The first time she’d experienced that rush of emotion, she almost cried. Deep down, she realized, she’d sometimes wondered if she was truly good at suppressing her emotions or if she just couldn’t feel them. She loved Aunt Norine and Johanna, but she’d never experienced emotions the way others had described them. The highs, the lows and everything in between.
Until Alejandro. And then their child. With Alejandro, it was dangerous. But with her child...yes, she could love her child with all her heart.
No one, not even Alejandro, with his fortune and power, would take her away from her baby. She’d make sure of it.
CHAPTER SIX
ALEJANDROGLANCEDATCalandra out of the corner of his eye as they walked up the stairs of the Eiffel Tower. She moved with purpose, her gaze evaluating her surroundings with cool indifference, as if she wasn’t walking up one of the most iconic monuments in the world. He’d offered the elevator; weren’t pregnant women supposed to rest as much as possible? But she’d dismissed that idea with a shake of her head and started for the stairs before he had even finished paying for the tickets.
A gaggle of giggling young women hurried past them, their excited voices labeling them as American. One, a pert brunette with painted red lips and a deep V-cut shirt, flashed him a sexy smile and brazenly raked him from head to toe with her green eyes.
An invitation he normally would have leaped on in a heartbeat. He smiled slightly and shook his head. The girl shrugged and continued on with her friends.
It wasn’t just that the mother of his child was by his side. In the past four months, he’d had almost zero interest in other women. He’d only been on one date—dinner in London with a popular actress. When he accompanied her back to her hotel, walked her to her door and she’d kissed him, he’d experienced...nothing. He’d made an excuse. She’d flown into a rage, thrown a barrage of creative insults at his manhood and slammed the door in his face.
Production delays in the construction of Cabrera Shipping’s latest freighter had consumed much of his time the first four weeks after New York. Concerned clients, worried stakeholders and an increasingly hostile board had led to late-night conference calls, plane trips around the world and endless pots of coffee. Toss in his mother’s car accident, his older brother nearly drowning himself in alcohol and then Alejandro assisting Adrian in locking his future fiancée out on a balcony to propose to her, and he’d been downright swamped.
And the last three months...preparing how best to respond to his father’s interference and threats had occupied the majority of his waking hours. It never mattered how many times Alejandro met the bar Javier had set, there was always room for him to raise it further still.
This little jaunt into Paris was a welcome break from the crisis mode he’d been operating in since Javier had set out to ruin his middle son. Serious discussion looming in the near future aside, he took the time to enjoy the warm sunshine on his skin, the sight of Paris laid out in all her historic splendor and the classic beauty of the woman at his side. Dressed in her customary black, a pencil skirt and loose-fitting silk shirt, hair coiled into a bun at the nape of her neck, she looked every inch the modern French woman. Elegant, sophisticated, untouchable.
He’d expected more of a reaction when she’d entered the dining room this morning. A flustered mumbling, an openmouthed stare. Her ice-cold response had simultaneously flummoxed him and flamed the banked coals of desire that had been smoldering inside his chest ever since he’d seen her on the balcony last night.
Never had he had to fight so hard to retain a woman’s interest. It had always been that way with Calandra—perhaps it was why he’d sought her out over and over again at Adrian’s events. She’d been an anomaly, the woman who resisted his charms. Not only had it been fun to see how far he could push the boundaries, but it had been refreshing. Most women fawned over his wealth, his flashy cars, his familial connection to the internationally recognized Cabrera name.
Not Calandra. When she’d simply rolled her eyes at him and gotten breakfast in response to his half-dressed state, it had taken every ounce of self-control not to close the doors to the dining room, drape her across the table and kiss her senseless until she moaned his name.
His eyes dropped from her pert nose and nude lipstick to her belly. Possession reared its head. No matter what sins he’d committed, he would never abandon his own flesh and blood. His child would know their father, would know they were wanted.
“Stunning, isn’t it?” he asked, nodding in the direction of the grassy lawns of the Champ-de-Mars and, in the distance, the Corinthian architecture of the École Militaire school complex.
“Mmm-hmm.”
She’d barely said “boo” when he’d escorted her out the front door to his Jaguar convertible. She hadn’t batted an eye when they’d pulled up in front of the Tower and received exclusive valet service. All the tricks that normally worked on every other woman he’d met didn’t faze her.
Uncertainty tugged at him. If he couldn’t wow her with his wealth, with all the resources, gifts and support he could bestow upon their child, then what would work?
They reached the second floor. Calandra wandered to the edge of the observation deck and leaned against the railing. He pointed out the Louvre, the Champs-Élysées, lined with some of the most luxurious shops in the world, and the Arc de Triomphe.
She blinked in response.
“I’ve never met anyone more unimpressed by life,” he said with a shake of his head as he leaned against the railing.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the barest flinch in her shoulders. Had he imagined it? A quick glance revealed nothing in the stoniness of her expression.
Yet he’d noticed the same thing this morning when he’d told her point-blank he would not be offering marriage. A nagging feeling that he’d hurt her.
Unfathomable, given her stalwart personality.
But she’s not impervious.
He’d seen another side of her. A much more emotional and passionate side.
“Just because I don’t share the story of my life with you doesn’t mean I’m not impressed.”
He turned and faced her. “Then tell me.”
She frowned. “Tell you what?”