The Billionaire Baby Bombshell (13 page)

Yelena withdrew to make a note in her diary. “And the other thing?”

At the sudden silence Yelena glanced up. Pam’s fingers were linked together on the table top.

“How is your gorgeous baby?”

Yelena smiled. “Sleeping at the moment. Pam…”

“Yelena.” Pam’s hand shot out to cover Yelena’s, her fingers
suddenly cold despite the warmth of the morning. “I’m sorry. I need to ask you something.”

“Yes?”

“It’s a personal question. I’m sorry,” she repeated and quickly pulled her hand back. “But it’s been eating at me ever since you arrived and, well…”

“Pam,” Yelena said slowly. “Whatever it is, I’ll try my best to answer it.”

Her face flushing, Pam said, “I have to know. Is your… I mean…” Her gaze dropped to the table as she finally whispered, “Before all this. Did you and Alex…were you…?”

Yelena sat back in her chair. “Did Alex and I ever date?”

“Sort of.” Pam’s face flushed deeper. “Were you and he ever…intimate?”

With a tangled tongue, Yelena stared at the deeply mortified woman. The silence lasted until the waiter brought their drinks and moved on to the next table.

“No,” Yelena finally managed as she grabbed the cold, tall glass. “Can I ask why you want to know?”

The woman’s shoulders sagged. “Thank you for being honest. It’s obviously just my eyes playing tricks. Ever since I saw that sweet little baby of yours, well…” She gave a little laugh, wavy with embarrassment. “Bella is the spitting image of Alex and Chelsea at that age—same nose, same chin. And you and Alex do have some chemistry—” She quickly cut herself off with a faltering smile. “Put it down to my eagerness at wanting to be a grandma. Well…” She rose from her seat, palming her glass. “I should let you get back to work. Thank you.”

Yelena watched Pam go, her brow furrowed. Odd. Very odd. As if Bella would be—

A terrible, ridiculous thought crashed in, leaving her gasping as the world suddenly tilted on its access. Everything—her
brain, her breath, her very heartbeat—came to a screeching sickening halt.

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. Gabriela hadn’t… She would have told her.

There was no way on earth her baby sister had lain in that small hospital, bleeding to death after she’d given birth, using the last breath in her body to
lie
to her. Which could only mean one possible thing—Gabriela hadn’t known who Bella’s father was.

With jerky movements, she flipped open her diary, back to last year’s calendar. Her finger shakily traced the dates, skipping backwards as she counted.

Alex and Gabriela had been dating on and off since May. She paused on July then tapped her finger thoughtfully. Too many things had happened that month—Gabriela returning from Madrid, the embassy ball. Alex kissing her.

Her heart bottomed out, leaving a terrible numbness in its wake.

What was she supposed to do now?

E
motionally exhausted, Yelena was unfazed when her family’s official chauffeur greeted her arrival at Canberra airport. She got into her father’s car and strapped Bella in, resigned silence accompanying the drive to the Valero residence.

The car drove along Morshead Drive, then left onto the King’s Avenue Bridge that took her over Lake Burley Griffin. As they headed towards Capital Hill and Parliament House, Yelena watched the steady flow of traffic. Soon the change of landscape told her they were in Yarralumla. The affluent suburb was populated by foreign diplomats, politicians and various families of Canberra’s super rich, and it showed—from the neat gardens, the subtle and not-so-subtle homes, even the streets themselves. Meticulous and groomed, that’s what the area reflected.

When the car drew to a halt in the long curving driveway, Yelena finally broke from her apathy. A Valero summons meant only one thing—displeasure.

She got out of the car, shouldering Bella as she studied what had had once been her home. She still loved the look of those white rendered walls, terra-cotta tiles and clean, smooth angles that made up the seven-bedroomed, two-storied house. And as always, the gardens were superbly groomed, the windows sparkling.

But it had always been her parents’ house, never hers. This thought was confirmed when she stepped into the living area, an aura of “look, don’t touch” permeating every square inch from its high ceiling to its timber floor and period features.

On the beautiful antique couch sat her perfectly groomed mother, legs crossed elegantly at the ankles, skirt demurely covering her knees. Her father stood behind, dark and towering, a scowl on his autocratic face. To the left, Carlos leaned against the polished bar, a glass of amber liquid cradled in his hand.

“What is this, an intervention?” Yelena joked lamely, even as her grip tightened on Bella.

A servant came forward, hovering expectantly. Yelena frowned.

“Let Julie settle the baby,” Juan commanded.

Yelena blinked. “Why?”

“Because we need to talk.”

“So talk.” Yelena glared at the unfortunate Julie, who had flushed deep red.

“Dios.”
Juan sighed and waved the servant away. “Fine. I don’t need to remind you, Yelena, that I am not happy with your continued association with Alexander Rush.”

Her eyes flicked to Carlos. He met her gaze head-on as he slowly took a sip from his glass.

“It not only impacts on you,” Juan continued sternly. “It affects everyone in this family.”

“How?”

“People talk, Yelena,” Maria said tightly. “Your father—
this family—has a reputation to uphold in this community. Rumors and malicious gossip can damage it irreparably.”

“The same way the ones circulating about William Rush’s affair are destroying his family?”

It wasn’t her mother’s reaction she was after, although Maria’s moue of distaste was satisfying. No, she carefully watched Carlos’ eyes narrow, a second before his expression smoothed out.

“Yes,” Juan said. “The longer you continue associating with the Rushes, the more damage it will cause.”

Yelena sighed, her hand automatically going to Bella’s back as she felt the baby stir. She was tired, so very tired of these mind games. The burden of respectability and family honor weighed heavily on her shoulders, dragging her down, warring with her own sense of right.

“I’m sorry if you feel that way, Papá. But Bennett & Harper signed a contract—”

“Then get out of it. No one’s indispensible—surely you can hand the job over to someone else?”

His unconscious insult slapped her firmly in the face and she felt her cheeks color. “No, Papá. Even if I wanted out—which I don’t—I have a promotion riding on this.”

Juan’s eyes narrowed. “I did not
ask
you to withdraw, Yelena.”

Chagrin welled up, chasing away her fatigue. “So your wishes are more important than my career, my life?”

“We are talking about the Valero name,” Carlos said curtly. “About our public reputation, our—”

“Oh, how I am sick to death of hearing that!” she hissed. “Especially from you, someone who claims diplomatic immunity every time he gets a speeding ticket.”

“Yelena,” Juan rumbled ominously.

“You held the ‘reputation’ card over Gabriela’s head for years and where did that get her?”

“Yelena!” Maria and Juan echoed in unison.

“She’s dead. And still you’re so ashamed of her you refuse to let people know. Despite everything she did, despite how disappointed you were, I
loved
her.” Her voice cracked then, a sob tearing at her throat. Bella let out a grumble, sensitive to her mother’s distress and Yelena immediately started rubbing her back.

“Of course you did. We all did,” Carlos said quickly.

Surprised, Yelena stared at him, until Maria added, “But she was also uncontrollable and selfish.” Her mother’s mouth thinned, a red-lipsticked slash of displeasure. “Even when we moved here, she was still the same reckless girl. I
know
you saw that.”

“When she was
sixteen,
” Yelena said, exasperated. “So she dropped out of school, modeled for a few chain-store catalogs. But she quit modeling, she had a regular job. She wanted to move on from her past but you all just wouldn’t let her.”

“That is enough, Yelena!” Juan thundered, making everyone jump. A second later, Bella let out a mighty wail.

Yes, it was enough. Yelena shifted Bella to her other shoulder, patting her firmly through the warm layers. “It suited you all to keep her tied to her past mistakes, to use her as an example. But she deserved better. She was my
sister
. And if this is the way you treat people in this family, then I don’t want to be a part of it anymore.”

Every face in the room displayed their own version of total and utter shock and for long seconds, triumph spiked Yelena’s blood. A short-lived triumph when mortification quickly flushed her burning cheeks.

She turned on her heel, stalked out the living room and down the hallway, her clipped footsteps echoing on the polished slate.

With a hefty wrench she pulled the front door open and the blast of cold air hit her hot face.

What have you done?

Panic crept in, spreading its insidious tentacles of doubt
and uncertainty, but for the first time she kept right on going, down the steps and across the driveway, to the car that still waited.

You’ve done it. You’re free.
Instead of the crushing sense of loss she’d expected from this moment, relief mingling with tentative joy lifted her heart.

She patted Bella, warm and comforting against her chest. She was well and truly alone now. Yes, there was fear of the unknown, but she’d overcome that before. She’d do it again. “Yelena!”

She whipped her head around to see Carlos slowly jogging to catch up to her. When he stopped, his small smile oozed nervous contrition. “Look, I think I owe you an apology.”

Her heart gave a small cautious jump. “For what?”

“For what happened on Saturday night. I’d had a few drinks and things just got a little…heated.”

Yelena let the silence flow around them. Despite the halfhearted apology, the pain of his rejection still throbbed under the surface.

“So I’m sorry, okay? Okay?”

His smile spread wider, one eyebrow curving up as he tilted his head in that charismatic way she’d seen a thousand times before. But now, after everything she’d seen and heard, she was immune. Instead of giving him an answering smile, she forced her expression to remain impassive.

“Here, let me get this.” He opened the car door and stepped aside.

What does he want?
The thought lingered as she bent to strap Bella in the baby capsule.

“So…you’re still seeing him?”

Her body stiffened but she kept on with her task. “He’s my client.”

When she straightened, Carlos had shoved his hands in his pockets, staring down at his feet.

A perfect picture of reluctant gossip.
Oh, come on
. It was
all Yelena could do not to roll her eyes. Instead she scowled, which only seemed to appease Carlos.

“Then you should know he called this morning and threatened me.”

Threatened?
That wasn’t Alex’s style but she was way too tired to tell Carlos that. “And why are you telling me this?”

“Because I need your help.”

She slowly leaned against the doorframe. “How?”

He paused for effect. If she didn’t know any better she’d peg him as reluctant, even embarrassed. But she did know him, all too well.

“I was thinking—and I know this is a lot to ask, and I wouldn’t normally do this—”

“Carlos…”

His irritation showed in the brief downward turn of his mouth. “If you could have a word with him, maybe convince him not to—”

The sharp inward sound of Yelena’s horrified breath silenced him.

“No.”

Carlos’s expression tightened. “So you’d let this stupid vendetta go to court? How is this going to impact on us? Our parents? Your campaign?” He added in a moment of inspiration.

With cool deliberation, she got in the car, slid down the window then closed the door with a firm clunk.

“Carlos,” she said slowly as she slid her sunglasses into place. “Let me say this once and once only. I heard you and Alex by the pool on Saturday night. As much as you’re my brother and I love you, I will not—cannot—trust you. You’ve hurt too many people, including me, for us to ever be okay again.”

As she turned to clip herself in, Carlos slapped a hand on the window frame, making her jump.

“So you’re choosing
him
over your own family?”

She sighed. Surely her heart couldn’t break anymore, not when she knew the full extent of Carlos’s malice? Yet a tiny piece still cracked, reminding her of the brother she’d once blindly adored.

“Yes, I am.”

His stunned expression gave her no satisfaction as she powered up the window. As the car drove away for the very last time, she knew where she had to be—with people who needed her love and support, who’d been damaged terribly by the actions of someone she’d loved. She needed to help make amends.

And slowly, the pain in her heart began to retreat.

I
t was Tuesday. Yelena had been gone nearly two days. Two long, arduous, maddening days, days full of work, of papers and files and copious amounts of coffee.

Days without Yelena.

Despite the constant influx of people and the work load, Diamond Bay seemed empty somehow. With his mother and Chelsea on a shopping trip in Sydney and Yelena gone, the gaping hole was even more obvious.

It was so not like him to be this unfocused, this distracted. A handful of times he’d glanced up at his office door, certain Yelena was about to walk in with that mesmerizing hip sway that sucked him in every time.

But she wouldn’t. He’d seen to that.

So he’d punished himself by playing every encounter over in his head until, as the early morning sun began to blaze over the horizon, he’d jumped on his bike and zoomed off.

Now he’d been on the road for an hour but still the grueling heat couldn’t wipe Yelena from his mind.

He drove, mile after mile of red dust, the hard, throbbing machine between his thighs and the gutsy roar of the engine in his ears as he burned up the road, on his way somewhere, anywhere that didn’t have a memory of her, her mouth and that hot lush skin he’d possessed so completely.

With the sun blazing high in the sky, he finally paused for a breather. The desert heat hit him full force as he yanked off his helmet, tarmac hot beneath his boots, searing up through his leathers as he swiped the beaded sweat from his forehead.

No matter how far he rode he couldn’t outrun
her.
Their last night together spun dizzyingly in his head, forcing him to focus on the one thing he wanted to forget.

With a curse he hurled his helmet, scowling as it hit the ground in a shower of red dust.

And in that moment, something deep and yearning inside him cracked wide open. It made him want things, things that only Yelena could give him.

He recalled the feel of the hot, sweet body beneath his, how she’d welcomed him inside with almost frantic desire in her dark eyes. She’d tasted like always—sexy skin, want barely restrained. She’d looked amazing, from the wild cloud of hair spilling over lush breasts, to the way her waist indented and flared into sinfully curvy hips.

His groin tightened painfully with the memories. Of dipping his tongue into her belly button before dragging his mouth across that perfect belly, the skin hot and reactive to his touch…

A perfect belly.

He paused with a frown. Perfect belly, perfect hips, perfect breasts.

He snapped in a sharp breath, mind racing backwards. He hadn’t just been swept up in the moment. Her skin
was
perfect.

No stretch marks, no C-section scar.

Realization instantaneously heated into rage, and rage into
fiery knives of pain, tiny pinpricks stabbing into every muscle, every nerve.

She’d lied to him.

He was on the bike in less than a second, racing back to Diamond Bay, to Yelena.

To the truth.

He stormed into the resort like the hounds of hell themselves were snapping at his heels, uncaring of the stares, the whispers left in his wake. His jerking strides devoured the long hallway and when he slapped his hand on Yelena’s office door, it crashed back on its hinges with a satisfying crack.

Nostrils flared, blood thumping, he took in the empty room at first with fury, then dawning realization.

She’s gone, you fool.

He gave a groan before viciously unzipping his jacket and pulling out his phone. He palmed it, poised to dial, but an e-mail reminder flashed on the screen and his whole body stilled.

Re: Pamela Rush interview

All his veins felt as if they’d suddenly frozen, leaving him unable to even breathe. Then panic quickly rushed in, forcing his heart rate up, tightening his lungs. With a few taps he was reading an e-mail from a Leah Jackson at Bennett & Harper.

It was confidential, obviously sent to him by mistake. As fury mounted, he scanned down, finally getting to the original exchange between Yelena and the show’s producer.

Thanks for fitting us in on Tuesday, Rita,
Yelena had written.
My client is anxious for the public to hear her story and I’m sure you’ll agree it’s a powerful one. I appreciate you giving us approval over final cut and I’m positive there will be no major problems with this.

He slumped in the chair, his pounding heartbeat a deep echo in his brain. Then in the next second, he dialed the office phone.

“It’s Alex Rush. Organize a car and have the airstrip fire up my plane. I’ll be leaving for Canberra in twenty minutes.”

Yelena stood behind the lighting stand, watching the makeup girl dust Pam’s face with powder. “Are you sure you want me here?” she asked for the third time.

Pam smiled. “You’ve made all this possible, Yelena. Why wouldn’t I want you here?”

Chelsea stood beside Yelena, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. She’d taken her suggestion and talked to her mother all right, and it had resulted in a full-blown report for
Morning Grace,
Australia’s most-watched current affairs/breakfast show. So here they were, in Pam’s sun room in the Canberra “mausoleum” house. Masses of afternoon light streamed through the glass walls, falling squarely on Pam, seated alone on the comfortable couch.

Guilt swept Yelena’s conscience. Alex was her client, he was the one who’d signed the contract, the one who was paying Bennett & Harper. No matter how much she knew Pam needed to do this, Alex would accuse her of going behind his back. And he’d be right. Yet she was human. Pam had a right to let the public know the real truth, even if it did mean losing Alex’s trust in the process. At least he’d be cleared once and for all for his father’s death.

Admit it. You’re afraid. Afraid that you’ll reveal everything to him with one look from those all-seeing blue eyes
.

And that would mean losing control of everything she’d worked so hard for since Gabriela died.

She glanced at Pam, who was studying her with disturbing thoroughness. “We couldn’t wait,” Yelena added. “It was either now if we wanted to make tomorrow’s show, or wait another two months.”

“I know. It’s time,” Pam said softly, her troubled blue eyes stormy as the makeup girl finally finished. “I need to speak out, especially with that thing in today’s paper.”

Yelena flushed, knowing Carlos was probably behind the two-part article scheduled to hit Sydney’s
Daily Mirror
come Monday. She’d got a heads-up barely twenty-four hours before, the promo ad screaming from the front page with voyeuristic glee.

“I need to let people know the truth,” Pam said softly, her eyes going to Chelsea. Suddenly her face, so elegant and refined, crumpled. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Mum,” Chelsea choked out. Her fingers tightened around Yelena’s and Yelena squeezed back.

Here were two amazing women, facing their demons and speaking out to the world. Their strength and courage floored Yelena, her throat tight as she choked back tears.

Her head was one big mess, what with Alex, Carlos, the upcoming exposé and now Pam’s interview. And sitting back in her little apartment, burning a hole in her briefcase, lay the means to possibly shatter her future: forms for the DNA test that would prove or disprove this ridiculous suspicion regarding Bella’s paternity.

If Alex wasn’t the father then what would be the point of revealing she’d lied before the results proved it either way? Yet short of stealing his hair or bodily fluids, how could she get a DNA sample
without
telling him?

She’d wrestled with her conscience at Diamond Bay until her call to Channel Five had provided a convenient escape. But now, with everything crowding in on her, she couldn’t stop her mind from going there.

You love him. He needs to be told.

She glanced up as Grace Callahan settled in the chair opposite Pam, fixed on a mike then nodded to the segment producer.

The producer called for quiet, said, “And…go!” and they were off.

“Pamela Rush, can you start from the beginning and tell us
why you decided to do this interview after all these months of silence?”

When Yelena felt Chelsea’s fingers tighten in hers, she gave the teenager a reassuring smile. An awful sadness weighted her heart, creating a pall over what should have been a triumphant moment for her career, for Pam and Chelsea and the truth.

If these two women could take control and put things right, why couldn’t she?

It was close to five o’clock before the crew packed up.

“What’s going to happen to Mum now?”

Chelsea had been picking at her fingernails for the last ten minutes, her face fraught with concern. “Will she go to jail?”

Yelena met Pam’s look. The older woman nodded.

“We don’t know. George says it depends on what the police want to do,” Yelena said, deferring the situation to their newly hired criminal lawyer. “Your mother did provide a false statement.”

“But there are also mitigating circumstances,” Pam added as Chelsea’s expression turned fearful. “I’ve arranged to go into the station and make a formal statement tomorrow morning.”

“But she could be arrested,” Chelsea said.

Pam nodded slowly. “It’s possible, yes.”

Chelsea clutched her mother’s hand, her fingers firm as her chin went up.

“Don’t worry, Chelsea.” Yelena smiled bravely even as her heart constricted. “We’ll work this out. And George is one of the best. We’re going to try our hardest to ensure your mother doesn’t spend any time in jail. I’ll be there for you both.”

After a few tear-ridden hugs, Yelena finally left, giving both Pam’s and Chelsea’s hands another reassuring squeeze and murmuring positive reassurances.

It took twenty minutes to drive out of affluent Yarralumla
until finally hitting the Commonwealth Bridge, another five until she wound her way around Canberra’s multiple roundabouts before turning the corner to her city apartment complex.

She was going to do her damnedest to ensure the Rushes were not punished further, which meant putting a stop to those slanderous articles. And
that
meant dealing with Carlos.

A dark blue Mercedes sat directly in front of her building, a familiar figure standing ramrod straight by the passenger door. Her breath sped out. Even at this distance, she could see Alex’s tension bristle from every muscle in his broad, commanding body.

She pulled into the basement car park, heart in her throat, dread freezing her fingers as she took the key from the ignition. When she got out and turned, he was right there, hands on his hips, face tight with barely leashed emotion.

“Alex! What—what are you doing here?” She readjusted the bundle of files she held, a poor barrier of protection.

With a dark scowl he shoved his phone under her nose. Blinking, she took a step back, but not before she recognized the e-mail on the screen.

Her heart bottomed out and she winced.

With a furious question in his eyes, he yanked his phone back. “Get in the car, Yelena.”

“Why?”

“Would you prefer we do this out in the open?” His voice bounced off the cement pylons, echoing in the cavernous silence as his eyes skimmed the car park. “Or upstairs in front of your
daughter?
”

Yelena’s stomach clenched. She nodded, swinging open the door of her shiny BMW then closing it firmly.

After he got in the passenger side she expected unleashed fury, a blast of accusations and demands. After the crazy day she’d had, she was fully prepared to accept whatever he threw
at her. Yet he just glared at her, blue eyes slowly picking her apart with ruthless efficiency.

She fidgeted, first with her necklace, then with the edges of the files she still clutched.

“You went ahead with an interview after I’d specifically told you not to.” He finally got out. “Why?”

“Because it was Pam’s choice, Alex.”

“This is
not
what I hired you for.”

“But it’s what she wanted.”

She could see his jaw working as he fought to bring his emotions under control. His eyes, now flashing with bitterness, held something else, something odd and infinitely more scary. “So instead of letting me know, I have to find out via e-mail?”

“That was a mistake—”

“Oh, and that makes it all better.” His face contorted into harsh planes, freezing her out. “Do not presume” came his tight reply, “to know anything about what’s happened in my life, Yelena.”

“How can I, when you don’t tell me?” She took a deep breath.
He’s vulnerable and angry, lashing out.
“I was there at Pam’s interview. I know your father controlled every aspect of your family’s lives. I know he hit Pam regularly. I know he hit you until
you
were old enough to fight back.” She paused, remembering Pam’s stiff, heartrending recollection. “You never left home because you were scared he’d start on Chelsea—”

“Stop.”

She ignored the dangerous warning. “That night in your office. You were talking about your father leaving your
mother
alone, weren’t you?”

“I said, stop!”

His deafening command made her flinch, the venom washing over her like some horrid stain. With eyes wide and
muscles taut, she stared, until the furious lines on his face suddenly melted into anguish, then horror.

“Yelena, I…” He lifted a hand then quickly dropped it, revulsion reflected in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to… I’d never lay a finger on you, you know that.”

She took a breath, then another, her whole body humming. “I know.”

“He never touched Chelsea,” he choked out, his face contorted. “She adored him. And I covered for that bastard because I didn’t want to shatter her illusions.”

Just like yours were
. She could have wept then but one look at his face, his strong, implacable face tinged with self-disgust and she dared not.

“Chelsea knew, Alex. She’d seen it happen a month before his death,” she said softly. Shock stiffened his body, just before the pain poured in, pain that wrenched at her own heart.