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Closing her eyes, she pressed her head against the cool stone of the wall, letting out a soft groan. She was trapped in Spain. In Andrés’ house. In the clothes he’d bought for her. She was the puppet and Andrés the puppeteer. Her life wasn’t her own anymore.
A sharp knock came on the door and she spun around, her pulse quickening.
“Come in,” she called, not sure if the person was waiting for a response or not.
The door opened and a man came in, carrying her food. He delivered the plate with a smile but made no attempt at conversation otherwise. A moment later he’d left.
Alone again. Isolated and vulnerable, Chloe turned her attention to the plate. She wasn’t hungry, she told herself. But soon the smell of food made her mouth begin to water. With a small groan, she plucked the silver lid from the plate.
Her eyes widened at the variety of temptation on it. There was chicken and rice, beans with ham, vegetables, and a glass of juice. Despite her protests of not being hungry, actually seeing the food made her realize how long it had been since she’d eaten.
She lifted the plate onto her lap and took a bite of chicken. Her eyes closed as the spices and meat exploded in sensation on her tongue. Amazing.
A half hour later, she was full and growing drowsy. The chair was so large and cushiony, she was able to curl up into it and lay her head on the arm.
Despite the delicious meal still in her belly, she couldn’t help thinking about her future and just how dim it was. She replayed the events of the day and realized the magnitude of what had happened. Her fears rushed to the surface and suddenly it was too much. She wept silent tears that she didn’t bother to wipe away.
Finally, limp with exhaustion, she let her eyes close. A few minutes later, she was asleep.
Andrés made his way down the hall, loosening his tie and fighting back the fatigue from the last forty-eight hours.
He hadn’t meant to leave Chloe alone for so long but had gotten stuck on a call to his London resort. He grimaced and wondered how strong her anger would be when he went into his room.
Running a hand through his hair, he sighed and pushed the door open. His blood quickened and the muscles in his shoulders tensed when he did not immediately see her. But then his gaze landed on her form, curled up in one of the chairs and fast asleep.
The tension eased from his body and a soft smile curled his mouth as he crossed the room to her. He tossed his tie over the couch then undid the first few buttons on his shirt.
Reaching her chair, he stared down at her and discovered how deeply asleep she was. Her pink lips were parted and her expression peaceful, even though her cheeks were stained with tears.
Guilt pricked lightly that he was the reason for causing them.
He ruthlessly cut the softer emotion down and hardened his heart. He’d done what needed to be done to ensure the safety of his unborn child, seeing as Chloe had given him very little reason to trust her.
Andrés leaned down to scoop her up, lifting her high into his arms. He carried her across the room to the bed; Chloe emitted a soft sigh as she laid her head on his shoulder.
This time, when a twinge of tenderness hit him, he didn’t fight it. Reaching the bed, he lay her down and smiled at the image of her body stretched out in the lovely pink dress he’d brought. She should not sleep in the dress, though. The buttons in the back would prove a discomfort throughout the night.
Though he knew she wouldn’t appreciate it, he set out to remove her clothing himself. A few minutes later he had her stripped down to the pink bra and panty set. She had barely stirred; only once to roll over to face him. For a moment her lashes had fluttered up and she’d stared at him. Her mouth curled into a sweet smile and she closed her eyes once more.
Now, he couldn’t help but notice how her breasts strained against the pink lace of her bra and her legs stretched out from the tiny scrap of lace panties. His groin tightened and his blood hummed possessively at the sight of her. She looked all too natural in his bed, as if she’d always belonged here.
He pushed a curl off her cheek and leaned down to brush a kiss across her lips. Soon he would have her again. But unfortunately, not tonight.
After pulling the blanket to cover her, he straightened with reluctance and left her side, crossing to the bathroom to shower.
Chloe awoke the next morning alone in bed. She sat up and glanced around, clutching the sheets to her as the memory of the last couple of days rushed through her head.
Oh no. It was real. She bit her lip and whimpered. For a moment, she’d prayed that it had all just been a nightmare. That Andrés hadn’t swept into her life like a tornado, leaving nothing behind but chaos and destruction.
But it wasn’t a dream. It was her new reality. And the fact that she was lying in just her underwear in Andrés’s bed in Spain proved it.
She froze and then let out a sharp gasp. Underwear? How on earth had that happened? Goodness, she didn’t even remember falling asleep, let alone undressing.
Had Andrés been the one to remove her clothing? Heat slid through her body at the possibility.
A sharp knock came at the door, followed immediately by Andrés striding in. He appeared as handsome and intimidating as ever, dressed in another expensive black suit. Was he leaving for work?
Her mouth dried when he approached the bed, his gaze sliding over her tousled hair and the sheet clutched to her chest. His lips curved in amusement, and she had to resist the impulse to throw a pillow at him to wipe the smirk from his face.
“Good morning, Chloe,” he murmured, and moved to open the curtains on the far side of the room. “You should rise. The obstetrician is on her way to the villa as we speak.”
Chloe blinked in dismay. “Excuse me?”
“Your obstetrician. The doctor who will handle your pregnancy and deliver our baby.”
“She’s coming here?” Chloe flailed out of bed, forgetting her state of undress until the heat in Andrés’s hooded eyes reminded her.
Her nipples peaked from his masculine appreciation, while a slow ache gathered low in her belly. Oh, damn her treacherous body. She should not feel an ounce of attraction to this awful man right now.
“Pregnancy agrees with you,” he murmured, catching her around the waist and halting her attempt to dart past him. “You are more beautiful than ever.”
“Let me go, Andrés,” she pleaded. “I would at least like to put on some clothes.”
“Why?” He gave a lazy shrug and traced a finger over the swell of her breast peeking above the lacy bra. “You will simply need to remove them again when she does the ultrasound.”
Her breasts rose under his light touch and the ache in her body grew greater.
“You sure don’t waste any time,” she accused, trying to hold on to the anger instead of the other emotion that threatened. “I haven’t even been in Spain for a day yet. Is it normal for you to have doctors at your beck and call?”
“I promised you would be well taken care of, Chloe.” He arched a brow. “Surely you’re not surprised that I want to ensure the health of my baby.”
“I’m not sure anything could surprise me at this rate,” she muttered and crossed the room to pluck a silk robe draped over the chair. She donned it and tied the belt fiercely around her waist. Turning, she glared at him. “You’re leaving for work, I hope?”
His gaze grew hooded and he gave a slight nod. “Yes, once the ultrasound is complete.”
Another knock came at the door. Still watching her, he called from the person to enter.
The doctor came inside then, pushing a cart that held an ultrasound machine. She was a beautiful woman in her thirties whose face shone with admiration when she spotted Andrés. She introduced herself to Chloe as Dr. Flores, then turned back to Andrés and jumping into a conversation in Spanish.
Chloe tried to follow along and was able to deduce the doctor was thanking Andrés profusely for a large donation to the clinic. Surprise slid through her. For all Andrés’s austerity, apparently he gave back to his community.
Eventually Dr. Flores ushered Chloe back into bed to do the ultrasound. Her belly was smothered in a cool gel and the doctor moved the transducer over the barely noticeable swell of her abdomen.
“Congratulations,” Dr. Flores said in thickly accented English and gestured to the screen. “There. You see? That is your baby. And if you look, you can see the heartbeat. The size and location appear normal…”
Chloe stopped listening completely. Her heart twisted and emotion rocked her to the core as she stared at the tiny flicker on the bean-shaped image. The flicker that symbolized the steady beating heart of her baby. She was really going to become a mother.
Tears of amazement thickened in her throat and she blinked rapidly.
Her joy was cut brutally short when she caught sight of Andrés’ stoic profile. He nodded at whatever the doctor was saying, but his stare remained void of emotion. There was no happiness, no excitement, just the same expression he’d probably have if he were being briefed on the latest figures for his resorts.
