Illegitimate Tycoon Read Free Page B

           He
crossed to the tray that had been delivered to their suite and poured an iced
coffee laced with cachaça . “Would you
like a drink?”
                 “Water
with a twist of lime,” she said. “I had orange juice at the airport.”
                 He
grimaced at the near apology in that confession. She rarely drank anything
other than enhanced water which added zero calories. He could count on one hand
the times he’d seen her eat a full meal and he’d certainly never seen her binge
on anything.
                 But
then he was careful too, moderate. He didn’t wish to follow in his own father’s
alcoholic footsteps.
                 He
turned to offer her the drink and just caught sight of her rushing into the
master bedroom. The closing of the en suite bathroom door echoed softly in the
suite.
                 Not
so for the sound of her becoming violently ill. If it were anyone else, he’d
pass it off as a malady.
                 But
Leila’s troubled past gave him pause.
                 The
unsettling possibility she’d suffered a relapse plagued him as he carried his
garment bag and suitcase into the bedroom.
                 An
economy of quick strides carried him into the facility moments after the toilet
flushed. She was at the sink rinsing out her mouth, her face paler than before.
                 “Leila,
what’s wrong?” he asked.
                 She
shook her head, her eyes bleak. “I’ve been ill. Some stomach virus that refuses
to leave.”
                 “Have
you seen a doctor for this?”
                 “Yes,
one who was on staff at the shoot gave me an antibiotic, but he did warn me
that if this were a viral infection it would do no good,” she said. “I’ll be
fine.”
                 He
gave her a more critical look, wanting to believe her. Yet they’d been apart
too much this year, and she’d clearly lost weight.
                 And
though he didn’t want to admit it, there was a nervousness about her that hadn’t
been there before. A withdrawal, almost as if she were hiding something from
him.
                 “Have
you tried to lose weight quickly?”
                 Leila
swung around to face Rafael. “No! I’m not a victim of bulimia or anorexia
anymore. I simply have a stomach bug. But if you think I’m lying, Rafael, you
are more than welcome to ask my agent or my doctor about my health!”
                 Inferno! He had not expected her to
react with such anger, but then he supposed he deserved it for doubting her.
                 “Forgive
me for insinuating you had suffered a relapse,” he said, reaching for her, but
she turned from him and left the bathroom. Left him standing there feeling like
a fool for thinking the worst of her. “I worry, Leila.”
                 She
stopped short, shoulders slumping. “I know you do.” She brushed a hand through
her hair in a show of impatience. “I worry about you as well, but this year—”
                 Her
hand fluttered in the air, and he reached out and snagged it this time. Pulled
her close to his heart where she belonged and was glad she didn’t resist.
                 “Things
will change now,” he said, and gained a shaky nod from her in answer.
                 This
past year had been difficult. Their brief weekend in Aruba sandwiched between
her last shoot and his trip to L.A. to consult on the film. This time when they
had parted, he’d resented her career more than ever, for it had pulled her from
him. Her stellar status had taken precedence over their marriage. Over their
plans to start a family.
                 He’d
come close to demanding she take a hiatus from her work. That she embrace her
role as his wife again with the same passion as she did her career.