Virgin: Undone by the Billionaire: The Innocent's Dark Seduction / Count Maxime's Virgin / Untamed Billionaire, Undressed Virgin

“Ah. Anonymous. Gotcha.” She winked. “You’re quite the do-gooder, Mr. Navarre. Families will enjoy this park for generations to come.”

He growled at her, then turned to go. As he reached the door, he heard her sigh, “Lia will be so sorry she wasn’t here to see this. But she always likes to be home when her baby wakes up from her nap.”

Roark froze, his hand already on the doorknob.

“Baby?”

“She’s the cutest little thing.”

Roark went straight back to the desk. Her eyes went wide as she saw the fierce expression on his face.

“How old is she?” he demanded.

“That’s the most romantic part,” she replied with a sigh. “Ruby was born nine months after the count died. A miracle to comfort Lia in her grief. And Ruby is the sweetest little thing. She’s crawling like crazy … Where are you going?”

But Roark didn’t answer. He pushed open the door, rushing down the stairs in a fury.

A baby.

Lia’d had a baby.

And she’d never told him. She’d deliberately kept it a secret.

He remembered how nervous she’d been when he ambushed her outside her town house that morning. At the time, he’d thought she was just afraid he might try to invite himself into her bedroom. But she’d been nervous he might find out the truth.

Perhaps the baby had been born nine months after the count died, but the man couldn’t be her father. It was impossible. Lia had been a virgin when Roark had first touched her!

She had told him herself at the wedding reception, there had been no one else since. He remembered the way the waiter at the café this morning had said, “We’ve missed Mademoiselle Ruby today.”

“Who’s Ruby?” Roark had asked.

A friend, she’d answered. Just a good friend.

God, he’d been stupid! Thinking he could trust a beautiful, clever, willful woman like Lia Villani!

He’d overestimated her good heart.

He’d underestimated the depths of her deceit.

She’d lied to him. She’d hadn’t even given him the choice to be part of their child’s life. Instead she’d been so ashamed of her baby’s true parentage that she’d lied about it. Rather than admit that Roark was the one who’d fathered her baby, she’d told everyone her elderly husband had risen from his sickbed to father a child days before his death!

Fury made Roark’s hands shake. She’d tricked him. Lied to him for a year and a half. All the time he was traveling the world, dreaming of her against his will at night, she’d been having his baby. Choosing to keep it a secret. Lying about the baby’s father.

Lying to his face.

Lying to him in bed.

Roark clenched his hands.

And to think he’d actually intended to let Lia go.

He’d meant to keep his promise and leave her alone, no matter what it cost him. He’d actually intended to try and be noble. To give up his own selfish desires for the sake of respecting her wishes.

Noble. He nearly laughed at that now. He climbed into the back seat of his Rolls-Royce.

As the driver made his way to her town house, Roark stared out at the passing traffic. His lips curled back as he barked a cold laugh. He’d admired her. He’d thought she was special. He’d thought she was honest and good.

Now?

He would keep her in his bed. She would stay there, his prisoner, for as long as he desired her.

The world was a selfish place. A man had to take what he could, when he could. And screw the rest.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“WELL, I’m off then,” Mrs. O’Keefe said, picking up her purse and giving her employer a doleful stare. “If you’re sure you don’t want me to stay …”

“I’m sure,” Lia said, wiping her eyes. She tried to smile at her baby, who was sitting next to her on the Turkish carpet in the front room playing with blocks. “I’m fine, really,” she insisted. “I just … I’m a little sad.”

“My dear, it’s been a year and a half since he died. He wouldn’t want you to take on so.”

Of course, Mrs. O’Keefe thought Lia was weeping over Giovanni. How could she explain that she was heartsick over Ruby’s real father, a man who was very much alive but who had no interest in having a daughter, loving a wife or settling down in a home?

“That’s not why I’m crying,” Lia said, wiping her eyes. “It’s … someone else.”

“Someone else?” The Irishwoman’s eyes met hers. “Who?”

Lia shook her head. She was crying over a man who would never, ever forgive her if he ever found out how she had lied.

But he would never find out. Roark was on his way to the Far East, never to return. She should be glad, right? She should be thrilled.

But she wasn’t.

When she’d first found out she was pregnant, she’d hated Roark with such passion she’d thought the only way she could completely love her baby would be to forget the man who’d fathered her.

Now, every day for the rest of her life, Lia would look into her daughter’s eyes and be reminded of an emotion entirely different from hatred. She’d be reminded of the way Roark had tenderly asked her to stay with him. And the way Lia had refused him.

The way she’d lied.

Stop it, she told herself, wiping her eyes fiercely. Stop it.

Ruby gurgled happily, handing her mother a wooden block with the letter L. Lia smiled through her tears as she looked down at her daughter.

“L is for love,” she whispered, giving the block back to her.

She hugged her baby. Ruby would always have the best of everything. The best schools. The best homes in both New York and Italy. The best clothes. A mother who loved her.

There was just one thing that Lia couldn’t give her.