Proof Of Their One Hot Night by Emmy Grayson
CHAPTER FIVE
THENEXTMORNING, when Calandra rang the doorbell, a sweet-faced maid answered and ushered her into the grand hall of Adrian’s Paris mansion, presided over by a crystal chandelier that probably cost as much as the mortgage on Aunt Norine’s house. The maid murmured that Monsieur Cabrera would be out in a moment and disappeared. Moments later, the sound of raised male voices cut through the silence from one of the doorways off the hall.
“...don’t know the first thing about being a father!”
Adrian’s voice lashed out. Another voice responded, the faintest murmur, but it still sent a dangerous shiver down her spine.
Alejandro.
“How do you know she’s telling the truth?”
Adrian’s words cut deep. Shame rose in her throat, thick and bitter. The baby deserved so much better than her, a cold woman who’d succumbed to a moment of weakness with the last person she thought she would have slept with, much less taken as her first lover.
I’ll do better, baby. I’ll be better. For you.
Alejandro responded once more, his voice still so low she couldn’t make out his words. Silence ensued for several seconds. Then a door slammed.
“He’s gone now.”
She froze. Was he talking to her?
“I’m not going to bite, Calandra.”
Another memory appeared with no warning, of his lips on her breasts, his teeth nibbling on her flesh as she’d arched up into his embrace.
She gritted her teeth. If she’d known sex would have caused this many moments of vulnerability, she never would have given up her virginity so easily. Or ever.
“Callie?”
“My name,” she snapped as she advanced into the dining room, “is Calandra...”
Her voice trailed off as she stopped in the doorway.
The dining room, like the rest of the home, was elegant in the extreme. Black-and-white photographs of Paris, from the glass pyramid of the Louvre to the sweeping gardens of Versailles, decorated the cream-colored walls. Two-story windows marched along the far wall, sun streaming in to dance over the crystal chandelier that hung over a long, white table trimmed in gold.
On the left sat Alejandro, bare-chested, hair tousled and wearing a smirk that deepened the sexy dimple in his cheek. Clad only in burgundy lounge pants with a newspaper draped across his lap and his feet resting on the table, he raised his coffee mug to her in salute.
She tried to focus on those details, like the steam rising off the cup, and not on his chest.
His naked, tanned, muscular chest.
“Do you ever wear clothes?”
“They get in the way.”
She rolled her eyes. Hopefully her outward irritation masked the unwelcome heat winding its way through her veins, leaving behind the desire to run her fingers over the carved muscles of his biceps.
“Your brother thinks I’m lying.”
His smile grew, but this time his eyes crinkled at the corners. Funny, she’d never noticed that before. Almost like the smile he’d given her before was practiced, false, whereas this one was genuine.
“I missed that,” he said before he took a sip of his coffee.
“What?”
“Your bluntness.”
Not the most swoonworthy of compliments. So why did his words fill her with warmth?
Because you’re just like your mother. You thought you were so strong all these years, but you’re not. You’re weak.
Her spine straightened as the heat in her veins turned to ice. The child growing inside her needed her to be strong. Needed her to stop her fantasizing and take charge of the situation.
“If you’re hungry, the chef laid out quite the spread.” He nodded toward a table on the far side of the room.
She nodded and walked over. She needed time to think, to regroup. Seeing him barely clothed had knocked her off balance. But as she put toast, sliced banana and a hard-boiled egg on her plate, her resolve strengthened. When she turned back toward the table, her walls were firmly back in place.
“How did you know I was here?”
He pointed to a mirror hanging on the far wall as she sat. “Not very sneaky.”
“I wasn’t trying to sneak.” She took a bite of bread and let out a sigh. Lightly buttered, toasted to perfection.
A strangled sound came from across the table. But when she looked up, Alejandro was reading the paper in his lap.
“It sounded like Adrian thinks I’m trying to trap you.”
Alejandro shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter what he thinks. He’s in big brother mode. Wants to make sure I don’t make a mistake.”
“Like marrying me?”
He let out a bark of laughter as he looked up. “I think we both know that would never happen.”
Even though she had absolutely no desire to be shackled to him, or anyone for that matter, his emphatic statement still hurt.
“You do. I do. But your brother doesn’t.”
Years of suppressing her emotions helped her stay calm as she continued to eat her breakfast under his watchful gaze. But finally, after she’d taken another bite of toast and eaten half the banana, she looked up at him in irritation.
“It’s rude to watch someone eat.”
“Shouldn’t you be eating more?”
Her fingers tightened around her fork. “On the list of things you can’t tell me what to do, how much I eat is number two.”
One eyebrow arched as his lips quirked. “And what’s the first?”
“How to raise my child.”
His feet dropped down as he spun in his chair, sitting up straight and leaning forward over the table. It should have looked comical, a shirtless man sitting amid the backdrop of so much luxury.
But the look on his face was anything but funny. Eyes narrowed and crackling with intensity, lips thinned, jaw tight. In that moment, he looked more like his brother than she’d ever seen him.
Except this was...more. She and Adrian had shared a similar disposition. When they took charge, they grew cold. Their command partially came from their ability to show as little emotion as possible.
Alejandro, on the other hand, channeled his usual charm and energy into a threatening force that threw her off balance.
“Our child.”
His voice vibrated with suppressed anger.
“I acknowledge your anatomical contribution. And while I had not expected your interest in being a parent—”
“How could I not be interested?” he bit out.
“I don’t have enough fingers and toes to count the times you told me and anyone within earshot that jumping into a shark-infested pool would be more preferable than marriage.”
“Marriage, yes. Fatherhood, no.”
Her confusion only heightened her own anger.
“How could you possibly expect me to separate those two? Oh, the man who sleeps with at least one new supermodel every week also wants to burp a baby and change diapers. A logical conclusion. How could I have missed it?”
Some of his anger faded as he leaned back in his chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Why do you always have to be so cold?”
He was excelling at hurtful comments this morning. She wanted to respond truthfully, to snap out that she didn’t like being cold. The world had made her this way.
Cold wasn’t by choice. Cold was by necessity.
“If you’d leave me alone, you wouldn’t be subjected to my company.”
He sighed. “This is not how I wanted this conversation to go.” He nodded toward her plate. “I’m not trying to control you, Calandra. I’ve never been around a pregnant woman before, much less one who’s carrying my child.”
Ignoring his emphasis on my, she focused on her water glass. “Impressive given your history.”
“You’re the first I’ve been irresponsible with.” He grimaced. “I had condoms in my damn pocket. But I wanted you so much I just...forgot.”
Damn her traitorous heart and the little jump it gave upon hearing those words.
“I see.”
“I just want to make sure you’re getting everything you need, including nutrients. I’ve heard the phrase eating for two.” He nodded at her plate. “And that’s barely enough to feed a bird.”
She inhaled deeply. Condescending as his voice was, her mind pointed out that, surprisingly, he was just trying to help.
“I appreciate your concern. I wish I could eat more. I’m experiencing horrible nausea. Small meals are best right now.”
He nodded, then glanced around the room. “What do you say we reconvene in the main hallway in ten minutes? I find walking and talking helps me relax.”
“Walk to where?”
He smiled, his jovial nature restored. “It’s a surprise.”
She groaned. “Alejandro, I’m really not—”
“Please.”
And just like that, he cut through her resolve, wielding sincerity like a sword. His use of a simple word laid waste to her armor like no sensual assault could.
“Fine.”
He stood. She kept her eyes on his face.
“Ten minutes.”
And with those parting words he scooped up his coffee and his newspaper and walked out of the dining room without a backward glance. Once his footsteps faded, she sank back into her chair and hung her head.
Years. For years she’d been impervious to men, to their looks, their attempts at seduction, their harshness when they didn’t get their way. Anytime she’d entertained even the slightest thought of allowing one into her life, all she’d had to do was summon an image of her mother as she’d last seen her, paled by death and lying in a casket, and it had kept her armor in place.
She sighed. The doctor had told her it would be another few weeks at least before the baby would move. Aside from the nausea, most days it didn’t seem real, that a child was growing inside her. But when she stopped and thought about it, really thought about it, she was overcome with a love so fierce it stole her breath away.
The first time she’d experienced that rush of emotion, she almost cried. Deep down, she realized, she’d sometimes wondered if she was truly good at suppressing her emotions or if she just couldn’t feel them. She loved Aunt Norine and Johanna, but she’d never experienced emotions the way others had described them. The highs, the lows and everything in between.
Until Alejandro. And then their child. With Alejandro, it was dangerous. But with her child...yes, she could love her child with all her heart.
No one, not even Alejandro, with his fortune and power, would take her away from her baby. She’d make sure of it.