Confessions of a Pregnant Cinderella Read online

  ‘Okay.’

  Without looking at him, Skye went inside and back up to the apartment. Once Lazaro’s PA arrived, and she gave him instructions on how to pack up her Dublin life, she knew she was officially handing herself over to someone else.

  After living at the mercy of her mother’s whims for so long, Skye’s independence was very important to her. But now—She put a hand on her belly. Lazaro was right. She didn’t have just herself to think of any more. There was a baby on the way. And that baby had to come first. In this, at least, Skye would be different from her mother, who had only ever thought of herself.

  At that moment Skye heard a ringing sound, and plucked her mobile phone out of her bag. She saw the name on the screen and smiled ruefully, before answering. ‘Hi, Mum...’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘NEVER BEEN ON a private jet before?’

  Skye refrained from rolling her eyes at the question. ‘Funnily enough, no. It’s not something most mortals experience, believe it or not.’

  They’d taken off from a small airfield outside Madrid about thirty minutes before and were now high in the sky over Spain. Skye glanced at Lazaro and instant heat sizzled under her skin. He was dressed more casually today, in dark trousers and a dark grey polo shirt. The muscles in his arms bunched and moved under his golden skin as he read the newspapers.

  In an effort to try and hide how annoyingly compelling she found him, Skye picked up one of the papers. The woman on the front page looked familiar... She was wearing a red dress and she was being helped into a car by a very handsome if slightly grim-looking man. And then she realised who and what it was and her insides contracted.

  ‘What is it?’ Lazaro asked with a sharp tone. ‘You’ve gone white again. Are you going to be sick?’

  Skye shook her head. Actually, today was the first day she hadn’t had morning sickness. She wished she hadn’t picked up the paper now. But it was too late.

  She held it across the aisle to Lazaro, saying nothing. The headline said it all: Humiliated fiancée Leonora Flores de la Vega finds comfort in the arms of Gabriel Ortega Cruz y Torres.

  He took it, and Skye watched as his face became hard. He said something in Spanish. A curse. And then he looked out of the window.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Skye in a small voice.

  Even if he hadn’t loved Leonora, it had to hurt that she was already seeing someone else. Lazaro turned back and Skye was shocked at the anger on his face.

  ‘You need to stop apologising. What’s happened has happened. It’s not your fault Gabriel Torres is taking advantage of the situation to stick the knife in. I can’t say I’m surprised.’

  ‘Who is he?’

  Lazaro made a sound halfway between a laugh and a growl. ‘See that land down there?’

  Skye looked out of her window and saw nothing but lots and lots of brown landscape. Mountains. Gorges. Small villages. ‘Er...yes...but I’m not sure what I’m meant to be looking at.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. What you’re looking at is most likely owned by Gabriel Torres and his family. They own half of Spain—and that’s only a slight exaggeration.’

  Feeling her way in this sudden air of frostiness, she said, ‘So he’s some kind of...rival of yours?’

  Lazaro emitted a curt laugh. ‘Something like that. Yes.’

  ‘And you think he’s seduced Leonora just to get back at you?’

  Lazaro looked at her. ‘It’s just the kind of thing he would do.’

  Skye’s insides twisted. ‘That’s awful. Poor Leonora.’

  Lazaro shook his head. ‘She knows who he is. She’s not stupid—she comes from that world too... He might have done this to get back at me, but if she went with him it’s because she wanted to.’

  ‘And that doesn’t bother you?’

  Skye couldn’t imagine that it wouldn’t. Her insides twisted even harder when she thought of how she had felt to see Lazaro standing beside Leonora in that beautiful ballroom.

  He said, ‘After what I did to Leonora, she can do as she pleases. She doesn’t owe me anything.’

  ‘I owe her an apology.’

  Lazaro looked at Skye. He lifted a brow. ‘I don’t think you’re someone she wants to hear from right now. Or me.’

  ‘I guess not...’

  * * *

  Skye had turned her face away from Lazaro. He marvelled that she’d looked genuinely contrite. Anxious. As if she really cared about Leonora, who was a complete stranger to her.

  He relaxed his grip on the paper in his hand and forced himself to look at the picture again. It had been taken that night, outside the hotel. Gabriel had his arm protectively around Leonora as he helped her into his low-slung sports car. He was looking directly down the lens of the paparazzi’s camera, as if to send a message to Lazaro: You had no right to try to marry your way into our world, Sanchez.

  Lazaro threw the paper down, a feeling of impotent fury boiling in his gut. Gabriel Torres was a thorn in his side. A constant reminder that he would never be fully accepted. A reminder that his parents had thought so little of him that they’d handed him over to complete strangers to bring up, uncaring if he lived or died.

  He glanced moodily at Skye. It should have been Leonora accompanying him to his estate this week. He’d been planning on showing her his land. And yet he knew that if she was sitting on the other side of the plane right now he wouldn’t be feeling this constant hunger. Like an ache. He wouldn’t be sparring with her. They would be having a perfectly civil conversation that would never delve beneath the surface...

  And as Lazaro thought of that now he instinctively went to loosen the tie at his throat—except he wasn’t even wearing a tie.

  Something struck him then. Was he relieved that the engagement had been blown apart? Obviously not in the way it had happened—he could have done without the press attention. But, yes...there was a grudging sense of relief and he hadn’t expected that.

  Right now Skye couldn’t have provided a more stark contrast to Leonora Flores. She was dressed in what seemed to be her default style, skinny jeans and yet another loose colourless top. A faded pink bra strap was visible. Her hair was haphazardly up, with soft golden-red tendrils falling around her face. Small straight nose. Full mouth. Those freckles that danced across almost every exposed bit of skin.

  Lazaro cursed silently and had to adjust himself as his body responded.

  Suddenly Skye looked at him and her face flushed. She touched her hair. ‘What is it? Is something wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?’

  Irritated to have so little control of himself around her, he said, ‘Like what?’

  ‘You’re scowling at me.’

  Lazaro had literally never been in this situation with a woman he desired. He was known for his charm. For his easy-going manner which hid a far steelier persona. The reason he’d been so successful was largely in part because people underestimated him. They got punished every time.

  Suddenly Skye stood up. She was pale and Lazaro noticed she was trembling.

  ‘Look, I’ve said I’m sorry about how this worked out, and I know that I’m not the woman you would have chosen to be here with you, but we’re in this situation now and we have to make the best of it. I know you hate me because of what happened, and I know you wish I was her, even if you didn’t love her, but I’m me and I’m here...and I’m sorry.’

  She looked left and right, visibly distraught, searching for somewhere to go. Lazaro’s insides clenched. He put out a hand and caught her arm just as the plane hit some turbulence, putting her off balance. She landed in Lazaro’s lap with a soft oof.

  Suddenly every coherent thought went out of Lazaro’s head as he became very aware of Skye’s curvy body nestled intimately into his. She fitted him. She looked equally stunned. There was no space between them. Her short sharp breaths whispered close to his mouth. />
  Somehow one hand was on her waist and his other hand had found its way to her head. Her hair tumbled down over her shoulder with a mere flick of his fingers. She smelled of crushed roses—and something much earthier.

  He stretched his fingers over her waist, unable not to trace the delicious curve. And then he gave in to the primal need beating inside him and pulled her even closer, crushing her soft breasts against his chest, covering her mouth with his.

  * * *

  Fire. Skye was on fire. Burning up from the inside out. One minute she’d wanted to get as far away from Lazaro as possible and the next she was in his arms and melting all over. Melting into him. Her mouth was opening under his, allowing him access so he could sweep inside and take her even deeper.

  It had been like this the night she’d met him in his hotel. He hadn’t even kissed her before he’d asked her to go up with him to his room. And yet she’d gone with him. It had been crazy. Totally out of character. But she’d been burning up after talking to him, after looking into his eyes. Aching to know what it would feel like to have him touch her. Kiss her.

  He was the first man she’d ever craved intimacy with. The first man she’d ever let past the carefully erected walls that protected her from getting too close to people.

  Since they’d met again there had been no indication that he still desired her, but now it was all she could feel—and along with the desire racing through her system was a rush of something that felt awfully like relief.

  She welcomed the desperate press of his fingers into her waist, tugging her top up so that he could touch her bare skin. Every nerve tingled...her breasts ached.

  Her arms were wrapped around his neck. If she could have climbed into his skin she would. She was desperate to experience that conflagration again. The exquisite release he’d wrung from her body, leaving her spent and sated beyond her wildest dreams. She’d never been so...at peace. Still. Safe.

  She had felt as if she’d been travelling for a long time and finally found her harbour.

  That disturbing recollection broke her out of her trance.

  Skye pulled back from Lazaro abruptly. Every part of her body protested as she put space between them. Her heart was pounding. He looked at her, his eyes a stormy dark green. His hair flopped messily, sexily, onto his forehead.

  She scrambled back and stood up, unsteady on her feet as she looked down at the carelessly sprawled body and the expression on Lazaro’s face that spoke of how utterly usual it was that a woman would fall into his arms—literally—expecting to be pleasured to within an inch of her life.

  The fact that her whole body was throbbing and it was taking her so long to speak only compounded her humiliation.

  Eventually she got out, ‘I am not some convenient plaything for you to use when you want to vent your frustration.’

  Lazaro’s body tensed and he sat up and forward, green eyes flashing. ‘Believe me,’ he gritted out, ‘there’s nothing convenient about this or how you make me feel. It would be a whole lot more convenient if I felt nothing when I looked at you.’

  Ignoring the voices in her head that told her to just walk away and regain her composure, Skye asked, ‘What do you feel when you look at me?’

  He raised a dark blond brow. ‘I think we’ve answered that question pretty effectively.’

  This was uncharted territory for Skye. She was a novice when it came to dealing with a consummate playboy like Lazaro Sanchez. He was eyeing her now the way a lazy cat might look at a terrified cornered mouse.

  Something caught her peripheral vision and she saw the air stewardess coming out of the bathroom at the other end of the plane. Skye garbled something incoherent and fled in that direction, seeking escape from that far too knowing and cynical green gaze.

  When she reached the bathroom the woman in uniform looked shocked and said, ‘Miss O’Hara, there’s a private suite and bathroom for your convenience at the other end of the plane—you don’t need to use this one.’

  Skye’s face was burning at the word convenience and she said, ‘This is fine, honestly,’ and locked herself inside the small space.

  She sat on the closed toilet seat and berated herself. Stupid...no self-control. She’d just shown herself up to be totally gauche and inept. Lazaro Sanchez must be wondering what he’d ever seen in her. He clearly resented every second that this desire flared between them.

  Skye stood up and gasped when she saw herself in the mirror. Her hair was down and in a mad tangle over one shoulder. Her face was pink. Her mouth was swollen. Her eyes were glittering. Her nipples stood out like two hard pebbles against the thin material of her top.

  Angry all over again at her lack of control, she scraped her hair back and into a tight knot. She splashed cold water on her wrists and face and emerged only when she looked slightly less ravished.

  When she came back down the plane and saw Lazaro engrossed in something on his laptop she avoided looking anywhere near him and slipped into her seat.

  * * *

  Lazaro was aware of every minute move that Skye made—which was incredibly irritating because she appeared to be a fidgety person. He’d not even looked at her on her return from the bathroom, telling himself that if he didn’t then he wouldn’t want to stand up, throw her over his shoulder and take her to the bedroom at the back of the plane and finish what they’d started.

  But not looking at her was nearly worse. He could smell her subtle scent. Recall only too easily how sweetly her mouth had opened under his. Still feel the curve of her waist under his hand...the press of her breasts against his chest.

  He pushed aside his laptop with a sound of frustration and anger and finally gave in to the urge to look across the aisle, fully expecting to see those huge blue eyes staring guilelessly back at him.

  But she wasn’t looking at him. She was asleep. Her legs were tucked up underneath her. Her head was against the pulled-down blind on the window. She’d rolled up a blanket as a pillow. She was frowning in her sleep, and her lips moved as if she was saying something.

  It reminded Lazaro of how, after they’d made love, she’d draped herself over him, one leg entwined with his, one arm across his chest. As if to hold him down.

  With any other woman, at any other time, he would have felt claustrophobic. Stifled. Trapped. But with her he’d found himself almost...enjoying it.

  She’d made little noises—sleep-talking. Gibberish he hadn’t been able to understand. And then she’d woken with a start, and he could remember how her eyes had focused on him and the way they’d widened as she’d obviously remembered where she was and what they’d been doing.

  Just from that look he’d become as hard as a rock, and she’d felt him and smiled shyly. That was when they’d made love for the second time.

  Lazaro cursed silently and looked away. He never thought of ex-lovers like this. He never dwelt on the past. Always on the present moment and the future. The future he wanted to create. Like a phoenix rising out of the ashes of his ignominious past.

  This was just a bump on the road to that future. He would treat this situation as he would anything that got in his way—as a problem to be assessed and dealt with in the most expedient way possible. Skye and the baby...this very inconvenient desire he felt...he vowed that none of it would hold him back.

  How she and the baby would figure in his life going forward was something he would have to deal with, but first he’d get Skye settled and then do some serious damage control on the last forty-eight hours of his life.

  * * *

  All Skye could see was acres and acres of sunflowers. They were driving up a long winding driveway under a cerulean blue sky and Lazaro was at the wheel of a sleek four-by-four.

  He made a gesture to the sunflowers. ‘We make sunflower oil here. And we also have vineyards. I’m working on a sherry and some red wines. We hope to produce something with this harvest of
grapes.’

  The scenery was breathtaking—the sheer expanse of the land around them with the Sierra Nevada mountains rising majestically in the distance. They turned a corner and Skye gasped as the driveway opened out into a huge courtyard in front of a two-storeyed white building in the old colonial style.

  It was very green and lush. Lazaro pulled the car to a stop by the front door and got out. Skye opened her door and hopped out before he could come round—she was being a coward, avoiding any possibility of touching him.

  She relished the heat of the late-afternoon sun. She’d always loved summer in southern Europe.

  Lazaro was waiting for her by the front door, which was open, and Skye walked over, very conscious of her casual attire, feeling very underdressed for this majestic place.

  There was a stone over the doorway that proclaimed Hacienda Armonía. She said out loud, ‘Estate of... Harmony?’

  ‘You speak Spanish?’

  Skye avoided Lazaro’s eyes. She shrugged. ‘A little.’ She was actually practically fluent, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to invite his laser-like gaze and inevitable questions.

  They passed through the main hallway and then into an open central courtyard set in the middle of the hacienda. Skye’s mouth dropped open as she turned around in a circle, taking in the cobblestones and flowering plants everywhere. A colourful bird darted nearby. It was idyllic.

  She followed Lazaro as he showed her through to a terrace at the back of the hacienda. It bordered formal gardens and a swimming pool was tucked behind blooming bougainvillea plants in vibrant purples and pinks.

  ‘Señor Sanchez!’

  They both turned to see a middle-aged woman approaching them with a worried look on her face. She spoke rapidly, exclaiming that they were earlier than expected.

  Skye watched with interest as Lazaro took the woman’s hands in his and calmed her down, telling her not to worry. The woman smiled. There was genuine warmth between them.