THE NEXT NIGHT, as they walked into the large, elegant ballroom of a grand hotel on the Gran Vía, Lola kept sneaking glances at her husband on her arm.
Over the last twenty-four hours, they’d made love six times. Before she’d even stopped blushing from the shocking sexual encounter in the luxury clothing boutique they’d barely gotten home when Rodrigo had started kissing her again. In the great room with its view of the autumn colors of Retiro Park, Rodrigo had pulled her onto the sofa, and made love to her, this time taking off his own clothes, with gentle, seductive urgency.
Later that night, once their baby was properly asleep in his crib and they had hours to call their own, Rodrigo had made love to her again, slowly, lingeringly caressing every inch of her. As if they had the rest of their lives to enjoy each other.
Which they did.
Lola didn’t understand how any woman could ever be unfaithful to Rodrigo. And she wasn’t the only one, apparently. Even his ex that she’d spoken with on set yesterday, the famous actress Pia Ramirez, had seemed bewildered by it.
“So you’re Rodrigo’s new wife,” the older actress had said. “I’d started to think he would never marry.”
“And you’re the one who cheated on him,” Lola had replied bluntly. The other woman’s eyebrows raised, as if she were trying to decide whether to be offended; then she’d sighed.
“I loved Rodrigo, with the impetuous love of the young. He was working, chasing his empire. While he was gone—” she’d lifted her hands helplessly “—a handsome actor started paying attention to me every day. He said he was desperately in love, that he would die for me. But after he got me into bed, somehow, pictures were sent of us to Rodrigo.” She’d looked away. “I’m happy now, married with a family. But I still wonder sometimes who sent those photos. And who that man was. I never saw him again. But he destroyed everything.”
“You destroyed it,” Lola said coldly. Then her phone buzzed, and she’d been distracted by funny messages from Tess and Hallie in New York, begging her to come for Thanksgiving.
But the more Lola thought about it, the more confused she was by the whole thing. She looked up at him now, in the gilded ballroom of the grand nineteenth-century hotel. How could anyone betray Rodrigo?
He looked impossibly attractive, dressed in a sleek tuxedo that accentuated the hard, powerful shape of his muscular body. Even now, while he was surrounded by people congratulating him on getting his award, his dark eyes lingered on Lola in the slinky, low-cut red dress she’d chosen from the boutique.
He’d helped her put it on tonight in their bedroom. Then, after taking one look at her, he’d helped her swiftly take it off again. Which is why they’d arrived twenty minutes late. Her cheeks went hot, remembering.
It wasn’t like her to blush. But her husband did that to her. He peeled away her defenses, leaving her trembling and gasping and hot. Just as he’d peeled away her lingerie in that shop.
As they walked through the crowded ballroom, as they ate dinner at the head table, as she saw her husband honored by his peers, Lola basked in the glory of being his wife. Especially since he made it clear to everyone that it wasn’t just his glory, but hers. Whenever anyone congratulated Rodrigo, he said: “It was entirely my wife’s idea. She should be getting this award with me.” His dark, sensual gaze simmered through hers. “I’ll thank you later, believe me.”
She shivered. She didn’t think she’d ever get enough of him thanking her.
Her heart was bursting with pride as she watched him go up to the podium, to thunderous applause. But as he started his speech on stage, someone plopped beside her at the table in the darkened audience, into his empty chair.
Looking in surprise, she saw Ulrika Lund, the well-known director, whom Rodrigo had briefly been engaged to after Pia Ramirez, some eight years before.
“So you’re the wife,” Ulrika said without preamble. She was very thin, with muscular arms, and dressed in severe black.
“Do you mind?” Lola said, annoyed. “I’m trying to hear his speech.”
“I’m sure you are, because he’s praising you. He praised me once, too. For about a day.” Her jaw tightened. “But as soon as I agreed to marry him, he was suddenly too busy to see me.”
“Is that your excuse for cheating on him?” Lola said coldly, looking up at her handsome husband on the stage, wishing the woman would go away.
Ulrika leaned forward, drumming her fingers impatiently. “I met another man while Rodrigo was gone. A man who hung on my every word. Eventually I gave in. Then someone sent Rodrigo photographs of our night together. That gave him a convenient excuse to end our engagement.” She paused. “I never saw the other man again. Even when I tried to find him. I discovered he’d given me a fictitious name.”
A warning buzz went off in the back of Lola’s mind. It sounded almost exactly like the story that Pia Ramirez had told. Coincidence, she told herself firmly. Pushing the disquieting thought aside, she said, “And this affects me how?”
“I think Rodrigo was behind it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lola bit out. As her husband continued to speak on stage, other people at the table looked in irritation at their whispers.
“It took me a while to figure it out,” Ulrika said with a hard stare. “But every time Rodrigo gets close to a woman, he sabotages it. I used to blame myself, but not anymore. Not after it happened in all three of his engagements.” She looked at Lola. “He actually married you. So the devastation will be twice as crushing when it comes.”
“It won’t—because I’d never cheat on him!”
“Don’t get comfortable. That’s what I came to tell you. Because you won’t be with him for long.” The woman glanced up at the stage, her lips twisting bitterly. “He’ll see to that.”
And she left.
Lola felt dizzy as she tried to focus back on stage. Her husband was smiling, gripping the edges of the podium, looking out of his spotlight toward the thousand film industry people sitting at tables in the ballroom.
“And most of all, I’d like to thank my former assistant, now my wife, for being the reason I’m here tonight, accepting this award. And more importantly, for giving me the greatest gift of all—our baby son.”
There was a low awwww from the crowd, and then applause, scattered at first, then building to a roar, as he smiled for the crowd and, gripping his gold statuette high, left the stage.
But Lola only dimly heard his words or the crowd’s adoring response. All she could suddenly think about was the stranger who’d shown up in California, when Rodrigo was in South America. The stranger who’d come out of nowhere to chat with her on the beach.
Are you all alone? You’re too beautiful to be lonely. Would you like some company? You and your charming baby?
He’d made her nervous, but she’d told herself it was just typical California friendliness. And as for the man’s uncanny good looks, well, half of Los Angeles were out-of-work actors. Good-looking people were the norm, not the exception.
But now the whole thing had a surreal, almost sinister aspect.
Every time Rodrigo gets close to a woman, he sabotages it. I used to blame myself, but not anymore. Not after it happened in all three of his engagements.
No. Lola took a deep breath. It couldn’t be true. He wouldn’t sabotage his own engagements. Why would he?
She had the sudden memory of his face when they’d returned to the apartment in Madrid. He’d looked almost—haunted.
And yet she knew he’d grown up surrounded by wealth, with both parents. She’d always assumed he’d had a happy childhood, growing up in privilege. But now, not for the first time, she wondered about the dark shadows she’d seen in his eyes. Not just in Madrid, but from the day they’d met. That edge of cold ruthlessness in him, beneath his civilized veneer.
Together, you and I can give him a better childhood than we had. Either of us.
She’d never seen a picture of his parents or even of Rodrigo as a child, she suddenly realized. No family pictures, not in his beach house or anywhere else. And the story he’d told of his parents abandoning him on Thanksgiving, leaving him with the cook. Who did that?
What didn’t she know about his past?
A trickle of ice went down her spine. Could Ulrika Lund’s suspicions have a shred of truth?
I still wonder sometimes who sent those photos. Pia Ramirez had sounded bewildered. And who that man was. I never saw him again. But he destroyed everything.
Was it remotely possible that Rodrigo could have hired those men himself to try to seduce them, as a test of his fiancées’ loyalty?
Or, worse, as Ulrika had suggested, because Rodrigo just wanted a good excuse to end those engagements?
No, Lola thought desperately. Rodrigo’s not like that. He wouldn’t do that.
But she knew he had a cold, ruthless streak. She thought of the way he’d cut her so abruptly out of his life because he’d seen a few lingerie photos and heard a vicious, untrue rumor.
Right after she’d dared to say she loved him.
“Well?” Rodrigo sat down beside her, putting the gold statuette on the table with a grin. “How did I do?”
“It was very good,” she said, wishing she’d been able to actually listen to his speech, rather than the unsettling ideas that Ulrika had put in her head.
“I meant it.” His dark eyes focused on her intently. “Every word.”
“Oh. Um.” She bit her lip, lowering her gaze, feeling the smiling gaze of others around them at the table. “Good.”
Lola wondered what he’d say if she told him about Ulrika’s accusation. Surely, Rodrigo would laugh. Yes. He’d laugh. Then they’d both laugh together.
And yet, she couldn’t force the words out. Because she was scared of what would happen. Scared of what he’d say.
Lola remembered again that man on the beach. Walking alone, without any apparent reason to be there. Or any way of getting there, unless he’d climbed over the cliffs jutting out into the ocean. Why would anyone do that?
Unless he was paid.
Unless it was his job.
How easy would it be to hire an actor willing to do underhanded work for exceptionally high pay? Especially for a billionaire who happened to own an international conglomerate of television networks and film studios?
“Lola? Did you hear me?”
She blinked up at Rodrigo, sitting beside her in the hotel’s grand ballroom in the center of Madrid. “Yes, I mean, no. What did you say?”
He looked at her like she was crazy. “I’ve decided I’ll go with you and the baby to New York for Thanksgiving.”
An unexpected smile lifted her lips. “You will?”
“If nothing else, I can use the time to negotiate with Cristiano Moretti for a deal with his hotels.” He grinned. “Though I know what you’re thinking.”
“I doubt that,” she said faintly.
“You’re going to tell me that I work too much. That Thanksgiving is a time for friends and family.”
“Yes. Exactly.” She turned away, reaching for her tiny handbag so he couldn’t see her expression. “I’ll let Tess know to expect us.”
As she sent a message on her phone, the ballroom lights suddenly became brighter, as guests began to take their leave. With a deep breath, she looked up at her devastatingly handsome husband, sitting beside her, barely acknowledging people’s congratulations as they passed by. His dark gaze was focused only on her.
“Shall we take advantage of the housekeeper watching Jett tonight, and go to the after-party?” Leaning forward to tuck hair behind her ear, he whispered huskily, “Or would you rather go home?”
Lola tried to pull away. To keep her body from responding to his touch. To be guarded and cold. To protect herself, just in case her worst fears were true.
But she couldn’t.
“Home,” she breathed, searching his gaze.
“Good.” Her husband cupped her cheek, his dark eyes lazy as he gave her a sensual smile. Exactly, Lola thought with a shiver, like a cat would look at the mouse in its claws.
* * *
“You’re sure this is it?” Lola said nervously, juggling their whining baby in her arms.
Rodrigo stopped ahead of her down the hall, pushing the empty stroller. Double-checking the number, he looked back at her.
“There are only two on the penthouse level,” he said, waiting for her to catch up. “This is it.”
Lola saw the number clearly on the door, and felt foolish. But then, she’d felt foolish a lot today.
After their five-day trip to Madrid, they’d left for New York later than planned yesterday. Jett had been fussy on the plane. He was teething, which made the baby irritable and unable to sleep, which made him miserable. Which made his parents miserable, too.
They’d woken up exhausted that morning in Rodrigo’s luxurious SoHo loft, cranky and tired from a transatlantic flight followed by a sleepless night. Her husband had suggested they let the baby sleep in that morning, and the two of them enjoy the time in bed.
But Lola had dreamed of seeing the New York Thanksgiving Day parade since she’d watched it on television with her mother, long ago, and then later, when her mother worked on that day, with her little sisters. She was determined that their baby’s first holiday season would be magical, starting with this Thanksgiving weekend in New York.
So she’d insisted on waking Jett up, getting everyone dressed and out early into the cold, icy morning to wait on snow-covered streets. They’d watched the parade from Rodrigo’s specially arranged VIP seats, and at first, it hadn’t gone too badly. Holding their bundled-up baby in her lap, as they waited for the parade to begin, Lola had felt excitement that exceeded the cold nip of the air. This was exactly the life she’d yearned for when she was younger. This moment. Being a family. Having enough money to be safe and secure. Jett was having the childhood she’d only dreamed of as a girl.
Reaching for Rodrigo’s gloved hand, she’d whispered, “Thank you.”
He looked surprised, then his dark eyes gleamed. “All this for some seats at a parade?”
“You don’t understand.” She blinked hard in the cold air. “My whole childhood, I dreamed of this. The life only rich people could have. To be in New York for the Thanksgiving parade, and see real snow, and eat a pretzel on the street and spend New Year’s Eve in Times Square...”
“You know that you don’t have to be rich for any of that, don’t you?”
“And a big expensive Christmas tree. And a mansion in Beverly Hills.”
“Beverly Hills? Malibu isn’t good enough?”
“I know. That part was silly.” She looked down. “But my first Christmas in LA, when I was still trying to be an actress, I delivered flowers for a shop in Beverly Hills. I saw all these gorgeous mansions decorated for Christmas, and sometimes I’d see the people who lived there. There was one house in particular, once owned by silent film stars. El Corazón, I think it was called. One Christmas Eve I saw the family who lived in it and I dreamed...”
“Dreamed of what?”
Catching herself, she flashed a crooked grin. “Dreamed of their mountains of presents around the tree.”
“Ah.” His voice was amused. “Mountains of presents in a Beverly Hills mansion. That does take money.”
As he took her hand in his own, Lola wouldn’t meet his eyes. Her dream hadn’t been mountains of presents, but something less tangible. She’d seen just a brief flash of the wealthy, perfect family, the handsome husband playing with his children as his wife answered the door in an apron, obviously just come from baking some kind of holiday treats. All of them glowing with health, happiness and love. To Lola, heartbroken over her baby sisters, with just five dollars to her name, that life had seemed as perfect and untouchable as their magnificent manicured gardens beyond the walls.
Lifting a dark eyebrow, Rodrigo said wickedly, his fingers tightening over hers, “But you’re getting ahead of yourself, querida. Santa brings mountains of presents only to those who are good, not naughty like you.”
“Oh, but I’ve been good,” Lola whispered, leaning toward him on the VIP bench as they waited for the parade to begin. Reaching out with her glove, she’d cupped his cheek, still dark with five o’clock shadow as they’d rushed out that morning early with no time for him to shave. “I’ve been very, very good. But maybe I can be even better...”
Rodrigo’s black eyes had gleamed as he leaned down to kiss her.
Then their tired, irritable baby burst into a plaintive cry in Lola’s arms.
She spent the next hour juggling him, with a pacifier and a teething toy. She was so frantic, bouncing him in her lap to keep him from crying, that she barely noticed the enormous balloon floats finally fly past or the marching bands pass by. As Jett continued to fuss, she imagined people around them judging her harshly for bringing a five-month-old baby to sit outside in the freezing cold morning for a parade that took hours. She glared at someone who dared to look at her. She would have yelled something rude, but Rodrigo suddenly took the baby from her.
“Relax,” he told Lola firmly. Then he looked down at the baby in his lap. “Don’t keep your mother from enjoying her parade, mi pequeñito.”
The baby looked up at his father, tears still staining his plump face, his lips parted. But something about the low rumble of Rodrigo’s chest seemed to calm the baby. Frowning, Jett waved a chubby arm in his father’s direction, then chomped quietly on his chew toy, staring up at the big cartoon balloons in the sky.
Lola just stared at them together, tears burning behind her eyes.
After all her years of dreaming about seeing the parade in New York, she barely remembered it afterward. What she remembered was the way Rodrigo had comforted their baby.
After they left, they’d visited an expensive toy store, where Rodrigo ordered thousands of dollars of toys for Jett without once looking at a price. Since Jett wasn’t fussing, it was all enjoyable. Until Lola suggested having the toys delivered to their SoHo loft.
“It’ll be delivered to California,” he said firmly. “That’s our home.”
Lola felt deflated. “I know. But it’s so nice being back in New York. That’s where my friends live. My sisters.”
“My accountant said your sisters still haven’t cashed the check you sent them for college. Did the girls ever contact you?”
“Um... No. Not yet.” Her heart tightened. She was trying not to think about that, or what it might mean. She rushed to say, “Maybe they’ve been busy. You know how teenagers can be...”
“They might be thoughtless, but what about their parents?”
Lola thought of the one and only time she’d spoken to her sisters’ adoptive parents, when she’d showed up unannounced at their suburban home seven years before. When, while the girls had clung to their new mother, their father had told Lola to get the hell out before he called the police.
Lola pushed the painful memory away. A lot had changed since then. Surely they would realize they had nothing to fear from her now, and they’d accept her gift? And, you know, send a thank-you note or something?
But they hadn’t. Even that big check hadn’t made them want to talk to her.
Lola’s heart twisted, but she turned away with a shrug. “It doesn’t matter. Eventually I’ll get through to them.” Biting her lip, she looked up. “Though it would be easier if we lived here in New York instead of California...”
His face shuttered. “No.”
Tilting her head, Lola said thoughtfully, “Did you know that as the film industry is increasingly a worldwide market, New York has become a hotbed of media companies that will dominate the future of the entertainment business?”
Rodrigo looked as if he were fighting a smile. “You just made that up.”
Her lips quirked. “It could be true.”
Rodrigo snorted, shaking his head. Then, as they’d left the toy store, he’d said quietly, “I’m sorry, querida, but we live in California. Enjoy your time here while it lasts.”
Now, as they stood in the hallway of Tess’s new co-op building, Lola looked at her husband, her heart in her throat.
Enjoy your time while it lasts.
Would their marriage last? Or would that, too, soon end?
Every time Rodrigo gets close to a woman, he sabotages it... He actually married you. So the devastation will be twice as crushing when it comes.
“Well?” he said sharply, standing in front of the penthouse door. “You were so worried about getting here on time. What are you waiting for?”
“Nothing.” But as Lola lifted her hand to knock, she heard people laughing inside the apartment, and hesitated.
Looking at the huge diamond ring on her left hand, she suddenly wished she’d told Tess and Hallie the news of her marriage over the phone. Earlier, she’d grinned at the thought of seeing the shock on their faces, that Lola, the one who’d bossed the other two girls into telling their ex-lovers about their babies, had suddenly—without warning—married her own baby’s father.
Because, unlike her friends, Lola had always refused to reveal the identity of her baby’s father. Hallie and Tess had crazy theories about who Jett’s father might be—that the man was married or some kind of criminal. Tess was especially good at coming up with eye-popping theories.
She hadn’t wanted to tell them the simple truth, that Jett’s father was Lola’s old boss. She’d been trying to forget his existence, and thought if she didn’t say Rodrigo’s name, she wouldn’t think about him, either.
But now, she felt like she was springing the news on her friends out of nowhere. Hey, you know how I stubbornly refused to tell you anything about Jett’s father? Well, here he is! And he’s a Spanish billionaire! Ha-ha! And guess what? We’re married!
Well, Lola consoled herself wryly, at least the two women wouldn’t be able to complain about having yet another bridesmaid’s dress gathering dust in their closets for eternity.
Squaring her shoulders, she knocked hard on the door.
A moment later, it opened, and she saw Tess’s beaming, pink-cheeked face, her red hair tumbling over her shoulders.
“Lola!” she squealed. She turned to call over her shoulder, “Hallie! Lola’s here!”
The brunette came quickly, almost at a run. Lola came inside carrying Jett, Rodrigo following a moment behind her, pushing the empty stroller. Helping her and the baby off with their winter coats, he disappeared behind the closet door. Tess’s eyes went wide, and she looked at Lola, her eyes full of questions.
“I like your new place, Tess,” Lola said evasively, looking around the gorgeous penthouse, with two-story windows overlooking most of snowy Central Park. “But where’s your furniture?”
“It hasn’t arrived from Italy yet. We’ve only just got the keys.” She glanced back at her husband, who’d come up behind her. “Stefano wanted to wait and host New Year’s Eve instead—”
“But Tess insisted on Thanksgiving,” the Sicilian prince said, wrapping his arms around his wife’s waist, who giggled.
“I’ll host New Year’s Eve,” Hallie’s husband, Cristiano, yelled from the next room.
“Anyway.” Rolling her eyes, Tess turned to Lola. “We had to have the meal catered, but I knew you and Hallie wouldn’t care if we sat on folding chairs. Love is what matters, right?”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Stefano said, nuzzling his wife. Then he seemed to remember they were surrounded by people, and straightened. His eyes focused on Rodrigo, who’d just closed the closet door. “Cabrera? What the hell are you doing here?”
“Rodrigo Cabrera!” Tess exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I knew I recognized you!”
“Hey, Zacco.” Looking at Tess, he said politely, “Thank you for the invitation to Thanksgiving.”
Tess looked utterly bewildered.
“Who’s he?” Hallie demanded, her face puzzled as she stared at Rodrigo. “Why is he pushing Jett’s stroller?”
Behind her, Cristiano wandered in carrying an empty tray. “Table’s all set,” he said with pride, then stopped when he saw Rodrigo. “Who are you?”
Lola took a deep breath.
This was it. The moment of her big announcement. She thought she’d feel smug and cheeky. Instead, she just felt awkward.
“This is Rodrigo Cabrera,” she began. “I used to work for him in California. He’s...um...” She looked at him, then mumbled, “Well, he’s the father of my baby.”
“What?” Tess said.
“No, seriously?” Hallie said.
“That’s not my only news.” Adjusting her baby against her hip, Lola lifted her left hand, letting the huge diamond engagement ring glitter in the light.
Her friends gasped.
“I can’t believe it,” Hallie said, grabbing her hand to look closer at the ring.
“And we’re not just engaged. We’re...we’re married.”
“Married!”
“I knew it!” Tess cried, practically bouncing with joy. Reaching out, she stroked Jett’s soft, downy hair. “I knew you wouldn’t love someone who was no good!”
At the word love, Lola’s cheeks went hot, and she glanced back self-consciously at Rodrigo. But he’d been drawn across the room to accept the raucous, teasing congratulations of the two other men.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Hallie said softly, her soft brown eyes accusing. “We imagined your baby’s father must be a total disaster, since you refused to tell us his name.” She eyed Rodrigo. “He doesn’t seem so bad.”
Lola looked at her husband. “He’s not.” Her voice trembled a little. “He’s not bad at all.”
The two women stared at her.
“Oh, man,” Tess said. “You’ve got it bad.”
Oh, no! The last thing Lola wanted was for that rumor to go around, especially when Rodrigo was only ten feet away! Lola turned on the redhead with a growl.
“Don’t be ridiculous. We only got married for the baby’s sake. To be practical.”
“So you’re not having sex?” Hallie said.
Lola’s cheeks went hot. “It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a benefit of being married.” Her voice turned husky as her eyes unwillingly returned to her handsome husband. “He’s my baby’s father, and I respect him, and like him so much...”
Hallie followed her gaze, then the usually sensible brunette said, almost in awe, “Tess is right. You love him like crazy.” She slowly looked over Lola’s black cashmere sweater and leggings and knee-high boots. “It’s written all over you.”
“Hush!” Lola angrily grabbed Hallie’s arm. “He’ll hear you.”
The brunette looked bewildered. “And that would be a bad thing?”
“Yes,” said Tess, looking at Lola’s face. Taking Jett from her arms, the redhead waved for them to follow. “Come in here.” Turning toward the men, she said loudly, “We’ll be in the kitchen.”
Prince Stefano called, “Need help?”
“No, we, um, Lola wants a good recipe for pie and she was wondering whether to use butter or shortening for crust.”
“Oh,” said Stefano, his eyes glazing over.
“Let’s go watch the game,” Cristiano said heartily. “My father’s already in there, keeping an eye on Esme and Jack. You coming, Cabrera?”
“What game?” Rodrigo said.
The other two men laughed. “It’s Thanksgiving, isn’t it? The Cowboys. Come on.”
“Men and sports,” Hallie sighed with a fond smile, shaking her head as the men disappeared.
“This way.” Still holding Lola’s baby, Tess led them down the hall to a gorgeous kitchen which looked completely untouched.
“We’re still waiting for our pots and pans,” she said apologetically. “Stefano offered to buy everything new and have it delivered yesterday, but I just want our old things from Sicily. I didn’t think you’d mind eating off the caterer’s plates.” She bit her lip, suddenly looking worried. “You don’t mind, do you? Is it tacky?”
“Not at all,” Hallie said soothingly.
Looking around, Lola said in sudden worry, “But we’re having a real dinner, right?” She added apologetically, “It’s just that it’s Rodrigo’s first real Thanksgiving—”
“Don’t worry.” Tess’s round face broke into a big smile. “Dinner’s being catered from one of the best restaurants in the city. Well, except for the rolls and pies. Those are being brought by my cousins. Did you hear? They’re running the family bakery now.”
“Your cousins!” Lola was astounded. “But they’re so young!”
“Just a few years younger than we are. Old enough to know what they want in life.” Tess’s smile lifted to a grin. “But obviously still learning the business. They called to say they’re running a little late.”
“But I’m sure Tess didn’t really drag us into the kitchen to talk about pie.” Hallie leaned back against the spotless marble counter, her dark eyes piercing. “What’s going on with you and your new husband, Lola?”
“And how could you have a wedding without us?” Tess looked suddenly hurt. “We should have been bridesmaids. Just like you were for us.”
Lola’s first instinct was to refuse to explain, to make an excuse, to grab her babbling baby out of Tess’s arms and wander into the front room to join the men watching football.
But suddenly, her heart was in her throat. Tears lifted to her eyes.
“Lola?” Hallie said.
“Lola, are you all right?” Tess said.
Her friends looked shocked. They had never seen her vulnerable before. Lola had always prided herself on being the strong one. She was the bossy one giving them advice, not the other way around.
“I’m sorry,” Lola whispered, wiping her eyes. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Do you want a cupcake?” asked Tess anxiously.
“A glass of wine?” asked Hallie.
It was so typical, Lola unwillingly laughed through her tears.
Then, with an intake of breath, she told them everything.
Her poverty and helplessness as a child, seeing her mother work herself to death, seeing her stepfather injured, disabled and finally sent to prison for trying to sell drugs. How Lola had felt, being responsible for her baby sisters when she was still a child herself. How, after their mother’s untimely death, the girls had been dragged away from her, their screams still ringing in her ears. How she’d felt at eighteen, seeing them happy in another family, having forgotten her completely.
“I decided that money was the only thing that mattered,” she whispered. She looked down. “I did some things I’m not proud of.”
Hallie patted her shoulder. “We all have. It’s part of being human.”
“Oh, Lola.” Tess looked heartbroken. “I never imagined. You always seemed so tough.”
“Like nothing could hurt you,” said Hallie.
Lola choked out a laugh, then wiped her eyes. “I pushed you guys so hard, while I was a coward in my own life.”
“No, never,” Tess said loyally.
“You helped us,” Hallie said.
“So now let us help you,” the redhead said. “Do you love him?”
“No, I—” But Lola’s words caught in her throat. Memories flooded through her of Rodrigo tenderly taking care of their baby. Of him caring for her. Of all their days talking, and the hot nights when he’d made love to her again and again. Looking at her friends, she couldn’t lie to them.
With a shuddering breath, she whispered, “I don’t know.”
Hallie and Tess looked at each other.
“You don’t know?” Hallie said gently.
“I can’t love him.” Lola wiped her eyes. “I did once, last year, before I knew I was pregnant. But when I told him my feelings, he found an excuse to break up with me, and practically tossed me out of California. He doesn’t believe in love. He thinks it only brings pain.” She hesitated, then said quietly, “He was engaged three times before he met me.”
Idealistic Tess looked shocked. “Three times?”
“And they all cheated on him before the wedding.”
“All of them?” Hallie said faintly.
“I’m sorry I didn’t invite you to the wedding. But as soon as Rodrigo found out about the baby, he insisted we get married at once. A judge was waiting at his loft to marry us right after the paternity test. With his housekeeper and bodyguard as witnesses.”
“You didn’t even get to plan your own wedding?” Tess said indignantly.
Lola looked down.
“It wasn’t so bad,” she said in a small voice.
“And whoever heard of a man engaged so many times?” Hallie said wonderingly.
“It happens,” Lola said, a hard edge coming into her voice. She felt suddenly protective of him.
Tess’s plump face was bewildered. “And all three women cheated on him before the wedding?”
Lola took a deep breath, wondering if she should tell them the worst, the fear she could barely even admit to herself—that he’d arranged those betrayals himself, either to test their loyalty or have an excuse to end the relationships.
He’s not like that, Lola told herself desperately. He wouldn’t do something so underhanded.
The house phone rang on the kitchen counter. Tess picked it up. “Hello?” Her face lit up. “Yes, of course. Send them all up!” Hanging up, she said happily, “That was the doorman. My cousins are here, and so are the caterers!” Moving to the wide, open doorway, she called, “Boys! The food’s here!”
There was a loud yell of glee, and the trampling of heavy male feet.
“Will you be all right, Lola?”
Hallie’s voice was quiet behind her. Lola turned to see the brunette’s worried eyes.
With a deep breath, she lifted her chin. “Don’t worry about me. I’m just being silly.” Wiping the last of the tears from her eyes, she took Jett back into her arms with a smile. “Rodrigo and I are happy. We have a baby together. We’re married. Friends.” She gave a crooked smile. “And the sex is fantastic.”
Gentle, romantic Tess looked at her. “But without love, how can it last?”
Don’t get comfortable, Ulrika Lund had said. You won’t be with him for long. He’ll see to that.
As Lola looked between the worried faces of her best friends, a trickle of fear went down her spine.
I have to understand what happened, she thought suddenly. Had her husband really been behind all those betrayals and broken engagements? Or was it just a wild coincidence?
She’d spoken to his first two fiancées, but not the third, Elise Patel, a world-famous composer who now lived in Los Angeles. Perhaps her story would turn out to be completely different.
Lola’s eyes narrowed. One way or the other, she would find out the truth.