by Jennie Lucas
“Because he couldn’t bear for you to know the truth. He loved you too much.”
Anguish shone in her beautiful face. Then her expression crumpled.
“And I loved him,” she said brokenly. She wiped her eyes. “But you’re wrong. He never would have lied to me. He had no reason—”
“You would have forgiven him?”
“Yes.”
“Because you loved him.” Leonidas took a deep breath and looked into her eyes. “So forgive me,” he whispered.
She sucked in her breath. “What?”
“You’re in love with me, Daisy. We both know that.”
Her lush pink lips parted. She seemed to tremble. “What...how—”
“I’ve seen it on your face. Heard it in your voice. You’re in love—” He took a step toward her, but she put her hand up, warding him off.
“I loved a man who doesn’t exist.” She looked up, her green eyes glittering. “Not you. I could never love you.”
Her words stabbed him like a physical attack. He heard echoes of his mother’s harsh voice, long ago.
Stop bothering me. I’m sick of your whimpering. Leave me alone.
Leonidas had spent three decades distancing himself from that five-year-old boy, becoming rich and powerful and strong, to make sure he’d never feel like that again. And now this.
Senseless, overwhelming rage filled him.
“You could never love a man like me?” He lifted his chin. “But you’re full of love for a liar like your father?”
“Don’t you call him that. You’re the liar! Don’t you dare even speak of him—”
“He was a criminal, Daisy. And you’re a fool,” he said harshly.
“You’re right. I am.” Her lovely face was pale, her clenched hands shaking at her sides. “But you’re a monster. You took everything. My father. My home. My self-respect. My virginity...”
“Your father made his own bed.” He looked down at her coldly. “So did you.”
Her lips parted in a gasp.
“I never took anything that wasn’t willingly—enthusiastically—given to me,” he continued ruthlessly.
“I hate myself for ever letting you touch me,” she whispered. Her tearful eyes lifted to his. “I wish I could hurt you like you’ve hurt me.”
Leonidas barked a humorless laugh. “You can’t.”
New rage filled her beautiful face. “Why? Because you think I’m so powerless? So meaningless?”
“No.” He wasn’t being rude. If Daisy knew about the pain of his childhood, he suspected it would satisfy even her current vengeful mood.
But she couldn’t know. Leonidas intended to keep those memories buried until the day he died, buried deep in the graveyard that existed beneath his ribs, in place of a heart.
“I hate you,” she choked out. “You don’t deserve—”
“What?” he said, when she didn’t finish. “What don’t I deserve?”
She turned her head away. “You don’t deserve another moment of my time.”
Her voice was low and certain, and it filled him with despair. How had he ever thought he could win her?
Leonidas saw now that he’d never make her see his side. She hated him, just as he’d always known she would, the moment she learned his name.
It was over.
“If you think I’m such a monster,” he said hoarsely, “what are you still doing here? Why don’t you go?”
She stared at him, her arms wrapped around her belly. For a moment, she seemed frozen in indecision. Then—
“You’re right,” she said finally. She crossed the bedroom and opened the door. He briefly smelled her perfume, the scent of sunshine and roses. As she passed him, he could almost feel the warmth from her skin, from her curves barely contained beneath the tight green dress. “I never should have come up here.” She gave him one last look. “As far as I’m concerned, the man I loved is dead.”
Daisy walked out of his bedroom without another glance, disappearing into the shadows of the hall. And she left Leonidas, alone in his mansion, feeling like a monster, surrounded by rich and powerful friends, in a world that was even more dark and bleak than it had been before he’d met her.
CHAPTER THREE
Five months later
IT WAS EARLY MARCH, but in New York, there was no whisper of warmth, not yet. It was gray and cold, and the sidewalks were edged with dirty snow from a storm a few days before. Even the trees had not yet started to bud. The weather still felt miserably like winter.
But for Daisy, spring had already begun.
She took a deep breath, hugging herself as she stepped out of the obstetrician’s office. At six months’ pregnant, her belly had grown so big she was barely able to zip up her long black puffy coat. She’d had to get new clothes from thrift shops and friends with discarded maternity outfits; aside from her swelling belly, she’d put on a good amount of pregnancy weight.
After a six-hour morning shift at the diner, Daisy had already been exhausted before she’d skipped lunch to go straight to a doctor’s appointment. But the medical office had been running late, and she’d sat in the waiting room for an hour. Now, as she finally left, her stomach was growling, and she thought with pity of her dog at home, waiting for her meal, too.
She quickened her step, her breath a white cloud in cold air that was threatening rain. She couldn’t stop smiling.
Her checkup had gone perfectly. Her baby was doing well, her pregnancy was on track, and after the morning sickness misery of her first trimester, and the uncertainty of her second, now she was in her final trimester. She finally felt like she knew what she was doing. She felt...hope.
It was funny, she thought, as she hurried down the crowded Brooklyn sidewalk, vibrant with colorful shops. Her past was filled with tragedy that she once would have thought she could not survive: her mother’s illness and death when Daisy was seven, her own failure at becoming an artist, her father’s accusation and trial followed by his sudden death, falling in love with Leo and accidentally getting pregnant then finding out he was actually Leonidas Niarxos.
She had decided to raise her baby alone, rather than with a man who didn’t deserve to be her child’s father, but it was strange now to remember how, five months ago, she’d been so sure she wasn’t strong or brave enough to do it alone. But the fight with Leonidas at his cocktail party had made it clear she had no other choice.
And she’d made it through. She was stronger and wiser. She’d never again be so stupidly innocent, giving her heart to someone she barely knew. She’d never be that young again.
Becoming an adult—a mother—meant making responsible choices. She’d given up childish dreams of romance, and someday becoming an artist. Her baby was all that mattered. Daisy put a hand on her belly over her black puffy coat. She’d found out a few months earlier she was having a little girl.
Daisy’s friends in Brooklyn had rallied around her. Claudia Vogler, her boss at the diner, had given her extra hours so Daisy could save money. She’d forgiven all of Daisy’s missed shifts due to morning sickness, and, when Daisy started having trouble being on her feet all day, Claudia had even created a new job for her—to sit by the cash register at the diner and ring out customers. Since most customers just paid their server directly with a credit card, Daisy mostly just greeted them as they came, and said goodbye as they left.
And she was still living in Franck’s apartment, rent free. The middle-aged artist had returned to New York a week after her breakup with Leonidas. He’d been shocked, walking into his apartment, expensive suitcase in hand, to discover a puppy living in his home, which was full of easily breakable sculptures and expensive modern art on the walls.
She’d named her puppy Sunny, to remind herself, even in the depths of her worry, to focus on the brightness all around her. But Sunny was an excitable puppy, and she�
�d already managed to pee on his rug and chew Franck’s slippers.
“I’m so sorry,” Daisy had choked out, confessing her puppy’s sins. She’d half expected him to throw both her and the dog out.
But to her surprise, Franck had been kind. He’d allowed her to keep the dog and told her she could stay at his apartment as long as she liked, since he was leaving anyway, to snowbird at his house in Los Angeles. That had been in October.
She’d fallen to her lowest point in early January, shivering in the depths of a gray winter despair, she’d felt scared and alone.
Franck, returning to New York on a two-day business trip, had discovered Daisy sitting on the fireside rug, crying into Sunny’s fur. When she’d looked up, the gray-haired man had seemed like a surrogate for the father she missed so much, and she’d tearfully told him about her unexpected pregnancy, and that the baby’s father was no longer in the picture.
He’d been shocked. After vaguely comforting her, he’d left for his studio. He’d returned late, sleeping in his bedroom down the hall.
Then, the next morning at the breakfast table, right before his return flight to Los Angeles, Franck had abruptly offered to marry her.
Overwhelmed, Daisy had stammered, “You’re so kind, Franck, but...I have no intention of marrying anyone.”
It was true. In addition to the fact that he was so much older, and had obviously asked her out of pity, Daisy had no desire to marry anyone. Getting her heart broken once was enough for a lifetime.
Franck had seemed strangely disappointed at her refusal. “You’re in shock. You’ll change your mind,” he’d said. And no amount of protesting on her part had made him think differently. “But whether you marry me or not, you’re welcome to stay here,” he’d added softly, looking down at her. “Stay as long as you want. Stay forever.”
It had all been a little awkward. She’d been relieved when he’d left for Los Angeles.
But hearing Franck describe how lovely and warm it was in California had given her an idea. She’d had a sudden memory of her father, two years before.
Daisy had been crying after her first gallery show, heartbroken over her failure to sell a single painting, when her father had said, “We could start over. Move to Santa Barbara, where I was born. It’s a beautiful place, warm and bright. We could buy a little cottage by the sea, with a garden full of flowers.”
“Leave New York?” Wiping her eyes in surprise, Daisy had looked at him. “What about your gallery, Dad?”
“Maybe I’d like a change, too. Just one more deal to close, and then...we’ll see.”
Shortly after that, Patrick had been arrested, and there had been no more talk of fresh starts.
But the memory suddenly haunted Daisy. Pregnant and alone, she found herself yearning for her parents’ love more than ever. For comfort, for sunshine and warmth, for flowers and the sea.
Her mother had once been a nurse, before she’d gotten sick. Daisy liked helping people, and she knew her income as a waitress would not be enough to support a child, at least not in Brooklyn. She needed grown-up things, like financial security and insurance benefits. Why not?
Holding her breath, Daisy had applied to a small nursing school in Santa Barbara.
Miraculously, she’d been accepted, and with a scholarship, too. She would start school in the fall, when her baby was three months old.
Soon after, her morning sickness had disappeared. She’d managed to save some money, and she had a plan for her future.
But now, Franck was due to return to New York next week for good. Daisy couldn’t imagine sharing his apartment with him. She needed to move out.
Where else could she live? None of her friends had extra space, and she couldn’t afford to rent her own apartment, not when she was saving every penny for baby expenses and moving expenses. It was a problem.
If she’d had enough money, she would have left for California immediately. In New York City, she was scared of accidentally running into Leonidas. If he ever learned she was pregnant, he might try to take custody of their baby. She was desperate to be free of him. Desperate for a clean break.
But she had a job here, friends here, and—as uncomfortable as it might make her—at least at Franck’s, she had a roof over her head. She just had to hold on until summer. Her baby was due in early June. By the end of August, she’d have money to get a deposit on a new apartment, and the two of them could start a new life in California.
Until then, she just had to cross her fingers and pray Leonidas wouldn’t come looking for her.
He won’t. It will all work out, Daisy told herself, as she had so many times over the last few months. I’ll be fine.
The difference was, she’d finally started to believe it.
In the distance, dark clouds were threatening rain, and she could see her breath in the cold air. Quickening her pace, Daisy started humming softly as she hurried home. She’d heard that a baby, even in the womb, could hear her mother’s voice, so she’d started talking and singing to her at all hours. As she sang aloud, some tourists looked at her with alarm. Daisy giggled. Just another crazy New Yorker, walking down the street and singing to herself!
Reaching her co-op building, she greeted the doorman with a smile. “Hey, Walter.”
“Good afternoon, Miss Cassidy. How’s that baby?” he asked sweetly, as he always did.
“Wonderful,” she replied, and took the elevator to the top floor.
As she came through the door, her dog, Sunny, still a puppy at heart in spite of having grown so big, bounded up with a happy bark, tail waving her body frantically. She acted as if Daisy had been gone for months, rather than hours. With a laugh, Daisy petted her lavishly, then went to the kitchen to put food in her dog dish.
She didn’t bother to take off her coat. She knew how this would go. As expected, Sunny gulped down her food, then immediately leaped back to the door with a happy bark. Daisy sighed a little to herself. Sunny did love her walks. Even when it was cold and threatening rain.
Grabbing the leash, Daisy attached it to the dog’s collar and left the apartment.
Once outside, she took a deep breath of the cold, damp air. It was late afternoon as she took the dog for their usual walk along the river path. By the time they returned forty minutes later, the drizzle was threatening to deepen into rain, and the sun was falling in the west, streaking the fiery sky red and orange, silhouetting the sharp Manhattan skyline across the East River. As busy as she’d been, she’d forgotten to eat that day, and she was starving. Seeing her co-op building ahead, Daisy hurried her pace, fantasizing about what she’d have for dinner.
Then she saw the black Rolls-Royce parked in front of the building. A chill went down her spine as a towering, dark-haired figure got out of the limo.
She stopped cold, causing a surprised yelp from Sunny. She wanted to turn and run—a ridiculous idea, when she knew Leonidas Niarxos could easily run her down, with his powerful body and long legs.
Their eyes met, and he came forward grimly.
She couldn’t move, staring at his darkly powerful form, with the backdrop view of the majestic bridge and red sunset.
Please, she thought as he approached. Let her black puffy coat be enough to hide her pregnancy. Please, please.
But her hope was crushed with his very first words.
“So it’s true?” Leonidas’s voice was dangerously low, his black eyes gleaming like white-hot coal in the twilight. He looked down at her belly, bulging out beneath the long black puffy coat. “You’re pregnant?”
Instinctively, she wrapped her hands over her baby bump. How had he heard? She trembled all over. “What are you doing here?”
“Are you, Daisy?”
She could hardly deny it. “Yes.”
His burning gaze met hers. “Is the baby mine?”
She swallowed hard, wanting more than
anything to lie.
But she couldn’t. Even though Leonidas had lied to her about his identity, and lied about Daisy’s father, she couldn’t fall to his level. She couldn’t lie to his face. Not even for her child.
What kind of mother would she be, if she practiced the same deceit as Leonidas Niarxos? She felt somehow, even in the womb, that her baby was listening. And she had to prove herself worthy. She, at least, was a good person. Unlike him.
“Am I the father, Daisy?” he pressed.
Stiffening, Daisy lifted her chin defiantly. “Only biologically.”
“Only?” Leonidas’s eyes went wide, then narrowed. Setting his jaw, he walked slowly around her, as if searching for weaknesses. He ignored her dog, who traitorously wagged her tail at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why would I?”
“Because it’s the decent thing to do?”
She glared at him. “You don’t deserve to be her father.”
Leonidas stopped, as if he’d been punched in the gut. Then he said evenly, “You are legally entitled to child support.”
She tossed her head. “I don’t want it.”
“You’d really let your pride override the best interests of the child?”
“Pride!” she breathed. “Is that what you think?”
“What else could it be? You want to hurt me. You don’t care that it also injures our baby in the process.”
It was strange, Daisy thought, that even after all this time, he could still find new ways to hurt her.
It didn’t help that Leonidas was even more devastatingly handsome than she remembered, standing in the twilight dressed in black from head to toe, in his dark suit covered by a long dark coat. His clothing was sleek, but his black hair was rumpled, and his sharp jawline was edged with five o’clock shadow. Everything about him seemed dark in this moment.
“This isn’t about you,” she ground out. “It’s about her. She doesn’t need a father like you—a liar with no soul!”
For a moment, they glared at each other as they stood on the empty pathway along the East River, with the brilliant backdrop of Manhattan’s skyline against the red sunset. Her harsh words hung between them like toxic mist.
