Carrying The Spaniard's Child. Jennie LucasЧитать онлайн книгу.
talent agency in New York.
But worst of all... Belle swallowed hard... She’d dreamed that she would finally find love, real love, the kind that would last forever. Instead, she’d allowed herself to get knocked up by a man she hated.
Belle had had enough of New York. She was going home. Her two suitcases were already packed in her truck, ready to go. There was only one thing left on her to-do list.
Tell Santiago Velazquez he was going to be a father.
But now, she suddenly wasn’t sure she could do it. Even seeing him in the ballroom, from a distance, had knocked her for a loop. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she shouldn’t stay...
Santiago pushed through the door. When he saw her sitting in his chair, his glare was like a blast of heat, his tall, powerful body barely contained by the well-cut suit. “What the hell are you doing here?”
After all these months, this was how he greeted her? She stiffened in the chair, folding her arms over her belly. “Good to see you, too.”
Closing the door behind him, Santiago pierced her with his hard, black eyes and said dangerously, “I asked you a question. What are you doing here, Belle? I think I made it very clear that I never wanted to see you again.”
“You did.”
Santiago moved closer in the shadows of the study. “Why did you trick my butler into letting you in, telling him there was an emergency?”
“It wasn’t a trick. It’s true.”
“An emergency. Really.” His lips twisted scornfully. “Let me guess. After all these months, you’re realized you can’t live without me, and you’re here to declare eternal love.”
She flinched at the cold derision in his voice.
“God help any woman who truly loved you.” She took a deep breath, then glared back at him. “Don’t worry. I hate you plenty. More than ever.”
A strange expression flashed across his features, then he gave her a cold smile. “Fantastic. So why did you interrupt my party?”
He was glaring at her with such hatred. How could she possibly tell him she was pregnant with his baby? “I came to tell you... I’m leaving New York....”
“That’s your emergency?” He gave an incredulous laugh. “One more thing to celebrate today, on top of closing a business deal.”
Her hackles rose. “Let me finish!”
“So do it, then.” He folded his arms, looking down at her as if he were king of the mountain and she was just a peasant in the dirt. “And let me get back to my guests.”
She took a deep breath.
“I’m pregnant.”
Her small voice reverberated in the silence of the study. His black eyes widened in almost comical shock.
“What?”
Slowly, she rose from the chair, dropping her arms to her sides so he could see her baby bump beneath her pregnancy-swollen breasts and oversized T-shirt. For a moment, he didn’t speak, and she held her breath, afraid to meet his gaze. Some stupid part of her still hoped against hope that he would surprise her. That he would suddenly change back to that warm, irresistible man she’d seen so briefly that cold January night. That he’d gather her into his arms and kiss her joyfully at the news.
Those hopes were quickly dashed.
“Pregnant?”
She risked a look at him. His jaw was hard, his eyes dark with rage.
“Yes,” she choked out.
She never expected what he did next.
Pulling her close, he put his large, broad hands over her cotton T-shirt, to feel the unmistakable swell of her pregnant belly.
He dropped his hands as if he’d been burned. “You said it was medically impossible.”
“I thought it was...”
“You said you could never get pregnant!”
“It’s a...a miracle.”
“Miracle!” He snorted, then narrowed his eyes. He slowly looked her over. “And here I thought you didn’t have what it took to be on Broadway. No gold digger ever lied to my face so convincingly. I actually thought you were some angelic little innocent. Quite the little actress after all.”
That low, husky, Spanish-accented voice cut right through her heart, and she staggered back. “You think I got pregnant on purpose?”
He gave a low laugh. “You really had me going with the way you defended true love. Letting me find you alone, sobbing in the garden over the fact that you could never, ever have a baby. I’m impressed. I had no idea you were such an accomplished liar.”
“I didn’t lie!”
“Cut the act, and get to the part where you give me a price.”
“Price?” she said, bewildered.
“There’s only one reason you would deliberately trick me into not using a condom when you fluttered your eyes and lured me into bed—”
Her voice came out an enraged squeak. “I never did that!”
“And that’s money. But I’ll admit,” he said carelessly, looking her over, “you earned it. No woman has ever tricked me so thoroughly. Except—” His expression changed, then he set his jaw. “How much do you want?”
“I don’t want money.” The room was spinning around her. “I just thought you had the right to know!”
“Perfecto,” he said coolly. Going to the door, he opened it. “You told me. Now get the hell out.”
Belle stared at him in shock, astounded that any man could react to news of his unborn son or daughter so coldly, refusing to even show interest, much less take responsibility! “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”
“What did you expect?” he drawled. “That I’d fall to one knee and beg you to marry me? Sorry to disappoint you.”
Belle stared up at him, incredulous. She’d waited for twenty-eight years, dreaming of Prince Charming, dreaming of true love—and this was the man she’d slept with!
Anger rose like bile in her throat. “Wow. You figured me out. Yes, I’m desperate to marry you, Santiago. Who wouldn’t want to be the bride of the nastiest, most cold-hearted man on earth? And raise a baby with you?” She gave a harsh laugh. “What an amazing father you would make!”
His expression hardened. “Belle—”
“You call me a liar. A gold digger. When you know I was a virgin the night you seduced me!” She lifted her chin, trembling with emotion. “Was this what you meant when you called me naïve? Did you decide you wanted to be the one to show me the truth about the heartless world?”
“Look—”
“I never should have come here.” Tears were burning the backs of her eyes. But she’d let him see her cry once, that dark January night, and he’d lured her into destruction with his sweet kisses and honeyed words. She’d die before she let him ever see her weak again. “Forget about the baby. Forget I even exist.” Stopping at the door, she looked back at him one last time. “I wish any man but you could have been the father of my baby,” she choked out. “It’s a mistake I’ll regret the rest of my life.”
Turning, she left, rushing past the snooty butler and beautiful, rich guests who looked like they’d never had a single problem in their glamorous lives. She went outside, nearly tripping down the steps into the cooling night air. She ran halfway down the block in her flip-flops before she realized Santiago wasn’t following her.
Good. She didn’t care. When she reached