Illegitimate Tycoon (13 page)

 
          
“Home
was a shanty in one of the largest
favelas
in Rio. No electricity. No water. After my father died, we were forced to move
from our two-room ‘home’ into a one-room hut.”

 
          
She
glanced at him and took in his stunned expression. She’d shocked him, for like
the world he’d believed her mother’s lie. That they’d had a small home near the
mountains.

 
          
Leila
heaved a weary sigh and dropped onto the sofa, kicking herself for not
unburdening this shame years ago. Her mother had woven a tender, tragic story
of being a young widow and single parent that Leila had never disputed, for
what was the use?

 
          
Unlike
her mother, Leila had never courted sympathy from anyone—especially Rafael. But
now? She still didn’t want his empathy, for she had escaped the fate she’d been
born into. But he was asking, and she couldn’t continue the lie.

 
          
“I
don’t remember my father, other than he was a stern man who was always away
working,” she began, her fingers worrying her skirt as she searched her
memories and found few good ones to draw on. “As for my brother, he was much
older than I was and ignored me for the most part. He worked in the factory
with my father, and both died the night it caught fire. After that, my mother
sponged off anyone she could for support.”

 
          
Rafael’s
brows pulled into a disagreeable V over his patrician nose while his
beautifully sculpted lips flattened into a thin hard line. “Why didn’t you tell
me this years ago?”

 
          
She
simply stared at him. “What’s the use? You never asked, and the truth changes
nothing about me. And unless I’m mistaken, you’ve never divulged everything
about your childhood or your family in England.”

 
          
He
jerked his head to the side, his expression hardening, but only for an instant.
“You are right. Neither of us had a normal family.”

 
          
She
waited for him to go on. Hoped he would, but he remained silent.

 
          
It
was just as well. One set of lies revealed in a day was enough for any
marriage.

 
          
The
past was over. Leila had never dwelled on what would have happened to her and
her mother if a talent scout hadn’t “discovered” the teenaged Leila in Rio. How
ironic that her mother had gone to the mall that day to beg for a handout from
an aunt who had a soft heart and a job.

 
          
Of
course that truth had never made the headlines. Instead it was reported that
the young beauty had simply been shopping with her mother in the mall.

 
          
But
that had never mattered to Leila. Modeling had been her chance to have a better
life and she’d taken it.

 
          
From
that day forward Leila had become the breadwinner—the hungry young model who
was all the rage, the big-eyed waif to millions and the rising starlet on the
fashion scene. Nobody knew the truth about her past life in Rio. Nobody but her
mother.

 
          
She
pushed aside the old shame and anger and chanced another peek at Rafael. He was
far too pensive for her peace of mind. “You’re angry with me,” she said. “Yes,”
he snapped, and she flinched at the fury in that one word. “Before we married,
we vowed we’d never keep secrets from each other. That we’d never set out to
deceive each other.”

 
          
She
looked away, blinking back the sudden rush of tears, for there was nothing more
she could say in her defense. She
had
lied. She
had
deceived him.

 
          
“What’s
done is done. We reaffirm our vow to be honest with each other always and move
forward.” Strong masculine fingers cupped her jaw and turned her to face him,
face the determined intensity of his eyes boring into her soul. “I am not
giving up on our goal or us,
querida.”

 
          
She
swallowed hard, helpless to stop the tears from slipping from her eyes. He was
right. Yet she dreaded to be brutally honest with him about their future as
parents. “Maybe you should.”

 
          
Silence
swirled around them, raising the hairs on her nape, twisting her nerves into
knots that pulsed and burned and jumped. “What is
that
supposed to mean?”

 
          
“I
don’t know if I will ever be able to give you the family you want, Rafael! Even
if my body can carry a child, I’m not sure my fears will allow me to do it.”

 
          
“I
will not let what happened to your friend happen to you!”

 
          
“I
know you believe that—”

 
          
“Because
it is true,” he said with so much conviction she almost believed him. Almost. “Our
love is strong, Leila.
We’re
strong.
I will see you have the best doctors. The best care. That you are spoiled and
pampered and assured daily how beautiful you are.”

 
          
Leila
released a watery laugh that eased some of the tension gripping him. “I doubt
that my agent, clients and photography crew will appreciate me playing the role
of diva.”

 
          
“It
doesn’t matter what they think, for once you become pregnant you’ll give up
modeling.”

 
          
Rafael
felt her slender spine stiffen and knew he’d hit a raw nerve. “Whatever gave
you that idea?”

 
          
Just
like that, all the tension that had drained from him went taut as bowstrings. “Isn’t
it obvious? You are concerned about having a healthy pregnancy. About a
relapse. Work would be a great risk.”

 
          
“One
has nothing to do with the other,” she said, trying to pull away, but he held
tight, refusing to let her run away from him or this issue that stood between them,
knowing it would only fester if they left it alone.

 
          
“Doesn’t
it? We are wealthy beyond measure. There is no need for you to be a working
mother, to devote your time to a career instead of your family.”

 
          
Her
chin came up. “There is pride, Rafael. You don’t want me to work because your
mother slaved to provide for you.”

 
          
“That
is some of the reason,” he said with a nod.

 
          
“Well,
I refuse to be like my mother, who never worked a day in her life even when we
were close to starving,” she said. “She was content to let her husband hold two
jobs, and to see her only son follow him to the factory even before he was old
enough to do so.”

 
          
He
yanked her flush against him, feeling the thunder of her heart against his
chest. Feeling anger course through her at breakneck speed.

 
          
“You
aren’t like her at all,” he said. “You could
never
be like her even if you were a full-time mother.”

 
          
She
was shaking her head before he finished. “I will work, Rafael. Maybe not
full-time. Maybe only on occasion. But I refuse to give up who I am, what I
have worked for.”

 
          
“I
wish you could see yourself as I do, Leila.

 
          
Then
perhaps you wouldn’t feel so compelled to prove your worth.”

 
          
Her
chin came up. “Do you really see me, Rafael? Do you truly understand my
passions? What drives me? My career funds my clinic and that is very important
to me. I won’t give it up.”

 
          
He
cut the air with a hand. “You don’t have to. I have told you before that I can
fund that or any other cause of yours for as long as you wish.”

 
          
“Yes,
but it would be just another appendage of you, instead of mine,” she said, fist
pressed to her heart.

 
          
Frustrated
and weary, he threaded his fingers through his hair and paced to the window. On
the beach below people laughed and frolicked in the late-afternoon sun. Many
couples strolled the edge of the sand hand in hand, just like he and Leila had
done earlier today before they had sliced open old wounds and let them bleed
freely.

 
          
“It’s
getting late,” she said. “I have to get ready.” And then she walked slowly into
the bedroom.

 
          
The
soft click of the door echoed in the stillness and reverberated along his
nerves. In an hour they’d present themselves to the throng. They’d smile and
pretend everything was perfect when it was far from it. That they weren’t at
loggerheads over their future.

 
          
With
a curse he slammed a fist against the panel, frustrated, angry that she’d let
fear come between them. That she’d kept so much from him.

 
          
From
this moment on, he would do all in his power to convince her that their
marriage was more important than anything. He would somehow vanquish her fears.

 
          
Leila
stayed in the shower until her skin threatened to pucker, letting the
temperature go from a soothing warm to a bracing chill in hope that the cold
would ease the puffiness her crying had surely created.

 
          
Her
thoughts were a jumble of wanting him. Loving him. Yet his demands veered into
unreasonable. What happened to the carefree man she’d picnicked with today? The
question eluded her as she stepped from the shower.

 
          
She
hadn’t expected Rafael would be there waiting to take her place, waiting to
hand her a thirsty towel. Waiting there gloriously naked and aroused with a
look of intense need carved on his handsome face.

 
          
Her
breath seized as his hungry gaze swept over her, his expression so hot that she
felt the water droplets sizzle on her wet skin. But his eyes soon narrowed,
staring deeply into hers as if suspecting she still held a secret from him.

 
          
His
distrust sent a glacial shaft spearing through her, freezing any desire that
had quickly kindled to life.

 
          
Without
a word, Leila grabbed the towel and escaped into the bedroom. But she couldn’t
stop shaking until she heard the blast of water hit the marble enclosure.
Couldn’t calm the rapid pounding of her heart until she’d dropped on the bed
and dragged air into her lungs.

 
          
She
was in no mood to party, but to stay here would likely prompt Rafael to do the
same and right now she couldn’t go through another round of intense questioning
about their future.

 
          
So
she went about her toilet mechanically. She dried her hair. She donned her red
gown—a strapless creation from an up-and-coming new designer, and try as she
might, she couldn’t get the memory of Rafael’s glorious body from her mind.

 
          
But
right on its heels remained the biting words they’d exchanged. The truths they’d
revealed. The soft challenges they’d each issued.

 
          
Why
on earth had she told Rafael that he might be better off without her and their
dream? What would she do if he decided she was right? If he walked out of her life?

 
          
By
the time the water cut off in the shower, she was applying her makeup but was
nowhere near calm. How could she be when Rafael was just on the other side of a
partition wall, either naked or nearly so as he readied himself for tonight’s
events?

 
          
Leila
couldn’t be at ease, not as long as she and Rafael were at loggerheads.

 
          
She
was no longer the young ingenue. She no longer had the fat fortune to squander,
having used much of her money to fund her free clinic for young girls with
eating disorders. Poor girls like she’d been with little hope of bettering
their lives. Girls who starved themselves in the hopes that they’d fit in.