Billionaire's Baby Of Redemption

Dios, he’d been unable to tear his eyes from her. He had never seen such naturally pink rosebud lips before...

A new kind of tension had sparked to life.

Sophie’s eyes had kept flickering to him, then darting away, pretty colour flushing across her pretty cheeks.

She really was incredibly pretty. How had he not noticed it before...?

He’d found himself leaning closer to her, catching a whiff of a light, floral perfume that had delighted his senses.

‘Speaking with the media would boost your profile,’ he’d pointed out.

A burst of antipathy had glittered in her eyes. ‘I don’t care. I’m not going to add to the frenzy and make things worse for you.’

Again, he’d found himself believing her but also curious...

Worse for him?

She didn’t even know him.

Professional dancers spent their lives fighting to get to the top and when you were as driven as that any advantage for name recognition would be snatched upon. His own mother had been shameless in her quest for media attention.

Sophie had ducked her head and refused to answer questions even when it would have seen her face plastered over the tabloids as a bit player in the biggest scandal Spain—indeed, most of Europe—had had for years.

What was her agenda? Everyone had one, so what was hers? Why go out of her way for him?

He’d leaned even closer and dropped his voice to a murmur. ‘Why are you here?’

The colour already staining her cheeks had darkened, the pale blue eyes darkening with it. It had been the most beguiling sight.

She had cleared her throat, the pink rosebud lips opening and closing as if she were trying to get out words that did not want to be revealed.

It was sheer impulse that had led him to kiss those lips.

What happened next had been utter madness.

Javier increased his pace and inhaled the Madrid autumn night air deeply to counteract the blood thickening all over again at the vivid memories.

She had kissed him back.

And then he had hauled her out of her chair and into his arms.

For a few brief moments all his torment and anger had been dispelled and forgotten.

Sophie’s kisses had been the sweetest he had ever tasted and instantly addictive.

Desire like nothing he had ever experienced had pulsed through him. Heady, hungry and utterly consuming.

He tried to throw the memories off him now, not wanting to remember any more, disgusted with himself for the manner in which he’d used her hot, willing body.

That was his only saving grace, he thought grimly.

Sophie had been utterly willing.

There had been nothing one-sided about it.

In that moment, the madness had lived in both of them.

He’d spread her flat on his dining table, drinking in her hot, sweet kisses as he’d plunged into her that first time. He’d felt the resistance of her body and known in an instant what it had meant.

Her eyes had widened.

He would have pulled out there and then if she hadn’t then smiled at him, put her hands to his face and kissed him so deeply that he had lost all sense of himself.

But as soon as it was over the only thing he’d been able to taste was revulsion, at himself for his actions and at Sophie for throwing away her virginity in such a seedy way and on a man such as him.

But mostly at himself.

They hadn’t used any protection.

He hadn’t used any protection.

He’d needed her gone before he said or did something he regretted.

He felt no pride in remembering how he’d coldly walked to his front door and held it open for her.

She would never know it but he’d been saving her from herself.

And now she was pregnant. Sweet, sweet Sophie was pregnant with his child.

Damn it all to hell.

Javier had experienced only one day worse than this. The day his father had murdered his mother.

* * *

Sophie waited until the driver opened her door before stepping out in front of the imposing Tuscan-style villa that was Javier’s home.

The first time she had been there she had been filled with so many emotions she had hardly taken anything in other than its titanic size.

Now there was an array of sights and smells filling her senses. She’d noticed that increase in her perceptions during the first week of her pregnancy. It was like discovering secrets of the world, an unexpected symptom that warmed her.

She needed all the warmth she could get.

She’d lain in her hotel bed telling herself over and over that she was doing the right thing. Not telling Javier about the pregnancy had never been on the cards. He was the father. He deserved to know and deserved to be involved if that was what he wanted.

She was glad for their child’s sake that he did want to be and that he’d come to the decision of marriage so quickly. For once, it hadn’t been the anguish she always felt at the thought of disappointing her adoptive parents, good, loving, decent people who believed strongly in the sanctity of marriage, but for her child. Her child deserved nothing less.

Sophie often thought of her biological father. Had he ever known of her conception? Had he been party to the decision to abandon her? Or had he spent twenty-four years unaware he had a daughter out there, being raised by people who were strangers to him?