The Billionaire Baby Bombshell (7 page)

“Compliant?”

“Sensible. People have been talking.”

Something in his tone bothered her. A lot. “So what’s new?” At his aggrieved sigh, she narrowed her eyes and leaned back on the door. “What? Can’t I go about my daily business without some gossip spreading lies?”

Carlos was quick to latch on to that. “So he’s a client?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But that’s what you meant.” He sighed. “You need to get yourself a boyfriend, Yelena.”

His sanctimoniousness rankled, tiny pinpricks stinging her skin. “Maybe
he’s
my boyfriend, Carlos. Maybe he’s decided to set me up as his bought-and-paid-for mistress and I’m going to dance naked for him every night. Whatever the reason, it’s none of your damn business!”

She jammed her finger on the disconnect button, cloying heat choking her throat. But as she yanked the bathroom door open, she nearly ran smack-bang into Alex.

At the last second she sprang back, skillfully avoiding his steadying hands.

“Everything okay?”

“Fine.” She gave him a belligerent look, straightened her T-shirt over her hips and tossed her head.

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

“It’s Carlos.” She brushed past him, too irritated to acknowledge the little zing as his body heat briefly enveloped her. “He’s being an ass.”

Yet as angry as she was, she could still feel Alex’s presence close behind as they returned to the living room. “He’s…” She threw her hands in the air before flopping down onto the sofa.

“Being Carlos?”

“Yeah.”

When she fixed him with a considering look, he met it steadily.

“He thinks you and I…we…” She broke off, feeling the warmth on her cheeks. “I have no idea how he knew I was here.”

The tiny stab of guilt hit Alex low. Of course he’d made sure Carlos knew. “Does it matter?”

“It does to him. What on earth did you do to him?”

His jaw tightened involuntarily. Yet his calm words belied
the fury simmering under the surface. “Maybe it’s not all my fault.”

“I didn’t say it was.” She frowned, glancing away. “But it’s odd. Why would he think we’re involved? He’s never seen us together…I mean,” she added with a flush, “
romantically.
Has he?”

“Not that I know of.”

She went on, almost absently, “Sure, we’ve been to parties, official functions, but we’ve never been alone—”

“Except at the Christmas ball in July. In the kitchen.”

The flush on her face remained, his slow smile aiding its presence. “And I’ve never been to your office or—” She broke off, eyes rounding. “I have. Once. And Carlos was there.”

“When?”

She frowned. “It was September the first. Gabriela’s birthday. I remember because she was running late and asked me to pick up the cake then double-check you’d left already. Your…” She paused, swallowing. “Your father turned up.”

They both stared at each other. Alex needed no further reminder of that night: it was seared like a permanent scar on his heart. And like the flick of a switch, that hostile, fury-ridden confrontation came screaming back.

You’ve got a warped sense of what marriage means. Stay the hell away from her or by God I will—

You’ll do what?
William Rush had spat back.
This is my family
—mine!
No one’s lacked for anything. No one would be anything if it weren’t for me!

And you’ve been destroying us for years, you selfish bastard!

He shook his head, refusing to let the black wave drag him down into that hellhole again. “Carlos was there?”

Yelena nodded slowly. “I saw him leave as I was getting the cake from the kitchen. After we—” her body prickled as she finished lamely “—were in your office.”

Alex stared at her in silence, his mind ticking like an overheated engine.

If Carlos had been there…if he’d heard… Then this meant—

He was so sure he’d been right, so hell-bent on bundling the Valeros into one tainted basket that he’d failed to allow for one major flaw.

That Yelena hadn’t blabbed to Carlos after all.

He sprang to his feet, realization sending licking flames of humility through his gut. “I have to go.”

“Alex?”

He ignored her confused question. Instead he strode across the room, jerked the door open then walked out, refusing to look back.

T
uesday flew by in a flurry of meetings, phone calls and budget preparations. After liaising with Alex’s press and banquet staff, she spent the night working late at the dining table in her suite, organizing, planning, checking then rechecking. The Rushes were first and foremost in her mind, from Alex’s odd departure last night to her continued concern about Pam. As for Chelsea… When she’d dropped in with lunch, it was as if her cryptic admission had been erased from history. Instead, they chatted about movies, books and fashion, until work called and Yelena was again swamped.

On Wednesday morning as she booted up her laptop in her temporary office, her mobile phone rang.

It was Juan Valero.

“Hola, Papá.”

“Yelena, Carlos told us about your new client.”

“Told you what?” Yelena replied in Spanish, shoving her phone under her chin while reaching for a folder on the long desk.

The pause was significant enough for her to frown. Then her father said firmly, “It’s Alexander Rush.”

“And how would Carlos know?”

“Is it true?”

Yelena sighed and swiveled back to her laptop. She could never lie to her father. “Yes, but it’s confidential. You can’t say anything to anyone.”

“I do not gossip, Yelena.” She swallowed nervously. His stern rebuke made her feel nine years old all over again. “And is getting mixed up with that family a wise move?”

His condescending tone irked her. “It’s my job,
Papá
.”

She could feel the waves of displeasure thunder down the phone. “You are a Valero.”

And you remind me every chance you get.
“And..?”

“I do not appreciate your tone, Yelena,” Juan snapped. “The man has been accused of murder.”

“He was not charged.”

“Nonetheless, it is not the sort of person—or family—I wish you to associate with.”

Uncharacteristic rebellion bubbled up. “My boss decides my clients, not me.”

“And what happens when you make partner? Will you get to decide then?”

She glanced up to see Chelsea at the door with a tentative smile, holding a tray. “Can we talk about this later? I have to go.”

“Yelena—”

“
Papá,
I’m working.”

His aggrieved sigh came down the line. “We will talk when you return home.” And he hung up.

Yelena slowly placed her phone back on the desk.

“Breakfast?” Chelsea asked casually and slid the tray onto the conference table. “I didn’t see you this morning and I checked—you didn’t order room service.” She quickly glanced
around. “You know, this room
is
a bit spare. Needs more color.”

Yelena tipped her head, considering. From Chelsea’s overly nonchalant stance to the way her eyes darted, the teenager had more than interior decorating on her mind. “Something blue would be nice.”

“And a comfy sofa, a few pillows…” Chelsea trailed off, arranging the cutlery before lifting the warming trays. “There’s toast, coffee and fruit. If you don’t like, I can always get Franco to make something more fancy….”

“When it comes to food, I’m not a ‘fancy’ kind of girl.” Yelena smiled. “Toast and fruit is great.”

They both tackled the food, munching contentedly in silence. After her second piece of toast, Yelena placed her cup of coffee on the table.

“Chelsea. Can we talk about what you said the other night? About your father?”

Chelsea flicked a quick glance at the closed door, her eyes running across the long glass wall to the offices beyond. Her chin went up a fraction. “What about it?”

Such bravado for one so young.
Yelena warmed her hands on the cup and leaned forward with a smile. “You know, Gabriela told me you were friends. She used to call you ‘Chelsea-bun.’”

Chelsea grinned. “Yeah.”

“Between you and me, I think she liked you better than Alex.” Yelena winked.

Chelsea laughed then, a sudden rusty sound that made Yelena think she didn’t do enough of it.

Then suddenly her smile froze. “What do you mean, ‘liked’?”

Yelena looked the confused girl straight in the eye. “I’m going to trust you with something. I’ve been asked not to announce it, but I think you should know. I’m sorry, Chelsea,
but there’s no way to put this gently. Gabriela…well, she died.”

As Chelsea gaped, mouth wide open, Yelena leaned forward and took her hand.

“How? When…?” She finally managed to choke out, her eyes filling.

“In March. We were in Germany and she was taken to hospital. She’d lost a lot of blood and they just couldn’t save her….” Yelena ducked her head as the wave of grief pulled at her legs, threatening to tug her under.

“So it was an accident? Car?”

Faced with the teenager’s pooling tears, Yelena could only nod.
Forgive me for the little white lie,
she offered up.
But you know it’s necessary
.

With a wrenching sob, Chelsea was suddenly in her arms. Together they held each other, Yelena holding back tears for the death of a sister she’d been forbidden to acknowledge, Chelsea crying for the loss of a friend.

Eventually Chelsea pulled away, swiping at her cheeks self-consciously. Yelena handed her a tissue and offered a smile. “I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”

“That’s okay.” Chelsea sat back down, her hands shoved between her knees as she leaned forward in her seat.

Yelena began to stack their plates, giving Chelsea time to compose herself.

“I miss her,” Chelsea said suddenly.

Yelena nodded. “Yeah, I do, too.”

“She…she was the only one I told stuff to.”

Yelena paused, giving the girl her full attention. “Like what?”

“Stuff.” Chelsea shrugged, her eyes going to Yelena’s neat plate stack. She reached for her glass and stuck the straw in her mouth. “What I wanted to do with my life, the places I wanted to visit. She’d been to so many countries and had heaps of stories.”

Yelena smiled. “She loved to travel. She used to brag she’d seen every country except Alaska and the Poles.”

“Yeah.” Chelsea returned the smile. “She was gorgeous but not in a bitchy way, you know? She always had time for me.” She tipped her head, studying Yelena. “Like you.”

Something warm and satisfying spread across Yelena’s heart. “Thank you.”

When Chelsea stiffened and glanced up, Yelena followed her eyes to the shadow beyond the glass wall. A second later Alex swung the door open with firm intent.

“It’s nine-thirty,” he said, glancing from one to the other from his position in the doorway.

“Sure is,” Yelena answered, downing the last of her coffee before placing the cup on the tray.

“You’ve eaten?”

Yelena nodded to their empty plates. “Yep.”

“Good.”

Alex remained fixed to the spot, hands jammed in his pockets, his casual silence in direct contrast to the tension radiating from his stance. Yelena frowned.

“Did you need something?” she finally ventured.

Alex turned to Chelsea who was slurping her juice with purposeful intent. “Don’t you have a class to go to?”

“Not yet.”

A ghost of a frown creased his forehead. “Where’s Mum?”

“Watching TV.”

“What?”

“I dunno, something.” Chelsea waved her hand.

“Why don’t you go and see if she wants breakfast?”

“I think she’s already—”

“Chelsea. Go.”

“Fine.” In a huff she grabbed up her bag, paused then with a pointed look at her brother, noisily slurped down the last of her juice.

“Go!”

“I’m going!” With a smile and nod at Yelena, Chelsea bounced from the room.

Yelena’s mouth tweaked, only to waver when Alex gently closed the door behind him.

“How is your…” He paused then added, “Bella?”

“She’s fine.”

“Does she need anything?”

Yelena smiled. “Apart from food, sleep, a nappy change and brief entertainment? No. She’s only five months old.”

“Right.”

Yelena tipped her head to the side. “You were what, fifteen when Chelsea was born?”

He nodded. “But I didn’t see a lot of her. She was mostly with nannies and housekeepers.”

“Your mum seems more like a ‘get her hands dirty’ kind of parent,” Yelena ventured.

“Dad’s idea. He was courting investors at the time and needed a wife on his arm.”

“Oh.” Another unfavorable mark against William Rush. Yelena couldn’t imagine not being there for the feeding, the bathing, all the little changes and milestones that made parenthood a constant, wondrous delight.

Her thoughts must have given her away because Alex’s brow raised in a slow question.

“Oh, nothing…”

“Tell me,” Alex said, leaning against the edge of her desk.

“It’s just…” She reached out to shuffle some papers into a neat pile, avoiding his eyes. “I know a lot of people who’ve gone from school, then uni, to some you-beaut job, focusing on climbing the corporate ladder. They work hard, they party harder, but they’re still waiting for something to give their life meaning. A grand passion.” She remained intent on rearranging her desk, this time slotting pens into a cup. “A
baby is a life-changing experience. It opened up my heart in a new way.” She finally glanced up, almost apologetically, as a faint flush spread across her cheeks. “But then, I imagine all mothers feel that way.”

A thin film of self-disgust coated Alex’s tongue. Quickly he swallowed it. What kind of jerk was he to make her feel embarrassed about that? “The good ones, at least.”

She gave him a tiny smile then seemed to gather herself together. “So…do you want to see what I’ve been working on?”

With a firm nod, Alex pulled up a chair and sat. Thankfully she hadn’t mentioned his abrupt departure Monday night and frankly, he’d spent ages trying to wrap his head around it all.

He’d been so damn sure of her involvement that he’d not stopped to think of the possibility of this mess just being Carlos’s doing. That Yelena could actually be blameless hadn’t factored in at all. So he’d spent yesterday getting things straight in his head, until he’d clicked online and read the late-edition papers.

A painful mix of fury and disgust had tightened his stomach. Another page of salacious lies about William Rush blinked onto his screen, this time from an “anonymous lover.”

He’d felt like chucking the monitor across the room. Instead he’d downed one shot of top-notch bourbon, the burning alcohol a painful reminder why he never drank the stuff, before hurling the glass onto the patio where it shattered with a satisfying smash. Yet as he picked up the pieces, his thoughts turned not to Carlos, but to Yelena.

Christ, when had a decision—any decision—been this bloody difficult?

With Yelena now here, his plans half-complete, he realized he still needed her. As his PR person, yes, because she was damn good at what she did. And Pam and Chelsea seemed to
like her. But now, as he gave her his full attention, a different kind of need began to filter in as the minutes ticked by. If it wasn’t her “come here and smell me” scent twisting his insides, then it was the way she lit up as she got into her spiel. She gestured in typical European fashion, using her whole body to convey her message. When she smiled, her mouth made tiny dimples in her cheeks.

In the past he’d tried to make her smile as much as possible.

So the blame for the press leaks lay firmly at Carlos’s feet. But she still had a child, one that wasn’t his.

Did it twist his gut every time he thought about Yelena and some faceless guy in bed together? Hell, yes.

Why?

Because…because…
He tightened his jaw and stared at the figures Yelena slid across the desk.

She’s mine
.

Fierce possessiveness snaked through his body, sending it into a craving, bittersweet ache. He still wanted her in his bed—that much hadn’t changed.

“As you can see, the costs for decorations will be—” She ended up on a gasp as he reached for the papers and got her hand instead.

Their gazes collided and held. Her eyes rounded before those long lashes fluttered down, severing the moment when she withdrew.

For a perverse second, he craved something more. But then it was gone and amazingly, the loss saddened him.

After a moment’s study of the papers, he said, “So let’s hear the rest of your plan.”

With a nervous swallow, Yelena began. “So after the party, your mother suggested focusing on the local community.”

At his curious look, she continued, “She’s got a deep love of this area and really wants to help the people, like setting up a scholarship program and donating to a few charities.”

“And what about her work in Canberra? Won’t that suffer if she’s taking on more?”

“Alex…” She hesitated. “Did she not tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

With a flush, she said, “I thought Pam told you. Yesterday we talked and she—”

“Tell me what?”

Yelena frowned. “She’s still officially donating to those charities. But she resigned from the boards.”

His mouth flattened into a grim line. “I see.”

“Pam
wanted
to resign. Alex, listen to me. She hated the politics and after those rumors started spreading, she—” She paused then said, “Look, I don’t want to get in the middle of family issues here—”

“You’re not. I told them both why you’re here, which should make your job a lot easier.”

Yelena knew this wasn’t about the campaign. But she still nodded. “Thank you. But if we’re all not on the same page—”

“I’m doing this for them,” he said tightly.

“I know. But they may have differing opinions. Chelsea, for one, seems—” she paused, searching for the right word “—hostile. Why don’t I organize a meeting so we can talk things over?”

At his inscrutable countenance, Yelena’s heart crumbled a little. “I’m here to help you. All of you,” she continued.

He pointed at the paper, shrugging off her concern. “And this?”

Yelena sighed then picked one page up. “A list of press we’ll be alerting for the party, which will start around four p.m. and go on after sunset. We also need to work on the guest list. Pam’s given me hers, so it’s just up to you.”