Читать книгу Christmas Baby For The Greek - Дженни Лукас, Jennie Lucas - Страница 10

THE GRAND TWO-STORY hotel ballroom was a winter wonderland, filled with white-and-silver Christmas trees twinkling like stars. Each of the twenty big round tables had centerpieces of red roses, deep scarlet against the white. It was even more beautiful than Holly had dreamed. A lump rose in her throat as she slowly looked around her.

She’d imagined a wedding reception like this long ago, as a lonely nineteen-year-old, cutting out photographs from magazines and putting them in an idea book each night while her little sister slept in the dark apartment. Holly had been alone, her friends all in college or partying in clubs.

Holly didn’t regret her choice to give up her college scholarship and come home. After their parents had died in the car accident on their anniversary, she’d known she couldn’t leave Nicole to foster care. But sometimes, she’d felt so trapped, chained by the responsibilities of love. She’d felt so lonely, without a partner, and with a teenaged sister who’d often shouted at Holly in her own grief and frustrated rage.

So to comfort herself, Holly had created the dream book. It had kept her company, until Nicole had left for college three years ago, and Holly had started working for Oliver.

In her romantic fantasy of long ago, she’d always imagined she’d be the bride in the white princess dress, dancing with an adoring groom. Now, as she watched Nicole and Oliver dance their first dance as husband and wife, surrounded by all their adoring friends, she told herself she’d never been so happy.

“They really do make a perfect couple.” Stavros’s low, husky voice spoke beside her. Somehow, his tone made the words less than complimentary.

“Yes,” Holly said, moving slightly to make sure they didn’t accidentally touch. When he’d helped her from the limo earlier, her whole body had trembled. It was totally ridiculous. She was sure Stavros Minos hadn’t felt anything. Why would he? While Holly, hours later, still felt burning hot, lit up from within, whenever the Greek billionaire drew close. Whenever he even looked at her. She had to get ahold of herself, if she was going to be his assistant!

What was wrong with her? Holly didn’t understand. How could she feel so—so aware of Stavros, when she was in love with Oliver?

She was, wasn’t she?

But she didn’t want to love Oliver anymore. It had done nothing but hurt her. And now he was her brother-in-law, it felt slimy and wrong. She wanted to reach inside her soul and turn off her feelings like a light—

“You arranged the reception, too, didn’t you?” Stavros said, looking at the Christmas fantasy around them.

She forced herself to smile. “I wanted my sister to have a dream wedding. I did my best.”

Stavros abruptly turned to look at the happy couple, dancing now in front of the largest white-flocked tree, decorated with white lights and silver stars. He took a long drink of the amber-colored liquid he’d gotten from the open bar. “You are a good person.”

Again, the words should have been a compliment, but they weren’t. Not the way he said them. She tried to read his expression, but his darkly handsome face was inscrutable. She shook her head. “You must hate all this.”

“This?”

“Being best man at a wedding.” Holly shrugged. “You’re the most famously commitment-phobic bachelor in the city.”

He took another deliberate drink. “Let’s just say love is something I’ve never had the good fortune to experience.”

More irony, she thought. Then his black eyes burned through her, reminding her he knew about her secret love for Oliver. Her cheeks burned.

Looking toward the beautiful bride and handsome groom slow-dancing in the center of the ballroom, the very picture of fairy-tale love, she mumbled, “You’re right. They do make a perfect couple.”

“Stop it,” he said sharply, as if he was personally annoyed.

“Stop what?”

“Take off the rose-colored glasses.”

Her mouth dropped. “What?”

“You’d have to be stupid to love Oliver. And whatever you are, Miss Marlowe, you’re not stupid.”

The conversation had taken a strangely personal turn. Her heart pounded. But there seemed no point in trying to lie. She’d never dared to give voice to her feelings before. She whispered, “How did you guess?”

He rolled his eyes. “You wear your heart on your face.” He paused. “I’m sure Oliver knows exactly how you feel.”

Horror went through her. “Oh, no—he couldn’t possibly—”

“Of course he knows,” Stavros said brutally. “How else could he have taken advantage of you all these years?”

“Advantage?” Astonished, she looked up at him. “Of me?”

He looked down at her seriously. “I have ten thousand employees around the world. And from what everyone tells me, you’re the hardest working one.”

“Mr. Minos—”

“Call me Stavros,” he ordered.

“Stavros.” She blushed. “I’m sure that’s not true. I go home at six every night—”

“Yes, home to do Oliver’s paperwork. Never asking for a raise, even though you were paying for your sister to go to college. Which, by the way, she could have gotten a job and paid for herself.”

Her blush deepened in confusion. “I take care of my sister because—because she’s my responsibility. I take care of Oliver because, because,” she continued, faltering, “I’m his employee. At least I was…”

“And because you’re in love with him.”

“Yes,” she whispered, her heart in her throat.

“And now he’s impulsively married your sister, and instead of being angry—” he motioned at the winter wonderland around them “—you arranged all this.”

“Except for this dress.” She looked down ruefully at the tight red dress, wishing she was dressed in that modest burgundy gown she’d selected. “Nicole picked it out. She said my dress was the frumpiest thing she’d ever seen and she wasn’t going to let it ruin her wedding photographs.”

“They really do deserve each other, don’t they?” he murmured. Then he glanced down at her and growled, “You look beautiful in that dress.”

Another compliment that didn’t sound like a compliment. If anything, he sounded angry about it. His jaw was tight as he looked away.

Was he mocking her? She didn’t understand why he would tell her she was beautiful but sound almost furious about it. Her cheeks burned as she muttered, “Thanks.”

For a moment, the two of them stood apart from the crowd, watching as the bridal couple finished their dance with a long, flashy kiss. The guests applauded then went out to join them on the dance floor. Feeling awkward, Holly started to turn away.

Stavros stopped her, his dark eyes glittering as he said huskily, “Dance with me.”

“What? No.”

Broad-shouldered and powerful in his tuxedo, he towered over her like a dark shadow. Lifting a sardonic eyebrow, he just held out his hand, waiting.

What was he playing at? Stavros took starlets and models to his bed. Why would he be interested in dancing with a plain, ordinary girl like her? She looked up at him. His handsome face was arrogant, as untouchable and distant as a star.

“You don’t have to feel sorry for me,” she said stiffly.

“I don’t.”

“Or if you think it’s a requirement, because you’re best man and I’m maid of honor—”

“Do I strike you as a man who gives a damn about other people’s rules?” he asked, cutting her off. “I just want you to see the truth.”

“What’s that?” Half-mesmerized, she let him pull her into his powerful arms. Electricity crackled up her arm as she felt the heat of his palm against hers. She looked up at his face. His jawline was dark with five-o’clock shadow below razor-sharp cheekbones. There was a strange darkness in his black eyes, a vibrating tension from his muscular body beneath the well-cut tuxedo.

“You don’t love my cousin. You never did.”

She tried to pull away. “You have some nerve to—”

Holding her hand implacably in his own, he led her out onto the dance floor, where guests swayed to the slow romantic Christmas music of the orchestra.

She felt everyone looking at her. The women, with a mix of envy and bewilderment, the men, with interest, their eyes lingering on her uncomfortably low neckline.

Even Nicole and Oliver paused to gape at the sight of Stavros leading her out on the dance floor. Holly felt equally bewildered. Stavros could dance with anyone. Why would he choose her? Had he lost some kind of bet?

Surely this couldn’t just be to convince Holly she had no real feelings for Oliver.

But if he could, how wonderful would that be?

Suddenly, Holly wanted it more than anything in the world.

Stavros led her confidently to the center of the dance floor, forcing others to move aside to make way for them. Pulling her against his chest, he looked down at her. She felt his dark gaze burn through her body, all the way to her toes. He looked at her almost as if he—

Desired her?

No. Holly’s cheeks went hot. That was a step too far. No man had ever desired her. Not Oliver. Not even Albert from Accounting, who’d asked her on a date a few months ago, then stood her up for some playoff game.

But there was heat in Stavros’s gaze as he moved her in his arms.

“You don’t love my cousin,” he whispered, tightening his hold on her. “Admit it. He was just a dream you had to keep you warm at night.”

Could it be true? How she wanted to be convinced! “How can you say that?”

His sensual lips curved. “Because as little as I know about love, it seems to involve really knowing someone, flaws and all. And you don’t even know him.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve worked for him for three years. Of course I know Oliver. I know everything about him.”

“Are you sure?” Stavros said, glancing at the dancing couple.

Following his gaze, Holly saw Oliver give a flirtatious smile to a pretty girl over his wife’s shoulder. She saw Nicole notice, scowl, then deliberately step on her new husband’s foot with her wicked stiletto heel.

“So he’s a little flirty,” she said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Now Stavros was the one to roll his eyes. “He sleeps with every woman he possibly can.”

“He never tried to sleep with me,” she protested.

“Because you’re special.”

Holly sucked in her breath. “I am?”

“Get that dying-cow look off your face,” he said irritably. “Yes, special. His secretary before you filed a sexual harassment suit against him. I told Oliver if that ever happened again, I’d fire him, cousin or not. And he’s a Minos man to the core. Like he said, selfish to the bone. Why would he want to risk losing an amazing secretary slaving away for him night and day, just for some cheap sex he can—and does—get everywhere else?”

“Cheap!” Holly had never even been naked with a man before. How dare Stavros imply she offered cheap sex to all comers? She glared at him. “What right do you have to criticize him? You’re just as bad. You sleep with a new actress or model every week!”

Stavros’s jaw tightened. “That’s not true…” Then something made the anger drain out of his handsome face, replaced by stark, raw emotion. “But you’re right. I have no right to criticize him. And I wouldn’t, except he’s trying to take your life. Don’t let him do it,” he said fiercely. He pulled her closer, looking down at her as they swayed to the slow music. “Oliver is using you. Look past your dream. See him for the man he really is.”

Looking back at Oliver, now arguing with his new bride as they left the dance floor, Holly suddenly thought of all the times that he’d stopped her as she left the office on Friday nights, putting stacks of files into her arms. “You don’t mind taking care of this over the weekend, do you, Holly?” he’d say, flashing her his most charming, boyish, slightly sheepish grin. “Thanks, you’re the best!”

She thought of all the times he’d mysteriously disappear when an unpleasant conversation was required, leaving Holly to do his dirty work for him. And not just work like firing someone. Frequently she’d be left alone to sort out weeping, heartbroken women who appeared at the office, begging to see him, railing about broken promises.

At the time, Holly had convinced herself it was proof of his faith in her that he’d relied on her to handle such important matters.

But now…

She looked at Oliver and Nicole, who’d gone back to sit at the head table. There was still a smudge of white frosting on her sister’s cheek. Earlier, when they’d cut the wedding cake, Nicole had delicately fed her new husband his slice, holding the pose beautifully for pictures. Immediately afterward, Oliver had smashed the piece into his bride’s face to make the crowd laugh.

Now, sitting on the dais, they were arguing fiercely over champagne. She was trying to pull the bottle away from him. Yanking it back, Oliver tilted back his head and vengefully drank it straight from the bottle.

And this was supposed to be the happiest day of their lives.

Holly’s body flashed hot, then cold, from her scalp to her toes. With an intake of breath, she looked up at Stavros as they danced. “My sister—”

“She’s made her bed. Now she’ll have to lie in it.” His hands tightened as he said, “But you don’t have to.”

Holly desperately tried to remember the feelings she’d once had for Oliver, all the lonely nights she’d spent in her tiny apartment, with only her romantic fantasies about her boss to keep her warm. But those memories had disappeared like mist against the cold reality of this wedding, and the hot feel of Stavros’s hand over hers. The dream was gone.

“Why are you forcing me to see the truth?” she said helplessly. “Why do you care?”

Stavros abruptly stopped dancing. He looked down at her, his black eyes searing through her soul.

“Because I want you, Holly,” he said huskily. “On my arm. In my bed.” His hand trailed through her hair and down her back as he whispered, “I want you for my own.”

He was going to hell for this.

Or at the very least, his conscience warned, he shouldn’t hire her as his secretary. Because as hard as he’d tried to ignore her beauty—he couldn’t.

Stavros looked down at her. Her emerald eyes widened. Her curly red hair looked like fire tumbling over her shoulders. Her petite body felt so soft and sensual in his arms.

But he wanted to keep her as his secretary. He wanted to keep her for everything. He wanted Holly more than he’d ever wanted anyone.

Why her? He didn’t know. It couldn’t just be her luscious beauty. He’d bedded beautiful women before.

Holly Marlowe was different. The supermodels and actresses seemed as glittery as tinsel, cold as snowflakes. Holly was real. She was warm and alive. Her heart shone from her beautiful green eyes. She didn’t even try to guard her heart. He could read her feelings on her face.

And her body…

As they’d danced, he’d watched the tight red fabric slide against her ripe, curvaceous body, and his mouth had gone dry as he’d imagined feeling her naked skin against his own. With his hand against her lower back, he’d felt her hips move, felt the sway of her tiny waist. He’d watched her blush and shiver at his touch, and wondered how innocent she might be. Could she even be a virgin?

No. In this day and age? Surely not.

And yet he’d known then he had to make Holly his, if it was the last thing he did. Which it well could be.

His gaze fell to her pink lips, tracing down to her low-cut neckline, where with each sharp rise and fall of her breath he half expected the red fabric to tear, setting her deliciously full breasts free. He repeated huskily, “I want you.”

Holly gave a sudden jagged intake of breath. “How can you be so cruel?”

Frowning, Stavros pulled back. “Cruel?”

“All right, so I’m just a secretary. I’m plain and boring and nothing special. That gives you no right to—no right to—”

“To what?” he said, mystified.

“Make fun of me!” Her voice ended with a sob, and she turned and fled, leaving him standing alone on the dance floor.

A low curse twisted his lips. Make fun of her? He’d never been more serious about anything in his life. Make fun of her? Was she insane?

Grimly, he turned through the crowd, trying to pursue her. But other people suddenly blocked his path on the dance floor, business acquaintances desperate to ingratiate themselves, women hoping for a shot at dancing in his arms.

He barely knew what he said to them as his eyes searched the crowds for Holly. His heart was racing and his body was in a cold sweat. Symptoms of his condition? His body shutting down?

All the things he’d never get the chance to do…

All the things he’d never thought of…

His eyes fell on Oliver, chatting with a trashy-looking girl by the open bar. As much as he despised his cousin’s boorish behavior, Stavros realized in some ways he’d been just like him.

He’d never cheated or lied to a girlfriend, it was true. But that was hardly an amazing virtue when Stavros’s relationships rarely lasted longer than a month. Whenever the pull of work became greater than the pull of lust, or if a mistress demanded any emotional involvement from him, Stavros would simply end the affair.

For nearly two decades, he’d worked eighteen hours a day, building his tech company. Unlike Oliver, he wasn’t afraid of hard work. At first, he’d only wanted to succeed as a big middle finger to his estranged father, who’d cut off his mother without a penny and excluded Stavros from the Minos fortune. But by the time he was twenty, he’d learned the pleasures of work: the intensity, the focus, the thrill of victory. He’d become addicted to it.

But the truth was, he still wasn’t so different from Oliver. Like his cousin, Stavros had spent all his adult life focusing on money and power and sleeping with beautiful women, while avoiding emotional entanglement. Stavros had just been better at it.

It was a blow for him to realize that Oliver, as weak and shallow as he was, had managed to do something he hadn’t: he’d taken a wife.

Two years younger, and Oliver was already ahead. While Stavros had so little time left…

His eyes narrowed when he finally focused on Holly, speaking urgently with the bride on the other side of the ballroom. “Excuse me,” he said shortly, and began pushing through the crowds, ignoring anyone who tried to talk to him.

He came up behind Holly just in time to hear the bride tell her angrily, “How dare you say such a thing!”

Holly flinched, but her voice was low as she pleaded, “I’m sorry, Nicole, I’m just scared for you…”

“I don’t care what you imagine, or what Stavros Minos says. Oliver would never cheat. Not on me!” Nicole lifted her chin, her long white veil fluttering as her eyes flashed. “You don’t deserve to be my maid of honor. I should have asked Yuna, not you! Better an old college roommate than a jealous old maid of a sister!”

“Nicole!”

“Forget it.” Her sister’s eyes sparkled as coldly as her tiara. “I want you out of here.”

Holly took a deep breath. “Please. I wasn’t trying to—”

“Get out!” Nicole shouted, loud enough to be heard over the orchestra, causing everyone nearby to turn and look.

Holly’s shoulders flinched. She took a deep breath, then slowly turned away. Stavros had a brief glimpse of her stricken face before she walked through the silent, staring crowds.

He turned to Nicole.

“Your sister loves you,” he said in a low voice. “She was trying to warn you.”

“Warn me?” Nicole’s perfect pink lip curled as she lifted her chin derisively. “Excuse me. I’ve never been so happy.”

Stavros stared at her in disbelief.

“Good luck with that,” he said, and went after Holly.

He found her shivering in front of the hotel, hopelessly trying to wave down a yellow taxi in the cold, snowy evening. As Christmas Eve deepened, the traffic on Central Park South had dissipated, leaving the city strangely quiet, tucked in to sleep beneath a blanket of snow, as the stars twinkled in the black sky.

When Holly saw him coming out of the hotel, her expression blanched. Turning, she stumbled away, across the empty street toward wintry, quiet Central Park. When he followed her, she shouted back desperately, “Leave me alone!”

“Holly, wait.”

“No!”

Stavros caught up with her on the sidewalk near an empty horse carriage, festooned with holly and red bows, waiting patiently for customers. He grabbed her shoulder.

“Damn you…”

Then he saw her miserable face. Choking back his angry words, he pulled her into his arms. She cried against his chest, and he felt her shivering from grief and cold.

“I told her too late. I should have seen… I should have warned her long ago!”

“It’s not your fault.” Inwardly cursing both his cousin and her sister, Stavros gently stroked her long red hair until the crying stopped.

She looked up at him, her lovely face desolate, tearstained with streaks of mascara as she wiped her eyes. “I’m not going back.”

“Good.”

She took a deep breath. “Nicole didn’t send you after me?”

Stavros shook his head.

Her shoulders sagged for a moment, then she lifted her chin. “So what do you want?”

He came closer, looking down at her as scattered snowflakes whirled around them on the sidewalk in front of the dark, snowy park. “I told you.”

Her eyes widened, and her lips parted. Then she turned her head sharply away. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Just don’t.” She swallowed hard, her green eyes glistening with tears as she looked at him beneath the moonlight. “All right, I was a fool over Oliver. I see now it was just a dream to stave off loneliness.” Her voice broke. “But you don’t have to be cruel to prove your point. I know I’m not your type, but I do still have feelings!”

“You think I’m toying with you?” Searching her gaze, he said quietly, “I want you, Holly. As I’ve never wanted anyone.”

Looking away, she mulishly shook her head.

As she shivered, he took off his sleek black tuxedo jacket and draped it gently over her shoulders. Reaching out, he cupped her cheek, running the tip of his thumb over her tender, trembling lower lip. “Holly, look at me.”

Her eyes were huge in the moonlight as she flashed him a troubled glance. Behind her he could see the snowy park stretching out forever beneath the wintry, starlit night. She said haltingly, “You can’t expect me to believe—”

“Believe this,” he whispered. And, grabbing the lapels of the oversize tuxedo jacket around her, he pulled her hard against him, and swiftly lowered his mouth to hers.