“Thank you, Doctor. I wish I could stay longer, but I’m afraid I’m needed at work,” he said flatly. Without even a glance down at her, he strode from the room.
She went strangely numb and couldn’t even begin to answer whatever question the doctor was directing her way. Finally she swallowed. Once. And then again. But the bile wouldn’t be kept down.
She struggled to sit up and muttered, “I’m sorry, but could we take a break? I think I might get sick.”
Andrés buried himself in his work, ruthless in his daily dealings and driving his staff harder than he had in years. But he didn’t apologize or explain his actions, and no one would have expected him to.
Now, halfway through the day, he unfortunately had to take a break to eat lunch. And it gave him just enough time to think about her. Chloe and the tiny baby growing within her womb.
Dios. He closed his eyes and raised unsteady hands to thrust through his hair.
He was going to be a father.
Of course he’d already had a couple of days to come to terms with the knowledge. Despite his taunt to Chloe about proving there was a baby, he’d known she hadn’t lied.
But nothing had prepared him for seeing the tiny heartbeat on the monitor. The tender, protective emotions that had rushed through him had been so intense and threatening that he’d done the only thing he knew how to do. He’d shut down emotionally and left rather than deal with them.
His gaze moved around his office. There were no pictures on the wall of family or loved ones. Nothing of sentimental value. He had been a confirmed bachelor, with no ties of a wife or child.
And yet now he would have one, if not both.
The image of Chloe this morning in her lacy underwear flashed through his head, stirring his blood. If Dr. Flores hadn’t been on her way over, he would’ve taken Chloe again. Reminded her exactly what they’d had, what they would once more have.
Cristo, but he wanted her with a ferocity that he wasn’t accustomed to. She brought out everything primal within him. And now that she carried his child, the desire increased to possess her on every level. And he would. All in good time.
He leaned back in his chair and looked out over the city, spinning a pen between his fingers.
Chloe knew her options to simply be his lover or become his wife. The question was which she would choose. And which did he prefer? When he realized the answer to what he preferred, it unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
Chloe watched in disbelief as another man walked into Andrés’s room, carrying a stack of clothing on hangers. This was the fifth man to bring in clothes for her.
“I don’t understand why he’s doing this,” she muttered and shook her head.
“Because he wants you to be happy, señorita. It is his way of showing that he cares.” Rosa patted her arm, beaming up at her. Then she turned her focus back to the men and began ordering instructions in rapid-fire Spanish.
Wanted her to be happy? Cared about her? She bit her lip to restrain the incredulous laugh that nearly escaped. That seemed incredibly far-fetched, but perhaps Rosa was simply a romantic at heart.
She watched the older woman take control of the situation, once again thankful for her presence. Rosa had been nothing but attentive and sweet to her today, and Chloe had already grown quite fond of Rosa. She hadn’t been fussed over quite so much since her mother had died.
Her heart ached again and she realized how much she missed her mom. Especially at such an emotional, confusing time when she would’ve given the perfect advice.
Chloe sighed and followed the men to the walk-in closet to further explore her new wardrobe. There were dresses, pants, and shirts of various sizes, some geared for pregnancy. But all were the finest quality and lacking price tags again.
Jerking her fingers from the red silk dress she’d been touching, Chloe closed her eyes, trying hard not to feel like she’d become Andrés’ latest purchase.
“They will look lovely on you with your coloring,” Rosa said warmly, approaching her again. “Can I bring you tea, Chloe? Or perhaps a snack? You barely touched your lunch.”
“I’m really not very hungry,” she murmured and folded her arms across her chest.
For a brief moment, she considered the crazy idea of begging the housekeeper to help her, explaining everything that had happened. Surely she would understand Chloe’s position and emotional resentment.
As if the older woman could read her mind, Rosa said, “Andrés is a good man, señorita. I promise. Give yourself a bit of time and I know you will see this.”
“A good man? Forgive me if I’m not in a hurry to agree.” Chloe couldn’t keep the bitterness from her tone.
The housekeeper stepped away with a wary look, her brows drawn together in a scowl. “There is much you do not know about him, señorita. Much you do not understand,” Rosa said, her voice low and unsteady. That she’d taken offense was apparent now. “You should not be so quick to judge.”
“Why? He certainly seems quick to judge me?” Chloe bit her cheek, regretting her outburst when she could use this opportunity to learn more about Andrés. “What don’t I know? Please, I only want to understand him.”
“No,” Rosa said vehemently, avoiding Chloe’s gaze. “I will say no more.”
With a groan of frustration, Chloe had to restrain herself from running after the housekeeper when she left the room. But what would be the point? Rosa wouldn’t help her or say anything further—she’d made her loyalties clear.
She considered trying to find a phone or a computer and then contacting her friend Martha to beg for help. But even if Chloe did manage to get back to the States, she could well imagine what would happen the moment the baby was born.
Andrés would descend on her with a legal team that would make her knees shake with terror. She’d go broke fighting to keep her child, and in the end he would still win. Just like he’d threatened. My God, she couldn’t even imagine. Just the idea of losing her baby or walking away after it was born made her stomach hurt. He’d left her no other choice than to stay. Maybe hope that Andrés grew a heart—or at least a conscience—and changed his mind.
Tears of frustration blurred her vision and she shook her head, walking to the window to again look out at the beautiful Catalonian countryside.
She might have been in the middle of paradise, but it was her own personal hell.
Andrés arrived home from the office in the wee hours of the morning. He’d been in multiple meetings and on numerous phone calls after what he’d thought was an airtight deal had fallen through just before the business day ended.
He’d rung Rosa and asked her to inform Chloe that he would not be returning tonight. Initially he’d planned to stay in his condo in the city, but then as the hours wore on, he’d found Chloe constantly on his mind. The need to see her and touch her had dominated his thoughts, until finally he’d had his chauffer pick him up and return him back to the villa.
When Andrés opened the door to his bedroom, he found all the lights turned off, with only the light from the moon pouring in through the high window. Sure enough, Chloe was in bed, sprawled out in the middle and obviously not expecting his return.
His lips curled into a slight smile as he loosened his tie and began to undress. As he approached the bed he realized she’d ignored all the expensive nightgowns he’d bought for her and wore a T-shirt instead.
When he stood above the bed he let out a silent laugh. His T-shirt, apparently. Amazing she’d found it. It was likely the only one he owned. The shirt had been a gift from the children’s football league he’d sponsored last spring.
Chloe had kicked off the sheets, and his gaze slid over her exposed body. Somehow his shirt, clinging to her breasts and ending mid-thigh, was much sexier on her at this moment than any of the dainty nightgowns he’d bought.
Had she worn it to defy him? Or perhaps because she’d missed him and wearing his shirt made her feel closer to him? He almost laughed derisively at the second idea. She hated him. Fortunately, some of the hate could easily be transferred into desire, which he’d proven time and time again.
Thrusting a hand through his hair, he gave a murmur of surprise to realize some of his stress had vanished at having simply watching Chloe sleeping in his bed.
Once he was undressed, he slipped into bed naked, never having been one to wear pajamas. He reached for her and pulled her back against him, wondering if she’d protest even in sleep. But she only stirred slightly and then snuggled back against him.
He slid his palm down to her stomach, felt the swell of her pregnancy, and was gripped with a powerful sense of content. Satisfaction.
Brushing a kiss at the nape of her neck, he tried not to think about how such a complicated woman could be such a balm to his soul.
When Andrés woke the next morning, he found Chloe asleep and curled up, facing him now. One hand splayed across his chest, while her head nestled against his shoulder.