Читать книгу Modern Romance February Books 5-8 - Шантель Шоу, Heidi Rice - Страница 18
ОглавлениеHE WAS A GENIUS, Darius thought as he woke in his bed the next morning with sunlight flooding in through the windows. He looked down at Letty sleeping beside him and smiled. A damn genius. Best five billion dollars ever spent.
And he would spend the rest of his life being thrilled, if it continued paying off like it did last night. The sex had been spectacular. And even more. Something had changed in the way Letty looked at him. He loved the mixture of gratitude and shy hope he saw in her eyes.
He kissed Letty’s temple tenderly. She yawned, stretching like a cat.
“What time is it?” she murmured, her eyes still closed.
“Late,” he said, amused. “Almost noon.”
Her eyes flew open. “Oh, no! I’m late for—” Then she seemed to remember how much had changed in the last twenty-four hours, and that being late for work was no longer an issue. “Oh. Right.” She bit her lip, blushing and looking so adorable that he was tempted to keep her in bed another hour.
It was incredible how much he still wanted her, when they’d made love four times last night—on the rooftop terrace, here in bed, and in the shower when they decided to wash off. Only to promptly get all sweaty again when they returned to bed.
Letty was meant to be his, Darius marveled. He’d never felt so sexually satisfied in his life.
And yet already he wanted more. How was it possible?
He smiled down at her. “Hungry?”
“Starving,” she admitted. “And thirsty.”
“I can solve that.” Rising from the bed, he got a white terry cloth robe and handed her one, too. “Come out to the kitchen.”
She gave a sudden scowl, and even that was adorable. “You didn’t tell me you had staff staying at the penthouse. What if they heard us last night? What if they—”
“There are no live-in staff. I have a housekeeper who comes in four times a week, that’s it.”
She blinked in confusion. “Then who’s going to cook?”
“I’m not totally useless.”
She looked at him with unflattering shock in her eyes. “You can’t cook, Darius.”
“No?” His smile widened to a grin. “Come see.”
She ate her words shortly afterward, sitting in the brightly lit kitchen at the counter, as he served her an omelet to order with tomatoes, bacon and five kinds of cheese, along with orange juice over ice. When she took the first bite of the omelet, her eyes went wide.
“Good, huh?” he said smugly, sitting beside her with his own enormous omelet of ham and cheese, drenched in salsa. Being a sexual hero all night definitely had built his appetite.
And hers, as well. If he felt like a hero, Letty was a sex goddess, he thought. Even now, he felt aware of her, just sitting companionably beside her at the counter with its dazzling view of the city through floor-to-ceiling windows. But he wasn’t looking at the view. He was watching her.
“Delicious,” she moaned softly as she gobbled it down, bite after bite. “We should serve omelets at our wedding.”
He gave a low laugh. “I appreciate the compliment, but I don’t see myself whipping up omelets for a thousand.”
She froze. “A thousand? Guests?”
Gulping black coffee, he shrugged. “Our wedding will be the social event of the year, as you deserve. All of New York society will come and grovel at your feet.”
She didn’t look thrilled. She took another bite of omelet. “That’s not what I want.”
“No?” he said lazily, tucking back a tendril of her dark hair. His eyes traced the creamy skin of her neck, down to the smooth temptation of her clavicle and swell of her breasts above the luxurious white cotton robe. He glanced down to her belt, tied loosely between her breasts and pregnant belly. He had the sudden impulse to sweep all the dishes to the floor, tug open her robe and lean her back naked against the counter.
“A wedding should be a happy occasion.” She shook her head. “Those society people aren’t my friends. They never really were. Why would I invite them?”
“To rub your new status in their faces? I thought you’d glory in your return to status as the queen of it all.”
“Me?” Letty snorted. “I was never queen of anything. As a teenager I never knew the right clothes to wear or understood how to play the society game. I was a total nerd.”
He frowned. “I never saw you that way. I just assumed...”
“That I was a spoiled princess?” She gave him a funny smile. “I was spoiled, though not the way you mean. I always knew I was loved.” Her face was wistful. “My parents loved each other and they loved me.”
Revenge wasn’t Letty’s style, Darius realized. She never showed off or tried to make others feel bad. Even when she was younger, she’d always been most comfortable reading the dusty leather-bound books in Fairholme’s oak-paneled library, baking cakes with the cook in the kitchen or playing with the gardener’s kittens in the yard. Letty never wanted to be the center of attention. She was always more worried about other people’s feelings than her own.
In this respect, Darius thought, the two of them were very different.
“And I had a real home,” she whispered.
Memories of that beautiful gray stone manor on the edge of the sea, surrounded by roses, came to his mind. He said gruffly, “You still miss Fairholme after all this time?”
She gave him a sad smile. “I know it’s gone for good. But I still dream about it. My mother was born there. Four generations of my family.”
“What happened to it?”
She looked down at her plate. “A tech billionaire bought it at a cut-rate price. I heard he changed everything, added zebra-print shag carpeting and neon lights, and turned the nursery into his own private disco. Of course that was his right. But he wouldn’t let me take a picture of my great-grandmother’s fresco before he destroyed it with his sandblaster.”
A low growl came from Darius’s throat. He remembered the nursery fresco, a charming monstrosity picturing a sad-eyed little goose girl leading ducks and geese through what looked like a Bavarian village. Not his cup of tea, but it was part of the house’s history. “I’m sorry.”
She looked up with a bright, fake smile. “It’s fine. Of course it couldn’t last. Good things never do.”
“Neither do bad things,” he said quietly. “Nothing lasts, good or bad.”
“I guess you’re right.” She wrapped her arms around her pregnant belly. “But I don’t want a big society wedding, Darius. I think I’d just like you and me, and our closest family and friends. I don’t need ten bridesmaids. I just want one.”
“An old friend?”
She smiled. “A new one. Belle Langtry. A waitress at the diner. How about you? Who would you choose as your best man?”
“Ángel Velazquez.”
“Ángel?”
“It’s a nickname. His real first name is Santiago, but he hates it, because he was named after a man who refused to recognize him as his son.”
“How awful!”
Darius shrugged. “I call him by his last name. Velazquez hates weddings. He recently had to be the best man for a friend of ours, Kassius Black. He complained for months. All that tender love gave him a headache, he said.”
Letty was looking at him in dismay. “And you want him at our wedding?”
“He needs a little torture. When you meet him you’ll see what I mean. Completely arrogant, always sure he’s right.”
“Hard to imagine,” she said drily.
“So Velazquez. And my extended family.”
Her eyes brightened. “Your family?”
“My great-aunt, Theia Ioanna, who lives in Athens. Assorted uncles, aunts and cousins, and the rest of my village on Heraklios, the island I’m from.”
“Could we bring them all over from Greece? And of course we’ll have my father...”
Darius stiffened. “No.”
“No?” She frowned. “We could get married on Heraklios, if they can’t travel. I’ve always wanted to visit the Greek islands...”
“I mean your father. He’s not invited.”
“Of course he’s invited. He’s my father. He’ll walk me down the aisle. I know you don’t like him, but he’s my only family.”
“Letty, I thought you understood.” His jaw was taut, his voice low and cold. “I don’t want you, or our baby, within ten feet of that man ever again.”
“What?”
“It’s not negotiable.” Swiveling to face her at the counter, Darius gripped her shoulder. “I will pay back everything he stole. But this is the price.” His dark eyes narrowed. “You will cut your father completely and permanently out of our lives.”
She drew back. “But he’s my father. I love him—”
“He lost the right to your loyalty long ago. Do you think I want a con artist, a thief, around my wife...my child...my home?” He looked at her in tightly controlled fury. “No.”
“He never meant to hurt anyone,” she tried. “He always hoped the stock market would turn and he’d be able to pay everyone back. He just lost his way after my mom died. And he hasn’t been well since he got out of prison. If you just knew what he’s been through...”
“Excuses on top of excuses! You expect me to feel sympathy?” he said incredulously. “Because he was sick? Because he lost his wife? Because of him, you and I were separated. Because of him, my own father never had the chance to grow old! After he’d worked for him with utter devotion for almost twenty-five years. And that’s how your father repaid him!”
“Darius, please.”
“You expect me to allow that man to walk you down the aisle? To hold my firstborn child in his arms? No.” He set his jaw. “He’s a monster. He has no conscience, no soul.”
“You don’t know him like I do...”
Remembering her weakness where her father was concerned, her senseless loyalty at any cost, Darius abruptly changed tack. “If you truly love him, you will do as I ask. It will benefit him, as well.”
“How can you say that?”
“Once I’ve paid all his debts, he’ll never need to be afraid of someone breaking his arm again. He’ll be treated better by his probation officers. By potential employers.”
“He can’t work. No one would hire him. He would starve in the street.”
Revulsion churned in Darius’s belly, but he forced himself to say, “I will make sure that does not happen. He can remain in your Brooklyn apartment and his rent will be paid. He will always have food and any other necessities he might require. But he must face the consequences of what he’s done. He’s taken enough from you, Letty. Your future is with me.”
Pushing away the breakfast plates, he stood up from the kitchen counter and went to her handbag on the entryway table. Pulling out her phone, he held it out to her.
“Call him,” he said quietly. “See what he tells you to do.”
Sitting at the counter in her white robe, Letty stared at the phone with big, stricken eyes, as if it were poison. She snatched it up, and with an intake of breath, dialed and held it up to her ear.
“Hi, Dad.” She paused, then said unhappily, “Yes. I’m sorry. I don’t blame you for worrying. I should have... Ooh? You saw that?” She looked up and said to Darius, “Your announcement about repaying the five billion is already all over the news. Our engagement, too. Dad is thrilled.”
“Of course,” he said acidly.
“What?” She turned her focus back to her father. “Oh, yes,” she whispered, looking up at Darius with troubled eyes. “We’re very happy.” She bit her lip. “But, Dad, there’s this one thing. It’s a big thing. A big horrible thing—” her voice broke a little “—and I hardly know how to say it...” She took a deep breath. “I won’t be able to see you anymore. Or let you see the baby.”
Darius watched her face as she listened to her father’s response. Her expression was miserable.
He blocked all mercy from his soul. He was being cruel to be kind. Saving her from her own weak, loving heart.
“No,” she whispered into the phone. “I won’t abandon you. It’s not...”
She paused again, and her expression changed, became numb with grief. Finally, she choked out in a voice almost too soft to hear, “Okay, Dad. All right. I love you, too. So much. Goodbye.”
Tears were streaming down her face. Wiping them away, she handed Darius the phone. “He wants to talk to you.”
He stared down at the phone in dismay. He hadn’t expected that. He picked it up and put it to his ear.
“What do you want?” he said coldly.
“Darius Kyrillos.” He recognized Howard Spencer’s voice. Though the voice had aged and grown shaky, he could almost hear the older man’s smile. “I remember when you were a little boy, just come to Fairholme. You barely spoke English but even then, you were a great kid.”
Unwanted memories went through him of when he’d first come to Fairholme with a father who was a stranger to him, a lonely eleven-year-old boy, bereaved by his grandmother’s death. He’d felt bewildered by America and homesick for Greece. Back then Howard Spencer had seemed grand and as foreign as a king.
But he’d welcomed the bereft boy warmly. He’d even asked his five-year-old daughter to look after him. In spite of their six-year age difference, Letty, with her caring and friendly heart, had swiftly become his friend, sharing her toys and showing him the fields and beach. While her father had given Darius Christmas presents and told him firmly he could do anything he wanted in life.
In an indirect way, Howard Spencer had even helped start his software company. As a teenager, Darius had been fascinated by computers. He’d taught himself to tinker and code, and soon found himself responsible for every tech device, security feature and bit of wireless connectivity at Fairholme. It was Howard Spencer who’d hired him as the estate’s first technical specialist and allowed him to continue to live there. He’d even paid for Darius to study computer science at the local community college...
Darius felt a twist in his gut. Like...guilt? No. He rushed to justify his actions. All right, so Spencer had encouraged him and paid for his schooling. Using stolen money from his Ponzi scheme!
“Yes, a good kid,” Howard continued gruffly. “But stubborn, with all that stiff-necked Greek pride. Always had to do everything yourself. Letty was the only one you really let help you with anything. And even then, you always thought you had to be in charge. You never recognized her strength.”
“Your point?” Darius said coldly.
He heard the other man take a deep breath.
“Take good care of my daughter,” he said quietly. “Both Letty and my grandchild. I know you will. That’s the only reason I’m letting them go.”
The line abruptly cut off.
“What did he say?” Letty’s miserable face came into view.
“He said...” Darius stared down in amazement at the phone in his hand.
He ground his teeth. Damn the old man. Taking the high road. He must be playing the long game. Trusting that Letty would wear him down after their wedding and make him relent. Make him forgive.
But Darius would never forgive. He’d die before he let that man worm his way back into their lives.
“Tell me what he said,” Letty pleaded.
He turned to her with an ironic smile. “He gave our marriage his blessing.”
Her shoulders slumped.
“That’s what he said to me, too,” she whispered.
So his theory was correct. Clever bastard, he thought grudgingly. He really knew how to pull his daughter’s heartstrings.
But Howard Spencer had finally met someone he couldn’t manipulate. The old man would end his days alone, in that tiny run-down apartment, with no one to love him. Just as he deserved.
While they—they would live happily ever after.
Darius looked at Letty tenderly.
After their marriage, after she was legally his forever, she would come to despise her father as Darius did. At the very least, she would forget and let him go.
She would love only Darius, be loyal only to him.
He wouldn’t love her back, of course. The childish illusion that love could be anything but pain had been burned out of him permanently. But love was still magic to Letty, and he realized now it was the only way to bind her and make her happy in their marriage. For the sake of their children, he had to make her love him.
This was just the beginning.
“You did the right thing,” Darius murmured. Pulling her into his arms, he kissed the top of her head, relishing the feel of her body against his, the crush of her full breasts and her belly rounded with his child. “You’ll never regret it.”
“I regret it already.”
Leaning forward, he kissed the tears off her cheeks. He kissed her forehead, then her eyelids. He felt her shudder and pulled her fully into his arms. He whispered, “Let me comfort you.”
He lowered his mouth to hers, gripping her smaller body to his own, and kissed her passionately. A sigh came from her throat as she wrapped her arms around him. He opened the belt of her robe and ran his hands down her naked body. Then with a large sweep of his arm, he knocked all the dishes to the floor with a noisy clatter.
Lifting his future bride up onto the countertop, Darius did what he’d wanted to do for the last hour. He made love to her until she wept. Tears of joy, he told himself. Just tears of joy.
* * *
Letty had never been the sort of girl to dream about weddings. At least not since she was eighteen, when her one attempt at elopement had ended so badly.
But she’d vaguely thought, if she ever did get married, she’d have a simple wedding dress, a cake, a bouquet. And her father would give her away.
This wedding had none of that.
Two days after Darius’s proposal, they got married in what felt like the worst wedding ever.
Her own fault, Letty thought numbly, as she stood in front of a judge, mumbling vows to honor and cherish. She had no one to blame but herself.
Well, and Darius.
After her phone call with her father, Letty had been too heartsick to care about planning a wedding ceremony. Even Darius ruthlessly taking possession of her body on the kitchen counter hadn’t cheered her up. Her heart felt empty and sad.
Darius had tried to tempt her with outrageous ideas for a destination wedding. “If you don’t want a big society wedding, there’s no reason to wait. The sky’s the limit! Do you want a beach wedding in Hawaii? A winter wedding in South America? If you want, I’ll rent out the Sydney Opera House. Just say the word!”
She’d looked at him miserably. “What I want is for my father to be there. Without love, what difference does the wedding make?”
The temperature in the room had dropped thirty degrees. “Fine,” he said coldly. “If that’s how you feel, we might as well just get married at City Hall.”
“Fine,” she’d said in the same tone.
So they’d gone to the Office of the City Clerk near Chinatown this afternoon, where they’d now been killing time for three hours, surrounded by happy couples all waiting for their turn.
Letty felt exhausted to the bone. She hadn’t slept at all the night before. Neither she nor Darius had even bothered to dress up for the ceremony. She wore a simple blouse and maternity pants. Darius wore a dark shirt, dark jeans and a dark glower.
Nor had it helped that the two friends they’d brought to be their witnesses had hated each other on sight. The constant childish bickering between Belle Langtry and Santiago Velazquez, who’d introduced himself as Ángel, had been the final nail in the coffin of Worst Wedding Ever.
It could have been so different, Letty thought sadly. If her father had been there, if she and Darius had been in love, nothing else would have mattered.
But there was no love anywhere on this wedding day.
As she and Darius had sat waiting, listening to their best man and maid of honor squabble, she couldn’t stop tears from falling. Darius’s glower only made them fall faster.
Their number was the very last to be called in the late afternoon. The four of them had gone up to the desk. As the officiant swiftly and matter-of-factly spoke the words that would bind her to Darius forever, Letty couldn’t stop thinking about how she was betraying her father. The man who’d taught her to roller-skate down Fairholme’s long marble hallways, who’d taught her chess on rainy days. The man who’d told her again and again how much he loved her.
“I screwed everything up,” Howard had told her sadly when he got out of prison. “But I swear I’ll make it up to you, Letty. I’ll get you back the life you lost...”
He’d never once criticized her for getting pregnant out of wedlock. He’d just been delighted about a future grandchild. Even when she’d phoned him before the wedding, and told him she was marrying Darius, she’d felt his joy. Though it had been abruptly cut off when she’d tearfully told him the rest of the deal.
Then he’d said quietly, “Do it, sweetheart. Marry him. It’s what you’ve always wanted. Knowing you’re happy, I’ll be at peace.”
Now, as she watched Darius speak his marriage vows, Letty’s heart twisted. She blinked as she heard the officiant solemnly finish, “...I now pronounce you man and wife.”
The whole ceremony had taken three minutes.
She dimly heard Belle clapping and hooting wildly as Darius leaned forward to kiss her. Some instinct made her turn away and offer him only her cheek.
His glower turned radioactive.
After signing the marriage certificate, their small party of four trundled out of the City Clerk’s Office to discover the cold gray September skies pouring rain.
“Such a beautiful ceremony. I’m so happy for you,” Belle sighed, obviously caught up in some romantic image that had nothing to do with reality. “You make a perfect couple.”
“You’re living in a fairy tale,” Santiago Velazquez muttered. “They can obviously barely stand each other.”
Belle whirled on him irritably. “Just once, could you keep your bad attitude to yourself?” Her voice was shrill. “I’m sick of hearing it!”
He shrugged, glancing at Darius. “You got married because she’s pregnant, right?”
“Velazquez, don’t make me punch you on my wedding day.”
“See?” Belle crowed. “Even Darius can’t stand you.”
The Spaniard looked superior. “Just because I’m the only one who is willing to speak the truth...”
“The truth is that marriage is about love and commitment and a whole bunch of sophisticated emotions you obviously can’t handle. So keep your opinions to yourself. You might think you’re being all deep, but talking like that at a wedding is just plain tacky!”
The Spaniard’s eyes narrowed and for a moment Letty was afraid that the constant bickering between them was about to boil over into something truly unpleasant. But to her relief, the man abruptly gave a stiff nod.
“You are right.”
Belle stared at him wide-eyed, then tossed her hair, huffing with a flare of her nostrils. “Course I’m right. I’m always right.”
Letty exhaled as they seemed to drop the matter.
“Except for when you’re wrong,” came his sardonic response, “which is every other time but now, since you’re obviously living in some ridiculous romantic dream world.”
Belle glared at him, then whirled on Letty with a beaming smile. “Are you having a good wedding day, sweetie? Because that’s what I care about. Because I’m not rude like some people. We learn manners in Texas.”
“I have a ranch in Texas,” the Spaniard rejoined. “And I learned an expression that I believe applies to you, Miss Langtry.”
“The meek shall inherit the earth?”
He gave her a sensual half smile. “All hat, no cattle.”
Belle gave an outraged intake of breath. Then she said sweetly, “That’s a lot of big talk for a man with a girl’s name.”
He looked irritated. “You’re saying it wrong. An-hel. And it is a man’s name. In every Spanish-speaking country...”
“Aaain-jel, Aaain-jel!” she taunted, using the pronunciation that involved harps and wings. She blinked. “Oh, look, the limo’s here.”
Letty almost cried in relief.
“Finally,” Darius muttered. The limo had barely slowed down at the curb before he opened the back door for his bride. Letty jumped in, eager to escape.
“Where are we going?” Belle said, starting to follow, the Spaniard coming up behind her. Darius blocked them from the limo.
“Thank you so much. Both of you. But I’m afraid Letty and I must leave immediately for Greece.”
Belle frowned. “I thought you weren’t leaving until tomorrow. We were going to take you out for dinner...”
“Unfortunately, we must get on the plane immediately. My family is waiting to meet my new bride.”
“Oh,” Belle said, crestfallen. “In that case... Of course I understand.” Leaning into the back of the limo, she hugged Letty. “Have a wonderful honeymoon! You deserve every bit of your happiness!”
Belle was right, Letty reflected numbly as the limo pulled away from her friend still beaming and waving on the sidewalk. She’d get all the happiness she deserved after abandoning her father to marry Darius: none.
Letty stared out at the gray rain. Darius sat beside her silently for the hour and a half it took to drive through the evening rush-hour traffic to the small airport outside the city. As they boarded his private jet, he continued to ignore her.
Fine. Letty didn’t care. She felt exhausted and miserable. Walking to the separate bedroom in the back of the jet, she shut the door behind her. Climbing into bed, she pulled the blanket up to her forehead, struggling to hold back tears. She closed her eyes.
And woke up in a different world.
Letty sat up with an intake of breath.
She was no longer on the jet. She found herself in a big, bright bedroom, empty except for a king-size wrought-iron bed.
Brilliant sunlight came through the open windows, leaving warm patterns against the white walls and red tiled floor. She heard laughter outside and conversation in an exotic language and the sweet singing of birds.
She looked down at the soft blanket and cotton sheets. Where was she? And—her lips parted in a gasp. She was wearing only her bra and panties! Someone had undressed her while she was asleep! The thought horrified her.
How had she gotten into this bed?
The flight across the Atlantic had been lonely and dark. She remembered crying herself to sleep on the plane. After her sleepless night before their wedding, she’d slept deeply.
She dimly remembered Darius carrying her, the warmth of his chest, the comforting rumble of his voice.
“So you’re awake.”
Looking up with an intake of breath, Letty saw her husband now standing in the open doorway, dressed more casually than she’d ever seen him, in a snug black T-shirt and long cargo shorts. Sunlight lit him from behind, leaving his expression in shadow.
“Where are we?”
“The island of Heraklios. My villa.”
“I barely remember arriving.”
“You were exhausted. Overwhelmed from the happiness of marrying me,” he said sardonically.
“What time is it?”
“Here? Almost two in the afternoon.” He motioned to a nearby door. “There’s an en suite bathroom if you’d like a shower.” He indicated a large walk-in closet. “Your clothes have already been unpacked.”
“Are you the one who took off my clothes?”
“Just so you’d sleep more comfortably.”
She bit her lip as she looked down at the bed. “Um. And did you...did we...uh, share this bed?”
His shoulders tensed. “If you’re asking if I took advantage of you in your sleep, the answer is no.”
She took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean...”
“Get dressed and come out on the terrace when you’re ready. My family is here to meet you.”
Letty stared at the empty doorway in dismay, then slowly rose out of bed. Her body felt stiff from sleeping so long.
Going into the elegant marble bathroom, she took a hot shower, which refreshed her. Wrapping herself in a towel, she wiped the steam off the mirror. Her face looked pale and sad.
A fine thing, she thought. When she was about to meet his family. They’d take one look at Letty’s face and assume, as Santiago Velazquez had, that she and Darius had gotten married only because of her pregnancy. Why else would someone as handsome and powerful as Darius Kyrillos ever choose a penniless, ordinary-looking woman like her?
He was taking a risk even bringing her to meet them. She could embarrass him, treat them disrespectfully. She could even explain how he’d blackmailed her into marriage.
Letty looked at her eyes in the mirror. She didn’t want to hurt Darius. She just wanted him to forgive her dad.
Maybe she could start by treating his family with the same respect she wanted for her father.
Letty dressed quickly and carefully, blow-drying her long dark hair and brushing it till it shone. She put on lipstick, and chose a pretty new sundress and sandals from the closet. Her knees shook as she went down the hallway. A maid directed her toward the terrace.
With a deep breath, she went outside into the sunshine.
Bright pink bougainvillea climbed the whitewashed walls of the Greek villa, above a wide terrace overlooking the mountainous slopes of the island jutting out of the Ionian Sea.
Against the blue horizon, she saw the shaded forest green of a distant island. The whole world seemed bright with color: blue and white buildings, sea and sky, pink flowers, brown earth and green olive, fig and pomegranate trees.
She felt the warm sun against her skin, and pleasure seeped through her body. Then she saw the group of people sitting at a long wooden table.
Darius rose abruptly from the table. Silence fell as the others followed his gaze.
Wordlessly, he came over to her. His dark eyes glowed as he lowered his head to kiss her cheek. Turning back to the others, he said in English, “This is Letty. My wife.”
An elderly woman got up from the table. Standing on her tiptoes, she squinted, carefully looking Letty over from her blushing face to her pregnant belly. Then she smiled. Reaching up, she patted Letty on the cheek and said something in Greek that she didn’t understand.
“My great-aunt says you look happy now,” Darius translated. “Like a beautiful bride.”
“How sweet... Did she see me before?” Letty asked.
“When I brought you in. She said you looked like death warmed over.”
She stared at him in horror, then narrowed her eyes accusingly. “She never said that.”
He gave a sudden grin. “She says our island has obviously revived you, all our sun and sea air. Plus, clearly—” he quirked a dark eyebrow “—marriage to me.”
The elderly woman said something quickly behind him. He glanced back with an indulgent smile. “Nai, Theia Ioanna.”
“What did she say?”
Darius turned back to Letty. “She said marriage to you seems to agree with me, as well.” Looking down at her, he hesitated. “Our wedding was...”
“Horrible.”
“Not good,” he agreed. His dark eyes caressed her face, and he leaned forward to whisper, “But something tells me our honeymoon will make up for it.”
Letty felt his breath against her hair, the brush of his lips against her earlobe, and electricity pulsed through her at the untold delights promised by a honeymoon in the Greek villa. In that enormous bed.
She tried not to think about that as he introduced her to the other people around the table, aunts and uncles and innumerable cousins. She smiled shyly, wishing she could speak Greek as one Kyrillos family member after another hugged her, their faces alight with welcome and approval.
One of the younger women grabbed her arm, motioning for her to take the best seat at the table. On learning she was hungry, other relatives dished her out a lunch from the tempting dishes on the table. Tangy olives, salad with cucumbers, tomatoes and feta, vine leaves stuffed with rice, grilled meats on skewers, fresh seafood and finally the lightest, flakiest honey pastries imaginable. After sleeping so long, and having no appetite yesterday, Letty was ravenous and gobbled it all up as fast as she could get it.
The women around her exclaimed approvingly in Greek. Darius sat beside her, smiling, his dark eyes glowing beneath the warm Greek sun.
“They like how you eat,” he told her.
She laughed in spite of herself. In this moment, beneath the pink flowers and warm Greek sun, with the blue sea beyond, she felt suddenly, strangely happy. Finally, she pushed her chair away from the table, shaking her head as his relatives offered yet more plates. “No, thank you.” She turned anxiously to Darius. “How do I say that?”
“Óchi, efharisto.”
“Óchi, efharisto,” she repeated to them warmly.
One by one, his family members hugged her, speaking rapidly, patting her belly, then hugging Darius before they hurried into the villa.
“Your family is wonderful.”
“Thank you.” He lifted a dark eyebrow. “By the way, some of them speak English quite well. They’re just hoping if you don’t realize that, you’ll be inspired to learn Greek.”
She laughed, then looked around the terrace at the flowers and sea view. “I’m feeling very inspired, believe me.”
“They already love you. Because you’re my wife.” He put his arm along the back of her chair. “Not only that, you’re the first woman I’ve ever brought home to meet them.”
Her eyes went wide. “Really?”
He grinned, shaking his head. “For years, they read about my scandalous love life and despaired of me ever settling down with a nice girl.” He sipped strong black coffee from a tiny cup. “Great-aunt Ioanna is delirious with joy to see me not only sensibly married, but also expecting a child. And she remembers you.”
Letty’s smile fell. “She does?”
“Yes.”
“Does she blame me for—?”
“No,” he cut her off. “She remembers you only as the girl that I loved and lost long ago. In her mind, that means our marriage is fate. Moíra. She believes our love was meant to stand the test of time.”
Letty blinked fast. Our love was meant to stand the test of time.
Leaning forward, he took her hand. “You are part of the family. You are a Kyrillos now.”
It was true, she realized. She had a new last name. When she updated her passport, she’d no longer be Letitia Spencer, the daughter of the famous white-collar criminal, but Letitia Kyrillos, the wife of a self-made billionaire. Just by marrying, she’d become an entirely different person. What a strange thought.
But maybe this new woman, Letitia Kyrillos, would know how to be happy. Maybe their marriage, which had been so bleak at the start, could someday be full of joy, as her own parents’ marriage had been.
She just had to change Darius’s mind about her father. It wouldn’t be hard.
Like making it snow in July.
One of Darius’s female cousins came back out of the villa and pulled on his arm, talking rapidly in Greek, even as she smiled apologetically at Letty.
“They need to move the big table,” he explained. “To get the terrace ready for the party tonight.”
“What party?”
“They wouldn’t let us come all this way without making a big fuss.” He grinned. “There’s a party tonight to welcome you as my bride. Only family and friends from the village have been invited...”
“Good,” she said, relieved.
“Which, naturally, means the entire island will be here, and a few people from neighboring islands, as well.”
Her heart sank to her sandals at the thought of all those people judging her, possibly finding her unworthy of being Darius’s bride. She whispered, “What if they don’t like me?”
Reaching out, Darius lifted her chin. “Of course they will,” he said softly. “They will because I do.”
As the hot Greek sun caressed her skin in the flower-dappled terrace, the dark promise in his gaze made her shiver.
As his relatives bustled back out on the terrace, with maids following them, they started clearing dishes, wiping the table and sweeping the terrace.
Letty looked around anxiously. “Ask them how I can help.”
He snorted. “If you think they’ll allow either of us to lift a finger, you’re out of your mind.”
“We can’t just sit here, while they do all the work!”
“Watch this.” Pushing his chair back, Darius rose from the table and said casually in English, “Hey, Athina, hand me that broom.”
“Forget it, Darius,” his cousin replied indignantly in the same language, yanking the broom out of his reach. “You sent my sons to college!”
“You gave me a job when I needed work,” a man added in heavily accented English, as he lifted fairy lights to dangle from the terrace’s leafy trellis. “We’re doing this. Don’t think you’re getting out of it!”
They all gave a low buzz of agreement.
Looking at Letty, Darius shrugged. She sighed, seeing she was outmatched. His great-aunt was now, in fact, shooing them away with a stream of steady Greek, a mischievous smile on her kindly, wizened face.
Letty drew closer to him. “So what should we do with ourselves?”
Darius’s eyes darkened as he said huskily, “We are on our honeymoon...”
She shivered at his closeness and at the tempting thought of going back to the bedroom. But she was distracted by the sweep of the brooms and the loud cries of the relatives and house staff bustling back and forth across the villa as they cleaned and set up for the party, all the while watching Darius and Letty out of the corners of their eyes with frank interest and indulgent smiles.
“I couldn’t,” Letty whispered, blushing beneath all the stares. “If we stay, I’ll feel like we should help cook and clean.”
“Then let’s not stay.” He took her hand. “Let me show you the island.”
He drew her out of the enormous, luxurious villa, past the gate and out onto unpaved road. Looking around, she saw the rural rolling hills were covered with olive and pomegranate trees, dotted with small whitewashed houses beneath the sun. But there was one thing she didn’t see.
“Where are all the cars? The paved roads?”
“We don’t have cars. Heraklios is too small and mountainous, and there are only a few hundred residents. There are a few cobblestoned streets by the waterfront, but they’re too winding and tight for any car.”
“So how do you get around?”
“Donkey.”
She almost tripped on her own feet. She looked at him incredulously. “You’re joking.”
He grinned. “I managed to put in a helicopter pad, and also a landing strip, at great expense, and it isn’t even usable if the wind is too strong. Here we transport most things by sea.” As they walked closer to an actual village clinging to a rocky cliff, he pointed to a small building on a hill. “That was my school.”
“It looks like one room.”
“It is. After primary school, kids have to take a ferry to a bigger school the next island over.” As they continued walking, he pointed to a small taverna. “That’s where I tasted my first sip of retsina.” His nose wrinkled. “I spit it out. I still don’t like it.”
“And you call yourself a Greek,” she teased. His eyebrow quirked at her challenge.
“I’d take you in and let you taste it, except—” he looked more closely at the closed door “—it looks like old Mr. Papadakis is already up at the villa. Probably setting up drinks.”
“The whole town’s closing—just for our wedding reception?”
“It’s a small island. I don’t think you realize how much pull I have around here.”
Letty slowed when she saw a ruined, lonely-looking villa at the top of the hill, above the village. “What’s that?”
His lips tightened, curled up at the edges. “That was my mother’s house.”
“Oh,” she breathed. She knew his mother had abandoned him at birth. He’d never talked much about her, not even when they were young. “No one lives there anymore?”
“My mother left the island right after I was born, her parents soon after. It seems they couldn’t stand the shame of my existence,” he added lightly.
She flinched, her heart aching. “Oh, Darius.”
“My mother moved to Paris. She died in a car crash when I was around four.” He shrugged. “I heard her parents died a few years ago. I can’t remember where or how.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Why? I didn’t love them. I don’t mourn them.”
“But your mother. Your grandparents...”
“Calla Halkias died in a limousine, married to an aristocrat.” His voice was cold as he looked back to the ghostly ruin on the hill. “Just as I’m sure she would have wanted. The prestigious life her parents expected for her.”
A lump rose in her throat as she thought of Darius as a child on this island, looking up at the imposing villa of the people who’d tossed him out like garbage. She didn’t know what to say, so she held his hand tightly. “Did you ever forgive them?”
“For what?”
“They were your family, and they abandoned you.”
His lips pressed down. “My mother gave birth to me. I’m glad about that. But I wouldn’t call them family. From everything I’ve heard, they were a total disaster. Like...” He hesitated. But she knew.
“Like my family?” she said quietly.
He paused. “Your mother was a great lady. She was always kind. To everyone.”
“Yes,” she said over the lump in her throat.
“My yiayiá raised me. Our house didn’t have electricity or plumbing, but I always knew she loved me. When I finally made my fortune, I had the old shack razed and built a villa in its place. The biggest villa this island has ever seen.” Looking up at the ruin, he gave a grim smile. “When I was young, the Halkias family was the most powerful here. Now I am.”
She noticed he’d never said if he forgave them. She bit her lip. “But, Darius...”
“It’s in the past. I want to live in the present. And shape the future.” Taking both her hands in his own, Darius looked down at her seriously on the dusty road beneath the hot Greek sun. “Promise me, Letty. You’ll always do what’s best for our family.”
“I promise,” she said, meaning it with all her heart.
Lowering his head, he whispered, “And I promise the same.”
He softly kissed her, as if sealing the vow. Drawing back, he searched her gaze. Then he pulled her back into his arms and kissed her in another way entirely.
Feeling the heat of his lips against hers, the rough scrape of the bristles on his chin, she clung to him, lost in her own desire. He was her husband now. Her husband.
He finally pulled away. “Come with me.”
He led her to the end of the dusty road, through the winding cobblestones of the small village of whitewashed houses. On the other side, they went through a scrub brush thicket of olive trees. She held his hand tightly as the branches scraped her arms, and they went down a sharp rocky hill. Then suddenly, they were in a hidden cove on a deserted white sand beach.
Letty’s eyes went wide in amazement. The popular beaches of the Hamptons and even around Fairholme would have been packed on a gloriously warm September day. But this beach was empty. “Where is everyone?”
“I told you. They’re at the villa, getting ready for the party.”
“But—” she gestured helplessly “—there must be tourists, at least?”
He shook his head. “We don’t have a hotel. The tourists are at the resorts up in Corfu. So we all know each other here. Everyone is a friend or relative, or at least a friend of a relative. It’s a community. One big family.”
No wonder this island felt like a world out of time. She felt her heart twist. Turning away, she looked around at the hidden cove with the white sand beach against the blue Ionian Sea and tried to smile. “It’s wonderful.”
“You’re missing Fairholme,” he said quietly.
She looked down at the white sand. “It’s been ten years. It’s stupid. Any psychiatrist would tell me it’s time to let it go.”
“I miss it, too.” He grinned. “Do you remember the beach at Fairholme? Nothing but rocks.”
“Yes, and the flower meadow where you taught me to dance.”
“What about the pond where I tried to catch frogs and you always wanted to give them names and take them home—?”
Suddenly their words were tumbling over each other.
“The brilliant color of the trees in autumn—”
“Roller-skating down the hallways—”
“The secret passageway behind the library where you’d always hide when you were upset—”
“Your mother’s rose garden,” Darius said with a sudden laugh, “where she caught me that time I tried a cigarette. My first and last time—”
“And how Mrs. Pollifax scolded us whenever we tracked mud into her freshly cleaned kitchen.” Letty grinned. “But she always gave us milk and cookies after we’d made it right. Though it took a while. You weren’t very good at mopping.”
“We always turned it into a game.”
The two of them smiled at each other on the deserted beach.
Letty’s smile slipped away. “But we’ll never see Fairholme again.”
Darius stared at her for a long moment, then abruptly started taking off his shoes. “The sea should be warm.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “What are you doing?”
“I’m getting in.” He leaned over to unbuckle her sandals. “And you’re coming with me.”
Barefoot, they went splashing out into the sea. Letty delighted in the feel of the water caressing her feet, then her calves and finally knees. She was tempted to go deeper into the water, to float her pregnant body in the seductive waves that would make her feel light as air. She took a few more steps, until the sea lapped the hem of her white sundress.
Splashing behind her, Darius suddenly pulled her into his arms.
As the waves swirled around them, he kissed her, and there was no one to see but the birds soaring across the sky. For hours, or maybe just minutes, they kissed in the hidden cove, between the bright blue sea and sky, beneath the hot Greek sun. He ran his hands over her bare shoulders, over her thin cotton sundress, as the salty sea spray clung to their skin and hair.
Waves swirled around them, sucking the sand beneath their toes, as the tide started to come in. The waves crashed higher, moving up against their thighs.
Finally pulling away, Darius looked down at her intently. She felt his dark gaze sear her body. Sear her heart.
“Letty, the house we grew up in might be gone,” he whispered. “But we still have each other.”
The lowering afternoon sun shone around the edges of his dark hair, making Darius shimmer like the dream he was to her.
And it was then Letty knew the worst had happened. The doom and disaster. And it had happened more swiftly than she’d ever expected.
She loved him.
All of him.
The man he’d been.
The man he was.
The man he could be.
Since the February night they’d conceived their child, Letty had tried to convince herself that he’d changed irrevocably. That she hated him. That he’d lost her love forever.
It had all been a lie.
Even in her greatest pain, she’d never stopped loving him. How could she? He was the love of her life.
Glancing back at the lowering sun, Darius sighed. “Can’t be late for our own party. We’d better get back to the villa.” He glanced down at his shorts, now splattered with sand and seawater. “We might have to clean up a little.”
“Yes,” she said in a small voice.
“We’ll finish this later,” he said huskily, kissing her bare shoulder. He whispered, “I can hardly wait to make love to you, Mrs. Kyrillos.”
As they splashed their way to the beach, and made their way up the shore, Letty stumbled.
He caught her, then frowned, looking at her closely. “Did you hurt yourself?”
“No,” she said, hiding the ache in her throat, struggling to hold back tears. It wasn’t totally a lie. She wasn’t hurt.
But she knew she soon would be.
One day married, and her heart was already lost.
