by Dani Collins
“All— As in lots of women? I thought this was family dinner?”
“It’s a white-tie ball,” he said, as if she ought to have known. As if those happened in the normal world.
“For how many?” she exclaimed.
“Two hundred couples or so. You didn’t ask,” he protested at her glare. “It’s not a secret. It’s a charity thing for the homeless. Adara does it every year. Look it up.”
“And Zoey is invited to this thing?”
“Zoey will meet my niece and nephews this evening along with their nannies, all bonded and vetted and valued for their attentiveness to the children. They’ll only be a few floors away at the hotel, should anyone feel a need to check in.” His tone said that he expected Natalie to suffer the separation anxiety, not Zoey. “Apparently Evie enjoys playing with her boy cousins, but would love to spend time with a little girl.” To Zoey, he added, “Evie is three and likes princesses, too.”
Demitri must have a secret fetish for them himself. An hour later, Natalie began receiving the royal treatment, from a mud wrap to a Swedish massage to drinking a mimosa during her pedicure. She couldn’t remember a time she’d felt so pampered and renewed. All of her skin was waxed and lotioned, detoxified and revitalized. The stylist met with her twice before she dressed, taking measurements and consulting with the salon, agreeing with the plan to weave a sparkling ribbon into her updo so her hair became a subtle crown. Her makeup was a masterful understatement highlighting all of her best features, and finally, the dress...
Natalie hadn’t worn a long gown since high school graduation, and that one had been a thrift store find in garish pink with puffy sleeves.
Demitri had much better taste. According to the stylist, he’d chosen her gown himself. Nothing so predictable as burgundy for winter, it was a shade between lavender and gray, the color muted by the crushed velvet fabric, but it made her eyes look like mysterious pools in the Scottish highlands. Strapless, with intricate detailing at her hip that gathered the skirt before allowing it to flare around her shoes, the confection clung to her curves to make the most of her silhouette. A matching jacket that really only covered her shoulders and upper arms ensured she wouldn’t freeze to death.
Her shoes added height—a lot of height. They were deceptively simple black things, but the underside matched the color of her dress and the tops, open toe but closed back, drew a sparkling line from the ankle strap down one side of her foot and across her toes. More important, they looked as if they’d kill her yet made her feel as though she walked on clouds. She could dance all night.
She couldn’t accept this, she kept thinking, reminding herself he would have done this for countless women before her. It still felt as though she was climbing too high, starting to feel special and treasured.
“The jewelry is on loan,” the stylist said, trying a few different pieces before settling on an antique cameo on a thick silver rope chain and a pair of sapphire studs. “But I’ve done this for other clients and if I get it right...” She debated a bracelet, then rejected it. “The gentleman will buy them for you.”
“Oh, I don’t expect anything.”
The stylist smiled with smooth acceptance of what she plainly thought was a lie. “Of course not.”
Natalie found herself acknowledging it was a lie. Not the part about expecting jewelry, but the part about not expecting anything. She was starting to dream of things she had cautioned herself never to expect. Never to want.
Love. Family. Commitment. Marriage.
A life partner. Another baby.
Because she was falling in love with Demitri. Deeply and irrevocably.
* * *
Demitri might have spent the day brooding about the coming meeting with his family tonight if his mind hadn’t been completely occupied trying to keep up with a five-year-old in a museum. And the Empire State Building. And a world-famous toy store. After feeding ducks in the park, he finally brought Zoey back to watch a movie on his flat screen, set a bowl of popcorn in her lap and went to shave and change.
When he heard the door and Zoey’s gasp of “Mommy!” he smiled at the bittersweet sound. Bitter because time was running out—he would be facing his siblings soon—but sweet because Zoey’s wonder was so delightfully expressive.
There was something pure about her view of the world that dusted the cynicism out of his own eyes. She had no reason to hide enthusiasm or curiosity or any emotion. She’d never been bruised by life, let alone deeply hurt by it. He found himself wanting to protect and preserve her innocent confidence in adults. Where anger and resentment had made him see his siblings as deluded in their joy of being with their children, he felt privileged that Natalie was sharing her daughter with him. He wanted to guard her, spend time with her and watch her flourish into the bright, funny, self-possessed woman she was meant to become.
The more time he spent with the two of them, the more certain he was that he wanted to come home to them every day. Which flummoxed him. He’d never seen himself married with a ready-made family.
Natalie would never see him in the role, either, if he quit on his family because things had turned hard. That made the stakes on tonight’s reconciliation higher than anything he’d ever undertaken.
It was an unnerving state to be in, one he brushed away as determinedly as he smoothed his bow tie. Shrugging into his jacket, he walked out to the living, room where he took a punch to the heart. It was a ground-shaking reaction, considering he was a connoisseur of beautiful women.
But she was so beautiful. The color of the gown had caught his eye, making him think of chain mail and strength and Saint Jeanne d’Arc, while still reflecting the softness and light of Natalie’s true nature. It enhanced her beauty, rather than outshining it, so the impact was the woman, not the dress. Curvy and desirable, but elegant and resilient and completely feminine.
She stole his breath.
And her laughter at her daughter’s excitement, joyful and teasing and so loving, turned up the piece of himself that he’d buried long ago, exposing it to the sun so it burned and shook.
Natalie caught sight of him and straightened, mouth forming a pretty “Oh” that he wanted to kiss.
“I thought I was overdressed, but...” She swallowed, blushing a little while her gaze traveled over him like soft, feminine fingertips, touching all the places that responded most acutely to her every caress. “You look very handsome.”
“You look perfect,” he assured her, crossing to graze his lips against her cheekbone, lingering to take in the feminine scents designed to disorient a man. “Mesmerizing.”
Natalie blushed again and ducked her head to ask Zoey to take their photo. The little girl was beside herself with admiration for the two of them, and then quivered with excitement at riding in the limo.
Demitri took them into the underground parking lot beneath the Makricosta Manhattan rather than having them dropped at the front doors. As they arrived, he made the call to his sister-in-law to have the VIP elevator opened. Demitri had figured there was only one person with enough clout to get them into the hotel without notice while remaining secure enough to know she’d be forgiven for interfering: Nic’s wife, Rowan. She’d become Adara’s best friend and she was also booking all the entertainment for this event, so one more group in the elevator wasn’t suspicious.
This particular elevator was typically used to smuggle in celebrities trying to avoid detection by the paparazzi. They stepped directly into it from the car.
When they arrived on the penthouse floor, the door of the end one swung open before they reached it.
Nic. Damn. Demitri had asked Rowan to hang back and take them down to the party herself without mentioning to any of his siblings his intention to attend.
Looking rather like a vengeful god, Nic sent a level stare at Demitri that hit like a punch in the face. His features were oddly familiar, Theo-like yet older, with a Nordic cast to his cheekbones and blond hair.
“Your wife is expecting us,”
Demitri said, falling back on a well-used, affable expression of indifference.
“So she has just informed me.” Judging by his tone, Nic didn’t appreciate Demitri going behind his back in talking to her.
“I waited until Theo and Jaya had dropped off Zephyr and left,” Rowan said in her welcoming Irish accent, smiling as she came forward from behind him. “But I don’t keep things from Nic. Please come in.”
Despite being famous from childhood, Rowan was always pleasantly self-effacing. Tonight she was as attractive as she always looked on-screen, wearing a gown that clung like emerald paint to her flawless figure, black hair loose and straight. Her smile seemed natural, but she was an actress. She had sounded eager to assist when he first contacted her, but now Demitri wasn’t sure about her, given that she’d revealed his presence here to Nic.
“You must be Natalie. And Zoey,” she greeted warmly.
Natalie seemed caught between intimidation and sensitivity to the undercurrents. Glancing at Demitri, she said, “I don’t want to impose if we weren’t expected.”
Nic turned his sharp gaze on her, blinking as though he was taking a photograph. “It’s fine.”
Natalie might have relaxed if he’d smiled, but he didn’t.
He only added, “I’ll fetch Evie,” and disappeared down a hall.
“We don’t know much about the falling-out,” Rowan said delicately. “But Nic and I are happy to help mend fences.”
Were they? She really was a hell of an actress, managing to look and sound sincere when it was obvious Nic was the furthest thing from happy.
Natalie kept her eyes downcast, but Demitri was so attuned to her, he could hear her silent screams for him to get them the hell out of here.
Excellent job of showing her how well he integrated with his family.
“Look, Rowan, if—” he started, but was interrupted by Nic’s return.
The ferocious bear had turned into a house pet while he was gone, judging from the doting tone of his voice as he carried his daughter into the lounge. “I want you to meet someone,” he told the petite girl wearing a stained T-shirt and turned up jeans over bare toes.
Demitri really looked at the girl for once. Not the obvious details like her dark hair and Asian features—she had been adopted from one of the war-torn countries Nic used to report on when he’d been a feet-on-the-ground journalist. No, Demitri looked at the protective way Nic held her. The connection between them, demonstrated by the way Evie’s arm curled around his neck and she gazed at him with utter trust.
If a hard case like this man could become a caring father to a child who’d had a rough start, surely there was hope for himself with Zoey?
“Who is it?” Evie asked, letting her gaze swing out to hit each of the adults, then tilt and fix on Zoey.
“Her name is Zoey. Uncle Demitri brought her to visit. Will you say hello?” He squatted so the girls were eye to eye.
“’Lo,” Evie murmured, pushing a finger into her shy smile. She took it out to point down the hall, then mentioned her cousin, Theo’s boy. “Zephyr’s nanny brought face paints. I’m gonna be a cat. What do you like to be?”
Zoey looked up at Natalie, eager as a retriever. “Can I be a butterfly?”
Natalie hesitated, thick lashes sweeping up like a scimitar to shave Demitri’s cheek, her flick of a smile telegraphing, If only adult interactions were so simple.
“Let’s ask the nanny,” Natalie said to Zoey, urging Evie to show them the way. “I’ll give her my number so she can phone me if you need me.”
Moments later, they reached the ballroom floor and exited the silent elevator behind Nic and Rowan. Demitri held back with Natalie, saying, “I’m sorry that was so...”
“Awkward?” Natalie prompted ruefully. “It’s fine. He probably doesn’t like secrets any more than you do.”
Demitri hadn’t thought of his request to Rowan as anything but trying to avoid pitting Nic against Theo and Adara on his behalf. Family relationships were bloody complicated.
Gripping Natalie’s hand in his, palm to palm, Demitri drew her to the entrance to the ballroom, where a full concert band played over the din of conversation.
Security stopped him at the door.
“They’re with us,” Nic said.
“I still have to report that you’re here,” the tuxedoed man said to Demitri, making clear exactly how wide the chasm was between him and his siblings.
“I’ll report myself,” he said, impatience edging into his tone. He tugged Natalie along behind him, into the throng.
They turned heads. Not just because he was moving so determinedly through the crowd, either. People recognized him. The explanations for his abrupt departure from the company would have made the gossip rounds in many forms, he was sure.
The startled reactions worked in his favor, however. Once people noted he was here, they craned their necks to catch the reaction of the host and hostess. It pointed him like a compass to the small knot of people opposite the banquet table.
Gideon saw him first, narrowing a piercing, hostile glare on him even as a minion slid in close to whisper in his ear.
“I can see that,” Gideon mouthed.
Demitri knew the moment Gideon identified his date. His demeanor changed from outright aggression to caution. He reached to his wife, getting her attention, excusing them from the group to step away and await them.
Adara looked up, started with recognition and then her posture softened in welcome.
Natalie tried to work her hand from his, and Demitri realized he was crushing her fine bones. He softened his hold but kept her hand, linking their fingers, recognizing that he’d always flaunted brassy, interchangeable women at these occasions to shield himself from deeper emotions.
Real emotions.
Natalie was a white flag. Bringing her was a statement that he cared about her. He was unarmed. Vulnerable.
It wasn’t a comfortable state. It was terrifying. If they rejected him, if they rejected them, he didn’t know what he’d do.
The minute he was in earshot of his sister, he said, “You didn’t deserve the way I treated you. I’m sorry.” Old pain threatened to catch up with him as so much of what he’d faced with Natalie’s help confronted him in the shadowed gaze of his sister.
Natalie’s hand stopped squirming in his, and her other one covered the back of his, sandwiching him in subtle reassurance. Giving him the strength to finish.
“I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday, Adara.” He reached forward with his free arm to catch his sister around the shoulders and draw her in, feeling her jerk in surprise that he would hug her, not having done so since they were both children. “If you’d rather I left, I will.”
“Of course I want you here,” she said after a stunned moment of surprise. Her arms went around him, hugging hard. She added shakily, “I’m so happy to see you, I’m going to cry.”
“We can’t have that,” he scoffed, drawing back, moved that she’d forgiven him so easily. Family. It really was a luxury not to be taken for granted. He clawed for lazy humor so emotion wouldn’t overwhelm him. “Your husband already wants to kill me for upsetting you. I’ll write a suitably remorseful check to the shelter. Will that make you smile?”
Adara laughed and swept fingertips under her eyes. Gideon’s expression mellowed, then flicked to Natalie and came back with one brow raised in question at Demitri. What are your intentions there? he seemed to ask.
“It’s nice to see you again, Natalie,” Adara said, pulling herself together to demonstrate her perfect manners.
Natalie’s covering fingers fell away from Demitri’s and her other hand went limp in his. She lifted a brave but pained smile to her hosts. “I’m glad to be here. I wanted to take this chance to—”
“Do not apologize,” Demitri warned her.
She flashed him a look of ire. “I can if I want.”
“That’s not why I brought you. And you know it,” he told her in a growl. They’d shared
so much, become so much, it would insult both of them if she made apologies for how they’d come together.
“Humph,” she snorted, eyeing her fresh manicure of peach paint and glittering gold tips. “All those times you told me you weren’t the boss of me, turns out you think you are.”
“Really?” he challenged. “Take the blame, then. She cold-bloodedly seduced me for the sole purpose of destroying my career and hurting our family,” he said off-handedly.
“No, I—” She frowned crossly at him, but before she could clarify, he continued.
“I have to fix this one, Natalie. I have to.” It sucked. Royally. He hated it. But he was going to do it. She had to see that he was willing to go the distance.
“He’s used to being the one at fault, Natalie,” Gideon said, humor smooth and dry as always. “Let him have this.”
“Thanks,” Demitri muttered at his brother-in-law, finding the remark oddly heartening. Gideon wouldn’t be making light if he still wanted to kill him.
“Theo has seen you. Were you going to speak to him?” Adara asked with a pull of concern between her brows.
“Yes,” Demitri said firmly, setting a decisive hand on Natalie’s back to turn her toward his brother. “But we’ll come back. I want your opinion on my new venture,” he told Gideon, genuinely respectful of the man’s business acuity.
As they approached Theo and his wife, Jaya stepped forward to greet Natalie warmly. Jaya wore a lemon-yellow sari and her exotic looks were amplified by her husband’s flawless, ironed straight tuxedo.
“I’ve been anxious for a debriefing about the work in France,” Jaya said to Natalie. “We always promise we won’t talk shop at these things, but five minutes, Theo? Please? Can I be horribly clichéd and ask you to come to the ladies’ room with me while we talk, Natalie? I feel like I’m risking a wardrobe malfunction. I need to retuck.”
“Your wife has never liked me,” Demitri told Theo as Jaya made off with his moral support. It was probably for the best. Adara was soft and naturally forgiving. Theo’s kinship would not be so easy to regain. He didn’t relish Natalie watching him crash and burn.
