WHEN RODRIGO ARRIVED at the beach house, Lola was ready for a fight.
She’d already packed her clothes and the baby’s. Because she knew an ultimatum always came at a price—of possibly being forced to go through with the threat.
But she hadn’t married him to be abandoned. If Rodrigo didn’t intend to actually fulfill his promise to be a good father to their baby, then Lola was taking Jett back to New York, to be around people who actually cared about them. Marriage required two people, not just one.
When Rodrigo burst through the door, he strode into the great room, darkly handsome and a little terrifying. Lola faced him defiantly, holding their baby in her arms.
As usual, he was dressed entirely in black, even in sunny California. Unlike Lola, who now wore a T-shirt and shorts suitable for the weather, Rodrigo never changed, no matter where he was or what country he was in. He expected the world to conform to him, not the other way around.
Sometimes she’d liked that about him, that he was steadfast and strong, like an oak in a world full of weeds. Today wasn’t one of those times.
“Nice of you to visit,” Lola said coldly. “I thought maybe you’d forgotten you were married. Maybe you do need a ring.”
He dropped his briefcase with a bang on the floor, causing their baby to jump with surprise in her arms. “I was traveling. For business.”
She juggled Jett on her hip. “You got here fast, at least.”
“I arrived in LA this morning. I was at the office when you called.”
It surprised her how much that hurt. “You went there first? Instead of home?”
“Business comes first. You know that.”
“Over family?”
“You were fine. You had Tobias and Lester and Mrs. Lee.”
Lola glared at him. “You’re seriously not this stupid.”
He looked at her incredulously. “Stupid?”
“Is this your idea of marriage, of family, to just dump us and disappear? Because it’s not what I signed up for.”
Rodrigo looked irritated. “It’s only been a week.”
“Our first week. Our honeymoon.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Lola.” His dark eyes glittered. “We’re not in love. Our marriage isn’t based on romance.”
“It should at least be based on respect. We have to look out for each other.” She lifted her chin. “Otherwise, what’s the point?”
Rodrigo scowled, then turned away, staring out the wide windows toward the infinite blue water of the Pacific.
Lola took a deep breath. “Look, if you want out of this marriage—”
“I don’t,” he said, cutting her off.
“Are you sure?” She set her jaw. “Because I’ve packed my bags. If you’re just going to ignore me, I’m taking Jett back to New York. To be with friends.”
Rodrigo slowly reached out to stroke Jett’s hair. Then his dark eyes met hers. “You’re right. I never should have left.”
She sucked in her breath. She hadn’t realized until that moment how tense she’d been. She hadn’t expected Rodrigo to admit fault. He never had before.
“I’ll never abandon you like that again, Lola,” he said quietly. “I give you my word.”
Lola felt a strange sensation in her chest. She’d been so ready for the worst. She cleared her throat. “Oh. Well, good.” Her voice was a little hoarse. “We’re supposed to be a family.”
“I want that, too.”
They stared at each other for a long moment. Then she turned away.
“Jett’s started to get a tooth, did you see?” Lola pointed at his mouth. The baby, now four and a half months old, was cuddled against her hip, babbling happily to himself as he tried to chew on his pudgy hand. “That’s why he’s drooling. Yesterday, he rolled over for the first time. And he’s gained another pound. His pediatrician says he’s doing great.”
“Look at you, pequeño,” Rodrigo said, putting his hand on the baby’s back. As he moved, his fingertips briefly brushed the bare skin of Lola’s arm. Electricity went through her.
“You missed so much,” she whispered. “I wrote to my sisters.”
“Yes. You sent the gift?”
“Yes.”
“You said how much it cost,” he said dryly. “You didn’t say what it was. A new house?”
The corners of her lips lifted. “I promised to pay for the entirety of their college educations. Medical school, law school, anything they want, at any university in the world.”
His eyes widened. Then he smiled. “Very nice.”
“And I passed my GED.” In spite of her best efforts, hurt filled her voice. “I sent you a message. I wanted you to be proud of me.”
“I was proud. I knew you could do it.”
“But you ignored me!”
“I told Marnie to arrange flowers. Didn’t she send them?”
Her eyes narrowed. “No. She didn’t.”
His jaw, dark with a five o’clock shadow, tightened. “You need to get over your irrational hatred for her, Lola.”
Her eyes went wide. “Irrational!”
“She thought I had the right to know about your past. Both as your employer and as your lover.”
“She’s a smug know-it-all!” Lola thought of all the times Marnie had put her down for her lack of education, implying she wasn’t smart enough for her job. “She wasn’t doing it for your sake. She was trying to get rid of me!”
His expression shuttered. “Stop blaming her for your own bad choices. She’s not the one with half-naked pictures, or who tried to sell herself at eighteen to be a star.”
“I never tried to sell myself!” Lola cried, her hands tightening on her baby, who was fidgeting in her arms.
Rodrigo looked at her incredulously. “I saw the pictures. Why won’t you admit the rest?”
Pain burst through her. She turned away, trembling. Carefully, she set Jett down in his baby play gym, leaving him to batt happily at colorful dangling toys. Taking a deep breath, she counted to ten. Then she faced Rodrigo.
“I didn’t try to sell myself to be a star,” she said in a low voice. “I was just desperate for money.”
He snorted. “If you think that sounds better—”
“Just shut up a minute, will you!”
He fell silent. Her hands clenched at her sides.
“I told you my sisters and I were split up into foster care...” Her voice trailed off as she remembered how, at fifteen, with her mother dead and her stepfather gone, the social workers had pulled her from her half sisters, then only five and three. The little girls had cried and screamed, clinging to Lola, begging her not to let them go. Their screams haunted Lola for the next three years.
“Yes?” he said.
She shook her head. “I promised I’d get them back as soon as I could, so we could be a family again. The day I turned eighteen, I dropped out of high school and moved to LA hoping to make enough money. My plan was to be a movie star. I failed.”
“Most actors do fail,” he said matter-of-factly.
“I know that now.” She flashed him a tremulous smile. “Plus, you know what a bad liar I am. I couldn’t act my way out of a paper bag. I’d always been told I was pretty, but Los Angeles is full of pretty girls. Then I met a man who said he was an agent, and could make me a star. I let him take pictures of me in lingerie. He said they were test shots.”
Folding his arms, Rodrigo was silent, watching her. Not meeting his eyes, Lola forced herself to continue.
“He sent me to a hotel suite, supposedly to meet with a producer. But the man didn’t even bother letting me read for the part.” Her cheeks went hot. “He tried to rip off my clothes and hold me down on the bed.”
Rodrigo growled. Looking up, she saw waves of fury visible around him, from his tight shoulders and hard eyes.
“I kicked him in the groin and ran from the hotel room. He shouted after me that I’d never work in Hollywood again.” She looked down at the floor. “And I didn’t.”
Rodrigo came toward her. “I’m sorry.”
She swallowed hard, imagining she saw pity in his eyes. “Marnie must have spoken with my old agent to get the photographs. But she got the story wrong. I never tried to seduce anyone for a role.” She gave a low laugh, wiping her eyes. “In fact, the whole experience was so awful I avoided being alone with men for years. Until—” She lifted her gaze.
His dark eyes burned through her. “Until me?”
She lowered her head. “Later, I almost wished I’d just given the man what he wanted. Because by the time I earned enough as a secretary, it was too late.”
“Too late?”
Lola turned away, toward the great room’s windows. For a moment, she stared out past the terrace and slender palm trees toward the white sand and blue ocean. “Too late to get my family back.”
Her heart hurt as she remembered how, after she’d finally earned enough to get her own apartment without roommates, she’d rushed to visit her sisters, to tell them they could all finally be together. She’d been nearly weeping with joy and relief.
But she found Kelsey and Johanna, now nine and six, pedaling gleaming new bikes on a perfect street in front of a new two-story house in the LA suburbs, as their golden retriever bounded in the sunshine.
“What happened?” Rodrigo said.
“They didn’t remember me,” Lola said in a low voice. “When I told them I’d be taking them to come live with me, they started crying and clung to their foster mother. The woman started yelling at me. And I found out—”
“Found out?”
“My stepfather had already relinquished his parental rights from prison.” Her shoulders sagged. “They’d just been permanently adopted by their foster family.” She took a deep breath. “I started yelling and crying. The parents were so scared of me, they moved away. To New York.”
“Lola,” he said softly.
Suddenly, she couldn’t hold back her tears.
“I lost my family, Rodrigo,” she choked out. “I failed.”
For the first time in her adult life, she let someone see her cry, not a pretty cry either, but ugly and raw. Without a word, Rodrigo pulled her into his strong arms. For long moments, he just held her, stroking her hair as she wept against his shirt.
Finally, her sobs faded. Silence fell. With her cheek pressed against his chest, she could feel the steady, comforting beat of his heart.
“You didn’t fail them, Lola,” he said in a low voice. “You tried your best, when you were barely more than a kid yourself. You need to stop blaming yourself.” He gently kissed the top of her head. “You’ll hear from them soon.”
Drawing back, she said breathlessly, “You think so?”
“Definitely.” He gave her a crooked grin. “After the present you gave them, I don’t see how they could resist.”
Wiping her eyes, she gave a small laugh, like a sob.
Reaching out, he cupped her cheek. “And you have a new family now,” he whispered. “Jett.” His eyes met hers. “Me.”
Their eyes locked. “You’re my family?”
“I want to be,” he said quietly, then shook his head. “Obviously I’m not very good at it. But I’ve never had one before.”
“What are you talking about? You had parents. You were rich. You inherited a fortune—”
A flash of emotion crossed his hard, handsome face, but was quickly veiled. “Being wealthy isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be.”
Rodrigo had been hurt, too, she realized. Somehow, in his childhood, he’d been hurt. Her arms tightened protectively around him in turn.
“We have to look out for each other,” she said. “Watch each other’s backs. Just like we used to, when we worked together. Do you remember?”
“You and me against the world?” She nodded, and his dark eyes flickered. “Remember what you said the first day you came to work for me?”
A whisper of a smile traced her lips. “I said you were a disaster and you’d hired me just in the nick of time.”
“It was true. Since you left, my company hasn’t done nearly as well. Neither have I.”
“You have Marnie,” she said, striving to keep the bitterness from her voice.
He shook his head. “She’s had to hire two extra assistants just to keep up with what you did on your own. She’s loyal and tries hard, but she doesn’t have your skill. People still ask for you. You always remembered everything.” Looking down at her, he said softly, “I miss you. I achieved more with you at my side.”
“I’m back at your side now.”
“You’re right,” he said slowly. He took a deep breath, then said humbly, “I have a business trip next week to Madrid. Would you come with me? You and Jett?”
Lola put down her arms, looking uncertain. “Madrid?”
Rodrigo tried to look modest. “I’m getting the award for CEO of the Year from the International Studio Guild.”
It was an incredibly prestigious award. She sucked in her breath in delight. “You are?”
Reaching out, he tucked a tendril of blond hair behind her ear. “You’re a big reason for it.”
She tried not to tremble at his touch. “Me?”
Rodrigo gave a nod. “You helped me organize and acquire a television network that now stretches around the Pacific Rim, from Tierra del Fuego to Alaska to Manila. You’re the one who convinced me to produce a film no one else wanted, which cost almost nothing to make but has now made almost half a billion dollars worldwide.”
Her eyes were big. “The Sapphire Sea?”
“Turns out that romance is back in style.”
Her lips lifted. “Who knew?”
“So will you be my date?”
Lola paused. “Sure.”
“Good,” he said quietly. Hearing a loud, noisy yawn, he looked at their baby in his baby play gym. Then he looked back at Lola, and they both laughed.
“It’s time for his nap,” she said.
“Let me do it.”
She hesitated, then nodded. Reaching down, he lifted the baby gently into his powerful arms.
“You missed your papá this week, didn’t you, pequeñito?” he said tenderly, looking down at Jett.
Seeing the two of them together, the tiny baby held against Rodrigo’s powerful chest, caused Lola’s heart to twist. She quickly turned away before he could see new tears in her eyes. Really, all this crying was getting out of hand. What was wrong with her? Had she gone completely soft?
“Here’s his blanket,” she said, pulling it from her nearby diaper bag. “There’s a bottle already in the fridge. I usually rock him to sleep—”
“We’ll be fine,” he said, still smiling down at the baby. But as he carried Jett toward the hallway, he stopped and looked back at her in the beach house’s great room. “And, Lola?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for trusting me.” For a moment, his dark eyes glowed at her, tender and warm, then he turned back to the baby in his arms, and disappeared down the hall.
Standing in the shadows, Lola stood still. She felt her heart thudding painfully in her chest. Her cheeks were hot. She felt vulnerable, exposed. She’d never shared the story of her past before, with anyone. But then, Rodrigo wasn’t just anyone. Not anymore.
Then, slowly, a smile lifted to her face.
They were a family.
* * *
A week later, Rodrigo smiled at his wife in the back seat of the Rolls-Royce as their Spanish chauffeur and bodyguard drove them through the streets of Madrid.
Her beautiful face lit up with pleasure as she pointed out the sights to their baby in the car seat between them, while their chauffeur drove them down the wide Calle de Alcalá. Lola had always loved Madrid when she’d come here as his assistant. Now, as he looked at her joyful face, everything felt new. For both of them.
He’d been wrong about so much. When he thought of the way he’d tossed her out of his life so ruthlessly last year, he felt almost ashamed. He should have asked Lola for an explanation, rather than just believing the worst of Marnie’s report.
Trust didn’t come easy for him, it was true. Mostly because every single time he’d trusted someone, they’d betrayed him.
But this was different. He’d known Lola for years. He should have given her the benefit of the doubt.
He’d make it up to her, Rodrigo told himself now. He’d watch out for her and give her the life she deserved. The life they both deserved.
A shudder went through him at the memory of the pleasures they’d shared over the past week. Their relationship had only intensified after Lola—tough, fearless Lola—had cried in his arms.
From that moment, all he’d known was that he had to protect her. She was a part of him now, and he never wanted to let her go.
He’d had her story checked out, of course. Trust, but verify. It was the best he could do. Women had lied to him too often, and though he’d believed her, he’d needed proof. There was knowing, and knowing.
But if anything, his investigator had told him, she’d downplayed the poverty and tragedy of her childhood. She’d left out the fact that her stepfather had gone to prison, then died there a few years later. She’d left out the fact that the illness of her mother could have been cured, if only she’d had money and time to see a specialist earlier.
And while the investigator was at it, Rodrigo had had him check to see if Lola had had contact with any other men, especially Sergei Morozov. She hadn’t.
Rodrigo could trust her. Really trust her.
It was a shock to his system. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d really trusted anyone.
But it had turned out, though his wife had grown up in poverty in the California desert, and Rodrigo had grown up in luxury in Madrid, they weren’t so different after all. They’d both been hurt.
But never again.
Rodrigo’s eyes caressed his wife’s beautiful face as she happily pointed out sights to their baby through the streets of Madrid.
They were a family.
The Rolls-Royce pulled to the curb in front of an elegant nineteenth-century building in the exclusive Salamanca district, on a wide, tree-lined avenue overlooking the vast green expanse of the Parque del Buen Retiro. As the driver opened the passenger door, Lola unbuckled their baby from the car seat. Getting out of the vehicle, she looked up in awe.
“It’s actually finished?” she breathed.
“Sí. Finally.” For most of his adult life, he’d avoided this building, preferring to stay at a luxury hotel like the Campania Madrid, rather than face his childhood home. It was Lola who’d convinced him, two years before, to remodel the place and make it his own. She’d been aghast at the thought that he’d allowed a nineteenth-century penthouse on the Calle de Alcalá, overlooking the famous park, to dilapidate into dust.
“I can’t wait to finally see inside,” Lola said now, her eyes sparkling. “You never let me see it before.”
Rodrigo looked up at the building as memories floated back to him of his childhood. He’d been lonely here, with his parents often gone. And when they were home, the house was filled with their screaming fights, slamming doors, his mother’s taunts, his father’s broken bottles smashed against the walls and the sour smell of expensive, wasted wine.
“Rodrigo? Is something wrong?”
Coming back to himself, he shook his head. “There wasn’t much to see, after twenty years of neglect. Broken-down walls. Dust.”
“I can imagine,” she said quietly, looking at him.
A twinge went through him at the sympathy of her gaze. It was too close to pity, which implied weakness.
Lola reached for his hand, her eyes glowing and warm. “But everything is different now.”
For a moment, Rodrigo was lost in her eyes. Then he pulled his hand away.
“Yes.” He turned on the Madrid sidewalk. “Come see.”
As the chauffeur and bodyguard lingered outside, getting their bags from the car, Rodrigo led her into the lobby. Hiding a smile, he turned to see her reaction.
Holding their baby, Lola looked with awe at the grandeur of the seven-story atrium, with the large oval staircase climbing all the way up, around each floor. Her steps slowed, then stopped, as she tilted her head back to look up at the stained-glass cupola crowning the top ceiling, beaming warm patterns of colored light against the marble floor.
“Wow,” she breathed. “You paid for the lobby to be remodeled, as well?”
“I bought the whole building. I remodeled all the other apartments and sold them at a fat profit.”
She glanced at him sideways. “Nice.”
“This way.”
Rodrigo led her to the new large elevator that had replaced the rickety birdcage elevator he remembered as a child. His nanny had often taken him to play in Retiro Park, when his parents’ screaming became too loud. But usually the screaming was still going on when they returned, even hours later. They could always hear it before they even reached the top floor. So his nanny, looking stressed and sorry for him, would invent games allowing them to linger in the elevator.
Now, the gleaming silver door slid open silently, and they rode it to the top floor. There, they had a view of the entire atrium, stretching seven stories below. At the penthouse door, Rodrigo paused for a moment. He realized he was listening. But the apartment was silent now. No one was screaming or smashing glass.
His proud, aristocratic Spanish father—or at least, the man he’d believed to be his father—had been wealthy from birth, and bought a small Spanish movie studio, which was where he’d met Rodrigo’s mother, a spoiled, much younger American actress. He’d loved her—been obsessed with her—but she’d never loved him, only his money. She’d enjoyed taunting him with her affairs. His father’s rage had finally gotten the better of him, and he’d died of a stroke when Rodrigo was twenty-one. His mother had died a few years later, from a bad reaction to anesthesia during plastic surgery.
He’d never met the chauffeur who had supposedly sired him. The man had died when Rodrigo was just a child.
So many lies. So much deceit and rage. Rodrigo took a deep breath, closing his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Lola said cheerfully, coming up to the door. “Did you lose the key?”
He looked back at her. Jett’s childhood would be so different. He was beginning to trust his wife as no one else. They had the same goals. They respected each other. And there was no messy emotion like love or jealousy to cloud anyone’s judgment.
But he knew he’d never tell her about his childhood. There was no point. He wanted neither her sympathy nor her inevitable attempt at psychological analysis. There were some things a man dealt with better on his own.
And his past was in the past. Over. Forgotten.
“Don’t worry.” Reaching into his pocket, he held up the key. “I have it.”
Pushing open the door to the penthouse apartment, he let Lola enter first, with the baby. As she passed him, Rodrigo’s gaze traced hungrily over the lush curves of his wife’s body.
Her eyes were wide as she looked around the elegant, minimalist apartment with its large windows and view of the park and much of Madrid, beneath the Spanish sky. “This was your childhood home?”
He remembered the screaming, the expensive clutter, the broken glass. “It didn’t always look like this.”
“But still.” The edges of her lips lifted as she turned back to him. “You should have seen the place I grew up.”
“A trailer,” he said. “On the edge of the California desert.”
Lola’s hazel eyes went wide. Her beautiful face turned pale as she breathed, “How do you know that?”
He came closer. “I had to find out what was true.”
“You had me investigated?” He heard cold anger beneath her voice. He shrugged.
“I had to know if I could trust you.”
“And now?”
Reaching out, he pulled her into his arms.
“Now I do,” he whispered, and he lowered his mouth ruthlessly to hers.