Illegitimate Tycoon (19 page)

 
          
“Leila?”
The doctor smiled as she looked up and flushed, embarrassed to be caught lost
in internal thought. “Let’s focus on what could cause your problems. As for the
exhaustion, I imagine your schedule was intense.”

 
          
“Extremely
so.”

 
          
The
passionate nights she’d shared with her husband had cost her much-needed sleep.
But she couldn’t divulge something that personal, that precious to her.

 
          
The
doctor frowned and made a few notes. “Yet, you’ve been tired since the festival
ended?”

 
          
“Yes.
I can’t seem to get my energy back no matter how much sleep I get,” she said.

 
          
“What
about rest? Are you having difficulty falling asleep?”

 
          
“Yes,”
she admitted, and because he knew he’d ask more, she simply stated, “I have
some personal issues that have troubled me of late, so sleep eludes me.”

 
          
“How
is your mood? Are you depressed?”

 
          
“No,”
she said, though she missed Rafael more than ever before. “But I’ve had
nightmares about my miscarriage again.”

 
          
The
doctor frowned. “Before I give you a prescription for an antidepressant, I want
to run blood tests and see if something shows up there. It’s very possible you
have an infection that is being relentless. If so, the right medicine should
set you to rights in no time.”

 
          
“I
hope so. I can’t afford to be sick now.”

 
          
Thirty
minutes later, Leila had given blood and urine samples for office tests and was
sitting in the empty reception room waiting for preliminary results. Seeing her
face on so many magazine covers at once was a shock.

 
          
Each
one held a variant of the same expression—a woman assured of her status.

 
          
Such
a lie.

 
          
The
doctor strode into the waiting room, his expression somewhere between curious
and worried. “Leila, are you still taking contraceptives?”

 
          
“Faithfully,”
she said, that query bringing her to her feet.

 
          
“You’re
sure you didn’t forget once or twice?”

 
          
She
shook her head, the first slice of worry scoring her tenuous calm. “Not once.”

 
          
He
rubbed his chin, stretching the moment out. Pulling her already frayed nerves
so taut she was sure they’d snap.

 
          
“When
was the last time you took an antibiotic?”

 
          
“In
March,” she said. “I was in Aruba on a shoot and the doctor on staff gave me an
antibiotic for a urinary tract infection.”

 
          
He
nodded, but his pensive expression kept her on edge. “Did you have intercourse
during that time or shortly thereafter?”

 
          
She
felt her face burn, for that memory, too, was one she would never forget. “Yes.
My husband joined me there.”

 
          
“That
explains it.”

 
          
Her
blood turned to ice, chilling her to the bone. “What do you mean, that explains
it?”

 
          
“Antibiotics
can decrease the effectiveness of birth control medicine. Did you use condoms?”

 
          
Her
cheeks burned hotly from the implications that sprang to mind. And the fear …
Dear God, the fear of what was wrong with her was becoming glaringly clear.

 
          
I’m on the Pill
, she’d said at that
tense moment when they were ravenous for each other again. And Rafael had
needed no further urging that time or the one following it.

 
          
“What’s
wrong?” she asked the doctor, near frantic now, for his line of questions
breathed life into her deepest fears.

 
          
“You’re
pregnant.”

 
          
Those
two words slammed into her with enough force to drop her back in her chair. “I
can’t be!”

 
          
“Yes,
you can. The blood tests will tell for sure, but at this point I suspect you
are about three months along.”

 
          
His
words sent instant terror crashing through her. She closed her eyes, then
snapped them open again, unable to bear the memories of her miscarriage that
flashed through her mind. Of losing her precious baby. She couldn’t go through
that again.

 
          
“Oh,
my God, this can’t be possible!” she said, more to herself than him, hands
automatically splayed on her belly.

 
          
What
an odd twist of fate. While she had been in France, adamantly telling Rafael
she didn’t feel ready to start a family, she had already been with child.

 
          
Rafael
would be elated. As she thought of him now and the joy he would feel, her own
heart lifted. A baby. Rafael’s baby! If only her choking fears would allow her
to feel the same intense joy now. If only she could be confident that she and
her body would carry this child safely to term. Another fear reared up to send
her heart racing. “Can taking the Pill harm my baby?”

 
          
“No,
but let’s suspend it until we get the tests back.” Her doctor, always to the
point, added, “Leila, having a baby isn’t impossible for you, but you will have
to take extra precautions because of your history with anorexia. I insist you
see a topnotch obstetrician who specializes in high risk.”

 
          
“Of
course.” Just like she’d done the last time. And look where that ended. “I’m
terrified that I’ll have another miscarriage.” Or worse, that she’d have a
relapse and destroy her baby and herself this time.

 
          
The
doctor rested a hand on her shoulder, his smile understanding. “Calm down,
Leila. Wait for the blood tests to come back because this could be a false
positive.”

 
          
“All
right.”

 
          
The
next twelve hours were sheer hell, but she held her worries inside for most of
them, not telling a soul of her fears, her hopes, her worries. Not calling
Rafael, for she didn’t want to get his hopes up only to have them dashed.

 
          
But
on the following morning, her agent dropped by with the new contract for her to
sign. Of course they were needed immediately. Leila had no choice but to tell
her the truth. “A pregnancy now could end your career,” her agent had said, and
though both knew it could signal much more than that, neither brought it up.

 
          
“I
know that,” Leila said. “But if I am pregnant, it’ll be another month at least
before I’m unable to conceal it. I could work up until I have to bow out.”

 
          
And
if she was pregnant, she would desperately need to hold on to her career, for
the baby’s sake. She would need the regimen and control she had over that
aspect of her life to help her stay relaxed over the changes to her body. And
she needed Rafael.

 
          
Her
agent tapped a mauve fingernail on the contract she’d just delivered. “Maybe I
can get them to act fast on this deal and shoot the first round of the campaign
before you have to take maternity leave.”

 
          
“I’d
be more than willing to do that,” she said, suddenly allowing a glimmer of hope
to bloom inside her that there might be a way around this. If only she didn’t
miscarry this time.

 
          
“Right.”
Her agent didn’t sound or look hopeful as she laid the contract on Leila’s desk
and jotted something on a note. But her next words shocked Leila to the very
core. “In the event that you are pregnant, you could always decide to terminate.
It’s obviously unwanted and unplanned. Here’s the name of a good clinic. They’ve
been there for several of my clients. I’ll do all I can for you, Leila, but
this is your career and your choice to make.”

 
          
Leila
stared blindly at the address her agent handed to her before she jammed the
note in her purse. Without a doubt her mother would have insisted she rid
herself of a baby that would put her career on hold, just as she’d convinced
Leila to be anorexic.

 
          
But
the very thought of an abortion curdled Leila’s stomach. She still had
nightmares about her miscarriage. This baby may have been unplanned, but
unwanted? Rafael longed for a child and she knew he would make a wonderful
father. When she had discovered her pregnancy last time she had been ecstatic
at the idea of becoming a mother, of holding her tiny baby in her arms. Then
her own body had rejected that baby and the loss of that dream had left her
desolate. Purposely ridding herself of her child was unthinkable, and yet she
knew if she did carry this child to term a relapse would do the same thing.

 
          
“Call
me as soon as you get the results,” her agent said. “I need to know what you
intend to do as soon as possible.”

 
          
The
rest of the day Leila’s emotions bounced between fear, hope and despair.

 
          
“You’re
definitely pregnant,” her doctor said.

 
          
Leila
stared out at the waves crashing to the California shore through a sheen of
tears. She’d never been more afraid in her life, never wished that Rafael was
by her side as much as she did now.

 
          
She’d
failed her first pregnancy. Had failed both him and their child. But, despite
her fear now, she knew she would do everything in her power to protect this
one.

 
          
“I
insist you see an obstetrician,” her doctor said. “Shall I arrange it?”

 
          
She
took a breath and let it out slowly. “Please.”

 
          
Rafael
broke the surface of the clear water and levered himself from the terrace pool.
After an exhausting day poring over specs with his IT techs in Rio, he’d
returned to his penthouse and headed straight for his private gym.

 
          
But
even after a grueling workout, he’d not been able to rid himself of the tension
that had tied him in knots since he’d left Leila. Even doing countless laps in
the pool hadn’t beaten the pent-up anger that threatened to consume him over
Leila’s refusal to face her fears about starting a family.

 
          
A
part of him was angry with himself too, blamed himself for allowing this terror
to take hold of his precious wife. He, more than anyone, understood her
concerns, her trepidation. But still in the back of his mind was the old sense
of rejection that had tormented him all his life.

 
          
His
father had refused to acknowledge him. His relationship with his siblings was
strong now, yet he had always been the odd one in the group. The bastard.

 
          
Even
his own mother had spent any precious time they might have had together working
for other families. He remembered one Christmas Day when he had been only small
and she had dragged him along to help prepare the meal for another family. “It’s
better this way, for now you will be able to eat a good meal,” she’d told him
when he’d complained.

 
          
But
though the leftovers had been excellent, he had been consumed with jealousy as
he had watched the other children eat their meal with their parents. Had envied
the presents and the laughter and just once had wanted to share such moments
with his mother to himself.

 
          
But
that had rarely happened.

 
          
He’d
feared he’d always be adrift. Always be the one on the outside looking in at
other people’s lives.