forehead furrowed. “He has one! With me!”
He said stiffly, “I’m willing to forgive you for stealing him from me—”
“I didn’t steal him! I was protecting him!”
“But you have to realize that everything has changed now.”
Her beautiful face looked numb. “It doesn’t mean we have to marry. I know how you feel about marriage.” She took a deep breath. “After all your fiancées cheated on you...”
Rodrigo stiffened, wondering how she’d heard. He certainly hadn’t spoken about it over the years. But some people did know. His exes. Marnie. And gossip had a way of spreading, especially in his industry.
“This is different,” he said coldly. “We’re not in love.”
She didn’t look encouraged by this statement. Shaking her head, she lifted her chin stubbornly. “We can set up some kind of visitation schedule.”
“Are you serious?” He raised his eyebrows. “Shuttling our baby from place to place, coast to coast? Always separated from one parent? Never really sure of where his home is? No.”
“It doesn’t have to be like that. Lots of healthy, happy children have parents who aren’t married—”
“Not my son.”
She glared at him. “Why marriage?”
Rodrigo couldn’t explain to her what his childhood had been like. He’d never fully told anyone, not even the three women he’d claimed to love during his brief engagements long ago. He said shortly, “Is it so strange? I want us both to be there for our son. Every day. And for him to feel safe and loved.”
“And you think he doesn’t feel loved now?” she said indignantly.
“I know you love him, Lola. I can see it in everything you’ve done.” She relaxed slightly, until he added, “Which is the reason you’ll marry me.”
She scowled. “I’m not marrying someone I don’t love.”
Rodrigo drew closer, looking down at her in the small apartment. “You used to love me. Once.”
“I learned my lesson, didn’t I?”
“Fine. You don’t need to love me.” His lips curled. “In fact, I’d prefer it if you don’t. It keeps things simpler. But you will marry me, Lola. Soon.” Straightening the cuffs of his tuxedo jacket, he said, “Sleep on it. Once you’ve calmed down, you’ll see I’m right.”
“I won’t!”
Rodrigo looked down at her in the soft glow of the lamplight. His voice was low. “This is a dangerous world. Much can happen. Accidents. Illness. People can die.”
“Are you threatening me?” She gasped.
“What? No!” Jolted, he clawed his hand roughly through his dark hair. “I’m saying a child needs as much protection, as much security and love, as he can get. My parents died, Lola. One, then the other. What happened to yours?”
The blood drained from her face. She’d always refused to speak of her past, but now he knew his suspicions were right.
“You’re an orphan,” he guessed. Biting her lip, she looked away. “So our child already has a mark against him, with no grandparents to love him.” He set his jaw. “I’m an only child. So no uncles or aunts.”
Looking away, she muttered, “I have two sisters.”
His eyebrows raised in surprise. “You do?”
Lola stared at the floor. “I haven’t seen them for a long time.”
Rodrigo sensed some pain there, but he didn’t want to ask. He just pressed his advantage. “So already, our baby is more vulnerable, with no extended family. Don’t you want him to have a father? Think of what I can give him. What I can give both of you.”
She stiffened. “I don’t need more money—”
“Not just money. My name. My time. My protection. My love.”
She froze. “Your love.”
“Yes. A father’s love.” He set his jaw. “Jett needs me as much as he needs you, Lola. I want to be there for him, to help raise him, to teach him how to be a man. Together, you and I can give him a better childhood than we had. Either of us.”
He saw by her expression that his shot hit home. She suddenly looked uncertain, her eyes luminous in the shadowy light.
Turning away, Rodrigo stopped at the door.
“My son will have my name, Lola. And so will you. This marriage will happen. Accept it.” He gave her a hard smile. “Sleep well tonight. Because tomorrow, you’re both coming home with me.”
* * *
Rodrigo arrived the next day, as promised, bright and early. But his men came much sooner than that.
Lola peeked out the window again. Eight stories below, she still saw the black SUV parked across the street. It had arrived last night, thirty minutes after Rodrigo had left.
For all his fine words about marriage and family and love, she thought bitterly, he didn’t trust her. He’d sent his henchmen to watch her apartment building to make sure she didn’t try to flee with the baby.
They weren’t even married yet, but he was already treating her like a prisoner.
But could she totally blame him? a small voice said inside her. She’d left California and kept their baby a secret for a year.
Shut up, she told that voice angrily.
But she’d finally come to the reluctant conclusion that Rodrigo was right. Their baby needed two parents, his whole family. Lola’s own father had died when she was five, and she’d always felt that loss, somewhere in the back of her mind. In some ways, losing her father was the start of losing everything, because that was when her mom had had to go back to work. She’d earned only a fraction of what her father had, so they’d had to move out of their sunny three-bedroom house and into the trailer.
Now, Lola looked back at her small furnished apartment. She’d packed their meager possessions into three suitcases, leaving the dishware and odds and ends for the next tenant. She and Jett had been happy here, she thought wistfully.
Then she shook her head with a snort, remembering all the nights she’d cried herself to sleep over the last year. It was why she hadn’t invited Hallie to stay here, when her friend had briefly needed a place to stay last summer. Lola couldn’t bear to let anyone see her cry. Well, except Jett, but only because he’d cried even more.
Lola was supposed to be the strong one, the one her friends came to for advice and support, not the one who needed help. She’d pushed Hallie and Tess to get the financial support their babies deserved. She’d pushed them to get their lives together. And look at those two now—happy, in love, joyful. She’d helped them get there. Speaking the brutal truth with love, Lola called it, though her friends sometimes grumbled that her words could be more brutal than loving.
But they didn’t know how scared Lola felt on the inside. She’d worked through her pregnancy because she was afraid to spend the money Rodrigo had thrown at her. Afraid that bad things could happen. And even after a year, she hadn’t been brave enough to contact her baby sisters. Guilt still hung heavily over her at how she’d failed them at eighteen.
A child needs as much protection, as much security and love, as he can get. My parents died, Lola. One, then the other. What happened to yours?
She looked at Jett, now stretched out happily on a soft blanket over the rug. Rodrigo was right. As much as she hated to admit it. Jett deserved as much security and love as she could possibly give.
Because parents could die. They could