He kissed her head. "Two."

"Two?"

"I'll think of him now. Always."

She smiled. "Thank you."

He nodded and brought her close to his body, ignoring the rush of fear that was burning through him. Reading Hannah's letter to a child she barely knew, seeing how much she loved him, even now, made him understand something that he hadn't wanted to understand.

A child would change things. It would change him.

And then there was Hannah. And somewhere, in all of that, was Vega. He was the man who was supposed to take care of all of that.

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, fighting hard against the migraine that was threatening to take him over again.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

"EDUARDO, do you have the quarterly reports in from the retail stores?"

Hannah walked into his office looking every inch the cool businesswoman she was. Different, too. Her face glowed with ... happiness.

She was a force of it. He couldn't ignore her, and he didn't want to.

He looked back at his computer screen and closed the window on the internet browser. He'd been looking at colleges. For their son or daughter who was a tiny embryo at that very moment.

He blinked and redirected his focus. "What?"

"The quarterly reports. I need them. Finances. Dollar signs. The thing you pay me for. I just need you to forward them to me. Last week. But unless you have a blue police box capable of time travel, I'll let it go."

"What?"

"Never mind. Do you have the reports or not?"

"I ... somewhere. Hold on. They have to be in my in-box somewhere." She was watching him, her blue eyes trained on him. He waited to see impatience, and there was none. She was simply waiting. "Sorry, I'm not right on top of it, Hannah, I know you would be."

She waved a hand. "It's fine. I already did everything else I had to do today. Anyway, I missed you, so it's nice to come and visit for a while."

She walked over to the desk, her delicate fingers resting on the wood, tracing idly over the designs in the grain. He gritted his teeth and tried to refocus his attention. He swore and slammed his hand down by his keyboard. Hannah jumped.

"I can't find them."

"Do a search."

Of course. He knew that. His mind was moving too slowly, and Hannah was too large in it. He couldn't focus. "Dammit, Hannah, do you mind not hovering?"

She frowned and he could have stabbed his own hand with a pen. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice rough.

"Are you having a hard time? Just let me find it for you."

"It's an email search. I can handle it." He typed in quarterly reports and it brought them up. Suddenly it was like the fog had cleared. He forwarded them to Hannah. "There, you have them now."

"Thank you."

"I'll see you when I'm through here."

She nodded, her lips turned down now. "Okay. See you."

She turned and walked out of his office and he leaned back in his chair, drawing his hand down his face. He was sweating. Why had that been so hard? Why had he forgotten the reports in the first place?

It was the distractions. All the time. All he could think about were Hannah and the baby. And when he wasn't thinking about them, he seemed to want to be thinking about them. So he found excuses to go to Hannah's office, he used Google to look up colleges and real estate listings in the city limits that weren't sky-high penthouses.

He'd thought he could do this. He had to do it. If he didn't, what legacy was there for his son or daughter? It mattered now, even more that he hang on to Vega. It wasn't about personal pride, it was about inheritance. About his child's right to not have their fool of a father destroy what could have been theirs.

Yes, he had a private fortune, but it was much less valuable than what he had here. The potential with Vega Communications was untapped. He knew it could be more. He'd always intended to make it more when his father was running it, and he knew it now. But if he continued to do stupid things like forgetting to forward financial reports, none of it would happen.

Hannah would have to remind him. Hold his hand. She was his wife, and he was meant to care for her. But he wasn't doing his job. He was failing her. He would fail her, continually. Until death did them part. He had tied her to him, to a deficient man, when she was exceptional, brave and bright, brilliant beyond any he'd ever known.

He was sure that when he'd intercepted her on her wedding day she'd wished him to h.e.l.l a thousand times. But for the first time, he wished himself there.

Eduardo was still tense when they got back to the penthouse. Tense didn't even begin to cover it. She was almost afraid to say anything for fear he would explode. Not that she couldn't handle him. But she was getting the increasingly worrying feeling that he wasn't happy. And that bothered her.

Because she was happy. Going to bed with him every night, waking up with him every morning. It was more than she'd ever imagined marriage to be. What he made her feel when he touched her was divine, but more than that was the connection between them.

She'd been skin to skin with men, boys really, before. She'd had lovers, if they could be called that. But she'd picked up and left them when they were through and felt ... nothing. It had frightened her sometimes. When she was with them, she'd gotten the thrill, but it hadn't lingered, and they had never lingered in her mind, and certainly never her heart.

But Eduardo ... he felt like he was a part of her. And she knew, knew for a fact, it had nothing to do with carrying his baby. She'd felt no mystical pull to the boy who'd gotten her pregnant the first time. No sense that she had a piece of him with her.

No, Eduardo was utterly unique and so was the connection she felt to him. It was deeper than s.e.x. In fact, it had existed before the s.e.x.

When the door closed behind them, he didn't speak, he just pulled her into his arms. His kiss was rough and demanding, his hands roaming over her curves, tugging at her shirt, her skirt. She pushed his jacket down his arms and onto the floor, devouring his mouth, conducting an exploration of her own.

They left a trail of clothes on their way to his bedroom. His movements were urgent, his mouth hard and hungry.

"There are ways I can care for you that no other man can," he said, his voice rough as he laid her down onto the bed. "There are things I can do." He put his hand down between her thighs and slid his fingers over the damp folds of her flesh. "Things I can make you feel, that no other man can make you feel."

She could only nod as he slid one finger inside of her.

"You want me?" he asked.

She nodded, her breath coming out on a sob. "Of course."

"Say it."

She opened her eyes, met with his intense, dark gaze. "I want you, Eduardo Vega. My husband."

A smile curved his mouth and he lowered his head, sucking hard on her nipple before continuing down, his mouth hot and demanding on her body, making her feel restless, so turned on she couldn't think or breathe.

When his mouth covered the heart of her she couldn't do anything but ride the wave of pleasure that threatened to carry her away.

Eduardo was drowning in her scent, her taste. His body was on fire, his heart threatening to beat from his chest. He felt her tense beneath him, felt her body tighten as she found her release.

He pressed a kiss to her stomach and put his hand under her bottom, lifting her so that he could enter her in one smooth thrust. She arched against him, a hoa.r.s.e cry escaping her lips that he captured with his own.

She was so tight and hot around him, her legs pinning him against her body, her small b.r.e.a.s.t.s, tight nipples, pressing into his chest. She tightened around his shaft and he just about lost it then and there. But he was going to make her come one more time.

He thrust hard into her and she tightened her hold on him, pressed wet kisses to his neck, whispering in his ear. How s.e.xy he was. How good he felt.

And his blood roared in his ears, all thoughts of control and finesse lost in the rising tide of pleasure and urgency that was flooding him.

His o.r.g.a.s.m overtook him like wildfire, impossible to stop, impossible to redirect, consuming everything in its path. He let out a short, sharp sound of pleasure as he spilled himself inside of her and he was aware, dimly, of Hannah shuddering out her own release.

He rested his head on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, waited for his heart rate to return to normal. Waited for thoughts to start trickling through his brain.

All he had now was an intense emotion that seemed to be filling his chest. That seemed to be taking over.

He turned his face, inhaled her scent, let it fill him. She stroked his face, her hands soft, her touch soothing him down deep.

And he realized that no matter how many o.r.g.a.s.ms he'd given her, no matter how many he gave her over a lifetime, it wasn't proof that he was caring for her. Even now he was starving for her, for what she could give him. To have her arms around him, to have her hold him close.

And when the time came for another migraine, when he was curled up on the floor, unable to see, barely able to breathe, she would be the one who would have to hold him.

He would be a dead weight to her. To all she'd worked for. One more thing to hold Hannah back in life.

He would be d.a.m.ned if he did that to her. Of course, it was entirely possible he already was.

"You look extra broody this morning," Hannah said, walking into the kitchen and seeing Eduardo sitting at the table, his expression dark.

He lifted his cup of coffee to his lips and offered her a bored look.

"That's all you've got for me? At least say something rude," she said, rifling through the fridge for a bottle of milk. She liked that it was only the two of them living in the penthouse. He had staff that came in while they were gone, but otherwise it was just the two of them.

"Hannah, we need to talk."

She straightened then shut the fridge, the milk bottle clutched tightly in her hand. "What about?"

"About this arrangement."

"What about it?" She turned and opened one of the cabinets, reaching for a bowl, ignoring the unease that was making her stomach tighten.

"It's not working."

She dropped the cereal bowl she'd just grasped onto the counter and it clattered loudly against the hard surface, thankfully not shattering. "What?" She grabbed the bowl and stopped it from shivering against the tile. "I mean wh-what about it isn't working? The amazing, soul-shaking s.e.x? The relative harmony in which we live?"

"It's not that. It's ... You were right. I'm not doing a good job of balancing domestic life with Vega and it has to change. It's going to get even harder when the baby's born."

"But ... Eduardo ..."

"I think it would be best if we kept things as simple as possible. Perhaps ... perhaps it would be best if we didn't try to force a marriage between us. I've been looking for houses outside the city, but still close. A place more suitable to raising children. I would be happy to install you there with the child and a nanny. I could stay here during the work week."

"What? That doesn't make any sense, it doesn't ... I mean ... How can we ... be a family if you don't even live with us?"

He stood up, slammed his palm down on the table, his expression thunderous. "I am not the man you should cast in your little sitcom, Hannah. I cannot give you whatever your vision is of what a perfect family should look like."

She gripped the edge of the counter, her heart pounding as she listened to him. Was that what she was doing? Was she trying to project her idea of perfection onto him? To force an idea that possibly wasn't real? Had that been what all of it was? Her trying to build a new fantasy?

The sharp pain in her heart told her no. That her feelings were real.

"You think you know the way the world works, Hannah," he continued, his voice a low growl. "You named yourself after a retail store because you thought it was fancy. You think black-and-white television shows are an example of how real life should work. That we can put a picket fence around the yard and get a dog and you can have all the things you've always fantasized about. You play so sophisticated, but in so many ways you're naive. A little girl playing dress-up."

"Is that what you think?" she said, her voice soft, anger rising up inside of her. Unreasonable, and unstoppable. And with it, pain, pain that she felt down so deep she wasn't sure she would ever find the bottom of it. "I'm going to let you have it now, Eduardo Vega, but this isn't just me spouting pithy one-liners to keep you from getting close. This is me being honest. I gave myself to you, and that wasn't pretend. That wasn't something I didn't understand, and you d.a.m.n well gave yourself to me. So, now what? You're scared? You're freaked out because you forgot to hit Send on an email and now you're letting it get in your head."

"That's not all," he said, his voice fierce. "You know how bad it gets. You've seen."

"Yes, you had a migraine. A horrible one. You have them ... I get it. But if I can handle it, then it's not up to you to say that I can't. You're making up excuses, and blaming things, blaming me, blaming you, for the fact that you're just scared because whatever this is between us ... it's big. And you're scared of it."

"I'm going to get ready for work now, Hannah. You can call my driver and he'll take you later."

"Are you running?" she asked.

He whirled around to face her, his expression dark, dangerous. "I'm not running. I'm being reasonable. What did you think this would be?" he asked, his voice raw. "You're right. I can barely concentrate on the duties I already have. I don't have it in me, not the energy or the desire to be a husband to you. I can't ... I can't take care of you."

Pain washed through Hannah, acute and sharp. "You don't ... want to be my husband?"

"No, Hannah," he said, something in his tone jagged. Torn.

"Okay."

"What?"

She shook her head. "Fine. Okay. Then I don't want you to be my husband. I'm not going to force it. It's funny ... I was ready to marry Zack even though ... even though he didn't know me. He didn't even especially want me. I mean ... we weren't really lighting things on fire with our pa.s.sion, you know? But that was okay with him. It's not okay with you and I only just realized that."

"What do you mean?"

"I won't be a duty to you. I want you to divorce me. And you be the best father you can be for our child. But I'm not going to be that wife you have to keep because you feel some sense of duty."

"All or nothing then."

"Yes." It broke her to say it, because there was a piece of her, that girl who was searching for permanent, for stable, who wanted desperately to cling to whatever he could give. Who wanted to marry the facade and forget the rest.

But the new Hannah, the one Eduardo had brought out, uncovered after so many years, she wanted more. She wanted it all. Not just duty, but love. Real love, not just a few hours of mindless pleasure every night. She wanted to share more than his bed. She wanted to share his heart. His life.