“So you’re living in New York now,” Rodrigo said coldly.
“Are you here on business?”
He bared his teeth into a smile. “Is there any other reason?”
In spite of everything, Lola’s heart was in her throat as she looked up at him. All the other people in the ballroom, all the laughter and music, faded away.
Slowly, Rodrigo pulled her into his arms. She breathed in his scent, of woodsy musk and soap and something uniquely him. She tried to tell herself she felt nothing, but her knees trembled, and she was glad he was supporting her in the dance.
He glanced back at Sergei, now glowering at them from the edge of the dance floor. “So he wants to marry you.”
“Not everyone hates marriage like you do,” she said unwillingly.
His lips quirked. “Another millionaire falls at your feet.”
“Not everyone hates me like you do.”
“I don’t hate you, Lola.” His voice was low.
She tilted her head back to look at him beneath her lashes. “You don’t?”
“I despise you. That’s different.” His dark eyes gleamed. “You must have spent the million dollars I gave you if you’re looking for a new sugar daddy. Do you intend to say yes? Are congratulations in order?”
Lola narrowed her eyes. She wondered what Rodrigo would say if he knew the real reason she’d taken his payoff money: because she’d found out she was pregnant.
Money meant more to her than pride. It meant safety. Her baby must never know, as Lola once had, how it felt to go hungry. He must never see his mother cry when she couldn’t pay the bills, or be mocked for wearing clothes to school that were too small, or harassed by teachers for falling asleep in class, because he’d spent another night taking care of younger siblings when his mother had the night shift.
And most of all: Jett must never know how it felt to lose his family.
Taking Rodrigo’s money meant no one would be able to t
ake her baby away from her.
No one, that was, except Rodrigo.
She swallowed, her hands tightening on the shoulders of his tuxedo jacket as they danced. A father had rights. And although she still had most of the million dollars that he’d given her, she knew he had billions more. Enough to take whatever he wanted. Even Jett. And that made her afraid.
Because she’d been his secretary once. For over two years before they’d become lovers. She knew how ruthless the Spanish media mogul could be. How he could turn on people savagely if they failed him.
Rodrigo had good reason to believe the worst of her. Why wouldn’t he, after what he’d learned about her past?
But he was in New York on business. He often came here. He even owned a house in SoHo. But they traveled in different circles now. He couldn’t know about Jett.
If he did...
No. He must never know.
Rodrigo’s expression hardened. “Well? Do you intend to marry him?”
“I haven’t decided,” she mumbled.
His arms tightened around her waist. “Is that a lie?”
Lola had no intention of going on another date with Sergei, let alone marrying him. But she wasn’t going to tell him that. She looked up. “Why do you care?”
His dark eyes glinted. “I don’t. I’m just wondering if I should warn him about the kind of woman you really are.”
She stiffened. “What kind is that?”