The Spanish Billionaire’s Pregnant Wife

CHAPTER FIVE

LEANDRO watched Molly cross the restaurant. Male heads turned and followed her progress. Her dress was unremarkable, fitted enough to hug her rounded breasts and just short enough to reveal shapely knees and accentuate the high heels she favoured to combat her diminutive height. But the men didn’t stop looking and neither did he. Maybe it was that eye-catching waterfall of jet-black curls, the enormous emerald green eyes and that full quivering pink mouth that he only had to look at to get hard and ready. A woman hadn’t affected him that way since the teenage years when fantasy had driven his hormones and that simple fact still annoyed the hell out of him.

‘This is a really fashionable place,’ Molly remarked unevenly, striving not to stare at him and allow his magnetic attraction to influence her. But he looked drop dead gorgeous in a light grey suit and sky blue silk tie and her heartbeat quickened to a trot and her pulses quickened even before she sat down at the quiet corner table.

‘I often eat here in the evening. It’s quicker than ordering food in,’ Leandro responded. ‘You look beautiful, querida.’

Stiff as an iron bar trying to bend, Molly rearranged the salt and pepper and shook her head in immediate disagreement. ‘No, I don’t. I assumed you’d want to eat somewhere quieter, the sort of place we could talk.’

Talk? Leandro did not like the ominous sound of that word. His needs and wishes were the height of masculine simplicity: he wanted to feast his eyes on her and take her home with him at the end of the meal. Her cloaked appraisal, however, set his even white teeth on edge and made him commence their meal with a leading question. ‘Isn’t it time you told me about Jez?’

Alerted by the tough edge to his tone, Molly lifted her head from the menu she was studying. ‘Why do you think that?’

His dark eyes were hard as granite. ‘You’re obviously on very familiar terms with him. How does he fit into your life?’

‘He’s my best friend,’ Molly confided. ‘He owns the house so he’s also my landlord.’

Leandro had never had much faith in platonic male and female friendships and his conviction that Jez had a more personal interest in Molly was not dispelled by that explanation. ‘He behaved more like a man guarding his turf and warning off the competition-like a boyfriend.’

Uneasy colour warmed her cheeks. It bothered her that Leandro had only had to meet Jez once to immediately question the calibre of their friendship. Was that a tribute to Leandro’s shrewd grasp of human nature? Or a sign that he was the jealous type? ‘Jez is very fond of me,’ she said defensively, ‘but there’s never been anything else between us. We’ve known each other since we were in foster care together as kids.’

‘I thought you were adopted,’ Leandro countered.

‘Not for very long. I was older-there weren’t many takers. An older couple who already had a son took me because they wanted a daughter. My adoptive father died of a heart attack six months after I moved in,’ Molly explained ruefully. ‘My adoptive mother got very depressed and decided she had enough to handle without taking on an extra child. I was back in foster care by the end of the year.’

Leandro could only think of his own privileged childhood. He had been encouraged to believe that, as heir to a massive estate and centuries of proud heritage, he was the most important little person in the household. Long, lonely stretches at boarding school had contrasted with an excess of luxury and attention during the holidays.

‘That must have been hard on you,’ he remarked.

Molly lifted and dropped a thin shoulder. ‘I survived. I’m quite a strong character, Leandro. I don’t think you see that in me.’

Leandro measured the resolute angle of her pointed chin and the light of challenge in her clear gaze and vented a sardonic laugh of disagreement. He wondered how he had contrived to stumble on one of the very few young women in Europe who wouldn’t snatch at the opportunity to have a billionaire make all her material dreams come true. ‘Don’t I?’ he traded drily. ‘I find you very argumentative.’

At that inopportune moment the waiter appeared to pour the wine. Annoyed by Leandro’s censure, Molly put a hand over her glass and requested a soda and lime instead. When they were alone again, she snapped, ‘I am not argumentative!’

‘I don’t stage rows in public places,’ Leandro delivered with contemptuous cool. ‘Raise your voice again and I walk out of here.’

‘I really could throw something at you at this moment,’ Molly confided in a shaken undertone; she was taken aback by the sizzling strength of her annoyance.

‘Don’t try that either,’ Leandro warned her with a freezing glance that chilled her fury with the efficiency of a bucket of ice.

‘In my experience, most men walk the other way when things get difficult,’ Molly rejoined with a scornful shift of her dark head.

‘I’m incredibly tough.’ His strong jaw line hardened while his brilliant dark golden eyes lit on her like burning flames. ‘Your problem is that you want me but you can’t handle it, gatita.’

‘That is absolutely not true!’ Molly protested, staring back at him in as frozen a manner as she could contrive while desperate to get the dialogue back on track.

‘The truth can hurt,’ Leandro drawled smooth as silk, thick black lashes low over his acute gaze.

Molly shifted like a butterfly stabbed by a display pin. ‘Haven’t you already guessed why I contacted you?’ she pressed, the tip of her tongue stealing out to moisten her plump lower lip.

That little play with her tongue sent an erotic thrill arrowing straight to Leandro’s groin. ‘You were keen to reassure me that you’re fine and we have nothing to worry about?’ he suggested.

Molly tensed at that unfortunate misinterpretation. ‘No, I’m not fine in the way that you mean.’

The waiter reappeared to take their order while Leandro wondered what on earth she was talking about because he could not believe that she might be pregnant.

‘Meaning?’ he prompted.

Molly could not comprehend why he was being so obtuse. ‘Isn’t it obvious? I saw a doctor today, Leandro. I’m going to have a baby!’

Leandro studied her in brooding silence, transfixed by that staggering claim. He had almost but not quite come to terms with the suspicion that he was infertile and would never father a child. He had planned to go for tests some time and find out for sure. Molly’s announcement hit him like a bolt from the blue and stunned him. His lean, darkly handsome face clenched and he paled as he studied her, marvelling at her words while wondering what she could possibly hope to gain from a lie.

‘All right, so you’re shocked. Well, so was I, but there’s no doubt and no mistake. I am very definitely pregnant,’ Molly spelt out, enunciating each word of that affirmation with care.

Leandro veiled his stunned eyes. Was it possible that he could father a child? It was true that Aloise had failed to conceive, but his late wife had also refused to pursue the matter with her gynaecologist. Could one random night turn his world upside down? Could Molly’s tiny frame be carrying his baby? For a split second, a primitive leap of satisfaction and relief lanced through him that he was not, after all, unable to ensure the continuation of the family name. Squashing that leap of satisfaction, he surveyed her with impenetrable dark eyes, fierce tension thrumming through his big, powerful body. If she did prove to be pregnant, he would have to marry her for the baby’s sake. He could see no other solution to the situation. Unfortunately, Leandro was in no hurry to marry again. One taste of freedom, he reflected grimly, and then it was gone. It was a shame that he hadn’t made the most of his liberty while he still had it.

‘Say something,’ Molly urged unhappily.

‘This is not the place to discuss such a private matter. We’ll talk at my apartment after we’ve eaten.’

For the first time Molly fully appreciated how skilled Leandro was at controlling his emotions and concealing his reactions. No expression that she could interpret crossed his lean, bronzed features. That comprehensive reserve and self-discipline unnerved Molly, who wore her feelings on the surface and rarely hesitated to express them.

The fish course that Leandro had selected arrived at the table. Molly caught the aroma from the dish and it curdled her stomach and made her stiffen in dismay. ‘Certain smells make me feel sick,’ she confided.

And that was the last conversation they had for some time, for Molly fought the nausea until she could bear it no longer and then abandoned the table to flee to the cloakroom. Leandro took the hint and had the fish removed. The minutes ticked past. Eventually he asked one of the serving staff to check that Molly was all right. Soon afterwards she reappeared, looking pale as a wraith with shadows lying like faint purple bruises below her eyes.

‘Sorry, I’m really not hungry now,’ she muttered, pushing her plate away untouched.

Leandro suggested that they leave. She protested that he hadn’t eaten. He said he wasn’t hungry either and it was true. His appetite had vanished. He felt like the condemned man at his last supper and even that final meal had been denied him. But he knew what his duty was, and with a supportive arm banded to her slight figure, he escorted her out of the restaurant. Outside, he stilled in surprise when several cameras went off and Molly shrank in dismay against him. His security team had been caught unawares and had neglected to warn him because it was a long time since Leandro had done anything to attract the attention of the paparazzi. He was annoyed by that renewed interest at the optimum wrong moment in his life. It was certainly not the instant he would have chosen to introduce Molly to the public eye.

‘I want you to see a doctor,’ Leandro announced in the limo.

‘It’s just morning sickness-’

‘It’s half past nine in the evening,’ he objected.

‘Well, apparently it works like that with some people. It doesn’t mean anything’s wrong. I just have to put up with it,’ she replied.

Leandro studied her slender figure. There wasn’t much of her to study and concern assailed him, for she didn’t seem strong enough to survive missing many meals. His innate sense of practicality was already processing the concept of making a second marriage and doing so at speed. What choice did he have? He owed a duty of care towards Molly and their unborn child. He owed it to his family name. But that didn’t mean that he had to like the prospect of surrendering his freedom again. Even so, if he came out of it with the next generation in the family secured, perhaps it would be worth the sacrifice, he reasoned grimly.

Nervous as a cat, Molly watched Leandro restively pace the floor in the elegant main reception room of his apartment. The lights of the city illuminated the darkness beyond the floor-deep windows. He might not have said one word out of place, but even he could not hide his tension. She found it hard to look away from him. It seemed juvenile to her to still be thinking of how gorgeous he was, but she couldn’t help it. His chiselled masculine features and his spectacular heavily lashed dark eyes grabbed her attention with embarrassing ease. Encountering her anxious gaze, he strode forward.

‘Once you’ve had the pregnancy confirmed, we’ll get married as soon as it can be arranged.’

Molly blinked in astonishment. ‘You can’t be serious. You hardly know me-’

‘You’re carrying my baby and it’s expected. That’s all I need to know for the moment. If the baby is a boy, he will be my heir and the next Duke of Sandoval-’

Her bright eyes widened in amazement. ‘There’s a title in your family?’

Leandro nodded.

‘So who’s the current duke?’

‘I am, but I only use the title at home.’

Molly had suddenly become as stiff as if she had had a poker strapped to her spine. ‘You’re a duke…and you’re asking me to marry you?’

‘I’m not giving you a choice on this. You cannot bring up any child of mine alone,’ Leandro breathed tautly. ‘I want my child to grow up in my home with his family and to speak my language. We can only achieve that end by becoming man and wife.’

‘But you’re still getting over your last wife,’ Molly mumbled. But as soon as she had spoken and noticed his face shadow she wished she had kept that thought to herself.

‘I’m not an emotional man, querida. Nor do I make tasteless comparisons. I find you extremely attractive and see no reason why we shouldn’t have a successful marriage.’

Unnerved by his dispassionate outlook, Molly shook her head slowly. ‘I want to be loved by the man I marry.’

Leandro released his breath in a slow hiss of frustration. ‘I can’t give you love,’ he responded without hesitation.

He was a duke, a real Spanish duke, and Molly was horrified by that revelation, for she could not imagine how someone as ordinary as she believed herself to be could possibly become the wife of a man of such wealth and high status. ‘I respect your sense of commitment towards the baby,’ she told him tensely.

‘And to you, querida,’ Leandro added, reaching down to close her hands into his and urge her up out of her seat.

Her mouth ran dry as he drew her close. ‘Only a couple of weeks ago the only thing you thought I was good enough for was being your mistress. If I couldn’t even make it into the girlfriend category, how can you sincerely say that you want to marry me?’

Leandro was already picturing her in his gilded four-poster bed at the castillo, a seductive image that acted as an opportune sweetener to his reluctance to remarry. He stared down at her with hot dark golden eyes that made her feel overheated and dizzy. ‘My libido isn’t fussy about labels. I want you, regardless of who you are.’

Molly trembled in contact with his muscular, powerfully aroused body. He desired her and she could feel the unashamed evidence of his desire. But was a hunger that left her boneless sufficient to base a marriage on?

‘It would be diplomatic to forget that I once invited you to be my mistress. If you’re having my baby, that is no longer feasible,’ Leandro completed.

‘You’re determined that the baby should have your name?’

‘Do you want your child to be illegitimate?’

Molly lost colour and dropped her expressive eyes. ‘No, I don’t, but I don’t want to make a hasty marriage that I live to regret either.’

Leandro surveyed her with considerable coolness, for he had expected-not unnaturally in his own opinion-a much more enthusiastic response to his proposal. Few women in her position would have hesitated. What was her problem? What was holding her back? The blond guy with the oil stains on his hands?

‘There will be no possibility of a divorce,’ Leandro added.

Molly was impressed rather than put off by that statement, for she didn’t want to trust her future to a man likely to give up on his marital vows at the first hurdle. She didn’t want empty promises from him either. But though he couldn’t offer her love he could give her other things. Marriage to Leandro would bring financial security and every material advantage her child could ever want. Even more crucially, it would also give her child a father, indeed a normal two parent family. Possibly, she reflected uncertainly, she should be thinking about what such a marriage would do for their child, rather than what it would do for her on a more personal basis.

‘Molly…what’s your answer?’ Leandro pressed.

Molly was all flustered. ‘I need time to think-’

‘But we haven’t got time. What do you have to think about?’ Leandro demanded imperiously.

‘That you even ask that question reveals the depth of your arrogance,’ Molly murmured tautly.

Dark eyes cold as ice, his fabulous bone structure hardened. ‘I won’t accept a negative response, querida. If you won’t marry me, I’ll be forced to fight you in court for custody of our child.’

The speed with which he resorted to that threat shocked Molly. Aware that he was watching her every move like a hawk, she backed away from him. ‘Are you trying to intimidate me?’

‘No. I’m telling you the truth. I’m telling you what will happen if you don’t marry me. Do you expect me to lie?’ Leandro raked back at her drily. ‘You need all the facts before you can make a sensible decision.’

‘You would actually try to take my baby away from me?’ Molly was appalled by that threat that sunk like a deep chill into her bones.

Leandro closed a confident hand round her wrist to prevent her from retreating further. ‘I think you’re too sensible to go to the wall on this. I believe you’ll reach the right decision for all of us.’

But his ruthlessness shook her rigid. She was as un-prepared for it as she had been for the mistress proposition he had put to her two weeks earlier. Suddenly she was appreciating how misleading his cool façade and exquisite manners were. Below the skin, Leandro was every bit as aggressive, dominant and cruel in his instincts as a street fighter protecting his territory.

‘I’d like to go home now,’ she told him flatly.

‘In the morning we’ll have your pregnancy confirmed and you’ll give me an answer. But first,’ Leandro breathed, pulling her to him.

Molly meant to resist and imitate a wax dummy in his arms but the hot hard hunger of his sensual mouth and the erotic plunge of his tongue sent wanton excitement roaring through her in a relentless tidal wave. She clutched at his jacket to steady herself. She was out of breath and her knees were wobbling and a forbidden ache of emptiness was stirring between her slender thighs.

‘You don’t want to go home, querida,’ Leandro murmured silkily.

Molly wanted to either slap him or scream at him, but knew that either response would merely make her look childish and out of control. He watched her with smouldering dark eyes and, although every treacherous fibre of her being urged her to fling herself back into his arms, she withstood the temptation. Unfortunately the thought of another night in bed with him banished all coherent thought and conscience and made her hate herself. Winning that mental battle with herself still felt like losing because he was right on one score: she didn’t want to leave him.

Jez intercepted her in the hall when she walked through the front door. ‘Well?’

‘Leandro asked me to marry him.’

Jez was visibly taken aback.

Molly registered that she was secretly pleased that Leandro had contrived to confound her friend’s expectations. ‘I said I’d give him my answer tomorrow.’

Jez grimaced. ‘You’re infatuated with him. You’re hardly going to say no.’

Molly flung her head high. ‘He’s the father of my baby. Shouldn’t I at least give him a chance?’

She couldn’t get to sleep that night. Was she infatuated with Leandro Carrera Marquez? She supposed she was, because from the hour of their meeting she hadn’t been able to get him out of her head for longer than five minutes. Lying there, she relived the fiery heat of his mouth on hers and discovered that it only made her long for a more intimate connection. Ashamed of her craving for his touch, she buried her face in the pillow. He had threatened her with a custody battle. He had made it very clear that he wanted the child she carried, whether it was born in or out of marriage, and shouldn’t she respect him for that? She did not want to raise her child alone. She could not offer her baby the security, comfort or advantages that marriage to Leandro would bring. How could she possibly say no to him?

And yet to marry a man she hardly knew and move to another country, another culture, when she did not even speak the language would also be a great challenge. It certainly wouldn’t be the easy option, she recognized heavily. In addition, she would be a second wife and she wasn’t entirely sure that she fancied that role, of filling a position previously held by a predecessor. He had said comparisons were tasteless, but did that simply mean that she could not compare on any level to his first bride? Or was she being paranoid? Paranoid, Molly decided for herself. In truth she didn’t want Leandro to have ever been with another woman, much less have cared enough to marry one.

He picked her up shortly after ten the following morning and accompanied her to an appointment with a gynaecologist in Harley Street. A pregnancy test confirmed what she already knew. She was scolded for being so thin, which annoyed her intensely since that was her natural state of being and she ate like a horse as a rule.

‘You’re not supposed to argue with your consultant,’ Leandro censured when she climbed back into his limousine.

Molly tossed her head, black curls rippling across her shoulders ‘Well, you did say how argumentative I was,’ she reminded him flippantly. ‘I’m small and skinny. I was born small and skinny, get used to it!’

‘Will I be getting the opportunity…to get used to you being small and skinny?’ Leandro enquired lazily, brilliant dark eyes nailed to her cross face. In a short-sleeved colourful blouse and a denim skirt, she looked barely old enough to be out of her teens and struck him as being almost as volatile.

Molly turned her head, emerald green eyes very bright and challenging. ‘You didn’t give me much choice when you threatened to go to court for a custody battle-’

‘So, that’s a yes?’

Still playing it cool and unconcerned, Molly shrugged agreement.

‘I’m not very fond of weddings,’ Leandro admitted with a crashing lack of tact. ‘I’d like a discreet church ceremony to be held here with only witnesses present before we fly straight out to Spain.’

Molly was not impressed. He didn’t seem to care about what she might want. So he had been married before and all that bridal hoopla was a bore to him, but she was hoping to only marry once and she would have preferred a proper wedding. Impervious to her lack of enthusiasm, he took her to an exclusive jeweler to choose wedding rings. Lunch at an exclusive hotel followed. But by then her silence was really getting on his nerves. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ he asked icily.

‘You’re so bossy, it’s intolerable. I don’t know whether I’m back at school or in prison because you never stop telling me what to do and how things will be,’ she complained.

‘You should speak up,’ declared the man who had already called her argumentative. ‘I have a naturally authoritative streak.’

‘I’m naturally defiant.’

Leandro dealt her a measuring look. ‘Then we will clash.’

But over the following ten days there was little chance of the prospective bride and groom clashing because Leandro returned to Spain on business and occasional phone calls were their only means of communication. Generally, an aide passed on Leandro’s instructions during his absence. She signed a pre-nuptial agreement, gave up her job and began packing up her life in London. Leandro sent her a credit card and told her go shopping for an outfit for the wedding and also clothes to wear in a warmer climate. She went to Harrods and bought herself a wedding dress with his money. He had suggested something, ‘elegant and sober’, but she ignored his advice completely and fell for a white lace corset top teamed with a gloriously full skirt and towering high-heeled shoes.

When she got home that day she found an intriguing letter in her post. From a leading City lawyers’ office, it invited her to attend an appointment to discuss a confidential matter. Curious about why such mystery should be necessary, she rang to make enquiries but could gain no further information on the phone.

‘Do you think it might be someone in your birth family trying to get in touch with you?’ Jez enquired. ‘Or an inheritance from them?’

‘I doubt it. There was only my sister and my grandmother left, and she handed me over to social services,’ she reminded him ruefully.

But curiosity and her undeniable hope that against all odds her relatives were attempting to reconnect with her ensured that Molly attended the appointment. She was shown into a smart office and greeted by Elena Carson, a svelte lawyer in her thirties, who invited her to take a seat.

‘I understand you’re soon to be married, Miss Chapman.’

‘Yes.’ Molly frowned, immediately wondering how the other woman had come by that information and why it was even being mentioned.

‘I must ask you to be patient while I explain why you’ve been invited to come here today,’ the brunette advanced smoothly. ‘My client wishes to remain anonymous and has engaged me to approach you with a generous financial offer.’

‘A financial offer?’ Molly questioned in bewilderment. Disappointment settled over her like a fog that blocked the sunlight. Self-evidently, the appointment had nothing to do with her blood relatives and she felt foolish for ever having cherished the hope that it had.

‘My client wants to stop your marriage taking place,’ Elena Carson explained.

Struggling to focus on that startling admission, Molly gave the brunette a stunned appraisal. ‘Stop my marriage?’

‘My client is aware that it would be a very advantageous marriage from your point of view and is willing to give you a large sum of money to compensate you for changing your mind,’ the lawyer delivered calmly.

In shock, Molly parted dry lips and slowly folded them shut again. Someone wanted to pay her not to marry Leandro? Who? A member of his family? Another woman with designs on him?

‘I’m not interested in changing my mind,’ she replied without hesitation. ‘Have you thought about how hard it might be to fit into a titled Spanish family, who can trace their ancestors back to the fifteenth century? Have you thought about how difficult it might be to live up to your future husband’s high standards?’

Molly was steadily reddening with anger. ‘I don’t want to listen to any more of this nonsense. If Leandro was a king, I would feel equal to the challenge, because he is the father of my baby and I assume that he knew exactly what he was doing when he asked me to be his wife!’ she heard herself proclaim heatedly, only to inwardly squirm a second later at what she had given away with that outburst.

The other woman, however, did not bat an eyelash. ‘My client wants to act in everyone’s best interests and recognises that you would be making a considerable sacrifice in choosing not to go ahead with the marriage-’

‘Oh, does he…or is it, does she?’ Molly interrupted furiously as she shot to her feet.

‘And on that basis is prepared to offer you two million pounds towards making a new life for yourself somewhere else and never contacting Mr Carrera Marquez again,’ the older woman stated with complete cool.

‘As I’m not marrying Leandro for his money, you can’t use money as a bribe to persuade me not to marry him!’ Molly proclaimed with angry pride.

‘That was not my client’s intent, Miss Chapman. My client is aware that you are expecting a child and wishes to ensure that both you and your child will enjoy a secure future. You should consider the offer. It has been suggested that if you sign or have already signed a pre-nuptial agreement with your fiancé, you might well receive a great deal less money in any divorce settlement.’

Having signed such an agreement a couple of days previously, Molly was well aware of that fact. In short, any act of adultery, desertion or what was hazily termed ‘unreasonable behaviour’ during the course of their marriage would result in her instant impoverishment. But Molly was desperate to know who was prepared to offer such a vast amount of money to prevent her from marrying Leandro in the first place. The solicitor, however, refused to divulge that information. It outraged Molly to be kept in the dark when it was obvious that what she considered to be her own private business was clearly very far from being private. How many people had Leandro told about her pregnancy? And if she informed him about the offer that had been made to her, would he know who was behind it?

With only forty-eight hours to go before the wedding, Molly barely slept that night while she agonised over whether or not to tell Leandro. What if it was someone in his own family who was trying to buy her off and persuade her to disappear? With the kind of money involved she could only think that the culprit was most likely to be a close relative of his. Leandro would be outraged. Did she really want to risk causing that amount of trouble and strife within the family circle before she even arrived in Spain? Would it not be wiser to keep quiet for the moment and give people the chance to at least get to know her first…?