IT WAS THE day before Christmas Eve, and the weather had grown cooler, even in Los Angeles. Lola had to wear a soft cotton sweater and jeans instead of a sundress and sandals. But amid the palm trees and California sunshine, as she listened to Christmas songs on the radio about snow and family, all she could think about was their upcoming trip to New York.
Everything was planned. Tomorrow, they’d leave for New York on Rodrigo’s private jet, and not return until New Year’s Day.
Lola tapped her feet excitedly. Just one more day until she’d finally see her sisters after all these years. She’d done a video chat with them last week, and she could hardly believe how shockingly grown up they looked now. She’d even spoken briefly with their parents. Lola remembered the older couple as guarded, but they seemed warmer now and friendlier.
Perhaps because they weren’t scared of her anymore, either. They knew she wasn’t a threat to them. She’d never try to fight them for custody or add stress to their lives. How could she? She was grateful to them, for taking the girls into their home as foster kids, then adopting them and giving them such happy lives. When Lola had first seen Johanna and Kelsey’s parents seven years ago, she’d been so jealous, she’d hated them, picturing them as entitled and rich.
She knew now that they were just regular people. The father was an engineer. The mother was a school secretary.
Lola had loved seeing pictures of the girls’ tidy little house in their picturesque little town, an hour outside New York. Lola had introduced them to Jett in the video chat and shown them pictures of Rodrigo and their beach house in California. Since that time, Johanna kept sending Lola funny pictures of their dog, Peaches, telling her firmly that she “had” to get a dog for Jett, too.
He’s not even six months old, Lola had texted back, amused to see her own bossiness manifest in her baby sister.
Jett’s my nephew and he needs a dog, Johanna had replied firmly.
Jett had aunts now. More family to love him. And Lola was so grateful.
She’d already wrapped their Christmas presents. The gifts weren’t flashy like the college money, expensive and designed to impress, but simple and from the heart. A crystal unicorn for Johanna, who loved anything that was pink and pretty, and an original-press, rare vinyl ABBA album for Kelsey, who was way too young to be a fan, but there you had it. For their parents, she’d bought a pizza stone and accessories, after hearing about their Thursday pizza nights. Even the family dog, Harley, would receive a basket of top-of-the-line homemade dog treats and chew toys.
Lola smiled, just thinking about it.
Jett’s Christmas gifts had already been sorted at Thanksgiving, from her and Rodrigo’s spree in New York. But she’d spent time writing heartfelt thank-you cards to the housekeepers and bodyguards, to go with their holiday bonuses.
Leaving only one person to shop for. One impossibly difficult person. She’d racked her brain, all the way until today, when it was almost too late.
Until finally, while shopping with the baby today, Lola had had an idea.
Now, as Tobias drove her and Jett back to the beach house in the luxury SUV, Lola leaned back against the soft leather, peeking down at the glossy blue bag in satisfaction. Inside it, she saw a small blue box that held an engraved gold ring.
Finally, her husband would have a wedding band. And when he saw what she’d had engraved inside it...
She shivered. Could she be brave enough?
As the Escalade pulled into the gated courtyard of the beach house, Lola was pulled out of her reverie when she heard Tobias’s voice from the front seat. “Mr. Cabrera just sent a message that he’s expecting you, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Tobias.”
She smiled, her heart quickening just at the sound of her husband’s name. Since their last argument, the night he’d returned from San Francisco, Rodrigo had taken no more trips away from the family, not even short ones. He’d drastically cut back his hours at work, in a way she’d never seen before. The reason was clear. He wanted to spend time with Jett.
He wanted to spend time with her.
Every morning, he’d stayed late to have breakfast with them, served on the terrace next to the pool. And nearly every evening, he’d been home in time to join them for dinner, then help with the baby’s bath. On weekends, they’d gone on family excursions, Disneyland, hiking trails in the nearby hills, visiting art museums and the zoo and the farmer’s market, even boating to Catalina Island. All normal things that any family might do. Well, except for the fact that Rodrigo owned the yacht that took them to Catalina.
But tonight, he’d hinted, before they left for New York, he had something extra special planned.
“Not just for Christmas,” he’d told her that morning, nuzzling her in bed. He’d drawn back to give her a serious look as he said huskily, “For always.”
All day, Lola had tried not to think of what it could mean. So of course it was all she could think about.
Now, as Tobias parked the car, she asked suddenly, “How’s your son doing?”
“Great.” The bodyguard grinned. “Both of us are great, Mrs. Cabrera. Thanks to you.”
“Good.” As he got out to open her car door, Lola lingered over the seat belt of her baby’s car seat.
Please. She fervently closed her eyes. Please let Rodrigo’s surprise be him telling me he loves me.
Because she loved him. It was always on the tip of her tongue now. Every time she watched him tenderly hold their baby. Every evening they spent together on the poolside terrace at sunset, drinking a glass of wine after Jett was asleep. Every night he took Lola to bed and moved his hot, sensual body against hers until he set her world on fire.
She loved him. She wanted to scream it to the world. She wanted to look into his rugged features and speak the words, again and again, like a sacred incantation.
Then she wanted him to say the words back to her.
Please, she thought. She didn’t want any expensive gifts for Christmas. She didn’t want anything but this: for her husband to love her.
“Mrs. Cabrera?”
Pasting a smile on her face, Lola lifted her baby out of the car seat. Walking to the front door of the sprawling beach house, she looked up at the tall, slender palm trees, swaying in the wind, silhouetted purple against the lowering sun in the orange and red horizon.
Squaring her shoulders, she carried the baby to the front door, her footsteps echoing against the flagstones. She opened the door.
And gasped.
The great room of the beach house, with its luxurious furniture and double-story window views of the Pacific, had been filled with roses of every color, hundreds of them, pink and red and yellow and white. But that wasn’t even the most amazing part.
Rodrigo stood beside the doorway, devastatingly attractive in a tuxedo, holding out a long-stemmed pink rose.
Lola’s heart slammed against her ribs. Her hand shook as she took the rose. “What’s this?”
He gave her a wicked smile. “Christmas.”
“It’s not even Christmas Eve yet.”
“Tomorrow’s for family.” His dark eyes gleamed down at her. “Tonight’s for us.”
“For us?” A flash of heat went through her, and her cheeks burned. “I thought we’d be getting a Christmas tree tonight.”
“We are. In a way.” He allowed himself a smug smile, then glanced behind him. “Mrs. Lee will be watching Jett.”
The housekeeper came forward, smiling as she took the baby from Lola’s arms. “Have a nice evening, Mrs. Cabrera.”
“But—where are we going?”
“Go to our bedroom,” Rodrigo said, his dark eyes burning through her.
“Now?”
“Right now.”
Going down the hall to the palatial master bedroom, Lola dropped her shopping bag in shock when she saw a famous personal stylist waiting for her, with two makeup and hair stylists.
“Hello.” The personal stylist, who dressed movie stars for worldwide events, gave Lola a cheeky smile. “I’m here for you, my dear. To make you even more impossibly beautiful than you already are.” He motioned toward a rack of ball gowns and brand-new designer shoes. “Choose your favorite. They’re all in your size.” He held up a sleek, well-used sewing kit and double-sided tape. “I can make any gown fit.”
Thirty minutes later, Lola felt so ridiculously like a princess, she was sure even Johanna would approve. Looking in the full-length mirror, Lola hardly recognized herself.
Her long, highlighted blond hair was sleek and perfect, falling nearly to her waist. Her strapless pink chiffon gown fit her perfectly, showing off her curves. Black kohl and fake eyelashes lined her eyes, making the hazel color pop dramatically, and her lips were pink.
Standing in the sparkling six-inch designer heels, Lola breathed, “I don’t even need jewelry.”
The stylist gave her a wicked grin. “You sparkle enough on your own.”
“I feel like Cinderella,” she said.
“You look like her, too.” He tilted his head. “You married the most powerful man in showbiz, girl. This city, this world, is yours to command.”
Lola felt like she was in a dream as she walked back down the hall in the strapless pink chiffon gown. Even the six-inch heels felt fantastic on her feet, as if she were floating on air. She’d never had a problem with designer heels making her feet hurt. They were too beautiful—too expensive—to hurt.
But what were they doing tonight?
Lola looked down at the glamorous pink gown. Obviously, not going Christmas tree shopping.
When she returned to the great room, the housekeeper and Jett were gone. Rodrigo stood alone amid the roses.
His eyes widened when he saw her.
“Querida,” he whispered. “You take my breath away.”
“Thanks.” Coming forward shyly, she reached up to straighten his black tie. “You don’t clean up so badly yourself.”
“I bought you some Christmas decorations.”
“Mistletoe?” she guessed.
“I should have thought of that. But no.” Pulling a black, flat velvet box from his tuxedo jacket pocket, he held it out. Lola sucked in her breath when she saw a magnificent diamond necklace, sparkling in the twilight, amid all the sweet-scented roses.
“Oh,” she whispered.
“Hold up your hair,” he said huskily.
She did as he commanded. Dropping the black velvet box on an antique side table, he placed the diamonds around her neck, attaching the clasp behind her.
The necklace felt cold and heavy against Lola’s skin. But the feather-light brush of his fingertips as he hooked the clasp sent a flash of fire through her body.
“There.” Turning her to face him, he stroked her cheek, tilting her head upward. “Now you are ready.”
Lola looked up at him, her heart thudding in her chest. I love you, Rodrigo. The words lifted to her throat. Her lips parted—
“Don’t look at me like that, querida.” He gave a low, rueful laugh. “If you do, I’ll cancel our plans tonight, and spend the next twelve hours with you in bed.”
“Would that be so horrible?”
“No...and yes.” He gave her a wicked grin. “Because I have something very special planned for you.”
“Are we exchanging our Christmas gifts tonight?”
“Maybe,” he said huskily. “Except my gift to you can’t be wrapped. Something I know—” his eyes met hers “—is your heart’s desire.”
Joy pounded through her, making her dizzy. He was going to tell her he loved her. Tonight. She blurted, “I have something for you, too.”
Turning, she raced back to the master bedroom, where the stylists were packing up clothes and beauty supplies. Finding her bag from the jewelry store, she pulled out the gold wedding band she’d bought as his Christmas gift. She glanced at its inscription: I love you now and always.
But where could she hide it until the right moment? Biting her lip, she looked around desperately. “Is there a handbag to match my dress?”
“There’s always a bag,” the stylist said lazily. He narrowed his eyes, then gave a satisfied nod and handed her an adorable pink minaudière laced with pink crystals. Hastily, she tucked her phone, ID, a lipstick and a bit of cash inside. She felt bright with happiness. “Wait,” the stylist said, wrapping a pink stole around her shoulders. “Take this. It’s cold out.”
When she returned to the great room, Rodrigo came closer, dark-haired and devastating in his sleek tuxedo. Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed it, causing her to shiver as ripples of electricity and heat whipped through her body.
“Tonight, I want to fulfill all your dreams,” he said seriously, wrapping her hand over his arm.
Lola’s heart was pounding as he led her outside, where she saw his red two-seater Ferrari waiting. She tried to tell herself to calm down but couldn’t. She felt like she was in a dream as he helped her into the passenger seat.
After starting the engine, Rodrigo drove past the beach house’s gate and onto the coastal highway, heading east, into the sprawl of Los Angeles.
When they reached the outskirts of Beverly Hills, traveling a winding road past all the hidden mansions with their gates and fortress-like hedges, a sudden suspicion began to grow inside her.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
Rodrigo shook his head, a smile quirking his sensual lips. Then he turned into a driveway blocked by an elaborate wrought iron gate. Words were worked into the top of the tall gate: La Casa del Corazón.
“What are we doing here?” She turned to her husband, eyes wide. “Is there a party?”
“You might say that.” Reaching out of his window, Rodrigo punched in a code on the security keypad, causing the electronic gate to smoothly slide open. The car continued up the sweeping driveway. To her surprise, Lola saw cars parked along the short private road, all the way to the massive circular driveway around a Spanish-style stone fountain. Parking directly in front of the lavish mansion, he turned off the engine.
He turned to face her, his dark eyes shining.
“The house of your dreams.” Taking her hand, he put a key into her palm. “It’s yours.”
She blinked. “What?”
“It wasn’t on the market.” He gave her a quietly proud smile. “But you told me you wanted it, so I made the owners an offer they couldn’t refuse.”
Lola looked up at the stunning 1920s-era Spanish Mediterranean mansion. Built by silent film stars a hundred years before, this home was a rare beauty, an architectural landmark. Tears lifted to her eyes.
It wasn’t that he’d bought her a mansion. They already had one of those, a nice one on the beach.
It was that Rodrigo had listened. When she’d told him her youthful dreams, he hadn’t mocked them. He hadn’t forgotten. He’d tried to make them come true.
“But why are we dressed up like this?” she said, blinking fast. “And why are there so many cars? I don’t understand.”
His smile widened. “There’s more.”
“More?”
Searching his gaze, she caught her breath. He’d brought her family and friends here, she thought suddenly. Since they hadn’t been at the wedding. He was going to tell her he loved her tonight, in front of everyone she cared about, in front of Hallie and Tess and their families. In front of her sisters. The certainty, the overwhelming romance of the moment filled her.
And suddenly, she couldn’t wait. Fear disappeared, along with pride.
Lola let him see her heart. She didn’t even try to hide the joyful tears suddenly falling down her cheeks.
Looking up at him as he sat beside her in the Ferrari, she whispered, “I love you, Rodrigo.”
He blinked. He said slowly, “You love the house—”
“No. You.” She lifted her hand to his rough cheek. “Not your money. Not these diamonds—” she glanced down at her necklace “—not even this beautiful house. I love you,” she said fiercely. Shaking her head, she smiled through her tears. “I don’t think I’ve ever stopped loving you. From the night we first kissed. All this time. Even when there was no hope.”
His gaze shuttered. “Lola—”
“I told you I was only marrying you for Jett’s sake. But it was a lie. I was scared to admit the truth, even to myself. But I can’t deny it any longer.” Taking a deep breath, she whispered, “I love you. Only you. And I’ll love you forever.”
* * *
She couldn’t mean it.
Lola...loved him?
A horrifying flash of memories raced through Rodrigo of three other women speaking those exact same words, with the same apparent sincerity—right before they slept with another, with his engagement ring still on their fingers.
Only fools put faith in love. Fools and masochists. If he let himself love her, he knew how this would end.
And yet... His heart cried out for her.
He wanted to believe. His long-ago engagements felt like nothing—just the hasty, shallow infatuations of a young man—compared to what he felt for her now.
The thought shocked him.
Rodrigo’s gaze fell to the diamond engagement ring gleaming on Lola’s left hand. He couldn’t let himself love her. What if she betrayed him?
No. He took a shuddering breath. He couldn’t live through it. It would destroy him.
Rodrigo forced himself to give her a casual, crooked smile. “Lola, you don’t need to say you love me. I’ve already bought you the house. You can relax.”
Lola’s beautiful face, which had been hopeful and bright, closed up instantly. He felt an answering wrench in his chest that almost made him sick.
He knew she wasn’t pretending or buttering him up. She actually believed she loved him.
But he also knew it wouldn’t—couldn’t—last. He could not take the chance of loving her. They were married. They had a child. There was too much at stake to risk it on something so deceitful and destructive as love.
His jaw tightened. “We have guests. We should go inside.”
“Guests?” she said, with a tiny sliver of hope in her voice. “What guests?”
“It’s part of your surprise. A housewarming party.”
“Who did you invite?”
“Everyone.”
Her eyes lit up. “My sisters? My friends?”
Rodrigo suddenly wished he had. He should have invited the Morettis and Zaccos and those sisters of hers. It hadn’t even occurred to him.
“No,” he said quietly. “Industry people.”
The light in her eyes faded. “Oh.”
Looking down at her, he felt it again, that punch in the gut. And all of his Christmas plans he’d been arranging for weeks with Marnie, the mansion he’d been so excited to give his wife tonight as a surprise, suddenly seemed meaningless and cheap.
His shoulders tightened in his tuxedo jacket. Getting heavily out of the car, he opened her door. Holding out his hand, he said, “Come.”
Her hand shook as she placed it in his. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. As they entered the house’s glittering foyer, beneath the wrought iron Spanish chandelier high above, he felt a ragged blade in his throat.
“Mr. Cabrera!” Marnie McAdam strode toward them in black stilettos, her skinny frame swathed in a black sheath dress. “You’re here!” She looked at him happily, then glanced at Lola. “Mrs. Cabrera, I hope you like your party.”
There was a strange note of satisfaction in Marnie’s voice that Rodrigo didn’t understand.
She’s just being a good assistant, he told himself. Marnie cared so much about her job, of course she wanted to make sure his wife has a good time. And yet it struck Rodrigo as odd.
Then he looked around them.
The enormous grand foyer, framed by a sweeping wrought iron staircase on each side, was filled with the most powerful people in the entertainment and media worlds: studio heads, directors and movie stars. He’d invited them because he wanted to properly introduce Lola, not as his assistant, but as his wife—to gain their respect for her as a power in her own right.
But now, as he glanced at Lola on his arm, Rodrigo realized his mistake.
The Spanish-style mansion was decorated in glamorous Christmas finery, with holly and ivy draped along the wrought iron handrails of the dual staircases. In the center of the enormous foyer, a twenty-foot Christmas tree was decorated with sparkling ornaments and lights glittering like stars. Beneath the tree was a veritable Himalayan mountain range of gifts, all for Lola and the baby, elegantly wrapped in red, as the decorator had arranged for maximum effect.
For weeks now, Rodrigo had imagined Lola’s face when she saw this. He’d been determined to give her everything she’d once dreamed of when she’d come to this city at eighteen, broke and alone.
But now, Lola’s beautiful face was sad. Her big hazel eyes looked heartbroken and numb. He’d never seen her look so vulnerable. Her lovely face still was tracked with dried tears, from when she’d told him she loved him just moments before, when she’d been crying with joy.
And now, of all times, he was forcing her to face judgmental strangers, his business partners and rivals. Now, at the very moment he’d hurt her so badly.
Rodrigo suddenly hated this stupid party. And this stupid house. He wished he’d never thought of this gift. He would have given anything to have the two of them back at the beach house. Alone.
All the people in formal gowns and tuxedos, drinking expensive champagne, turned toward them with a cheer.
“To Mr. and Mrs. Cabrera!” someone cried from the back, and everyone held up champagne flutes.
“Congratulations!” The shout rang across the enormous foyer.
“You did it, old man!” laughed a hot young filmmaker, barely out of USC film school, holding up his flute.
“And Merry Christmas!” cried someone else. “Wishing us all fat profits in this happy season!”
Lola suddenly burst into tears.
“Excuse me,” she choked out, covering her face.
“Lola, wait,” Rodrigo said desperately, but she ran out of the foyer. He tried to follow but found his passage blocked by ten different people, all of them coming forward to congratulate him—that was to say, determined to network with the powerful Spanish film mogul in hopes of getting their various projects made.
“Don’t worry, sir.” Standing beside him, Marnie flashed a sympathetic look. “I’ll go check on her.”
He tossed her a glance. “No, wait—”
But his assistant was already gone.
Five minutes, he told himself grimly. He’d let Lola have five minutes to gather herself. He’d never seen her sob like that before. He knew her pride. She wouldn’t want him to see.
But he’d already seen the tears overflowing her lashes. Just as he’d already seen her vulnerable heart.
I love you, she’d whispered. Only you. And I’ll love you forever.
“And in the spirit of Christmas, Cabrera—” a Hollywood power agent was saying eagerly, pumping his hand “—I’ll let you read my client’s screenplay. You’re a lucky bastard, because it’s truly spectacular—”
Screw five minutes, Rodrigo thought. He couldn’t wait. He couldn’t know Lola was somewhere, crying alone, while he did nothing to comfort her. It was unbearable. He had to protect her. Comfort her. He had to make it right.
“Excuse me,” he said to the agent as he droned about his client’s high-concept plot. “I have to find my wife.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned and pushed his way through the crowds of glamorous, wealthy guests, in the direction Lola had disappeared. Suddenly, Marnie blocked his path. Her thin face was anxious and worried.
“There’s an uninvited guest.”
“Take care of it,” he told her harshly. “I need to find Lola.”
But as he impatiently started to pass her, his assistant stopped him with a tug at his arm. “It’s Sergei Morozov.”
His wife’s old boss from New York? The Russian tycoon who’d wanted to marry her? That grabbed Rodrigo’s attention. He scowled at Marnie. “He wasn’t on the guest list.”
“No. Somehow he snuck in.”
Rodrigo took a deep breath, trying to shake off the sudden tension in his shoulders. What could Morozov be doing here, three thousand miles from New York? Old fears started to creep in. Could Lola have...?
No. He thought of the emotion shining in his wife’s hazel eyes when she told him she loved him. Lola would never cheat on him. He trusted her, as he trusted no one else.
“Let the man stay. I don’t care,” he said suddenly. He turned away. “I need to find my wife—”
“That’s just it, sir.” Marnie stopped him with her solemn, owl-like gaze. “I’m trying to tell you. Mr. Morozov is here. He’s with Mrs. Cabrera.” She hesitated, then said, “They’re together.”
Rodrigo frowned, unable to make sense of his assistant’s words. “Together?”
She bit her lip. “In the back garden. I saw them. Kissing—”
Marnie kept talking, but suddenly Rodrigo couldn’t hear her.
As he looked around the foyer, all the people talking and laughing and drinking champagne suddenly seemed like mere noise to Rodrigo, just smudges of color.
He had no memory of how he walked through the crowds to the French doors overlooking the terrace. He’d only remember the feeling of wading through air like water, feeling like he couldn’t breathe.
Outside in the cold air, he heard his assistant behind him as he walked across the Spanish terrace, looking out into the manicured tropical gardens, lush beneath the moonlight.
But he saw nothing. No one.
Waves of relief went over him. There was no one here. Reason returned to his brain and he started to turn back to Marnie. “You were mistaken—”
Then he saw a gleam of pink chiffon from the corner of his eye. A flash of Lola’s long blond hair.
And Rodrigo saw, in the shadows on the other side of the terrace, the sickening sight of another man embracing his wife.
“Do not worry, zvezda moya,” he heard the Russian croon, holding Lola tenderly in his arms. “You are safe now. With me.”