by Jennie Lucas
Instead, he’d realized how much she’d endured over the last ten years. Alone. While he’d been happily free to live an anonymous life and make his fortune.
Standing in the hallway, when he’d seen her come out of the bathroom looking shattered and as pale as a ghost, he’d finally realized the toll it had taken on her. And if this was how people treated Letty now, how much worse had it been ten years ago, when their rage had been white-hot?
He’d been forced to ask himself: If Letty had actually shown up the night they were going to run away together and told him about her father’s confession, what would have happened?
Darius would have of course insisted she marry him anyway. After all, what did her father’s stupid investment fund have to do with their love?
But as her husband, he would have been at her side throughout the scandal and media circus of a trial. He might not have received the critical early loan that enabled him to build his software, to hire employees, to lease his first office space. He would have been too tainted by association as Howard Spencer’s son-in-law.
If Letty hadn’t set him free, he might have been unemployable, unable to easily provide for his wife or children. He might be living in that tiny Brooklyn apartment, too, struggling with the loss of his dreams. Struggling to provide for his family. Struggling not to feel like a failure as a man.
It was Letty’s sacrifice ten years ago that had made his current success possible.
While he’d been triumphantly building his billion-dollar company, she’d lived in poverty, suffering endless humiliations for a crime that wasn’t even hers. And she’d kept her sacrifice a secret, so he’d never once had to feel guilty about deserting her.
Even now, she continued to protect him. She’d warned him what would happen if he brought her as his date. And now he’d finally seen how the members of the so-called upper class had treated her all this time. He’d watched Letty bear their insults without complaint. And he’d realized her stigma was so bad that, in spite of his arrogant earlier assumption, his presence alone wasn’t enough to shelter her.
He knew how it felt to be treated badly.
He’d once been the poorest child in his village, mocked as an unloved bastard. He was now the most beloved, feared man of Heraklios. He did pretty well in Manhattan, too. And London. And Paris and Rome, Sydney and Tokyo.
Money could buy everything from houses to souls.
Money made the man.
It astonished him that not everyone realized this. Some people seemed to think love was the most important thing. They were either fools, Darius thought grimly, or gluttons for punishment. He’d learned his own lesson well. The sick truth was that love only led to pain.
Love was a pale facsimile of money. Love begged.
Money demanded.
So when Darius had seen how badly New York society had treated Letty for all these years—these people who didn’t have a fraction of her kindness or her loyalty or her heart—ice had seized his soul.
Especially when he’d realized that he’d treated her even worse. After a decade of ignoring her, he’d taken revenge for her so-called sins through cold seduction, insults and threats.
His jaw tightened. He would pay that debt.
Darius didn’t love her. The part of his heart that had once craved love had been burned away. Love wasn’t something he ever wanted to feel for anyone.
But there were other qualities Darius did believe in.
Honor.
Loyalty.
Protecting his woman.
So he’d settled the matter, once and for all.
Now Letty would be the most popular girl in the city. Every person who’d once treated her shabbily would be begging for an invitation to their wedding. Begging to be her friend.
At the moment of Darius’s triumph, as he toasted her on stage, he turned to face Letty at the podium. Rough, raw desire surged through his body as he looked at her—his woman now, his—lush and pregnant and obscenely beautiful in that pink gown, which slid over her breasts and belly like a caress.
She stood unsteadily in those ridiculous stiletto heels, beneath the blinding spotlight, as a thousand people applauded from the darkness. People who had treated her like garbage just minutes before started chanting her name. Camera flashes lit up the darkness as reporters shouted questions.
“Miss Spencer, what’s it like to be loved to the tune of five billion dollars?”
“When’s the wedding?”
“When’s your baby due?”
“How does it feel to suddenly be the most popular girl in New York?”
Letty looked at Darius with the expression of a terrified deer, and he realized she wasn’t enjoying this as much as he was.
Turning back to the microphone with a smile, Darius answered for her. “The wedding will be soon. No plans yet. Our baby will be born soon, too.” He looked past the reporters to the well-heeled crowd. “That’s all. Thank you for your support! Enjoy your night. And since you’re now all so much richer, don’t forget to be generous to the scholarship fund—it’s for the kids.” Setting his empty champagne glass on the podium, he glanced at the full orchestra. “Let’s start the music!”
“Kick off the dancing, Darius!” someone shouted from the back.
“Yes, the first dance to you and Letty!” someone else cried.
Darius led her down the steps from the stage, and as they reached the dance floor, the music started, a slow, romantic song he’d purposefully requested from the orchestra earlier because he knew Letty would remember it from that long-ago summer.
He was right. She stopped when she heard it, eyes wide.
Darius looked down at her with a crooked half smile. “What do you say? Will you dance with me, Letty?”
She looked around at all the people who had treated her with such contempt for the last ten years, now beaming at her as if they were best friends.
“Why are they acting as if they like me?” she said softly, for his ears alone.
“People love to talk about character and loyalty and love. They mean money.” He allowed himself a grim smile. “Now the money’s been paid, so they can love you again.”
Letty’s head snapped back to look at him. Her big hazel eyes, fringed with dark lashes, were wide, as if he were a superhero who’d flown down from the sky. “Why did you do it, Darius? Why pay five billion dollars for a debt that isn’t yours?”
The music swirled around them like a whirlwind. “Do you remember our old waltz?”
Her forehead creased. “Of course...” She looked back at the people yelling encouragement for them to dance. She bit her lip. “But not in front of everyone...”
“Now.” Darius pulled her against his tuxedo-clad body. “Dance with me.”
Letty’s long dark hair was falling softly around her beautiful face to her shoulders, nestling against the diamonds sparkling around her neck. He’d already wanted her, but as he felt her body in his arms, and the crush of her belly and swollen breasts against his chest, he wanted her even more.
Just like that long-ago summer...
“Come on, Letty,” he said in a low voice. “Let’s show them all we don’t give a damn.”
He moved commandingly onto the dance floor, leading her in the first steps of the waltz he’d helped her practice for her debutante ball long ago, the spring of her senior year. They’d practiced the waltz over and over in the sunlit spring flower meadow on the Fairholme estate, overlooking the sparkling bay, as music sang from her phone.
They’d started out as friends and ended as something else entirely.
When she’d left for her debutante ball in Manhattan that May, looking beautiful beyond belief in her white dress, Darius spent the whole evening prowling the meadow in a rage, hating the Harvard boy who was her date.
He’d been shocked when Letty came back early, whispering, “I didn’t want to dance with anyone but you...”
Darius had taken one look at Letty’s joyous, upturned face sur
rounded by spring flowers, and then he, the chauffeur’s son, had done the unthinkable: he’d wrapped her in his powerful arms and kissed her...
Now, as he swirled her around in that waltz, it was like going back in time. The audience standing on the edge of the dance floor clapped their approval. In this moment, in this place, Darius and Letty were the king and queen of the city, the pinnacle of all his youthful dreams.
But he barely noticed the crowds. There was only Letty. He was back in that meadow, a young man so sure of his own heart, so naively enthusiastic about his future, dancing with the beautiful princess he’d dreamed about, the one he could never deserve. And, oh, how he’d craved her to his very core...
Now, Darius pulled her more indecently close to his hard, aching body than any waltz allowed. She lifted her luminous gaze to his, visibly holding her breath. The electricity between them suddenly sizzled with heat.
He stopped dancing. Louder than the music, he heard the rush of his blood in his ears, the pounding of his own heart.
He needed her in his bed.
Now.
The music abruptly ended, and the ballroom exploded in applause echoing from the high ceiling. Without a word, Darius led her from the dance floor. He pulled her through the crowds, which parted for them like magic. Compliments and cheers followed them. Everywhere, people were apologizing to Letty for how badly they’d treated her. He recognized Poppy Alexander.
“I’m so sorry, Letty,” the girl blurted out. “I was afraid to be your friend. I knew it wasn’t your fault, what happened, but I was a coward...”
“That’s all right, Poppy,” Letty replied gently. She looked around at everyone else. “I don’t blame anyone.”
Darius thought about the dragon Poppy had for a mother, and he couldn’t blame her for being scared. Until he thought of how bad Letty’s life had been for the last decade, and he didn’t think any of them deserved another minute of Letty’s time.
He swept Letty away without looking back. He didn’t care about anyone or anything right now, except getting her into his bed.
Darius pulled his phone from his tuxedo jacket pocket. By the time they exited the stately beaux-arts building, his limo was waiting at the curb. Collins leaped out and opened the passenger door.
The second they were in the backseat, and the door closed behind them, Darius pulled Letty roughly into his arms and kissed her.
Her lips were sweet as sin. She trembled, her curves melting against him. His whole body was hard with need. He had to have her.
“Sir?” said Collins from the driver’s seat.
“Home,” he said hoarsely. “As fast as you can.”
Then he pressed the button that raised the barrier between front and back seats. Just those few seconds were agony. But he was not willing to share Letty with anyone. He’d shared her enough.
She belonged to him now. To him alone.
Once they had privacy in the backseat, he kissed her passionately as the limo moved through the sparkling streets of the lit-up city at midnight. But all he could see was her sensual beauty. All he could feel was the soft brush of her long dark hair, and her warm skin like silk beneath his hands. He pushed her back against the leather seat, devouring her soft lips, kissing her neck, running his hands over her full breasts overflowing the tight pink bodice of her dress.
He kissed her savagely, biting and sucking her lower lip. A gasp of need came from her throat as she returned his kiss with matching fire, gripping his shoulders through his tuxedo jacket. He kissed slowly down her neck as her head fell back, her eyes closed, her expression one of ecstasy.
When he saw that, it was all he could do not to take her, right here in the back of the limo. He was unconsciously reaching for his fly when he realized they’d stopped.
Resurfacing from his haze of desire, he saw the limo was parked beneath the porte cochere in front of his building. Just in time, too. He glanced at Letty, stretched back against the smooth calfskin leather seat. Her big hazel eyes were smoky with passion, her dark hair mussed, her pink dress disheveled. Another moment and he would have yanked up her dress and roughly pushed inside her.
That wasn’t how he wanted this night to be, fast and brutish in the back of a limo. No. After the disaster of their first night together, when he’d taken her virginity then insulted her and tossed her out of the penthouse into the snow, he wanted this night to be perfect.
He would finally treat Letitia Spencer, the forbidden princess of his youth, as she deserved to be treated.
He would enjoy her as he deserved to enjoy her.
Thoroughly.
Reaching over, he smoothed the fabric of Letty’s bodice modestly back over her breasts just as the passenger door opened behind him.
Taking her hand, he led her out of the limo and into the elegant lobby, where the doorman greeted him. “Good evening, sir.”
“Good evening, Jones.” Such civilized words. Wearing a tuxedo, Darius knew he must appear civilized on the outside. On the inside, he felt anything but.
Gripping Letty’s hand, he desperately kept himself in check. Neither of them looked at each other as they went through the high-ceilinged lobby, past the front desk to the elevator. Civilized.
But as soon as the door closed behind them, they were in each other’s arms. He pushed her against the wall, kissing her hungrily, desperately.
She breathed against his skin, “I still can’t believe you’re doing this.”
“Kissing you?”
“Giving five billion dollars away. Why did you do it?”
“Don’t you know?” he growled, his lips against hers. “Can’t you guess?”
Panting, she shook her head. “You hate my father...”
Darius’s lip curled as he drew back. “I didn’t do it for him.”
“For your friends?”
“Those aren’t my friends.”
“For the other victims, then. All those hardworking people with pensions. Firemen. Nurses...”
“I’m not that noble.”
The elevator door opened. The floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the penthouse with moonlight. Taking her hand, he led her inside. He could hear the tap of her stiletto heels against the marble.
She stopped, staring up at him.
“Then why?” she whispered.
“I couldn’t stand to see you treated badly,” Darius said huskily, “when all you’ve done is give your love and loyalty to someone who doesn’t deserve it.”
She bit her lip. “I know my father isn’t perfect—”
“Perfect?” His jaw tightened. “He’s a criminal—” He cut himself off, then said, “You’re under my protection now.”
She looked troubled. “Your protection—or your rule?”
“It is the same. I protect what is mine.”
“Our baby.”
His eyes met hers. “And you.”
Letty stared at him, her eyes wide, as if she had no idea how to react. As if she had forgotten what it was like to have anyone properly look after her.
He wondered how long it had been since anyone had tried to take care of her, rather than the other way around. He suspected Letty always sacrificed herself to take care of others—especially that father of hers—while her own heart bled.
“But I’m not yours,” she said quietly. “Not truly. We got pregnant by accident. I didn’t think you were serious about marriage.”
“I am.”
“That commitment is serious, Darius. It means...forever.”
“I know,” he said.
She swallowed, searching his gaze. “I was sure after tonight you’d never want to see me again.”
Taking her hand, he lifted it slowly to his lips. She seemed to hold her breath, watching as he kissed the back of her hand, breathing against her skin. Straightening, he held her hand tightly in his own. “I want to see you tomorrow, and every other tomorrow for the rest of our lives.”
“Darius...”
“You will marry me, Letty,”
he said in a low voice. “You know it, and I know it. In your heart, you were always meant to be mine.”
* * *
Marry him? For real?
How could she?
Even if Darius no longer hated her, he certainly didn’t love her. And she was starting to fear she could love him again. Perhaps all too easily.
What hope could they have of happiness?
He’d never love her back. All he wished to do was possess her. He offered sex and money, and in return, he’d expect sex and total devotion. For her, those things went together. He wouldn’t have just her body, but her soul.
So why was she still so tempted?
She shivered, caught between fear and desire.
“Are you cold?” he asked huskily, his eyes dark.
“No, I... I...” Hugging her baby bump, she gasped, “I need some fresh air.”
He smiled. “Come with me.”
Still holding her hand, he led her through the moon-bathed penthouse, and she thought dimly how she was getting in the habit of following where he led. But with his hand enveloping hers so protectively, she didn’t want to do anything else.
She still couldn’t believe what he’d done, announcing their engagement, defending her in front of all those people—and then telling the world he intended to pay billions of dollars of his own money to repay what her father had stolen.
She’d been dazed. Then she’d danced with him, the same routine he’d helped her learn so long ago, and she’d been back in that spring meadow, practicing the waltz not for the pimply-faced Harvard boy, who was the nephew of her father’s lawyer, but for Darius, always for him, only for him. As they’d danced in the ballroom, she’d felt time melt away.
Darius was right. She was his. From the very beginning, Darius Kyrillos had been the only man she’d ever wanted. The only man she’d ever loved.
I don’t love him anymore, she told herself desperately. She wouldn’t let him buy her!
Darius led her up an elaborate staircase, then pushed open a glass door that led out onto a private rooftop garden.
