Kitabı oku: «Mediterranean Mavericks: Greeks», sayfa 7

Looking at the photographers, Letty felt so weak she wasn’t sure she could get out of the limo.

Turning back, Darius held out his hand to where she sat quivering in the backseat. He lifted a challenging eyebrow.

Shaking, Letty put her hand in his.

As she exited the limo, a low murmur started amid the photographers and press waiting outside the red carpet as someone recognized Letty.

Then it spread.

There was a gasp of recognition traveling among the photographers and crowd like a rumble of thunder rolling across the ground. The camera flashes went crazy as journalists and celebrity bloggers started screaming at her.

“Letitia Spencer!”

“Where have you been for the last ten years?”

“How does it feel now that your father’s out of prison?”

“Do you feel guilty for your father’s victims as you’re coming to a ball in diamonds?”

“Are you two together?”

“Mr. Kyrillos, with all the city at your feet, why would you date a jailbird’s daughter?”

Darius responded only with a glower as he arrogantly walked past them, Letty gripping his hand tightly. He led her past the reporters and inside the magnificent beaux-arts-style granite building. Only after she’d walked up the steps and past the imposing columns through the oversize door, and he’d shut it behind them, did she exhale. Immediately, he pulled her close. Letty closed her eyes, still shaking as she breathed in his strength, his warmth, his comfort.

“It’s over,” he said softly as he finally drew back, tucking back a dark tendril of her hair behind her ear. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“You think it’s over?” She gave him a trembling smile. “It’s only just begun.”

Darius’s expression darkened, but they were interrupted as a famous white-haired society matron covered in jewels entered the foyer behind them. Her face brightened when she saw Darius. She immediately left her much younger date to come forward and give him air-kisses.

“Darius, how lovely to see you! Thank you again for hosting this important event.” She simpered. “Though I think there will be many broken hearts when they see you brought a date—”

But as the matron turned to Letty, her smile froze. Her expression changed to shock, then outrage.

“Hello, Mrs. Alexander,” Letty said bashfully. “I don’t know if you remember, but I used to go to school with your daughter, Poppy. We were both debutantes at the—”

“Stop.” The woman’s eyes blazed. “Don’t you dare speak to me.” Looking back at Darius, she hissed, “Do you know who this girl is? What she’s done?”

He looked at her coldly. “Of course I know who Letty is. We’ve been friends since childhood. And as for what she’s done—I think you have her confused with her father.”

The woman turned to Letty with narrowed eyes. “You have some nerve coming here. Your father stole money from nearly every person attending tonight.” She looked at Darius incredulously. “And you are insane to bring her. Take my advice. Send Letitia Spencer straight out the door. Or you might find that you suddenly have no guests, and your charity will suffer. For what? So you can get that little tart in your bed?” She looked pointedly at Letty’s belly. “Or perhaps you did that already?”

Letty’s cheeks went hot. She suddenly felt like a tart, too, wearing this low-cut, formfitting pink dress that showed off every curve. Beneath the society matron’s scrutiny, even her beautiful sparkly shoes lost their gleam, and suddenly just pinched her feet.

“It’s only out of respect for those poor foster children that I’m not leaving here right now.” The woman glared between them, then flounced away in her jewels and fluttering silk sleeves.

Letty was left paralyzed from the ambush.

“Don’t listen to her,” Darius said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “She’s a witch.”

“I don’t blame her for being mad,” Letty said in a low voice. “Her family lost a lot of money. Tens of millions.”

“It obviously hasn’t cut into her jewelry and plastic-surgery budget. Forget her. Let’s go in.”

Wrapping her arm securely over his, he marched her into the ballroom as cheerfully as a revolutionary leading a French aristocrat to the guillotine.

But it was no good. The rest of the evening was just as Letty had feared. As lovely and magical as the afternoon had been, the ball sucked the joy out of everything.

Darius insisted on keeping her by his side as he greeted his society guests, each of whom had paid thousands of dollars to attend this ball, ostensibly for the benefit of college scholarships for foster kids but mostly just to have a good excuse to party with friends and show off new couture.

Letty felt their hostile stares, though with Darius beside her, none were as brave or foolhardy as Mrs. Alexander. None of them said anything to her face. Instead, the cream of New York society just stared at her in bewildered horror, as if she had a contagious and fatal disease, then looked at Darius as if they were waiting for him to reveal the punch line of whatever joke had inspired him to bring a pariah like Letitia Spencer to the Fall Ball when he could have had any beauty in the city for the asking.

She heard whispers and felt their hard stares as she and Darius passed through the crowds in the ballroom. When he briefly left her to get drinks, she felt vulnerable, alone. She kept her eyes focused on the floor, trying to be quiet and invisible, as if facing wild animals. If they didn’t notice her, they might not tear her to shreds with their teeth and claws.

It didn’t work.

Within moments, three former debutantes blocked her like bouncers at a bar.

“Well, well, well.” A skinny young woman in a designer gown gave her a hard-edged smile. “Letitia Spencer. This is a surprise. Isn’t it, Caroline?”

“A big surprise.”

Letty vaguely recognized the two women from her school, where they’d been a year older. They were looking at her now with the cold expressions of mob enforcers. She could suddenly imagine how her father must have felt right before that thug had broken his arm.

But the third woman stood a slight distance from the first two. It was Poppy Alexander. She and Letty had once been study partners, sophomore year. Poppy just stood there, looking pale and uneasy.

“Excuse me.” Letty backed away. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“You don’t want trouble?” The first woman’s lip twisted scornfully. “How very amusing.”

“Amusing,” Caroline echoed with a sneer.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“You’re a disgrace to society.”

“If you had any decency, you’d disappear or die.”

Poppy stood silently beside her friends, looking faintly sick, as if she wished she were a million miles away. Letty sympathized with that feeling.

The first woman continued with a sneer, “You might think you’re safe on Darius Kyrillos’s arm, but…”

“Ah, there you are, Letty,” Darius said smoothly, coming up behind them. “I brought your drink.” Turning to the other women, he gave a charming smile. “Ah. Augusta. Caroline. And Poppy Alexander. How lovely to see you.”

“Hello, Darius,” they cooed with weak smiles, then departed, the first two with a final venomous glance at Letty, Poppy hanging her head, looking guilty and ashamed.

Emotions Letty knew well.

“Everything all right?” Darius murmured after they left.

She exhaled, blinking fast. “Fine. Just fine.”

The night only got worse. It was past ten when the formal dinner was finally served, and Letty felt half-starved as she sat down beside Darius at the prestigious head table. But as she felt the glares from the four other couples at the table, she could barely eat a bite of salad or the lobster with white truffle cream. At any moment, she half expected one of the hedge fund millionaires or society wives might smash a three-hundred-dollar champagne bottle against the table and attack her with it.

That might have been preferable to the waves of unspoken hatred overtaking her like a blast of heat from all sides. During the unendurably long meal, Darius tried several times to start conversations with the others at the table. Each time, he succeeded. Until he tried to include her. Then the conversation instantly died.

Finally, Letty could stand it no longer.

“Excuse me,” she breathed, rising from her seat. “I have to—”

She couldn’t finish her sentence. Turning, she rushed past all the other tables and out of the ballroom. Going down the long hall, she found a ladies’ bathroom, where she was violently sick. Going to the sink, she washed out her mouth. She looked at herself wanly in the mirror. She felt like she’d rather die than go back into that ballroom and see Darius trying to stick up for her.

Better for her to just leave quietly. Better for both of them.

After lingering as long as she could in the cool quiet of the empty, marble bathroom, with the old-fashioned elegance of a more genteel era, she went out into the hallway.

She found Darius waiting for her, smolderingly handsome in his tuxedo, leaning against the wall with his arms folded and his jaw tight.

“Are you all right?”

He was angry. She could hear it in his voice. She stopped, barely holding back her tears. “Have you seen enough?” she choked out. “You’re surely not enough of an idiot to marry me.”

He came closer in the empty hallway, with its plush carpets and gold light fixtures. She tensed, waiting for him to tell her he’d obviously made a mistake, bringing her to his ball, and that there was no way he would marry her now or in fact ever wanted to see her again. She waited for him to give her what she’d wanted and set her free.

Except in this moment the thought didn’t make her as happy as it once did.

He narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t realize how bad it was for you.”

She’d successfully fought back tears all night. But she could do it no longer. Not now, when the illusion of having a protector—even for a night—was coming to an end.

Letty took a deep breath, trying to ignore the lump in her throat, wiping her eyes before he’d see the tears. She tried to smile. “But now you know. So tomorrow I’ll go to Rochester with my father. You can continue to be rich and famous and popular here. You can visit our baby anytime you want…” Something in his eyes made her voice trail off uncertainly. “If you even want to see our baby anymore,” she whispered.

His eyes suddenly blazed with cold fury. “No.”

“What?”

He gripped her arm. “I said no.”

She tried to pull away, but couldn’t. “What are you doing?”

“What I should have done the moment we arrived here.”

He pulled her grimly down the hall, back toward the ballroom.

“No,” she choked out, struggling. “Please. I can’t go back in there. Don’t make me…”

Darius was merciless. He dragged her back into the enormous ballroom, with its high ceiling and crystal chandeliers. He gripped her wrist as she limped behind him in the tight stiletto shoes and pink dress, going past all the big round tables, where a thousand people were now drinking after-dinner brandies and coffees and the men, at least, were eating desserts. Letty felt each ten-person table fall silent as they went by. She felt everyone’s judgment. Their blame. Their hatred.

Ruthlessly, Darius pulled her through the ballroom, leaving people silent in their wake. As he walked past their own table, he grabbed his glass of champagne. Crossing the small dance floor, he dragged her up the stairs to the stage, where, still holding her wrist, he took the microphone at the podium. He cleared his throat.

Letty’s knees were trembling with fear. She wished she’d never come here—wished she’d never taken a single risk—would have given twenty years of her life to be back at her tiny apartment, snug on the sofa with a blanket over her head!

“Good evening,” Darius said into the microphone. His husky, commanding voice rang over the ballroom. A spotlight fell on him. “For those of you I haven’t yet met personally, I’m Darius Kyrillos. Thank you for coming to my party, the event kicking off the New York fall social season, and thank you for supporting scholarships for kids in need. It’s because of you that many deserving youngsters will be able to go to college or learn a trade.”

A smattering of applause ensued; much less enthusiastic than it would have been if Letty hadn’t been standing with him on stage. She was ruining everything, she thought unhappily. Even for those kids who needed help. She hated herself. Almost as much as she hated him.

Darius deliberately turned away from the microphone to give her a searching glance, and her stomach fell to the floor. Here it comes, she thought. He’s going to announce that he brought me here as a joke and have me thrown me out. She was social poison, so he really had no choice but to distance himself. This was exactly what she’d expected.

She just hadn’t expected it to hurt so much when it happened.

Darius’s lips twisted. He turned back to the microphone. “Most of you know this beautiful woman on stage with me. Miss Letitia Spencer.” There was a low hiss across the ballroom, a rumble of muffled booing. He responded with a charming smile. “Since we’re all friends, I wanted you to be the first to know… I just asked her to marry me.”

Letty’s eyes went wide. What? Why would he say that? Was he insane?

“And she has accepted,” he finished calmly. “So I want you all to be the first to wish us joy.”

This time, the gasp came from Letty. Forget insane. Was he suicidal?

The low hisses and boos changed to ugly muttering across the ballroom, angry, obscene words that made Letty squirm. Instinctively, she covered her belly with her arms to protect her unborn baby from the cruel words.

But Darius’s smile only widened as he put his large hand over hers, on her belly.

“We’re expecting a baby, too. All of this has left me so overwhelmed with joy, I want to share it with all of you. Now. Some of you might know of her father’s troubles…”

A white-haired man, unable to contain himself any longer, sprang up from his table. “Howard Spencer defrauded my company of millions of dollars!” he cried, shaking his fist. “We were only repaid a fraction of what we lost!”

A low buzz of rage hummed around him.

“Letty’s father is a criminal,” Darius agreed. “He abused your trust, and I know over half of what he stole is still unaccounted for. But Letty did nothing wrong. Her only crime was loving a father who didn’t deserve it. That’s why I’ve decided, in my future bride’s honor, to make amends.”

Suddenly, it was dead quiet across the tables.

Darius held his champagne glass high. “I will personally pay back every penny her father stole.”

A collective gasp ripped through the ballroom.

The white-haired man staggered back. “But that’s…five billion dollars!”

“So it is,” Darius said mildly. He looked over the crowd. “So if your family is still owed money by Howard Spencer, I personally guarantee repayment. All in honor of my beautiful…innocent…unfairly hounded…bride.” Turning back toward Letty on stage, he held up his champagne glass and said into the microphone, “To Letitia Spencer!”

As photographers rushed forward, Letty felt faint. Camera flashes lit up everywhere. There was a rumble of noise, of shouts and gasps and chairs hastily pushed aside as a thousand people scrambled to their feet and lifted their champagne glasses into the air.

“Letitia Spencer!” they cried joyfully.

CHAPTER SEVEN

IT WASN’T EVERY day a man spent five billion dollars on a whim.

Darius hadn’t intended to do it. He’d had a different surprise in mind for Letty tonight: a black velvet box hidden in the pocket of his tuxedo jacket, which he’d planned to spring on her as soon as the evening was over and all her overblown fears had proved unfounded.

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 surrounded 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.