by Jennie Lucas
But it wasn’t entirely her fault. Her love blinded her. It made her weak. And after the cold way he’d treated her, and his threats to take the child, he couldn’t blame her for being afraid.
It didn’t make her a monster. It wasn’t enough of a reason to brutally separate her from their child. Not after he himself had known what it was to have no mother. No father. No real place in the world.
Their baby would have both parents and a secure, settled home.
Darius knew he had to rebuild Letty’s trust in him. He had to find a way to strengthen her occasionally faulty judgment with his own. If Darius was wiser, it was because he never allowed love to blind him. He always focused on the bottom line. So what was it here?
The answer was simple.
He had to make Letty his wife.
It was the only way to properly secure their child’s future. It would guarantee the stability of two parents and a permanent home.
And also, his body suddenly whispered, marrying Letty would permanently secure her in his bed.
The thought electrified him. That settled it.
“I misjudged you,” he said.
Letty glared at him. “Yes!”
“I treated you badly.”
“You think?”
“So let me make up for it now.” Leaning toward her on the sofa, Darius said, “I want you to marry me, Letty.”
Her jaw dropped. “Marry you!”
“I’ve realized now I blamed everything on you. It wasn’t your fault...”
“No.”
“It was your father’s,” he finished grimly. “He’s ruined your life. I won’t let him ruin our child’s.”
Her eyes were wide as she put her hands over her large belly. “You’re crazy. My father loves the baby, just as he loves me!”
“And what about the next time some thug decides to attack him? What if that man decides to hurt your father’s family instead?”
Letty’s expression became troubled. Swallowing, she whispered, “That wouldn’t happen...”
“No. It won’t. Because you and the baby will be miles away from Howard Spencer and safe with me.” He rose abruptly to his feet. “You will have to sign a prenuptial agreement...”
“I won’t, because I’m not going to marry you.”
She wasn’t joking or playing coy. She actually sounded serious.
Darius stared down at her in confusion. So many women were dying to marry him, he’d assumed that Letty—jobless, penniless, faced with threats on all sides—would be thrilled at the thought of being his bride. “Of course you want to marry me.”
“Marry someone I hate? Who hates me back? No, thanks.”
He couldn’t believe she was trying to fight him when it was the only practical solution. He gritted his teeth. It was that idea of love, once again interfering with all common sense!
“Have you thought this through?” Folding his arms, he regarded her coolly. “I could take you to court. Have you declared an unfit mother, selfishly placing our child at risk.”
Letty rose to her feet in turn, matching him toe-to-toe, though he was bigger by a foot in height and at least sixty pounds of muscle. She narrowed her eyes. “You could try.”
In spite of himself, he almost smiled. Another thing he’d forgotten about her character. She fought harder for others than she ever did for herself.
“You really think you can handle a custody battle? You think there are waves of lawyers out there, willing to support Howard Spencer’s daughter pro bono, when all they’d get for their trouble is a lot of bad PR?”
Her cheeks flushed, even as she lifted her chin defiantly. “We’ll see, won’t we?”
But beneath her bravado, her expression was soft and sad. Her long dark ponytail gleamed in waves down her back, and his eyes strayed to the roundness of her belly and full breasts, voluptuous beyond belief. In this moment, Darius thought she looked like everything desirable in a woman—the perfect image of what any man would dream of in a wife.
He suddenly imagined how she might look in court. Whatever her father’s sins, if she did find a good attorney, she could be packaged and sold to the presiding judge as the poor, innocent, poverty-stricken waitress threatened by the cold, power-hungry billionaire. No matter how many legal sharks he hired, Darius wasn’t guaranteed to win. There was some small possibility he might lose.
He abruptly changed tack.
“Does our baby deserve to have parents at war? Living in here—” he motioned to the peeling wallpaper, the cracked ceiling “—instead of my penthouse? Does he deserve to grow up in poverty without the protection of his father’s name? Without my love?”
Letty looked stricken. “Our baby could still have your love.”
“He deserves everything I can provide. Are you really so selfish as to make our child suffer for the sake of your own angry pride?”
He saw emotions struggle on her face. She really was a terrible liar. He knew he was very close to getting what he wanted—her total surrender.
“We could make our marriage work,” he murmured. “Our son or daughter would be our priority, always.”
“Son,” she said unwillingly.
He looked at her sharply.
She took a deep breath, then slowly smiled. “We’re having a boy.”
“A boy!” The nebulous idea of a baby suddenly solidified in Darius’s mind. He could imagine his son smiling, playing soccer, laughing, hugging him. And the fact that she’d revealed that detail proved how close she was to agreeing to his proposal. His resolve solidified. Stepping closer, he said softly, “Marry me, Letty.”
Looking uncertain, she bit her lip. “It would be a disaster. Not just for me. For you. Don’t you know how much people hate me?”
“Not once you’re with me,” he said confidently.
“You don’t understand how bad it is...”
“I’m sure you’re exaggerating.” He’d all but won. Now that his unborn child was secure, he was already jumping ahead to the thought of enjoying Letty’s surrender in full, imagining her naked and writhing with desire in his arms. He wanted to take her back to the penthouse immediately. Then he remembered. “I am hosting a charity event tonight. The Fall Ball.”
She looked impressed in spite of herself. “You’re hosting that this year?”
“We can announce our engagement to all of New York.”
“It’s a mistake!”
“Let me worry about that.”
“Okay, but...”
“But what?”
A shadow crossed her face. “But I don’t love you anymore.”
He felt a strange emotion, deep down inside. He crushed it down before he could identify what it was.
“I do not need your love. I can assure you that you’ll never have mine. Love is for children. I just need your compliance.” When she still hesitated, he took a deliberate step back. “Or I can walk out that door and go straight to my lawyer.”
Letty looked wistful in the gray light from the small window. She sighed sadly. “Have it your way.”
“You’ll marry me?”
She nodded.
He felt a surge of smug masculine triumph. “Good choice.”
Pulling her roughly into his arms, he did what he’d yearned to do for six months and kissed her.
From the moment he felt her lips against his and tasted her sweetness—her mouth, her tongue—he was lost, and at the same time, found. Her lips parted, and as she melted against him, he savored her surrender. His body and long-dead soul roared back to life.
Letty wrenched away. “But first, you’ll take me to your charity ball tonight. And see firsthand what it would be like to actually have me as your wife.”
“Good—”
“Just remember.” She gave him a crooked smile. “You asked for it.”
CHAPTER FIVE
LETTY ALMOST DIDN’T leave a note for her father. Her anger at his betrayal was too high. But in the end she didn’t want him to worry, so she scribbl
ed a note and left it on the counter.
Out with Darius, and I’m never talking to you again.
Darius had taken one look at her closet and told her he was taking her shopping for the ball. She’d tried to protest, but he’d retorted, “There’s no point in announcing our engagement if you turn up at the ball dressed in rags. No one would believe it.”
“Fine,” she said sulkily. “Waste your money on a ball gown. See if I care.”
But she had the sudden disconcerting feeling that her life was no longer her own.
As she climbed into his sports car, her stomach growled with hunger. But she vowed she wasn’t going to say a word about it. It was bad enough he was buying her a dress. She wasn’t going to ask him for food, like a beggar!
But as Darius climbed into the driver’s seat beside her, all her senses went on high alert. Having him so close did strange things to her insides. As he drove through the busy traffic, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. His dark hair wasn’t even mussed, and his powerful body was relaxed in the leather seat. He looked so much calmer than she felt.
But why wouldn’t he be relaxed?
He’d won.
She’d lost.
Simple as that.
Or so Darius thought. Letty clasped her hands together in her lap as she looked out the window. Once he actually saw what life would be like for him with her at his side, he wouldn’t be able to get rid of her fast enough. Maybe she and her father could still be on that bus to Rochester tomorrow.
Darius didn’t yet see that her family’s scandal wasn’t something he could master or control. That was why he’d been so angry that she’d protected him ten years ago with her silence. He still somehow thought, if he’d known the truth back then, he could have prevented disaster.
She looked up through the window, seeing flashes of blue sky between the skyscrapers like a strobe light. Darius would get a dose of reality today. He’d discover how toxic the Spencer name was, even now. It had been even worse at the time of her father’s arrest and trial, when reporters and angry, tomato-throwing hecklers had camped outside her father’s pied-à-terre on Central Park West!
Let Darius get just a glimpse of what he would have been up against if she’d actually followed her heart and married him ten years ago instead of setting him free. He didn’t appreciate the way she’d tried to protect him? Fine. Still staring out the window, she wiped her eyes hard. Let him just see.
The rain had stopped. The sky was blue and bright on the first of September. As they drove through Manhattan, puddle-dotted sidewalks were full of gawking tourists, standing still like islands as a current of New Yorkers rushed past them, coming up from the subway, hurrying back to work after lunch.
When their car stopped at a red light, Letty glanced at a fancy chauffeured town car stopped beside them. In the backseat, she saw a man speaking angrily into his phone and staring at a computer tablet, totally wrapped in his own bubble. Rich people lived in a separate world. Letty hadn’t fully realized that.
Not until she’d fallen out of it.
After her father’s confession that awful night long ago, after she’d tried her best to protect Darius and his father by getting them away from the manor, she’d begged Howard to go to the police and throw himself on their mercy.
He’d loved her, so a few months later he’d done it.
The police and Feds had descended on him like the hard-case criminal they believed him to be. Within six months, he was in prison on a nine-year sentence.
Letty had tried to remain in one of the exclusive small towns on Long Island near Fairholme. But it proved impossible. Too many people recognized her and didn’t hesitate to yell or even—more than once—physically take the few dollars in her wallet, saying her father owed them. Manhattan had been even worse, and anyway was way out of her price range. So she’d moved to a working-class neighborhood in Brooklyn where she could be anonymous. No one bothered her. Mostly, people were kind.
But without money or family or friends, Letty had learned the hard way what it meant to struggle and always have too much month at the end of her paycheck.
No one likes self-pity. Help someone else, baby. Letty could almost hear the whisper of her mother’s voice, so kind, so warm, so loving. Almost see her mother’s eyes glowing with love. The best way to feel better when you’re sad is to help someone who’s hurting more.
Good advice.
Taking a deep breath, Letty turned to Darius in the sports car. “So tell me about your charity, the one benefiting from the Fall Ball tonight.”
Driving, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “It provides college scholarships for foster kids.”
“Nice,” she said, surprised. “But I never pegged you as the society-ball-hosting type.”
He shrugged. “I have the time. Might as well use it.”
“You could just waste your days dating beautiful women and spending your obscene amounts of money.”
He pulled his car to a curb where a valet waited. “That’s exactly what I plan to do today.”
“You’re going on a date?” Then she saw his look and realized he meant her. She blushed. “Oh.”
The door opened, and Letty stepped out onto Fifth Avenue, which was lined with exclusive designer shops from famous international brands to quirky boutiques less well-known but every bit as expensive. The last time she’d shopped on this street she’d been a pampered seventeen-year-old looking for a white dress for the graduation ceremony at her private school, Miss Parker’s. She hadn’t fit into society, even then. She’d been too bookish, too tenderhearted, too socially awkward.
But now Letty was actually scared. She glanced at the people coming out of an exclusive department store, almost expecting one of them to tell her to get lost, that she no longer belonged here.
“Which shop first?” Darius asked, his dark eyes smiling.
“I changed my mind,” she muttered. “I don’t want to go.”
The smile disappeared. “Too late for that.”
“Darius...”
Ignoring her protests, he grabbed her hand. Letty tried not to notice the sizzle of electricity from their touching palms as he pulled her into a famous luxury store.
As soon as they passed the doorman into the store’s foyer, a salesgirl came up to them, offering a tray of champagne. “Monsieur?”
He took a glass. “Thank you.”
Noting Letty’s pregnant belly, the salesgirl didn’t offer champagne. “And for madame? Some sparkling water, perhaps, some juice of pamplemousse?”
“No, thanks,” Letty said, pulling away from Darius. Ducking her head, she pretended to look through the nearest dress racks, sparsely and expensively filled with garments that seemed to be designed for a size zero.
“We require assistance,” he said.
“Sir?”
He turned to an elegant white-haired woman, apparently the manager, dressed in an expensive-looking tweed suit. “I need a ball gown for my fiancée.”
Fiancée. The word made Letty shiver. But it was true, in a way. She’d agreed to his marriage proposal.
It’s not a real engagement, she told herself firmly. She glanced down at her bare left hand. There was no ring. No ring meant it wasn’t real. Anyway, the engagement would be over before the end of the night.
“Couture or ready-to-wear, Mr. Kyrillos?” The white-haired woman somehow already knew who he was.
“It’s for tonight.”
“We can, of course, do any last-minute alterations that madame may require. If you’ll please come this way?”
They were led to a private area with a white leather sofa and a three-way mirror, as a succession of salesgirls, under the sharp-eyed direction of the manager, brought in clothes.
“She’ll try on everything,” Darius said, standing in front of the sofa as his cell phone rang. Lifting it from his pocket, he told Letty, “Come out when you have something to show me.”
As salesgirls filled her a
rms with gowns and gently pushed her toward the changing room, she hesitated. “What do you want to see?”
Looking her body over slowly, Darius gave her a heavy-lidded sensual smile. “Everything.”
Beneath his hot gaze, somehow, he made her feel like a goddess of sex—even at six months pregnant, in her old T-shirt and jeans!
Darius sat down calmly on the white leather sofa, talking into his phone and sipping champagne. She turned away with a sigh to try on gowns for a ball that she was dreading.
Maybe it wouldn’t be all bad, she tried to tell herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had new clothes. Everything in her closet was either from high school or purchased from the bargain bin at the thrift store. It might be fun to get a dress that was not only pretty, but actually fit.
Then she saw the price tag of the first gown.
Darius looked up expectantly when she came out of the dressing room. His expression changed to a scowl. “Why are you still in your old clothes?”
“The price of these gowns is ridiculous! We can go to the local thrift shop and find a barely used prom dress...”
“Letty.”
“I mean it. It’s foolish for you to throw money away when you might never see me again after tonight.”
“Now you’re talking nonsense.” He tilted his head, looking her over critically. “Are you not feeling well? Are you hungry? Thirsty? Tired?”
She wasn’t going to say a word about being hungry. Wild horses couldn’t drag it out of her!
Her stomach growled again.
“Um. I might have missed breakfast.”
It wasn’t her fault! The baby made her say it!
He looked mad. “You should have told me.” He grabbed a glass of sparkling mineral water from a salesgirl. “Here,” he said gravely, pushing it into her hand. “Start with that. Breakfast or lunch?”
The cool water tasted delicious, and did make her feel slightly better. “Breakfast?”
