Filthy Rich Revenge: A Filthy Rich Billionaires Book Page 14

  He shrugged, tried to look casual. Unfeeling. Except hot emotion boiled beneath the surface, threatening to break free. Why? This was supposed to be his triumph, yet it felt exceedingly hollow at the moment.

  “Sí, it is as you say.”

  She took a step forward, her fists clenching so hard her knuckles were white. “He died in Thailand. Touring the resorts you sold him in order to ruin us. My God, you are a bastard. How I could’ve thought—” She swiped at her eyes, shook her head.

  “How did you learn this?”

  Her face was pale, her expression almost fragile. Oddly, it bothered him.

  “It’s too ironic really. Roger Cahill emailed me the documents. He dug them up while looking for dirt on you. Funny, huh?”

  “You have been in touch with Cahill?” It shouldn’t surprise him, but it did. Cahill had been the financial power behind the company fighting him over the Dubai property, though there was no evidence he was connected to Alejandro’s corporate spy. No doubt Rebecca had been in close contact with Cahill the entire time, though she’d been in no position to learn anything truly useful to report back. Strangely, the thought she would even want to stung him.

  “I asked him what happened five years ago,” Rebecca said, sniffling. “Perhaps you should have done the same.”

  “I know what happened,” he snapped. How many times did he have to remember it?

  “No, you really don’t.” Her chin thrust out as she drew herself up. “My father killed your deal, so yes, the Laytons tried to ruin you. I think he must have been angry because you hurt me, but I don’t know for sure. I suppose you can blame me if you want, but then you need to blame yourself as well. If you hadn’t had a fiancée—or whatever you want to call her—none of this would have happened.”

  Blame himself? What the hell was she talking about? It was her fault. He took a step forward, but to do what he wasn’t sure.

  The doorbell rang and he stopped, shook his head. Señora Flores’s footsteps pattered down the hall.

  “That’ll be my taxi,” Rebecca said. “I recommend John Barnes as the new CEO.”

  Surprise rooted Alejandro to the spot. This was not the way it was supposed to happen. He was the one in control, the one who determined when and how everything happened. She could not walk out on him again. He wouldn’t allow it.

  “You are running away? What about your company?”

  “What should I do? Stay and wait for you to fire me?” She shook her head. “Layton International’s not mine anymore, is it? You made sure of that. Now it’s time I get on with my life.”

  When she shouldered past him, he gripped her arm, a hot feeling he didn’t understand seizing him in a chokehold. “This isn’t over.”

  She shuddered in revulsion. Her gaze settled on his hand, lifted to meet his stare. “Yes, it is. Goodbye, Alejandro.”

  She picked his hand off her arm. The touch of her skin seared him. He had a primeval urge to grab her, haul her to the bedroom and lock her inside until she smiled at him again. Until she made love to him like he was the only man in the world.

  But he didn’t say anything as she turned and walked to the door. What was there to say? He’d won, hadn’t he? He had Layton International. Rebecca had nothing. It’s what he’d dreamed of for five years. All he’d wanted.

  He didn’t know how long he stood in the darkened foyer, but when he finally looked up, long shadows had crept across the tiles.

  It was finally over. Rebecca was gone.

  24

  New York in summer was predictably sweltering. Rebecca made it back to her air-conditioned apartment building before she wilted and headed for the elevator. She didn’t want to think about what she’d bought at the drugstore, but there was no getting around it. The paper bag was small, but what it contained could change the course of her life.

  It had been a month since she’d walked out of Alejandro’s house in Madrid. And she hadn’t had a period yet.

  Fishing in her purse for her keys, she stopped in front of her door. Her apartment was cool and spacious as she stepped inside. She locked the door, took the pregnancy test from the paper bag, and went into the bathroom to pee on the stick.

  She thought about calling her friend, Charlotte, but ultimately decided she had to do this alone. Charlotte had enough to do with her job as a party planner these days. She’d already been a great support when Rebecca needed a sympathetic ear after returning from Madrid, but Rebecca didn’t need to call her for this one simple thing.

  She could do this alone. She opened the test, peed on it, and set the stick down on the sink, staring at it until the answer came.

  Pink. Pregnant.

  Rebecca’s knees gave out and she slumped onto the toilet. Maybe she should have called Charlotte just for the moral support. Charlotte wouldn’t judge her.

  Rebecca pushed a shaky hand through her hair and tried to imagine how she’d gotten pregnant. She hadn’t missed her pills at all. About a month before she’d gone to Madrid, she’d changed prescriptions. She’d had breakthrough bleeding and the doctor said her body had grown accustomed to the pill she was on. Apparently, the new pill hadn’t done the job.

  Rebecca picked up the stick and then set it down again, her heart pounding with so many emotions.

  Joy, yes. Pain too. In the mirror, her face was pale. Drawn. She had dark circles beneath her eyes, and she’d lost weight. Her chest rose and fell quickly as she worked to control her rioting emotions. She would not panic. She had no time to panic.

  Her baby needed her to be healthy, not this pale sickly creature who couldn’t eat or sleep properly. Her hand fluttered to her abdomen, pressed against her womb. Dear God, she was pregnant. With Alejandro’s baby. It was shocking and terrifying. But it was also wonderful somehow.

  She already loved this child fiercely. She wanted to pick up the phone and call Alejandro, tell him she was expecting his baby. But she couldn’t.

  He didn’t care about her. He never had. Everything with him was about control.

  Rebecca pressed a trembling hand to her mouth. Oh God. What was she going to do? She was alone, and now she had another life to think about. How could she work and take care of her baby at the same time? Because she had to work. She had a new job lined up in London with the Cahill Group, and she had no choice but to take it. She hadn’t paid herself a salary since her father died and her savings were nearly gone. Who would take care of them both if she didn’t?

  Her mother? God no.

  Alejandro? She crushed down a hysterical laugh at the thought.

  It’d been four weeks since she’d left Madrid. Four excruciating weeks. She’d actually believed he might come after her. That he might apologize for all he’d done and beg her forgiveness. What a delusional fantasy!

  She could still see his face so clearly when she’d confronted him. He hadn’t denied a thing. He’d looked cold and disconnected, like he didn’t care that he’d turned her world upside down.

  She was still staggered by the depth of his betrayal. He hadn’t just watched Layton International from afar. He’d found her father’s weakness, enticed him into the loans and the Thailand properties, and kept twisting the knife even after her father died. Twisted until he won the battle. She’d been devastated when Roger sent her the proof, and she’d reacted in the only way she knew how.

  Leaving her company hadn’t been easy, but it had been necessary. She could no longer allow Alejandro to control her life. For her own health and sanity, she’d had to go.

  She’d been angry and bitter. She’d even thought for a brief time that she hated him. But her father had made his own choices in life. Alejandro might have manipulated the situation, but Jackson Layton was not a puppet. He’d wanted the Thailand property in spite of the best advice counseling him against the acquisition, and he’d single-mindedly gone after it.

  His death was unexpected, but she couldn’t truly lay that at Alejandro’s door. If it hadn’t been Thailand, it would have been something el
se. Her father had always been a bit of a daredevil. Skydiving, rock climbing, bungee jumping, swimming with sharks—it was a wonder he’d lived as long as he had.

  She’d talked about all of this with Charlotte and her friend agreed. Her father’s choices had been his own, though Alejandro’s maneuvers with the bank loans and closing on them were despicable. It might be business, but it was still despicable. She’d made the right choice to leave at the time, but now?

  Rebecca splayed a hand over her abdomen possessively. What a damned mess she was in. Pregnant and alone—and still in love with her baby’s father. That was the worst part of all. Try and deny it though she might, she was in love with Alejandro de Ramirez. She didn’t know when she’d fallen again—or maybe she’d never stopped loving him.

  Love wasn’t something you turned on and off like a faucet, however much she might wish it were so. She was still in love with the man who’d ruined her. And she was carrying his child. It didn’t get much more hopeless than that. She’d tried to stop, but it was going to take a lot longer than a month. Alejandro had been a bastard to her, but he’d also been tender and loving and protective. He’d reminded her of an abused animal that wanted love but was too afraid to get close enough. She’d thought—mistakenly—that if she just kept trying, he’d begin to trust again.

  She’d been wrong.

  The nights since she’d left Madrid were the worst. She was lonelier than she’d ever been, especially at night. She hated sleeping in her bed so much she’d finally dragged a blanket to the couch and slept there. She missed Alejandro’s big warm body, his intense lovemaking, the rare smile that changed his features and bound her heart.

  He obviously did not feel the same about her. He hadn’t called, hadn’t followed her, hadn’t written a text or an email. He clearly wasn’t tortured by sleepless nights and memories. The only thing she’d received from Spain was a severance check from Ramirez Enterprises. Not that she’d cashed it yet, but she would have to soon.

  No, Alejandro didn’t love her or even miss her. She was on her own and now she had a baby on the way. That thought made her shiver a little. It would be difficult, but she’d manage. She was a fighter, and she’d fight to give her baby the best life possible. A life filled with love and attention, not the kind of lonely life she’d had growing up.

  Rebecca went to the kitchen and fixed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She had to eat and be strong for this child. She had no choice. She set the sandwich down after the first bite and blinked back sudden tears.

  She and Alejandro had made a baby together. It was a miracle. An amazing, beautiful miracle.

  Oh, Alejandro, I want you to know. I want you to love us.

  Rebecca swallowed. She didn’t know how to be a mother. She’d always been busy with her career. She’d had friends with babies, but she didn’t understand how they knew what to do. Her own mother would certainly be no help. The woman didn’t have a maternal bone in her body.

  What if Rebecca didn’t either? What if, in spite of her best intentions, she put this baby through the sort of neglectful existence she’d endured?

  She drew in a shaky breath. It rattled out again and ended in a sob.

  She had to tell Alejandro. He deserved to know, even if he rejected them both. For a moment, she considered pretending the baby was someone else’s and keeping it to herself. But she couldn’t do that to him.

  Not after Anya. He’d loved his daughter, and he would love this child too, no matter how much he might hate the baby’s mother.

  But how to make sure he didn’t try to take their baby away once he or she was born?

  Rebecca didn’t know, but she would never allow that to happen. This baby was hers. Hers and his, and she loved it more than she’d ever loved anything in her life. She wasn’t telling Alejandro today. Probably not even tomorrow. She’d tell him when she figured out how to deal with him and let him know in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t taking this baby away.

  Though how could she stop him? That was what worried her most of all.

  25

  The next few days were a blur. Between doctors’ appointments and preparing for the move to London, Rebecca didn’t have much time to herself. She’d had a quick dinner with Charlotte—Chinese takeout in her apartment—and told her about the baby. Charlotte had been thrilled for her, and sympathetic too. When she’d asked if Rebecca was planning to tell Alejandro, she’d said of course she was. But she still didn’t quite know how to do it.

  The movers would be here tomorrow and she would fly the day after that. It was all so fast, but that’s how she wanted it. Maybe after she was settled in London, she’d call Alejandro and give him the news.

  She stopped at the bookstore on her way home and picked up two books about pregnancy and one on mothering. Who knew they had such things? But thank the Lord they did because she would need all the help she could get. She still hadn’t figured out how to integrate this new life inside her with the one she knew—the long days at the office, the endless meetings and business trips—but there had to be something in these books that would help.

  She thought of the evenings when she used to sit at the window and wait for her daddy to come home. Her mother, if she noticed, would say, “Your papa is working, ma belle. He will be home when he can. Now go play and stop your moping.”

  How could she do her job and make sure her child didn’t feel as lonely as she had? Because she couldn’t imagine this baby sitting at a window and waiting for her to come home. She wouldn’t let it happen. Her baby would know it was loved and cherished. Somehow, she would make everything work. She had to.

  The daytime door attendant to her building rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, smiling as Rebecca approached. Her blue uniform was always crisp, her smile always ready. Rebecca would miss the woman’s cheery greetings.

  “Miss Layton, good to see you. How’s the move going, hmm?”

  “It’s a pain, Bernadette. But I think I’ll survive.”

  Her days had been so busy that she was behind on many of the things she wanted to accomplish, but she made a mental note to give Bernadette an extra-large tip and a gift before she left.

  Bernadette leaned forward, her eyes flashing. Rebecca grinned. What manner of hunk had the woman seen now? Bernadette was always talking about the good-looking men in the building, or the ones who strolled by during the day. It was one of the highlights of her job.

  “Supreme eye candy alert, Miss Layton. A foreign type. Got out of that limo there and entered the building not more than five minutes ago. Bet he’s on his way to the beauty queen’s digs.”

  They had a former Miss Something-or-Other in the building, which seemed to fascinate Bernadette to no end. Any time a good-looking guy went inside, she was convinced he was headed for the woman’s apartment. She was probably right.

  “How do you know he’s foreign?” Rebecca felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of foreign men these days.

  “Oh honey, I can spot ’em a mile away. But he was on the phone and it wasn’t English they were talking. Smelled like money too, let me tell you.” She wagged her head back and forth. “Mm-mm, I’d sell my soul to the devil himself for one night in the sack with that guy. He’d never know what hit him.”

  Rebecca laughed and left Bernadette to her daydreams about Miss Whatever’s potential suitor. Taking one of the books out of her bag, she flipped through it while she waited for the elevator.

  So much to know about babies. Unconsciously, her hand drifted over her abdomen. She smiled when she realized what she was doing.

  “We have a lot to learn, you and I.”

  It didn’t matter if the baby couldn’t understand her yet. It comforted her to talk to her child.

  Her child. Those words still gave her little thrill. And, funny enough, she no longer felt so alone in the world knowing she had a life growing inside her. They would be okay. Somehow, they would be okay.

  She hummed a little as she walked down the hallw
ay toward her apartment. A familiar scent seemed to linger in the air when she reached her door. She hesitated as a trickle of alarm buzzed between her shoulder blades. It wasn’t a heavy smell, but a scent that came from expensive clothes and a certain brand of soap.

  The hairs on her arms prickled, but she told herself not to be silly. Other rich men could use the same soap as Alejandro. It meant nothing.

  Rebecca’s heart pounded into her throat as she shoved the key in the lock and pushed the door open. She closed it behind her, slid the chains in place, and let out a shaky sigh.

  What was the matter with her? Alejandro was not there. He couldn’t be. He had no reason to be. He didn’t know about her pregnancy. And though he’d had her followed once before, he had no reason to do so now. He was finished with her. No investigator was lurking outside her building, sending reports to her gorgeous Spanish lover.

  To the father of her child.

  Rebecca shivered. Her senses were heightened due to the hormones rocketing through her system. It was nothing more than the beauty queen and her latest suitor. The man visiting her was simply cut from the same mold as Alejandro—rich, handsome, and possessed of impeccable taste. He eschewed cologne and used imported soap. So what?

  Rebecca set her bag of books on the coffee table and went into the kitchen to get a glass of cool water. There were boxes everywhere. She surveyed the open loft, the amount of work yet to be done. Despair crushed her. Though the Cahill Group was paying for her relocation, that didn’t stop her from sorting through her things before the movers arrived. She had to keep busy or she’d go crazy.