Читать книгу Mediterranean Mavericks: Greeks - Кейт Хьюит - Страница 23

“IT’S YOUR VERY first Christmas,” Letty crooned to her tiny baby, walking him through Fairholme’s great hall. She was already dressed for Christmas Eve dinner in a long scarlet velvet dress and soft kid leather bootees. She’d dressed her newborn son in an adorable little Santa outfit.

She’d asked Mrs. Pollifax to make all her father’s holiday favorites, ham, plum pudding, potatoes, in hopes of tempting him to eat more than his usual scant bites. They’d even brought the dining table into the great hall, beside the big stone fireplace, so they could have dinner beneath the enormous Christmas tree.

Letty wanted this Christmas to be perfect. Because she knew it would be her father’s last. The doctor had said yesterday that Howard’s body was failing rapidly. It would likely be only days now.

Her heart twisted with grief. Her only comfort was that she’d tried her best to make his last few weeks special.

A lump rose in Letty’s throat as she looked up at the two-story-high tree, decorated with sparkling lights and a mix of ornaments, old and new. Some of them Letty had treasured since childhood. And now they were back here, where they belonged. Funny to think she had Darius to thank for that. If he hadn’t found her in Brooklyn and stopped her from taking that desperate bus ride out of the city, the ornaments would have been long lost to a junk dealer or the landfill.

Without him, she wouldn’t be here now. Her father couldn’t have come to Fairholme for his last Christmas, nor would her baby be here for his first one. It was because of Darius.

She missed him. No matter how much she denied it. No matter how she tried not to.

Every time some thoughtful gift had arrived at the house, she’d pictured how her father had looked in the hospital, so pale and alone. She’d remembered how Darius had taken her love for granted, and selfishly lied. She’d told herself she was done loving someone who could never love her back.

But as the gifts tapered off, and the phone calls stopped, and the letters stopped arriving in the mail, she hadn’t felt triumphant. At all.

“I hate him,” she said aloud. “I never want to see him again.” She wasn’t sure she sounded convincing, even to her own ears. So turning to her son, she held out one of the homemade ornaments. “Look!”

“Gah,” the baby replied, waving his little hands unsteadily.

“You’re so smart!” She let him feel the soft fabric of the dove against his cheek, then put it back on the tree before he tried to eat it. “Your grandma Constance made that,” she said softly. “I just wish she could have met you.”

Her six-week-old baby smiled back, Letty would swear he did, even though her father continued to rather annoyingly claim it was only gas. Letty knew her own baby, didn’t she?

Even though Darius didn’t.

The thought caused an unpleasant jolt. She’d thought she was doing the right thing to exclude him. She couldn’t allow such a heartless man near her baby. Even if he was the father.

But Darius hadn’t even laid eyes on their baby, or held him, or heard the sweet gurgle of his voice or his angry cry when he wasn’t fed fast enough. Darius had already missed so much. Six weeks of sleepless nights, of exhaustion and confusion.

But also six weeks of getting to know this brand-new little person. From the moment her son had been placed in her arms at the hospital, Letty had felt her heart expand in a way she’d never known before.

Darius didn’t know that feeling. He didn’t know his son at all. Because of her actions.

Two weeks ago, her baby had been irritable and sleepless at midnight, so she’d wrapped him in a warm blanket and put him in the stroller to walk him up and down the long driveway, behind the gate. Then she’d seen a dark sports car driving slowly by.

Darius! She’d practically run to the gate, panting as she pushed the stroller ahead of her. But by the time she reached the gate, the car was long gone. For long moments she stared through the bars of the gate, looking bleakly down the dark, empty road, hearing only the waves crashing down on the shore. And she’d realized for the first time how empty the house felt without him, even with her father and her baby and all the household staff. She missed him.

No. I don’t, she told herself desperately. And if she hadn’t filed for divorce yet or hired an attorney, that was only because she just hadn’t had the time. Taking care of a newborn, caring for her father and decorating for Christmas would be enough to keep anyone busy, wouldn’t it?

Letty’s lips twisted downward. She’d said things that would never be forgiven. She’d made her choice clear. She’d used his every olive branch as a stick to stab him with.

That car probably hadn’t even been his. He’d probably moved on entirely, and if she ever heard from him again, it would be only via his lawyer, demanding custody. She stiffened at the thought.

Carrying her baby up to the nursery, she fed him, rocking him for nearly an hour in the glider until he slept and she was nearly asleep herself. She smiled down at his sweet little face. His cheeks were already growing chubby. Tucking him gently in his crib for his late afternoon nap, she turned on the baby monitor and crept out of the darkened nursery.

She closed the door softly behind her. Light from the leaded glass windows reflected against the glossy hardwood floors and oak paneling of the second-floor hallway, resting with a soft haze on an old framed family photo on the wall. She looked at her own chubby face when she’d been just a toddler with two parents beaming behind her.

Trying to ignore the ache in her throat, Letty started to turn toward the stairs. Then she heard low male voices coming from down the hall.

Her father’s bedroom was the nicest and biggest, the room he’d once shared with her mother, with a view of the sea. He rarely got up from his bed anymore, except when Letty managed to cajole him into his wheelchair and take him down in the elevator for a stroll around the winter garden, or to sit in a comfortable spot near the fire, beneath the Christmas tree, as the baby lay nearby.

But the male voice Letty heard talking to her father didn’t sound like Paul, his nurse. Who was it? Frowning, she drew closer.

“Yes,” she heard her father say, his voice a little slurred. “Always a good kid.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying that, after everything.”

Hearing the visitor’s voice, low and clear, Letty’s knees went weak outside her father’s door. What was Darius doing here? How had he gotten into Fairholme?

“You weren’t so bad. Just prickly, like your father. Eugenios was the best employee I ever had. We used to talk about you. He loved you.”

“He had a funny way of showing it.” Her husband’s voice wasn’t bitter, just matter-of-fact.

Howard gave a laugh that ended in a wheeze. “In our generation, fathers showed love differently.”

“Yet Letty always knew you loved her.”

“I didn’t grow up with your father’s fears.” Howard paused. “From the age of fifteen, he was your grandmother’s sole support. When you came along, he lost any chance of a job in Greece.”

“I know.”

“His greatest fear was of not providing for you.” Coughing a laugh, Howard added, “Maybe if I’d been a little more careful about that myself, I wouldn’t have left my daughter destitute while I spent years in prison. It’s only because of you that we’re back home now. That’s why I called. I’m grateful.”

Darius’s voice was suddenly urgent. “Then convince Letty to stay.”

“Stay? Where would she go?”

“She says as soon as you’re dead, she’s leaving New York.”

Howard gave a low laugh. “That sounds like her. Foolish as her old man. Can’t see the love right in front of her eyes, has to flee her own happiness because she’s afraid. Actually, now that I think about it, she sounds like you.”

Letty’s heart was pounding as she leaned against the oak-paneled wall beside the open door, holding absolutely still as she listened intently.

Silence. Then Darius said in a voice so low she almost couldn’t hear, “I’m sorry I blamed you for my father’s death all these years. The truth is, the person I really hated was myself. I said something terrible to my dad right before he died. I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Whatever it was,” Howard said simply, “your father forgave you long ago. He knew you loved him. Just as he loved you. He was proud of you, Darius. And seeing that you were brave enough to come here today, I am, too.”

Her father was proud of the man who’d treated her so badly, who’d lied to her? Letty sucked in her breath with an astonished little squeak.

There was a pause.

“Letty,” her father said drily, “I know you’re there. Come in.”

Her heart was in her throat. She wanted to flee but knew she’d only look foolish and cowardly. Lifting her chin, she went into her father’s room.

His bedroom was full of light from the bay window. Her father was stretched out beneath the blankets, propped up by pillows, his nightstand covered with pill bottles. His gaunt face smiled up at her weakly, his eyes glowing with love.

Then, with a deep breath, Letty looked at the man standing beside the bed.

Tall and broad-shouldered and alive, Darius seemed to radiate power. For a moment, her eyes devoured his image. He was dressed simply in a dark shirt, dark jeans. His hands lifted, then fell to his sides as he looked at her, as if he had to physically restrain himself from touching her. But his dark eyes seared her. Their heartbreak and yearning cut her to the bone.

Her body reacted involuntarily, stumbling back as her heart pounded with emotion. Fury. Regret. Longing…

“What are you doing here?” she whispered.

“He’s here to meet his son,” her father said.

She whirled on her father, feeling betrayed. “Dad!”

“And I want him to stay for Christmas Eve dinner,” he continued calmly.

She stared at him in shock. “No!”

Her father gave her a weakened version of his old charming smile. “Surely you wouldn’t refuse your dying father his last Christmas wish?”

No. Of course she couldn’t. She ground her teeth. “He kept me from you for two months!”

Her father stared her down. “Only a little longer than you’ve kept him from his son.”

“I would like to meet him,” Darius said quietly. “But if you don’t want me around after that, I won’t stay.”

Trembling, she tossed her head defiantly. “Did he tell you the baby’s name?”

“No.”

“It’s Howard.” She lifted her chin, folding her arms. “Howard Eugenios Spencer.”

To her shock, Darius didn’t scowl or bluster. He didn’t even flinch. He just looked at her with that same strange glow of longing in his eyes.

“That’s not the name I would have chosen.” Triumph surged through her as she waited for him to be sarcastic and show his true colors in front of her father. Instead, he just said quietly, “His last name should be Kyrillos.”

Darius was upset only about the surname? Not about the fact that she’d named their precious baby son after her father—his hated enemy?

“Aren’t you furious?” she said, dropping her arms in bewilderment.

His lips curved as he looked down at her father, then slowly shook his head. “Not as much as I used to be.”

Darius came toward her. It took all Letty’s willpower not to step back from him as he towered over her. It wasn’t him she was afraid of, but herself. Her whole body was trembling with her own longing. Her need. She missed him.

But she couldn’t. She’d made her choice! She wouldn’t be married to a man who didn’t love her!

“Please let me see my son,” he said humbly. He bowed his head, as if waiting for her verdict.

“Let him,” her father said.

Looking between the two men, she knew she was outnumbered. She snapped, “Fine.”

Turning on her heel, she walked out. She didn’t look back to see if Darius was following her. Her hands were trembling.

All these weeks when she’d pushed him away, she’d pictured him as angry, arrogant, heartless. It was why she hadn’t been tempted to open his letters—why would she, when she knew he’d only be yelling at her?

She’d never once imagined Darius looking at her the way he did now, with such heartbreaking need. But it wasn’t just desire. He had an expression in his eyes that she hadn’t seen since—

No! She wasn’t going to let her own longing talk her into seeing things in his eyes that weren’t there, things that didn’t exist.

Pressing a finger to her lips, she quietly pushed open the nursery door and crept into the shadowy room, motioning for him to follow. Darius came in behind her.

Then, as they both stood over the crib, Letty made the mistake of looking at her husband when he saw their son for the very first time.

Darius’s dark eyes turned fierce, almost bewildered with love when he looked at their sleeping baby. Tenderly, he reached out in the semidarkness and stroked his dark downy head as he slept.

“My son,” he whispered. “My sweet boy.”

A lump rose in her throat so huge it almost choked her. And she suddenly knew that Darius wasn’t the only one who’d been heartless.

What had she done?

Blinded by furious grief at his lie about her father, Letty had actually kept Darius from his own firstborn son. For six weeks.

Anguish and regret rushed through her in a torrent of pain. Even if Darius could never love her, she had no doubt that he loved their baby. Especially as she watched him now, gently stroking their baby’s small back through his Santa onesie as the sleeping child gave a soft snuffle in the shadowy room.

She’d had no right to steal his child away.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out. He looked up.

“You’re sorry?”

Unable to speak for misery, she nodded.

Reaching out in the shadowy nursery, beneath the hazy colors of the goose girl fresco, Darius put his hand gently on Letty’s shoulder, and she shuddered beneath his touch.

“Letty…there’s something you should know.”

Their eyes locked, and she saw something in his black eyes that made the world tremble beneath her feet.

Panic rushed through her heart. Seeing Darius make peace with her father, seeing him look so lovingly at their baby, had cracked open her soul and everything she hadn’t wanted to feel had rushed in.

She’d painted him so badly in her mind. She’d called him a monster. And yes, he never should have lied about her father.

But when she’d said horrible things and threatened to take his child permanently away, he hadn’t hired some awful lawyer to fight her. He’d done what she asked, and stayed away. Obviously at great emotional cost.

Now, she saw his sensual lips part, heard his hoarse intake of breath and knew whatever he was about to say would change her life forever. He was going to tell her he was done with her. She’d won. He’d given up. Now he wanted to talk like reasonable adults about sharing custody of their son.

She’d destroyed their marriage with her anger and pride. She’d told herself she’d rather be alone than married to a man who didn’t love her. Now she suddenly couldn’t bear to hear him speak the words that would end it…

“No,” she choked out.

Turning, she fled the nursery. She ran down the hall, down the stairs, her heart pounding, gasping for breath.

She heard him coming down after her. “Letty!”

She didn’t stop. Pushing off the stairs, she ran outside, into the snow.

Her mother’s rose garden was barren in winter, nothing but thorny vines and dead leaves covered in a blanket of white. Letty’s soft black boots stumbled forward, her long red dress dragging behind, scarlet against the snow.

But he swiftly caught her, roughly pushing her wrists against the outside wall of the greenhouse with its flash of exotic greenery behind the steamy glass. She struggled, but he wouldn’t let go.

She felt his heat. His power. She felt the strength of her own longing for this man, whom she continued to love in the face of despair.

“Let me go,” she cried.

“Forgive me,” Darius choked out. He lowered his head against hers. She heard the heavy gasp of his breath. “You were right, Letty. About everything. I’m so sorry.”

Her lips parted. She looked up at him in shock.

“You’re sorry?” she whispered. “I kept you from our baby.”

“You were right to kick me out of your life.” He cupped her face in both his hands. “I blamed you and your father for so much. I blamed everyone but the person really at fault. Myself.”

“Darius—”

“No.” He held up his hand. “Let me say this. I don’t know if I’ll get another chance.”

All around them in the silent white garden, soft snow began to fall from the lowering gray clouds. Letty’s heart was suddenly in her throat. Now he was going to tell her that they were better off apart…

“You’re right, Letty,” he said in a low voice. “I did try to buy you. I thought money was all I had to offer anyone. I thought I could selfishly claim your love, while being cowardly enough to protect my own heart. But I failed.” He gave a low laugh. “The truth is, I failed long ago.”

His dark eyes had a suspicious gleam. Surely Darius Kyrillos, the ruthless Greek billionaire, couldn’t have tears in his eyes? No. It must be the cold winter wind, whipping against his skin.

“I loved you, Letty. It terrified me. My whole life, all I’ve ever known of love is loss. Losing you all those years ago almost destroyed me. I never wanted to feel like that again. So I buried my soul in ice. Then when I saw you again, when I first took you to my bed, everything changed. Against my will, the ice cracked. But even then I was afraid.” Taking a deep breath, he lifted his eyes to hers. “I’m not afraid anymore.”

“You’re not?” she whispered, her heart falling.

With a little smile, he shook his head. He took her hand in his larger one. “Now I know the truth is that love never ends. Not real love. The love your father has for you and my father had for me. The love your parents had for each other.” His hand tightened over hers as he said softly, “And even if you divorce me, Letty, even if you never want to see me again after tonight, I can still love you. And it won’t bring me pain, but joy, because of everything you’ve brought to my life. You saved me. Made me feel again. Taught me to love again. Gave me a son.” Stroking her cheek, he whispered, “No matter what happens, I will always be grateful. And love you.”

His hand was warm over hers. With him so close, she didn’t even feel the snow. Trembling, she whispered, “Darius…what are you saying?”

His jaw tightened. “If you still want to divorce me, you won’t need a lawyer.” He reached into his shirt pocket, where a single page was folded in quarters. “Here.”

Opening the paper, she looked down at it numbly. She tried to read it, but the words jumbled together. “What’s this?”

“Everything,” he said quietly. “Fairholme. The jets. My stocks, bonds, bank accounts. It’s all been transferred to your name. Everything I possess.”

She gasped, then shook her head. “But you know money doesn’t mean anything to me!”

“Yes, I know that.” He looked at her. “But you know what it means to me.”

Letty’s eyes went wide.

Because she did know what Darius’s fortune meant to him. It meant ten years of twenty-hour workdays and sleeping in basements. It meant working till he collapsed, day after day, with no time to relax or see friends. No time to even have friends. It meant borrowing money that he knew he’d have to pay back, even if his business failed. It meant taking terrifying risks and praying they would somehow pay off.

Those dreams had been fulfilled. Through work and will and luck, a poverty-stricken boy whose mother had abandoned him as a baby had built a multibillion-dollar empire.

This was what she now held in her hand.

“But I’m not just offering you my fortune, Letty,” he said quietly. “I’m offering everything. My whole life. Everything I’ve been. Everything I am.” Lifting her hand, he pressed it against his rough cheek and whispered, “I offer you my heart.”

Letty realized she was crying.

“I love you, Letitia Spencer Kyrillos,” he said hoarsely. “I know I’ve lost your love, your trust. But I’ll do everything I can to regain your devotion. Even if it takes me a hundred years, I’ll never…”

“Stop.” Violently, she pushed the paper against his chest. When he wouldn’t take it, it fell to the snow.

“Letty,” he choked out, his dark eyes filled with misery.

“I don’t want it.” She lifted her hand to his scratchy cheek, rough and unshaven. Reaching her other arm around his shoulders, she whispered, “I just want you, Darius.”

The joy that lit up his dark eyes was brighter than the sun.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“I’m not exactly perfect myself.”

He immediately began protesting that she was, in fact, perfect in every way.

“It doesn’t matter.” Smiling, she reached up on her toes to kiss him, whispering, “We can just love each other, flaws and all.”

Holding her tight, he kissed her passionately against the greenhouse, with the hot wet jungle behind the glass, as they embraced in the snow-swept bare garden. They kissed each other in a private vow that would endure all the future days of sunshine and snow, good times and bad, all the laughter and anger and pleasure and forgiveness until death.

Their love was meant to be. It was fate. Moíra.

They clung to each other until he broke apart with a guilty laugh.

“Ah, Letty, I’ll never be perfect, that’s for sure,” Darius murmured, smiling down at her through his tears. “But there’s one thing you should know…” Cupping her cheek, lightly drawing away the cold wet tendrils of her hair that had stuck to her skin, he whispered, “For you, I intend to spend the rest of my life trying.”

Spring came early to Fairholme.

Darius had a bounce in his step as he came into the house that afternoon with a bouquet of flowers. He’d had to work on a Saturday because it was crunch time developing the new website. But he was hoping the flowers would make her forgive the fact that he’d missed their new Saturday morning family tradition of waffles and bacon.

Darius had started that tradition himself, in the weeks he’d taken to focus only on Letty and their beloved son, whom they’d nicknamed Howie. After that, encouraged by Letty, he’d sheepishly called Mildred and apologized, then asked if there was any way she could try to reassemble his team at the office.

“The office is still in fine fettle,” she’d replied crisply. “I’ve been running everything just as you requested. I knew whatever you were going through you’d soon come to your senses. I haven’t worked for you all these years for nothing.”

He choked out a laugh, then said with real gratitude, “What would I do without you?”

“You’ll find out next summer,” she’d said firmly, “when you send my husband and me on a four-week first-class cruise through Asia. It’s already booked.”

Darius grinned to himself, remembering. He was grateful to Mildred. Grateful to all the people around him, his employees and most of all his family, who saw through all his flaws but were somehow willing to put up with him anyway.

Money didn’t make the man. He knew that now. What made a man was what he did with his life. With his time. With his heart.

His father-in-law had died in January, surrounded by family, with a smile on his drawn face. Right before he died, his eyes suddenly glowed with joy as he breathed, “Oh. There you are…”

“He saw my mother before he died,” Letty told Darius afterward, her beautiful face sparkling with tears. “How can I even be sad, when I know they’re together?”

Darius wasn’t so sure, but who was he to say? Love could work miracles. He was living proof of that.

Now he looked around his home with deep contentment. The oak floors gleamed and fresh-cut flowers from the greenhouse filled all the vases.

Fairholme was about to be invaded by more of the Kyrillos family. He’d sent his private plane to Heraklios, and tomorrow, Theia Ioanna, along with a few cousins, would arrive for a monthlong visit. His great-aunt’s desire to meet her great-great-nephew had finally overcome her fear of flying.

He relished the thought of having his extended family here. Heaven knew Fairholme had plenty of room.

Love was everywhere. Love was everything. His son was only five months old, but he’d already collected toys from all the people who loved him around the globe. His wife did that, he thought. With her great heart, she brought everyone together with her kindness and loyalty. She was the center of Darius’s world.

“Letty!” he called, holding the flowers tightly.

“She’s outside, Mr. Kyrillos,” the housekeeper called from the kitchen. “The weather’s so fine, she and the baby went for a picnic in the meadow.”

Dropping his computer bag, he went outside, past the garden, where even though the air was cool beneath the sunshine, tulips and daffodils were starting to bloom. He walked the path through the softly waving grass until he reached the meadow where he’d first taught his wife to dance. Where she’d first taught him to dream.

He stopped.

The sky was a vivid blue, the meadow the rich gold-green of spring, and in the distance, he could see the ocean. He saw Letty’s beautiful face, alight with joy, as she sang their five-month-old baby a song in Greek, swinging him gently in her arms as he giggled and shrieked with happiness. Behind them on the hillside, a blanket was covered with a picnic basket, teething toys and that well-worn book about the bunny rabbit. But now, as always, Letty was dancing. Letty was singing.

Letty was love.

Darius stared at them, and for a moment the image caught at his heart, as he wondered what he’d ever done to deserve such happiness.

Then, quickening his steps, he raced to join them.