Illegitimate Tycoon by Janette Kenny

years to understand that she battled her eating
disorder much like an alcoholic avoided strong drink. Because any number of
triggers could throw her back into that vicious cycle of anorexia.
                 She’d
stayed strong and healthy because her career demanded it. Because she had an
average weight she must maintain to stay on top of her game. She was in total
control of every aspect of her life. Being pregnant would be a completely
different thing, for she’d have zero control over the changes in her body.
                 If
she failed to cope with her pregnancy—if she was the cause of losing another
baby—she’d simply lose her mind.
                 As
for a normal family.
                 “Would
either of us recognize a normal family if we saw one?” she tossed back at him,
not bothering to hide the shame of her own troubled childhood this time.
                 “I
know what it isn’t,” he said, serious as always when the subject of family came
up. “Though your family was poor, you had a home, a brother and the love of
both parents for much of your childhood.”
                 Leila
let out a bitter laugh at that assessment, for it was far from the truth. “Please,
Rafael. You knew my mother. She was not an affectionate woman.”
                 Selfish
and demanding, yes. But never loving.
                 He
gave an abbreviated nod, his brow furrowed, likely recalling the rows he’d had
with her mother. He’d never been good enough for Leila.
                 “What
of your father? Your brother?” he asked. “You’ve never spoken much of them, yet
they were a big part of your upbringing.”
                 What
was there to say about people she hardly knew? About a place that had only
existed in her mother’s imaginings?
                 “Home
was a shanty in one of the largest favelas in Rio. No electricity. No water. After my father died, we were forced to move
from our two-room ‘home’ into a one-room hut.”
                 She
glanced at him and took in his stunned expression. She’d shocked him, for like
the world he’d believed her mother’s lie. That they’d had a small home near the
mountains.
                 Leila
heaved a weary sigh and dropped onto the sofa, kicking herself for not
unburdening this shame years ago. Her mother had woven a tender, tragic story
of being a young widow and single parent that Leila had never disputed, for
what was the use?
                 Unlike
her mother, Leila had never courted sympathy from anyone—especially Rafael. But
now? She still didn’t want his empathy, for she had escaped the fate she’d been
born into. But he was asking, and she couldn’t continue the lie.
                 “I
don’t remember my father, other than he was a stern man who was always away
working,” she began, her fingers worrying her skirt as she searched her
memories and found few good ones to draw on. “As for my brother, he was much
older than I was and ignored me for the most part. He worked in the factory
with my father, and both died the night it caught fire. After that, my mother
sponged off anyone she could for support.”
                 Rafael’s
brows pulled into a disagreeable V over his patrician nose while his
beautifully sculpted lips flattened into a thin hard line. “Why didn’t you tell
me this years ago?”
                 She
simply stared at him. “What’s the use? You never asked, and the truth changes
nothing about me. And unless I’m mistaken, you’ve never divulged everything
about your childhood or your family in England.”
                 He
jerked his head to the side, his expression hardening, but only for an instant.
“You are right. Neither of us had a normal family.”
                 She
waited for him to go on. Hoped he would, but he remained