Free The Billionaire Baby Bombshell by Paula Roe Page A

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.

Seven
    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 glancedaround. “You know, this room is a bit spare.