by Jennie Lucas
“You only hate me because I told the truth about your father.” His voice was low. “But I am not the one you should hate. I never lied to you.”
“How can you say that?” She was outraged. “From the day we met, when you told me your name—”
“I didn’t tell you my full name. But that was only because I liked talking to you and didn’t want it to end.” His deep voice was quiet. “I never lied. I never tried to sell a forgery. I am not the criminal.”
She caught her breath, and for a moment she felt dizzy, wondering if he could be telling the truth. Could her father have been guilty? Had he known the Picasso was a forgery when he’d tried to sell it?
I didn’t do it, baby. I swear it on my life. On my love for you.
Daisy remembered the tremble in her father’s voice, the emotion gleaming in his eyes the night of his arrest. All throughout his trial and subsequent imprisonment, he’d maintained his innocence, saying he’d been duped just like his wealthy customers. But he’d refused to say who had duped him.
Who was she going to believe—the perfect father who’d raised her and loved her, caring for her as a single parent after her mother died, or the selfish billionaire who’d had him dragged into court, who’d taken Daisy’s virginity and left her pregnant and alone?
“Don’t you dare call my father a criminal!”
“He was convicted. He went to prison.”
“Where he died—thanks to you!” Her voice was a rasp. “You ruined his life out of spite, over a painting that meant nothing—”
“That painting means more than—”
“You ruined my life on a selfish whim.” Daisy’s voice rose. “Why would I want you near my baby, so you could wreck her life as well? Just go away, and leave us alone!”
* * *
Leonidas stared at her in shock. He’d never imagined that he’d become a father. And he’d never imagined that his baby’s mother could hate him so much.
The soft drizzle had turned to sleet, falling from the darkening sky. Nearby, he could almost hear the rush of the East River, the muffled roar of traffic from the looming bridge.
Just go away, and leave us alone.
He heard the echo of his mother’s voice when he was five years old.
Stop bothering me. I’m sick of your whimpering. Leave me alone.
Since their breakup last October, through a gray fall and grayer winter, Leonidas had tried to keep thoughts of Daisy at bay. Yes, she was beautiful. But so what? The world was full of beautiful women. Yes, she was clever. Diabolically so, since she’d lured him so easily into wanting her, into believing she was different from the rest. Into believing her love could somehow save his soul and make him a better man.
Ridiculous. It humiliated him to remember. He’d acted like a fool, believing their connection had been based on anything more than sexual desire.
He couldn’t let down his guard. He couldn’t let himself depend on anyone’s love.
Daisy Cassidy had been the most exhilarating lover he’d ever had, but she was also the most dangerous. He’d needed to get her out of his life. Out from beneath his skin.
So the day after their argument, he’d left New York, vowing to forget her. And he had.
By day.
But night was a different matter. His body could not forget. Against his will, all these months later, he still dreamed of her, erotic dreams of a sensual virgin, luring him inexorably to his destruction. In the dream, he gave her everything—not just his body, not just his fortune, he gave her his heart. Then she always took it in her grasp and crushed it to dripping blood and burned ash.
Two days before, he’d woken after one particularly agonizing dream at his luxury apartment on the Boulevard Saint-Germain in Paris, gasping and filled with despair.
Ever since their affair had ended, his days had been gray. He barely cared about the billion-dollar conglomerate which had once been his passion. Even his formerly docile board was starting to whisper that perhaps he should step down as CEO.
Leonidas could hardly blame them. He’d lost his appetite for business. He’d lost his edge. The truth was, he just didn’t give a damn anymore. How long would he be tormented by these dreams of her—dreams that could never again be real?
Then he’d suddenly gotten angry.
He realized he hadn’t visited his company’s headquarters back in New York once since that disastrous cocktail party. Daisy had driven him out of the city. He’d left his ex-girlfriend in victorious possession of the entire continent. But even on the other side of the world, she destroyed his peace.
No longer.
Grimly, he’d called his chief of security at the New York office. “Find out about Daisy Cassidy. I want to know what she’s doing.”
Then he’d called his pilot to arrange the flight back to New York. He was done running from her. He’d done nothing wrong. Nothing. Maybe, once he was back amid the hum and energy of his company’s headquarters, he’d regain some of his old passion for the luxury business.
But he didn’t relish the thought of Daisy ambushing him at some Manhattan event, or seeing her on another man’s arm. He hoped his chief of security would tell him she’d moved to Miami—or better yet, Siberia. Either way, Leonidas wanted to be prepared.
But he’d had no defense against what his security chief had told him.
Daisy Cassidy was six months pregnant, according to her friends. And refusing to say who the father might be.
But Leonidas knew. Daisy had been a virgin their first night, and she’d been faithful for the month of their affair—he had no doubt of that.
The baby had to be his.
Leonidas had felt restless, jittery, on the flight back to New York yesterday, wondering if she’d already known she was pregnant the night she’d walked out on him. Back at his West Village mansion, he’d collapsed, and slept like the dead. But at least he hadn’t been tormented by dreams.
Waking up late, he’d gone to the office, but had lasted only two hours before he’d called his driver to take him across the river. He’d waited outside the Brooklyn co-op where Daisy lived, tension building inside him as he tried to decide whether to go inside. Once he confirmed her pregnancy, there would be no going back.
Then he saw her, walking her dog on the street.
Leonidas hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away. Daisy was more beautiful than ever, her green eyes shining, her face radiant, and her body lush with pregnancy. She’d gained some weight, and her fuller curves suited her, making her even more impossibly desirable.
Why hadn’t she told him she was pregnant? Did she really hate him so much that she wouldn’t even accept his financial support for their child? It seemed incredibly reckless and wrong. She could have been pampered in her pregnancy. Instead, by all accounts she was still working on her feet as a waitress, and living in another man’s apartment. The same apartment where she and Leonidas had conceived this child. No wonder he felt so off-kilter and dizzy.
Then she’d said it.
Just go away, and leave us alone.
Leonidas stared at her, still shocked that the tenderhearted girl who’d once claimed to love him could say anything so cruel. His whole body felt tight, his heart rate increasing as his hands clenched at his sides.
His voice was hoarse as he said, “You really believe I’m such a monster that you need to hide your pregnancy from me? You won’t even let me support my own child?”
Daisy’s expression filled with shadow in the twilight, as if even she realized she’d gone too far.
“We don’t need you,” she said finally, and turning, she hurried away, almost running with her dog following behind, disappearing into the apartment building.
You little monster. His mother’s enraged voice, when he was fourteen. I wish you’d never been born!
For a moment, the image of the
bleak bridge and water swam before Leonidas’s eyes, malevolent and dark against the red twilight. His heart hammered in his throat, his body tense.
Those had been his mother’s final words, the last time Leonidas saw her. He’d been fourteen, and had just come from the funeral of the man he’d always believed was his father, when his mother had told him the truth, and that she never intended to see Leonidas again. Heartsick, he’d hacked into her precious masterpiece with a pair of scissors. Ripping the broken Picasso from his hands, his mother had left him with those final words.
She’d died in the Turkish earthquake a week later, and the Picasso had disappeared. That day, Leonidas had lost his only blood relative in the world.
Until now.
Leonidas looked up at the co-op building, with its big windows overlooking the river. His eyes narrowed dangerously.
Daisy had kept her pregnancy a secret, because she didn’t want him to be a father to their baby.
Why would I want you near my baby, so you could wreck her life as well?
Her life. Leonidas suddenly realized the import of Daisy’s words. They were having a baby girl.
And whether Daisy liked it or not, Leonidas was going to be a father. He would soon have a daughter who’d need him to protect and provide for her. This baby was his family.
His only family.
Gripping his hands at his sides, Leonidas went toward the building. He gave a sharp shake of his head to his driver, waiting with the Rolls-Royce at the curb, and went forward alone into the apartment building. He opened the door, going into the contemporary glass-and-steel lobby, with modern, sparse furniture. He headed straight for the elevator, until he found his way blocked.
“Can I help you, sir?” the doorman demanded.
“Daisy Cassidy,” he barked in reply. “I know the apartment number.”
“You must wait,” the man replied. Going to the reception desk, the man picked up his phone. “Your name, sir?”
“Leonidas Niarxos.”
The doorman spoke quietly into the phone, then looked up. “I’m sorry, Miss Cassidy says she has nothing to say to you. She asks you to leave the building immediately.”
A curse went through his mind. “Tell her she can talk to me now or talk to an army of lawyers in an hour.”
The doorman raised his eyebrows, then again spoke quietly. With a sigh, he hung up the phone. “She says to go up, Mr. Niarxos.”
“Yes,” he bit out. He stalked to the elevator, feeling the doorman’s silently accusing eyes on his back. But Leonidas didn’t give a damn. His fury sustained him as he pushed the elevator button for the fifth floor.
He straightened, his jaw tight. He was no longer a helpless five-year-old. No longer a heartsick fourteen-year-old. He was a man now. A man with power and wealth. A man who could take what he wanted.
And he wasn’t going to let Daisy steal his child away.
The elevator gave a cheerful ding as the door slid open. He grimly stalked down the hall to apartment 502. Lifting his hand, he gave a single hard knock.
The door opened, and he saw Daisy’s furious, tear-stained face.
In spite of everything, his heart twisted at the sight. Her pale green eyes, fringed with thick black lashes, were luminous against her skin, with a few adorable freckles scattered across her nose. Her lips were pink and full, as she chewed on her lower lip, as if trying to bite back angry words.
Her body, in the fullness of pregnancy, was lush and feminine. She’d taken off her long puffy coat, and was dressed simply, in a long-sleeved white shirt over black leggings. But she was somehow even more alluring to him than the night of the cocktail party, when she’d been wearing that low-cut green dress, with her breasts overflowing. He’d thought the dress was simply tight, but now he realized her breasts had already been swollen by pregnancy. Pregnant. With his baby.
A baby she was trying to keep from Leonidas, who was here and ready to take responsibility. Who wanted to be a father!
Interesting. He blinked. He hadn’t realized it until now. He’d always thought he had no interest in fatherhood, no interest in settling down. What did he know about being a good parent?
But now he wanted it more than anything.
Daisy tossed her head with an angry, shuddering breath. “How dare you threaten me with lawyers?”
“How dare you try to steal my child?” he retorted, pushing into the apartment without touching her.
It was the first time he’d been back here since their days as lovers. The apartment looked just as he remembered, modern and new, with a gas fireplace and an extraordinary view of the bridge and Manhattan skyline. The only new changes were a slapdash Van Gogh pastiche now hanging in the foyer, and the large dog bed sitting near the fire, where a long-limbed, floppy yellow dog drowsed.
Leonidas took a deep breath, dizzy with the memory of how happy he’d been here, in those stolen hours when he’d been simply Leo, nothing more. This was enemy territory—Daisy’s home—but it somehow still felt warm. Far more than his own multimillion-dollar homes around the world.
He felt suddenly insecure.
“You said this is Franck Bain’s apartment,” he said slowly.
“So?”
“Why has he let you stay so long? Are you lovers?”
Closing the door behind him, Daisy said coldly, “It’s none of your business, but no. He was my father’s friend, and he is trying to help me. That’s all.”
“Why would I believe that?”
“Why would you even care?” She looked at him challengingly. “I’m sure you’ve had lovers by the score since you tossed me out of your house.”
But he hadn’t. He hadn’t had sex in five months—not since their last time together. But that was the last thing Leonidas wanted to admit to Daisy. He lifted his chin. “I did not toss you out.”
“You asked me what I was still doing at your house. And told me to go!”
“Funny, I mostly remember you insulting me, calling me a liar and saying how badly you wished you could hurt me.” He gave a low, bitter laugh. “I guess you figured out a way, didn’t you? By not telling me you were pregnant.”
The two of them stared at each other in the fading red light, an electric current of hatred sizzling the air between them.
They were so close, he thought. Their bodies could touch with the slightest movement. His gaze fell unwillingly to her lips.
He saw a shiver pass over Daisy.
“You’re a bastard,” she whispered.
Those were truer words than she knew. He took a deep breath, struggling to hold back his insecurity, his pain. He met her gaze evenly.
“You didn’t always think so.” His gaze moved toward the hallway, toward the dark shadow of her bedroom door. “When we spent hours in bed. You wanted me then. Just as I wanted you.”
Her lips parted. Then she swallowed, stepping back.
“You’re charming when you want to be.” Her jaw hardened. “But beneath your good looks, your money, your charm—you’re nothing.”
You little monster. I wish you’d never been born!
In spite of his best efforts, emotion flooded through him—emotion he’d spent his whole adult life trying to outrun and prove wrong, by the company he’d built, by his massively increasing fortune, by the beautiful women he’d bedded, by his worldwide acclaim.
But Leonidas suddenly realized he would never escape it. Even with all of his fame and fortune, he was still the same worthless, unwanted boy, without a real family or home. Without a father, with a mother who despised him—raised by the twin demons of shame and grief.
He said tightly, “How you feel about me, or I feel about you, is irrelevant now. What matters is taking care of our baby.”
Daisy looked at him incredulously. “I know that. Don’t you think I know that? Why else do you think I tried to hide
my pregnancy?”
“Don’t you think our daughter needs a father?”
“Not a father like you!”
Blood rushed through his ears. With her every accusation, the stunned rage he’d felt on the river pathway built higher, making it harder to stay calm. But he managed to say evenly, “You accuse me of being a monster. All I’m trying to do is take responsibility for my child.”
“How?” she cried. “By threatening me with lawyers?”
“I never actually meant—” He ground his teeth. “You were refusing to even talk to me.”
“For good reason!”
“Daisy,” he said quietly, “What are you so afraid of?”
She stared at him for a long moment, then looked away. He waited out her silence, until she finally said in a small voice, “I’m scared you’ll try and take her from me. I saw what your money and lawyers did in court, with my father. I’m scared you’ll turn them against me and try to take her—not because you love her. Out of spite. Because you can.”
She really did think the worst of him. Leonidas exhaled. “I would never try to take any baby away from a loving parent. Never.”
Daisy slowly looked at him, and he saw a terrible hope rising in her green eyes. “You wouldn’t?”
“No. But I’m her parent, too. Whether you like it or not, we’re both responsible. I never imagined I’d ever become a father, but now that she exists, I can’t let her go. She’s my only family in the world, do you know that?”
Silently, Daisy shook her head.
“I can’t abandon her,” he said. “Or risk having her wonder about me, wonder why I didn’t love her enough to be there for her every day, to help raise her, to love her. To truly be her father.”
Looking down at the hardwood floor, she said in a small voice, “So what can we do?”
Yes—what? How could Leonidas make sure he was part of his child’s life forever, without lawyers, without threats? Without always fearing that Daisy might at any moment choose to disappear, or marry another man—a man who might always secretly despise his stepdaughter for not being his own?
