The Vasquez Baby Page 7

  She’d been spoiled, cosseted, protected and most of the time she hadn’t even been aware of that fact because everything in his life ran so smoothly and discreetly.

  His main residence was the Beach House in the grounds of the estancia, ten thousand acres of prime real-estate that stretched from the Atlantic coast of Argentina into the grasslands. Under Raul’s watchful eye, his dedicated staff, which had once included her, bred and trained polo ponies, and the estancia was the first port of call for the super-wealthy who enjoyed that particular sport.

  With typical flare and vision, Raul had tapped into a market where the very, very rich would pay for the privilege of receiving the very best polo instruction and advice on the purchase of a string of ponies, safe from the prying eyes of the world’s press. It also allowed Raul to indulge his daredevil streak—as one of the country’s most daring polo players, he thrived on the thrilling adrenalin rush of the game.

  But the stud-farm was only a small part of an empire that encompassed hotels, finance and export. Applauded by the financial pages of the world’s newspapers for his astonishing vision, Raul had diversified sufficiently to ensure that any change in the markets would have no effect on the overall profitability of his business.

  The lift doors opened and Raul strode out, as if he couldn’t wait to get away from her. After a moment’s hesitation Faith followed, knowing that if she didn’t do so voluntarily, he’d simply haul her out himself.

  The penthouse apartment spread over the top of the building, a dazzling, soaring living-space designed to give the occupant breathtaking views over Buenos Aires.

  ‘It is stunning,’ she muttered weakly. ‘Another world.’ And at that moment she almost laughed at herself.

  It was another world. The world he lived in. How had she ever thought she could just step into his life with no problems?

  A frown touching his strong, dark brows, Raul turned his head and stared out of the window, as if the view wasn’t something he’d noticed before. ‘It’s a city.’

  His reply was so rigidly polite that Faith felt as though she was on a blind date with a stranger. ‘If you didn’t buy it for the view, why did you choose it?’

  He gave a careless lift of his broad shoulders, as if he considered it an odd question. ‘I needed somewhere to shower and change in between meetings. And it’s an investment.’

  He was standing still but she could feel the energy pulsing from every centimetre of his powerful frame. She’d never met anyone as driven as Raul. ‘Does money come into every decision you make?’

  ‘Not always.’ His charcoal-dark eyes locked on hers, his gaze boldly explicit and she understood the unspoken message in that one blistering look.

  If he’d been thinking about money, he wouldn’t have chosen her.

  Looking at him now, at the careless arrogance he wore with the same ease as his expensive clothes, she wondered how she’d ever felt comfortable with him.

  Everything about him screamed power and success but on top of that he possessed a raw, dominant sexuality that had always rendered her breathless.

  For a moment his burning gaze held her captive, the sheer force of his personality preventing her from looking away.

  In the end it was Raul who broke that connection, turning from her with a sudden movement that suggested an underlying tension of almost unbearable proportions. ‘I haven’t shown you round properly, but the bedroom is up the stairs.’ His voice was tight, clipped, as if he were restraining himself not to say a great deal more. ‘Take a shower and help yourself to some clothes from the wardrobe.’

  Clothes? Her heart lurched and the dull, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach returned. Since when did he keep a spare set of clothes for female guests? She’d never been here, which could only mean that…

  Reminding herself that the way he chose to live his life was no longer any of her business, Faith curled her fingers into her palms.

  ‘Upstairs?’

  ‘It’s a duplex penthouse.’ With a spare, minimal gesture he angled his glossy, dark head and she belatedly noticed a curving staircase in one corner of the room.

  ‘Fine.’ Not trusting herself to stay cool in front of him, she stalked across the apartment and up the stairs, horribly conscious of his eyes tracking her every movement.

  She found herself in a sumptuous master-bedroom suite that extended over the whole of the top floor. Gripped by the sharp claws of jealousy, she kept her eyes firmly averted from the enormous bed. Raul had had women before her, she knew that. But she’d always told herself that they were part of his past.

  Only now was it dawning on her that she’d never really known this dangerous, complicated, hotly sexual man. When he’d flown to Buenos Aires for meetings, had he been alone? Could Raul deprive himself of sex for a few nights? Remembering his almost insatiable hunger for her body, she doubted it. He was a man of apparently limitless stamina in every area of his life and the demands he placed upon himself would have exhausted a lesser man.

  Reminding herself that none of that was supposed to matter to her any more, she made straight for the bathroom.

  Even there she couldn’t escape the vagaries of her imagination because the amazing glass bath was easily large enough for two, as was the shower.

  And she knew enough of Raul’s sexual appetites to know that he wouldn’t have restricted his activities to the bedroom.

  Trying to block out the distressing image of those skilled, bronzed hands on another woman, she stripped off her damp clothes and stepped under the shower. Why would she care that he had another woman? She didn’t want him, did she? Not after what he’d believed of her. He was right—they were totally wrong for each other. She was a modern, thinking woman. He was a ruthless tycoon who inhabited a world she hadn’t even known existed. And that world had made him cynical and hard.

  She probably should have ended the relationship and maybe she would have if it hadn’t been for the one small fact that he’d overlooked when he’d delivered that piece of advice.

  She loved him.

  Totally, completely and utterly. To the point where the mere idea of leaving would have been laughable.

  And he’d taken that love and crushed it.

  Closing her eyes, she let the hot water scald her skin, finding the warmth strangely soothing. After the clinical scent of the hospital it was pure bliss to lather indulgent products into her hair and body. She could have stayed under the shower for ever, but she knew that if she didn’t emerge soon Raul would come looking for her and she didn’t want that. Reluctantly she stemmed the flow of hot water, dried herself on one of the heated towels and walked into the dressing room.

  Steeling herself for seeing a range of glamorous dresses, she was taken aback to see nothing but male clothing, both formal and casual.

  Suits, shirts, ties, shoes—nothing remotely feminine or glittery.

  Relief swamped her, closely followed by exasperation because she didn’t want to feel anything. She didn’t want to care. Shaking her head in despair, she wondered how she was ever going to divorce herself from this man. It wasn’t the legal side that worried her—that would be simple enough. The real problem was the mental agony of accepting that he was no longer in her life.

  Faith stared at the contents of his dressing room, realising with a sense of resignation that there was absolutely nothing that was going to fit her.

  Abandoning ideas of boosting her flagging courage with a touch of power-dressing, she gave a shrug and reached for a crisp white shirt. She wasn’t trying to make a good impression anyway, so what did it matter how she was dressed? The shirt fell to mid-thigh and she had to roll up the sleeves, but after she’d added a belt she decided that she was more or less respectable.

  Feeling ridiculously self-conscious, she walked back into the luxurious living area.

  Raul was standing with his back to her, phone to his ear as usual, his hand braced against the glass window as he listened to the person on the other end. For a moment
Faith just watched him, her eyes feasting on every tiny detail from the fit of his shirt to the bold confidence that was so evident in everything he did. He was spectacular. Sleek, handsome and every inch the successful billionaire.

  How had she ever thought that their relationship could work?

  He was used to driving over everything in his path and she’d never been meek and submissive.

  They’d been an accident waiting to happen.

  Sensing her presence, he turned, issued a set of instructions and then terminated the call and dropped the phone onto the nearest available surface. His eyes swept over her in one swiftly assessing glance. ‘You’ve lost weight.’

  His comment shot like a spear through her self-confidence. ‘Lost weight’ good, or ‘lost weight’ bad? ‘It’s your shirt,’ she muttered. ‘It’s too big for me. There weren’t any female clothes.’

  ‘Why would there be?’ His tone was heavily laced with sarcasm. ‘On the whole I don’t find the financial sector take me seriously if I arrive at a meeting wearing a dress.’

  The question burned inside her and she looked at him, desperately wanting to ask and hating herself for that weakness. Their relationship was in its death throes. Why demean herself by voicing the fears that had been gnawing at her insides since he’d dragged her into the apartment?

  The apartment she hadn’t known about.

  Raul shot her a look of sizzling impatience. ‘You are totally transparent. But I don’t play those games, Faith, I told you that when we first met. I was with you. I didn’t want anyone else.’

  The fact that he’d read her so easily should have bothered her but she was too lacerated by his use of the past tense to care. ‘Women want you—’

  ‘I’m an adult, not some hormonal teenager,’ he said curtly. ‘Do you think I jump into bed with every woman who looks at me?’

  Obviously not, or he’d never get any work done.

  Faith tried to breathe evenly. ‘I just thought—’

  ‘I know what you thought,’ he snapped. ‘And for your information I have never brought another woman here. This is convenient accommodation, not a love nest. When I’m here, I’m working.’

  Wishing she hadn’t exposed so much of herself, or her feelings, Faith looked away. ‘This is so difficult.’

  ‘You’re the one who made it difficult.’

  ‘You expect my trust but you don’t give it in return.’ She turned to him. ‘What did I ever do to make you believe that I’d lie to you? And lie about something so enormously important?’

  He stilled, his face ashen beneath his tan. ‘You cannot walk around Buenos Aires wearing one of my shirts.’

  So he was going to stampede right over the issue, then. Her legs gave way and she plopped onto the sofa. ‘I didn’t have any luggage.’

  ‘You left Argentina with nothing?’

  She wanted to turn the conversation back to the subject that he’d abandoned but her woman’s intuition warned her that it was best left. If Raul was avoiding it, then he was avoiding it for a reason.

  And suddenly she wanted to understand that reason.

  Only now was it occurring to her that she was being punished for someone else’s sins.

  ‘When I left, I was upset, Raul.’ In fact she’d been in such a state when she’d fled to the airport that it was fortunate her passport had been in her handbag or she wouldn’t have gone far. ‘I wasn’t thinking.’

  ‘Evidently.’ The mockery in his voice was sharp as a blade. ‘As you evidently weren’t thinking when you stepped in the path of a taxi. You don’t need luggage, cariño, you need protection. From yourself.’

  ‘That’s not true. And I wouldn’t have taken any luggage, anyway.’ She bit her lip. ‘I didn’t want to take anything that was yours.’

  ‘You were mine,’ Raul said with lethal emphasis, his thick dark lashes veiling the expression in his eyes. ‘You were mine. And unlike you, I take incredibly good care of my possessions.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘I’M NOTyour possession, Raul.’

  Raul watched her and wished he’d had the foresight to send out for some clothes for her. At least then he might have stood a chance of being able to concentrate.

  He’d never considered a plain white shirt to be sexy, but Faith managed to turn it into something that could have become a top seller in a sex shop.

  It wasn’t the shirt, he decided grimly, it was the woman.

  Faith would have looked sexy dressed in her grandmother’s clothes.

  And she was looking straight at him, her green eyes wide and intelligent. ‘Talk to me, Raul,’ she urged softly, all the fight suddenly leaving her. ‘Tell me why you’re thinking like this. Is there something I need to know? Did someone hurt you? Did someone betray your trust?’

  She’d changed tactic in mid-fight but this alternative, gentler assault was infinitely more deadly than the fierce blast of her temper.

  She was getting close. Too close. Closer than any woman had ever dared tread before.

  ‘We’ve been talking non-stop,’ he said coldly, retreating mentally and physically from the question he saw in her eyes.

  ‘Maybe we haven’t been talking about the right things.’

  Swiftly, he sidestepped an issue he had no intention of exploring further. ‘You betrayed my trust.’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘Why would you even think that?’

  ‘Because you went to astonishing lengths to drag me into this marriage.’

  ‘That is not what happened!’

  ‘Then what did happen, Faith? Why are we standing here, as husband and wife, because I sure as hell don’t know!’ His words thickened, his usually faultless accent tinged with a hint of his South American heritage.

  She stood in front of him and he could actually see her slim legs shaking. In fact she was shaking so badly that for a moment he wondered whether she might actually collapse. Her face had lost every last hint of colour and she looked as though she were in shock. ‘We’re here because I thought it was what you wanted. You proposed, Raul. You asked me to marry you.’

  ‘Because you gave me no other option! Have you listened to anything I’ve said over the past ten months?’ With a supreme effort of will, he kept his voice level even though the temptation to vent his wrath was extreme. ‘Right from the beginning I made it clear to you—no marriage, no babies. If that’s what you had planned then you should have been with another man.’

  But even as he uttered the words he knew them for a lie. He would never have let her go to another man.

  ‘I didn’t have anything planned. I didn’t plan any of this!’ Some of her spirit returned. ‘I came to your wretched estancia because the job was interesting and I wanted to see something of South America. All you were to me was a name. A guy who knew about horses!’

  Watching her trembling and shaking in front of him, Raul frowned. ‘Calm down.’ She looked impossibly fragile and he watched with a mixture of concern and exasperation as she grew more and more agitated, her slender hands clasping and unclasping by her sides.

  ‘Don’t tell me to calm down! How can I possibly calm down when you’re accusing me of planning as though I’m some sort of s-s—’ she stumbled over the word ‘—scheming woman, out to trap you. I’m not scheming. I never planned or plotted. I had an accident! It happens to millions of women every day! And it wasn’t just my fault! You were there, too! You’re very quick to blame me, but I wasn’t alone in this. I didn’t have sex by myself. You were there, Raul, every time. You were there in our bed every night. You were there in the shower, in the stables, in your office, in the fields—wherever I was, you were. I didn’t do this by myself!’

  Her passionate diatribe conjured up images of such disturbing clarity that it took him a moment to formulate a response. ‘You assured me that you were protected.’

  ‘Well, it seems that nothing is foolproof. I’ve thought about it and thought about it.’ Faith swallowed. ‘I was sick, if you remember. I
picked up that bug when we spent the night in that hotel outside Cordoba, when you were looking at a horse. I didn’t even think of it at the time, but it was probably enough—’

  He digested that information in silence. ‘It’s history now.’

  ‘No, it isn’t history. I can’t be with a man who would think that badly of me!’

  ‘All marriages hit sticky patches.’

  ‘But not within hours of the ceremony! I hate you, Raul.’ The tears spilled down her cheeks and she started to sob. Not delicate, controlled sobs designed to win a man round, but tearing, anguished sobs that seemed to place great strain on her slender frame. ‘I hate you for not believing me, I hate you for marrying me when that wasn’t what you really wanted, but most of all I really, really hate you for not caring that I lost the baby.’

  Raul swore fluently and stepped towards her but she held up a hand to stop him.

  ‘Don’t come near me,’ she choked. ‘Don’t you dare touch me or I’ll injure you.’

  He stiffened. ‘You’re obviously distressed—’

  ‘And you are the reason for that distress! Make up your mind, Raul. You can’t accuse me of lying and manipulating one minute and then offer to support me the next. When I told you that I’d lost the baby—that was when I needed your support.’ Her voice was thickened and clogged with tears. ‘But what did you do? You accused me of having become pregnant on purpose to trap you into marriage. I didn’t just lose the baby, I lost you because I realised then that I couldn’t be with a man who would think me capable of something like that.’

  ‘What was I supposed to think?’ Infuriated by her totally unjust accusations, Raul felt his own tension levels soar.

  ‘You were supposed to think that I wouldn’t have done that to you. To us! That was what you were supposed to think.’ Her face was streaked with tears but for some reason she didn’t look pathetic or sorry for herself, just angry and passionate and very, very beautiful. ‘I know you find it hard to show your feelings, but I assumed you loved me. I assumed you cared about me. It didn’t occur to me to even question that because I thought we were happy together. So at the time, all I was really thinking about was the baby and how sad I was.’