicolas looked at me, actually holding my gaze for a full minute before his eyes slid down to my growing belly. “How do you feel?”

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“Tired.” He reached over to touch my belly, but he stopped himself just before he made contact. “Have you felt them move yet? You’re almost eighteen weeks.” “Not yet.” He nodded, a dark look crossing his face. Did he think I was lying to him? Or was there something else? He was such an enigma that it drove me nuts. I wanted to reach over there, grab his face, and make him tell me everything that was going on in that head of his. But I

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didn’t. I stared out the window and watched the scenery as we sped across the city, headed back to his house. I was actually looking forward to being there. I guess it was true that almost any place could feel like home if you were lonely enough. And I was definitely lonely enough.

Chapter 12 He ordered from some Chinese place and I had a heck of a time trying to figure out how many carbs I was going to eat out of the noodles, egg rolls, and sweet sauces that he’d ordered. I finally made an educated guess and filled the syringe with insulin, but then my hand shook when it came time to actually inject it. They made me do it a dozen times in the hospital, but there was a difference between injecting a potentially lethal substance into your body in a hospital setting

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where nurses were waiting to bring you back to life with an injection of sugar, and doing it in the privacy of your own home where only you and the father of your child—both quite uneducated about this condition—were there to provide sugar if a mistake was made. “Do you want me to do it?” Nicolas asked. He seemed sincere, so I handed the syringe to him. “Where do I…?” “A fatty area,” I said. “I was doing them in my hip in the hospital.”

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He nodded as he came to stand beside me. I tugged at a corner of my jeans and pulled them down just enough to expose the area where I had intended to inject myself. Nicolas picked up the alcohol pad I’d already prepared and pressed it to my flesh, making me hiss a little with the suddenly cold. And then his fingers were moving over my hip, pushing back my clothes, the contrast between the cold alcohol and his hot fingers distracting. Would I always feel this sort of reaction whenever he touched me?

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He carefully injected the insulin, moving quickly, but proficiently, making me wonder if he had experience with needles. And then thoughts of Aurora filled my mind, of her illegal drug use and the substances he’d supposedly seen her take. Did he help her inject herself with meth or heroin? Did he help her boil down crack cocaine and inject it into a vein? Those thoughts made me shudder. Nicolas must have thought it was a reaction from the shot because he tugged my jeans

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back into place and whispered, “All done,” in my ear. I pulled away from him, the scent of his cologne so intoxicating that I wasn’t sure I could control myself if I didn’t. We ate in silence for a few minutes, both of us lost in our own thoughts. And then he poured himself a glass of wine, staring into its depths rather than drinking from it. “I have a new project coming up in a month. It films here, so I’ll be close, but I

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won’t be at the house for the majority of the day.” “Okay,” I said, as I picked at a spicy egg roll. I thought I was going to eat a lot, but the babies had shifted and my stomach was already screaming that it was full. “Constance will be around if you need anything. And one of my security guys will always be within screaming distance.” “That’s reassuring.” “I just…I didn’t know that you would be having health problems when I agreed to this project.”

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“I didn’t either.” “I know.” He put the wine glass down and studied me for a second. “This has just made the whole thing a little more real for me.” I looked away. It had always been real for me. So real I’d called a lawyer while I was in the hospital. I wanted to know what my options were after the babies came. But his advice hadn’t been very hopeful. He’d promised to look over the contract, but he didn’t think I’d be able to keep the babies or even

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share in any part of their lives if Nicolas didn’t agree to it. Not very encouraging. “Aurora was pretty excited about it,” I said suddenly, needing to hurt him in some way for reasons I couldn’t even begin to explain. “She talked about decorating the nursery and buying all these cute little outfits. She even showed me one once, a pretty little sailor suit she couldn’t pass up in a department store.” “It was just a passing infatuation with Aurora,” Nicolas said. “A new thing to keep

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her busy for a while. She was always flitting from one thing to another.” “When she talked to the doctor and learned her eggs were dividing, she’d been so excited.” “Yeah. And then she went upstairs and snorted so much coke up her nose that she passed out with her head on the hors d’oeuvre plate.” There was such bitterness in his voice that I wanted to slap him. How could someone be that bitter about the woman he swore to love, honor, and obey for the rest of

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his life? Was that really how he looked at the marriage vows? “You know, you don’t have to constantly prove what an asshole you are,” I said, dropping my napkin onto my plate and pushing away from the table. I didn’t get far. He came up behind me and grabbed my arm, spinning me around so quickly that I got dizzy and nearly fell. As it was, I had to snatch at the front of his shirt to keep from toppling over. “I hate you,” I said, pushing back in an attempt to get away from him. “I hate

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everything you’ve done to me and everything you did to Aurora. I hate that you’re going to take these babies from me and raise them to be little self-centered asses just like you.” “You don’t hate me,” he said, his voice dangerously low as he moved closer to me. “And your body definitely doesn’t hate my touch.” I glanced down and realized my nipples were once again betraying me, standing up straight against the thin material of my tee.

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“My body’s not itself,” I muttered in disgust. “It’s so confused it doesn’t recognize a snake despite all the warnings my brain is sending.” His mouth curved in a brief flash of humor before he took a step, closing what little distance there was between us, his body pressed against mine. “You want me,” he said softly. “Despite everything you’ve said and done, you want me. I know it. And you know it.” “I don’t.” “Oh, you do.”

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I stared at him, and I knew I had my mouth hanging open. The nerve of the man! Did he really imagine I was going to have sex with him? I would not sleep with him again—even if he were the last man on Earth. Who the hell did he think he was? I tried to move away, but he held tight to my arm, jerking me even closer to him. If not for my belly, we would have been chest-to-chest, lip-to-lip. And then his arm snaked around my waist, and he pulled me closer until I couldn’t breathe. I felt the length of his erection against my lower belly, and I stilled. I

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looked up at him, and his pupils were dilated, his breathing ragged. My legs immediately turned to jelly. I curled my hand where it still held onto his shirt, burying itself there. His mouth was on mine, and we were kissing with such deep hunger that it shook me to the core. He slanted his mouth over mine and sucked my lower lip. I moaned deep in my throat and moved impossibly closer, searching for more. When I gasped for breath, his tongue slipped in and began to slowly drive me crazy. I kissed him back with everything I had, sucking on his

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tongue with such hunger that he groaned and pressed against me. I slipped my hand beneath his shirt and touched him everywhere I could. I writhed against his erection, but it was not enough. I wanted more. Nicolas broke the kiss and focused on the sensitive area behind my neck. He kissed and licked me there and, when he nipped that place, I began to tremble. In such a short time he’d brought me close to that cliff and my desperation was growing. Damn, the man knew me well. Too well.

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“We need to stop now,” I gasped and then lifted his shirt and placed my mouth on his turgid nipple. I licked it and suckled. He swore softly under his breath. “In a moment…” He sank his hands in my hair, and I felt my scalp tingle. “This is crazy,” I said as I shuddered with need. “You’re killing me.” “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” I muttered moving to the other nipple. I was shaking with desire so intense that it

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washed all common sense from my mind. “I’m on fire.” “You’re burning me up,” he growled when my hand snuck down to rub against his swollen head through his jeans. He lifted me up then and placed me on the edge of the table. He tugged at my clothes, ripping the rubber band from its temporary fix. He groaned as he tugged my tee away from my swollen belly. “Jesus…I have to taste you now,” he said, as he placed his mouth on my already sensitive

nipples,

returning

the

favor,

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practically kneeling before me. It was a powerful feeling, having this undeniably dominant man on his knees in front of me. And then he stood, needing to taste my lips again as much as I wanted to taste his. He moved between my legs, his manhood pressed against my mound. The effect of his denim clad erection against me was too much. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled, moaning at the combined assault of his mouth and his manhood. Suddenly, the pressure began to build. I felt everything fade away and narrow down to a single

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trajectory of intense pleasure. I stiffened and shut my eyes as I hovered on the precipice. Waves of pleasure began to waft through me and suddenly, everything exploded. I heard a low wail, and it was not until Nicolas covered my mouth in another very wet, very sexy kiss that I realized the wail was coming from me. I slowly came down from my climax. My limbs felt heavy, and my eyes were heavy. I was gasping for breath and wondering what the hell had happened when I felt his hands around my bottom. He pulled me to the edge of

the

table,

tearing

my

jeans—my

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panties—from my body. I felt his tip against me. Just like that, I was hot and hungry again. I wriggled closer and bit my lip to stop the cry that was just begging to come out. He felt so good. I opened my legs wider to let him know I was ready and, without a word, he slid deep inside of me, biting his own lip as a groan slipped out. He wanted to be gentle. I could see it in the intensity of his stare, in the tremor of his hands. “It’s okay,” I said. “They’re protected.” It was as though that was all he needed to hear. He rammed into me with

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such force that a scream tore from my mouth. He pulled out of me, and I whimpered in protest before he rammed into me again. “Oh…ah…I…this is…!” I was incoherent. I could not form a single sentence to save my life. This was more intense than anything I had ever experienced. I forced my eyes open and looked into his. They were ablaze with passion as he stared intensely at me. I could see that he was at the edge of control. When he slammed into me a third time, I felt my sex begin to

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clench around him and knew that I was at the cusp of another fantastic orgasm. I tried to hold back, to see how much I could take, but he was having none of it. He slid his hand between us and pressed his thumb against my clit and, just like that, I fell apart. I held onto him and jerked, screaming, as the orgasm carried me high into the air. Then, I felt myself shatter into a million pieces. I heard him shout my name as his own climax hit, and it triggered mine again.

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We collapsed against each other, each shuddering at the strength of the passion we’d just experienced. “What

the

hell

was

that?”

he

murmured. I trembled in the aftershock, ridiculously glad that he didn’t deny the power of what had happened. “Crazy…,” I said, still not able to speak coherently. “Just crazy.” “Yeah,” he said and then kissed me. It was different from the hungry kiss we’d shared earlier. It wasn’t even the wet I-

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can’t-wait-to-be-inside-you kiss we’d shared just before he’d slid into me. This one was gentle and sweet, but no less intense. I sighed and knew I was in trouble. Slowly, he broke the kiss and touched his forehead to mine. “You are incredible, Ana,” he said at last. “I don’t know what to do with you.” “Take me to bed,” I suggested, too tired and aware of the change between us to deny this…whatever it was anymore. He didn’t have to be told twice. He gathered me into his arms and carried me up

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the stairs like a bride on her wedding night. Only this bride was already five-months pregnant and without benefit of the legal ceremony or even the love of her man. One thing at a time, I supposed.

Chapter 13 I was in the middle of a wonderful dream. The babies were here, sleeping happily in perfect white cribs and Nicolas had his arms around me, telling me what a wonderful life we were all going to have together. The dream made me smile, even in my sleep. And then a loud knocking made the dream fall apart around the edges. “What is it?” I heard Nicolas call. “You need to come downstairs, Mr. Costa.”

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“What the hell for?” He was angry now. I recognized that tone. “The police are here, Mr. Costa.” My eyes popped open then. The bed shifted as Nicolas climbed around me, padding off to the closet to get a pair of pants. He was still shirtless when he opened the door, and I saw the top of one of the bodyguard’s head before Nicolas stepped into the hallway. I sat up and picked up Nicolas’ discarded shirt from the night before and slipped it over my body. Despite my swollen

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belly, it managed to cover me to the top of my thighs. I slipped into the bathroom and cleaned myself up a little, wondering all the while what was going on. “You need to go,” Nicolas said, rushing back into the room and grabbing clothes from the closet. “What’s happening?” “I don’t know,” he said, not even looking at me. “The police are here with a search warrant. They want to look through Aurora’s things.” “Why?”

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“If I knew that, they wouldn’t have caught me by surprise, now would they have?” He glanced at me then, a touch of remorse skidding across his face. “I don’t want you here while they do the search. Adam is waiting to take you to Constance’s apartment.” I nodded, obediently marching to the door. Nicolas came up behind me and grabbed my arm. “I’m sorry, Ana. I’ll call you as soon as I know what this is all about.”

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I nodded again and melted a little when he kissed me. I went to my own room and dressed quickly, tossing a couple of things into a bag since I didn’t know how long I’d be at Constance’s. I was headed down the stairs with the

bodyguard—Nicolas

called

him

Adam—when I heard a deep voice reciting the Miranda Rights in the entry way. I pulled away from Adam and rushed to the bottom of the stairs just in time to see a cop in a cheap wool suit put Nicolas in handcuffs.

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“Nicolas Costa, you’re being arrested for the charge of murder in the first degree,” the detective said. “Nico!” I cried. He looked at me, a lost little boy with shame coloring his face. “Take her out of here,” Nicolas said roughly to Adam. I felt Adam take my arm, but all I saw was Nicolas being escorted out to a police cruiser.

~ End of Part One ~

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