Читать книгу Virgin: Undone by the Billionaire - Jennie Lucas - Страница 14

“YOU know I care for you, my dear.” Andrew’s arm tightened around her shoulder as they sat in the church pew. “When will you say yes?”

Lia looked up at him, biting her lip. “Andrew …”

“I love Christmas, don’t you?” he murmured, tactfully changing the subject. “The presents. The snow. Isn’t this place romantic with the candles and roses?”

The cathedral was indeed very romantic, decked out for Christmas with holly, fir boughs and red roses lit by a multitude of candles. The wedding was aglow with all the breathless magic of a winter’s night.

But it didn’t make Lia want a Christmas wedding of her own. It only made her yearn for her baby daughter, who was already tucked into her crib for the night beneath the watchful eye of her nanny.

And the red roses made Lia think of a black-haired, broad-shouldered man who had set her world on fire, then cut her to the heart.

“Marry me, Lia,” Andrew whispered. “I’ll be a good father to Ruby. I’ll take care of you both forever.”

She licked her lips. Andrew Oppenheimer was a kind man. He’d make a good husband and an even better father.

So why couldn’t she say yes? What was wrong with her?

“What do you say?”

Swallowing, she looked away. “I’m sorry, Andrew. My answer is still no.”

He watched her for a moment, then patted her hand gently. “It’s all right, Lia. I’ll wait for you. Wait and hope.”

Lia flushed guiltily. She liked Andrew. She kept hoping that she would fall for him, or be able to accept a marriage of friendship, like her first marriage had been.

But one night of passion with Roark had ruined her forever. Now she couldn’t imagine marrying a man without that fire.

She knew she was being stupid. Her daughter needed a father. And yet …

She looked away. The church pews were packed full of friends of both her friend and employee Emily Saunders, and the bridegroom, Nathan Carter. She heard a late arrival come into the pew behind her, passing by other guests to find a spot directly behind her.

“I’d like to take you someplace for New Year’s Eve,” Andrew continued, holding her hand. “The Caribbean. St. Lucia. Or skiing in Sun Valley. Anywhere you like …”

Andrew bent his head and kissed her hand.

She heard a low cough in the pew behind her. She glanced behind her. Then looked again as time suddenly froze.

Roark.

He was sitting behind her, looking straight at her. Wearing a black shirt, a black tie and black pants, he looked more handsome and alluring and wicked than the devil himself—the only man who’d ever made her feel hot and alive. The only man she hated with every fiber of her being!

“Hello, Lia,” he said coolly.

“What are you doing here?” she blurted out. “Emily said you were in Asia—said you wouldn’t possibly make it!”

“Haven’t you heard?” he said lazily. “I’m magic.” He nodded at Andrew. “Oppenheimer. I remember you.”

“And I remember you, Navarre.” Andrew’s eyes darkened. “But times have changed. You won’t be taking another dance from me.”

For answer, Roark looked back at Lia. His dark eyes tore through her and he really seemed to be magic, because with a single glance he changed the winter into summer. He ripped off her prim gray silk Chanel dress and she felt the heat of his naked body pressed against her skin.

Even after a year and a half, the memory of him making love to her amid the roses was as intense and sharp as if it had just happened an hour ago.

She’d told herself she’d erased him from her memory. But how could she, when every morning she woke up to those same dark eyes shining from her baby’s chubby, adorable face?

Ruby.

Oh, my God, what if he found out?

Fear stabbed down her spine. After nearly nine months of pregnancy and nine months of her baby’s infancy she’d thought they were finally safe. That Roark would never come back to New York. He would never find out she’d had his baby.

Everyone in society believed that Ruby was the count’s posthumous child—a miracle born nine months after his death. She couldn’t disgrace Giovanni’s memory now or give the man she hated any reason to interfere in their lives!

“You are more beautiful than ever,” he said.

“I hate you,” she replied, turning away.

She heard him give a low, sensual laugh in reply, and a tremble went through her.

What was he doing here?

What did he want?

How long would he stay?

He’s just here for the wedding, she told herself. He’s not here for me.

But the way he’d looked at her …

It had been like a Viking looking at a long-sought treasure he’d come to plunder. He’d looked at her as if he intended to possess her. To make her moan and writhe beneath him again and again until Lia’s senses sucked her under and she screamed with the intensity of her unwilling pleasure….

The harpist began to play the bridal music and all the guests stood in the pews, craning their heads to see the bride at the end of the aisle.

Lia’s knees trembled beneath her as she stood. She watched as Emily, luminous in her white tulle bridal gown and veil, walked down the aisle on her father’s arm. Their faces were beaming.

Emily deserved happiness, Lia thought. For the past two years, Emily Saunders had been more than a secretary for her park trust foundation—she’d become a close friend.

But even as she smiled encouragingly at Emily, Lia couldn’t stop feeling Roark’s presence behind her.

His warmth.

His heat.

He stood behind Lia with nothing but the polished wood pew between them. She could have touched him by lifting her hand a few inches. But she didn’t have to touch him to feel him all over.

She felt Roark’s nearness as she sat back down on the pew next to Andrew. Felt it as the minister performed the wedding ceremony. Felt it as the bride and groom kissed, then rushed happily from the cathedral, their faces glowing with joy.

Watching them leave, starting their new lives together, Lia suddenly felt a pain in her heart.

She was happy for Emily, she truly was. But their love only made her feel more alone. She wanted love like that. She wanted to give her precious baby daughter the family she deserved. A loving home. An adoring father.

Better to have no father than a cold-hearted bastard like Roark Navarre, she told herself fiercely. If he found out she’d had his baby, what would he do? Demand to spend time with Ruby, barging in on their lives? Use custody of her precious daughter as a weapon against her? Introduce their child to an endless succession of his temporary girlfriends and one-night-stands?

He’d already destroyed Lia’s parents and sister. She wouldn’t give him the opportunity to destroy her baby’s life, as well.

She couldn’t let him find out about Ruby. Especially since Roark, of all people, would know the baby couldn’t possibly be Giovanni’s child!

Andrew took Lia’s limp hand and led her out into the aisle, moving from the pews with the other departing guests. She saw Roark and sudden cowardice shook her. She ducked behind Andrew’s slender frame.

Roark stepped in front of them. His dark eyes looked past Andrew, seeking hers with unerring force. “I’ll walk with you to the reception, Lia.”

“Back off, Navarre,” Andrew said. “Can’t you see she’s with me?”

“Is that true?” he said, still looking down at her. “Are you with him?”

She’d been dating Andrew for several months now, and all he’d done was kiss her hand and her cheek. He’d wanted to do more, but she hadn’t allowed it. She kept hoping she’d want him to kiss her, that she’d feel some kind of passion. She knew he’d make a good husband. A good father. He was exactly what she and Ruby needed.

Except he wasn’t.

Lia swallowed. “Yes, I’m with Andrew.” She clasped the older man’s hand more tightly. “So if you’ll excuse us …”

Somewhat to her surprise, Roark let them go. But her breathing had barely returned to normal at the reception held at the Cavanaugh Hotel two blocks away, before she saw him watching her across the ballroom. The same hotel ballroom, decorated with white twinkling lights. But now red poinsettias and green Christmas trees decorated the festive room. She held Andrew’s hand as the just-married couple were introduced to their guests. Sat with him as dinner was served. He squeezed her fingers as they watched Emily and Nathan share their first dance as a married couple.

And all Lia could think about was the last time she’d been in this ballroom. The man who had kissed her then. Who was here again now.

I shouldn’t be holding Andrew’s hand like this. Not when she couldn’t stop thinking about the dark, dangerous man watching her. The man she hated.

The man she desperately wanted.

“Would you like to dance?” Andrew asked, and Lia nearly jumped. Even holding his hand, she’d nearly forgotten he was there. Not trusting her voice, she nodded and allowed him to escort her onto the dance floor.

Every moment she felt Roark watching her. Wanting her. Intending to have her.

The orchestra started to play the next song, and her heart jumped in her chest as she recognized the opening notes of “At Last,” the same song she and Roark had shared during the Black and White Ball, the song that had played the first time Roark had kissed her on the dance floor in front of everyone.

How many men would have been so bold? So ruthless, to want a woman and just kiss her?

She felt Roark’s dark hungry gaze watching her from the edge of the dance floor, and she knew he was remembering it, as well. Her cheeks went hot. She stopped on the dance floor even as other couples whirled around them.

“What’s wrong, Lia?” Andrew asked with concern. “You look ill.”

She backed away. Everything felt so confused. “I’m just feeling a little dizzy,” she whispered, her teeth chattering. “I need some air.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No. I need a minute—alone.” She turned and ran, desperate to make it out of the ballroom and out of the hotel long enough for a few deep cold breaths. She needed to feel the wintry air to cool her hot cheeks and freeze her heart to the way it was before Roark had returned to New York.

But she was only halfway down the hallway before Roark was upon her. He pushed her into a broom closet. He shut the door with a bang, locking out the world behind them, cloaking the small room in darkness.

“Roark,” she gasped. “We can’t—”

“Have you slept with him?” he demanded tersely.

“Who?” she gasped.

“That old man,” he said harshly. “And all the others who lust after you. How many men have you taken to your bed since I left you?”

She stiffened. “It’s none of your damned business—”

“Answer me!” His hands gripped her shoulders painfully in the darkness. “Have you given yourself to any other man?”

“No!” she cried, twisting beneath his hands. “But I wish I had. I wish I’d slept with a dozen men, a hundred, to get the memory of your touch off my skin—”

He pulled her against him with a hard, unyielding kiss. His hands moved over her silk dress, caressing her backside as he crushed her breasts against the hard muscle of his chest.

Her skin sizzled where he touched. A soft whisper of a moan escaped Lia as she felt her bones melt and her body turn to butter in his arms.