12. Luis

CHAPTER 12

LUIS

O n the way home, Luis sat quietly thinking. Clara's father had many good points, and he hadn't really considered them before. To him, what he had to do was obvious, and the sacrifices he'd had to make were inevitable.

Sitting opposite him in the limo was Clara, who looked to be just as deep in thought as he was. She had begun chewing her thumbnail, which was a habit he hadn't picked up on until now. It only made him like her more. The fact that she was worried because he was worried meant she cared about him. Maybe it wasn't love… yet. But Luis was hopeful that they could get there eventually. "My dad can be kind of a know-it-all," she finally said.

Luis sighed. "He's not wrong, though."

Even though she was shrouded in shadows, Luis could see how beautiful his fiancée was. Her blond hair, flushed cheeks, and plump lips beckoned him from across the limo. His heart broke when he thought about their arrangement, how she would pretend to love him in public and perhaps grow tired of him when they got home after a long day of faking it. He was feeling less and less confident in his plan to win her heart. What would she think of him when she knew what kind of man he really was? How frightened he was. Then again, showing a little belly might be just the ticket.

"Seeing you with your family reminded me of my own," he began. "And then your father asked about them, and — don't get me wrong — I love talking about my family, but I'm scared for them. If this fails… if this country rejects me, what will become of them?"

"You'll still be a billionaire," Clara reminded him. "I think you'll be fine."

"But surely none of my brothers or sisters will ever be welcome here after my disgrace. I hoped they might have the same opportunities that I had one day. Now I feel like I could be spoiling everything for them."

Clara laughed, and her laugh was like a balm to his heart. "Luis, I think you're underestimating how much America loves billionaires. Like, we worship them here. Have you seen any of those mini-series about organized crime? It doesn't even matter how you make your money. You say the word billionaire, and this entire country will be kissing your feet in no time at all." She moved across the limo to sit beside him. Then, she took his hand, and it was all he could do to keep from melting into the seat. "Trust me. You won't bring shame to your family. I guarantee you're making them proud."

He squeezed her hand. "It was good to meet your parents. I don't think I could bring myself to marry a woman who didn't love her family, no matter what kind of business arrangement we had."

"Well, same," she said. "Knowing how you feel about your family makes all the difference in the world. At the very least, we have that value in common, right? Now that you're not just paying for my fertility treatment, it matters doesn't it? You're the father of this child just as much as I'm the mother. I know we're in an unconventional situation here, but I do hope we can both make a good family for the baby."

Luis could hardly believe what he was hearing. "You want me to be in the baby's life?"

"Um, yes!" she said like she was just as shocked that he didn't already know as much. "You'd better be. I'm not bringing a kid into the world who won't even know his father."

Luis raised an eyebrow. "Or hers."

"Or hers." She shrugged and blushed. "It's not fair to leave them without a parent. Not when you're still here and alive and the opposite of a deadbeat." She stared down at her lap for a moment. "Especially not when I can easily see how good of a father you'll be."

That was when Luis's breath hitched. As much as he wanted to hide his affection until he was certain it was reciprocated, he couldn't quite hide how deeply her words had affected him. He had to restrain himself from saying something stupid like, I think you'll make a wonderful mother, too, pulling her into his arms, and kissing her hard. Everything she did drove him crazy. All he could do was continue on the path that had gotten him this far in the first place — vulnerability.

"How can you say that?" he said. "I raised my siblings, and where am I now? I've abandoned them for a corporation."

"But you created the corporation for them," Clara pointed out. "Surely they understand that."

"I'm sure they do. But I had to take myself away from them to do it. It's how things go. You leave to provide, and in doing that, you lose the family you're trying to provide for. For years, I kept telling myself that if I just made enough, I could retire and spend time with them. Just a little longer, I thought. I kept pushing it off to the future, moving the goal posts, you know? It was never enough. A thousand what-ifs would haunt my dreams until I decided that, no, I couldn't entrust the company to anyone else. No, I couldn't retire in the next five years. Because what if our mother got sick and needed to be transported for medical treatment? How much would that cost? What if losing the power of my position destroys everything? What if the person I choose to take over crashes the company's value? And then someone comes along and threatens to expose my illegal status, and suddenly I'm the one crashing the company's value. All I ever wanted was to make it so my family never had to worry about money again."

Clara didn't respond, and Luis realized that was because she was listening intently. There was something meaningful about the way she watched and heard him, just allowed him to get everything out without judgement or easy answers. There were no easy answers, and Clara seemed to understand this. It meant so much to Luis.

"At the end of it all," he said, "there's this fear that I don't even belong in my family anymore. They can't relate to me because our lives are so different now. While I've been where they are, they've never been where I am. I've abandoned so much of who I used to be for this. My home looks like something out of a magazine. It's nothing I would have chosen when I was younger, and to be honest, it's nothing I would choose now if I didn't know people would be in taking pictures and scrutinizing everything. I felt so much pressure to be the quintessential American entrepreneur that I forgot who I was. My family has surely noticed. Even if I did decide to drop everything and go be with them, I wouldn't really belong. I wouldn't feel comfortable and neither would they."

Clara squeezed his hand again, and he stared down at her, watching the streetlights illuminate her face in short bursts that seemed to match the rhythm of his heart. He leaned closer to her and thought about confessing everything — that he thought he loved her for real, that he wanted this to be a real marriage, and that he was on cloud nine about being the father of her child. But he had agreed to keep things professional. It was what she wanted. So he was determined to honor her wishes.

When they pulled into the garage, he helped her out of the limo and they stepped into the elevator together. Going home with her, knowing that his home was hers, too, elevated his mood in a bittersweet way. He stared up at the mirrored ceiling of the elevator as it made its way from floor to floor, and he saw the couple standing together from that bird's-eye view. They looked like a great couple, he thought. Had he seen them on the street, he would have imagined they'd be a couple that lasted their whole lives, not a fake marriage for a green card. On the one hand, that thought reduced his worry that he might be found out, but on the other, he realized this might be all he'd ever have in a relationship. He'd never have anything real. How could he?

They stepped into the penthouse together, and Clara immediately dropped her handbag on the couch, which he loved. She was beginning to feel at home, and that pleased him. She went upstairs to use the bathroom and change into comfortable lounging clothes. Then she came back down and sat on the couch with her phone.

"You know," she said after a moment of thought. "Your bedroom doesn't look anything like a quintessential American entrepreneur's bedroom. I don't think I've seen anything like it in any magazine article about billionaires. It's colorful and fun, and it feels like you to me. Maybe you've just taken who you are and tucked it away somewhere safe, where no one can corrupt it. Maybe you're just protecting your heart that way. I can't be in that room and imagine you've really lost yourself to this. I think you've just hidden yourself deep, and there's nothing wrong with that if it's what makes you feel safe enough to do what you need to do. I think everyone deals with that at some point in their lives — having to hide what they really are in order to succeed in a job that wouldn't love the real them. No matter how much or how little they make. The grumpy waitress still has to smile and ask if you like your food whether that's what the real her would have done or not, you know? Everyone is a performance artist to some degree."

Luis just blinked at her, shocked that her wisdom exceeded her years the way it did. He felt like he was talking to someone of his father's caliber, someone who had been there, knew what was coming, and understood what it would take to get through it. "You're beautiful, you know that?" he said without thinking.

Her eyebrows shot up.

"I mean as a person," he said, quickly amending his statement to make it more digestible. "You're a beautiful person with beautiful ideas, and I can't wait to introduce you to my family. I know you said our arrangement had to stay all business, and I agree. I mean I intend to keep it that way. But we're going to be performance artists, as you say, in front of a lot of people. You'll want to play the beautiful wife, wise beyond her years, who is kind to everyone regardless of their status. All I'm saying is that I don't think you'll have to do much acting to fit the role. That's all."

He watched Clara carefully to see whether he'd said too much or made her uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted to do was spook her with too many compliments, but it was the truth and she should know it. Luis rarely told people what he really thought of them in the course of his business dealings. In this case, though, he didn't think anything less would be acceptable. She had to know the respect he had for her if they were going to continue with this arrangement. At the very least, she had to know that.

Her eyes welled a bit and she made a play of being tired so she could rub them dry without giving herself away. He didn't let on that he'd noticed. "Do you want to sit with me and watch a movie?" she asked.

"Sure," he said, trying to keep his tone nonchalant when he was feeling anything but. "Do you have a movie in mind?"

"I saw a movie I haven't watched since I was a kid on one of your streaming platforms. I bet I can find it again. It's a really good movie, although you may not like it because it's a romcom."

Luis shrugged. "Who told you I don't like romcoms? Whoever they are, they're a liar. But are you sure you want to watch something you've already seen?"

She laughed and tucked her hair behind one ear. "I don't know. I think I'm just feeling a little sentimental. Maybe it's just hormones."

"If that's the sort of thing you do when you're hormonal, then I count myself a lucky man." He winked at her. "Snacks?"

Her eyes lit up. "Oh, absolutely! I've been craving chocolate malt like you wouldn't believe, which is weird because I'd swear up and down I hate the stuff. And French fries." She cringed. "That's a weird combination. God, I'm a walking cliché."

Luis shook his head and walked around the couch to get his phone. "Cliché's exist for a reason. Anyway, what kind of father am I if I don't spoil the mother of my child rotten while she's pregnant. I'll order out. Anything you want. Even if it's from two different restaurants, Meredith will get it for us."

Clara frowned. "I don't want to make her work at this hour."

"You're too sweet. She's on call." Luis picked up the phone and called Meredith, who took down all the snack foods Clara was craving. "And, Meredith, what are you doing tonight? Any plans?"

Meredith didn't have anything planned, which Luis already knew would be her answer. He'd only asked it for Clara's sake.

"After you drop off our food, take the rest of the night off," he told her. Go out with someone, anyone of your choosing. Order whatever you like, at as many places as you like. The whole evening's on me."

"Excuse me. What?" Luis could almost see his assistant's shock, as obvious as it was in her tone.

"Consider it a tip from Clara," he said. "I'm trying to impress her with my generosity by giving you a large tip." He made a play of muting his phone before turning to Clara. "Are you impressed?"

Clara's enthusiastic nod told him all he needed to know.

"Good," he said. Then, to Meredith, he said, "See you soon," and hung up the phone. Clara was beside herself when Luis sat beside her on the couch. "This business arrangement is going to work out remarkably well, I think," he said. "No matter what happens, just your being here will help me become a better man."

All of a sudden, her arms were around him, and she snuggled up close. It was working. Maybe this could be real, after all. Then she said, "Just so we're convincing when she gets here."

He wasn't sure whether she was making excuses to be close to him, but Luis took it as a good sign either way.