Читать книгу New Year, New Man - Laura Iding - Страница 39

Chapter Fourteen

Montedoro was beautiful at Christmas. This year, the beautification committee put up a forest of brightly lit trees in a rainbow of colors around the casino and the Triangle d’Or. As always, all the staterooms of the palace were decorated, each with its own Christmas tree, with swags and lights on every banister and mantel.

There were parades and special Christmas markets, and an endless round of gala celebrations. Damien went to the market as was expected. He attended the parties. At the Christmas Ball, he danced with his mother and sisters and sisters-in-law.

He went through the motions required of him. He smiled. He chatted. He held up his end. If anyone noticed his heart wasn’t in it, they had the good sense to keep their observations to themselves.

Noah surprised him with a call on Christmas Eve. “Merry Christmas, Dami. I saw the pictures of you and Lucy and that hot blonde. Didn’t like seeing those.”

What could he say? “It was embarrassing. I should have handled it better, seen Susie coming.”

“Her name is Susie, huh?”

“We all have regrets, Noah,” he answered flatly. “Things we should have done better. Things we probably shouldn’t have done at all.”

“Hey. I hear you there.” And then Noah actually laughed. “I talked to Lucy about those pictures. She told me—again—to stay out of her business. I’m trying to do that. She says I’m getting better. Alice says so, too. I’m telling myself that’s progress.” A pause, then, “Lucy says you’re not seeing each other anymore.”

He felt a definite twinge somewhere deep in his chest. “That’s right.”

“That’s too bad. I was kind of getting used to the idea of the two of you together.”

He really didn’t want to talk about it. He said nothing. Maybe Noah would take a hint.

No such luck. “Alice says...” Noah let his voice trail off, leading him on.

And Dami took the bait, demanding bleakly, “Alice says what?”

“That you’re in love with my sister and that Lucy loves you back. That the two of you have been in love almost since you met—it just took you both a couple of years to figure it out.”

Dami had no idea what to say to that.

Noah spoke again. “I make it a point to listen to Alice. She’s usually right.”

“Noah.” It came out loud and very aggressive. He lowered his voice with effort. “It’s over.” He was not, under any circumstances, going to ask about her. But then, of course, he did. “How’s she doing?”

“Okay, as far as I can tell. Celebrating Christmas with her new friends. That would be Tabby from Lucy’s favorite diner and Tabby’s new boyfriend, whose name is Henry, and the older woman on Lucy’s floor in your building, the one recovering from a heart attack.”

He’d been wondering about Mrs. Nichols even though he’d never actually met the woman face-to-face. “Viviana’s her name. She’s getting better, you said?”

“She’s doing well. And she’s at home now. One of her daughters is staying with her. After New Year’s she’s moving to Chicago, I think Lucy said. Lucy said her neighbor is very independent, but she also understands that the time has come when she needs to live near her family.”

“Luce will miss her.”

“I think she’s already making plans for a visit to Chicago.”

Damien made a low sound that could have meant anything and then kept his mouth shut. Better to leave it alone, stop talking about her.

When the silence stretched out, Noah said, “Well, I only called to wish you happy holidays. Alice sends her love.”

“Take good care of my sister.”

“I will— And, Dami?”

“What?”

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”

He didn’t even bother to get angry. There was nothing to be angry about. It was only the truth on a whole lot of levels. “Happy holidays, Noah.” And that was that.

Christmas morning he had breakfast in his parents’ private apartments. Five of his siblings were there, along with their spouses and children. It was a happy time. They ate and opened the gifts piled high under the fifteen-foot Christmas tree, set up as always in the curve of the stairway by the door.

Around noon, on his own, he took several small brightly wrapped packages and walked to the café in La Cacheron where he’d taken Lucy at Thanksgiving. The café was always open on Christmas Day from nine to two. Regular customers appreciated being able to get their croissants and beignets fresh even on the holiday. The walk was a pleasant one and he didn’t spot a single paparazzo. Apparently, even the tabloid vultures took a little time off for Christmas.

The café was quiet when he got there, with only two customers, one at the counter and another at a table by himself in the center of the room. Dami took a corner seat and put the presents on the table. Justine served him his usual coffee and pastry. She chose a gift and smiled a thank-you. One by one the others came by. Each took a gift and thanked him. They all knew what was inside. He gave them all the same Christmas tip every year, each one tucked in a small box and wrapped in bright paper tied with a shiny bow.

He was sipping the last of his coffee when the door opened and in strode Vesuvia. Before he had time to do anything but wish himself elsewhere, she spotted him and stalked over like a lioness on the hunt.

“There you are.” She posed with her nose in the air, one hand on the back of the bentwood chair across from him. “I knew you would be here.”

“Come on, V. Let’s not do this again. I’m through, you’re through. It’s over, long over. And we both know it.”

She yanked back the chair and flung herself into it. “This is ridiculous.” At least she was whispering. And the café remained nearly empty. It was just possible he could get rid of her without too much of a scene. She added, “I know that you and the tacky little wannabe fashion designer are through.”

Fury blasted through him. “Do not speak of her,” he said, very softly. And how did she know that he and Lucy were through? Better not to ask.

V sneered, “She doesn’t matter, anyway.”

He smacked his fist on the table. His cup, spoon and plate jumped.

Vesuvia’s sculpted nostrils flared. But when she spoke again, still whispering, she had the sense to leave Lucy out of it. “You must stop being so stubborn. I want to get moving on our wedding plans. It’s going to be the wedding of the decade, Dami. And as of now, we have only a year to put it together.”

“There isn’t going to be any wedding,” he said.

For all the good that did. “Have you forgotten that you’ll be thirty-two in exactly a month? Next year will fly by. And then what? You’ll be thirty-three. Have you suddenly forgotten the Marriage Law?”

“I don’t care about the Marriage Law.”

“Of course you do.” She swore softly in Italian. “If you don’t marry soon, you’ll lose your inheritance and your titles, too. You’ll no longer be a prince of Montedoro.”

“How many ways can I say it? I’m not marrying you, V. It’s long over with us. When are you going to accept that and move on?”

She rolled her eyes and asked in a smug whisper, “Why should I accept it? You need me. You need to marry and I want to marry you. It’s all going to work out. You only have to stop denying the inevitable.”

He shook his head. “No.”

She stuck out her chin at him. “Don’t tell me no. I understand you. I know how you are. Yes, I have a temper. Yes, I am sometimes unreasonable. But in the end, I’m willing to forgive you, whatever you do. I will forgive you and we can move on. We both know how you are, Dami—born to stray.” He felt more than a little insulted. All right, he was no model of virtue, but he’d been faithful to V. It had mattered to him to be true to the woman he intended to marry. Even when they’d been on the outs, she’d been the only one in his bed until after it was undeniably over. Until Thanksgiving. Until Lucy. V sneered, “With you, Dami, there will always be someone new, and you will require a forgiving wife.”

And by then he’d had enough. “You have no idea what I require.”

“Yes, I do, I—”

“No. No, you don’t. I require love,” he said, and it was true. “I want forever, with the right woman.”

Vesuvia sighed heavily and tossed her hair. “Oh, please.”

“I want forever with Lucy Cordell.”

There was a moment. Huge. Endless. Vesuvia gaped at him. He stared back at her. He hadn’t planned to say it, hadn’t even known he would say it until the words were on their way out his mouth.

But now he’d done it, now he’d let himself say it, the stark, simple truth in it stunned him.

V whispered dazedly, “You can’t be serious.”

“I am completely serious,” he replied. “I’m in love with Lucy Cordell and I have been for a long time now. There’s no one else for me. Lucy’s the one.”

* * *

On Christmas night, Lucy gave a little party at her place. Tabby came with Henry after taking him to her parents’ house for an early dinner first.

“It could have been worse,” she told Lucy. “At least they didn’t yell. No heavy objects were thrown. I think we’re making progress.”

Shoshona and her husband, Tony, were staying with Viv until January, when they would take Viv back to Chicago to live. All three came to the party. Viv even brought frosted Christmas cookies that she and Shoshona had made together.

A couple who lived on the fifth floor, Bob and Andrew, came, too. Lucy also invited two new friends in their mid-twenties. Sandra and Jim were actors Lucy had met while making Christmas-show costumes for the Make-Believe and Magic Children’s Theatre Company.

It went well, Lucy thought. She served drinks and snacks and they played a game called Cranium that Bob and Andrew brought along. Everyone seemed to have a good time. They all stayed until well after midnight.

Sandra was the last to go. She offered to stay and help clean up. But Lucy hugged her and shooed her out the door. She would deal with the mess in the morning.

She took Boris and went to bed. As usual, since Dami had left her, sleep didn’t come easy. She missed making love with him, but she missed his big body wrapped around her in sleep even more.

That didn’t make a lot of sense, and she knew it. They’d been lovers for such a short time. Two nights in November, five in December. It was nothing. A blink of an eye, really.

And yet for her it didn’t seem to matter how few the nights had been. Her bed felt too big and too empty without him.

In the morning, the sun was shining, making the snow on the windowsills glitter like sequins on a white party dress. She plugged in her tree lights, made herself breakfast and counted her blessings. After a second cup of coffee, she started gathering up the dirty glassware and dishes from the night before.

When the doorbell rang, she assumed it had to be Bob or Andrew. They’d left the Cranium game behind last night. She grabbed the game from the coffee table and carried it to the door, disengaging the locks and pulling it open without even stopping to check the peephole.

Dami stood on the other side.

A strange, incoherent little sound escaped her at the sight of him. She gaped at him, not believing, certain she had to be seeing things, that she’d missed him so much she’d gone delusional.

Dear Lord, he looked good. It wasn’t fair that he looked so good. He wore a fabulous camel coat over one of those perfectly tailored designer suits of his. His dark eyes locked on hers and something inside of her went all wimpy and quivering. “Hello, Luce.”

She almost dropped the Cranium game. But then by some miracle, she managed to hold on to it. She backed up without speaking, clearing the doorway.

He came in, bringing with him the wonderful, subtle scent of his cologne and a bracing coolness in the air. He must have come up straight from outside.

She gulped as he shut the door. “Uh. Where’s your bodyguard?”

“I sent him on to the apartment.”

“Oh. Well.” Her mind seemed filled with cotton, her thoughts not connecting properly. At the same time, her whole body ached. She wanted to launch herself at him, grab on tight and never let go. But no way was she doing that.

Okay, he might really be standing in front of her after all. But his presence didn’t mean he’d come for her. He could be in New York for any number of reasons.

“Have a seat.” She set the game on a side table and gestured in the general direction of a chair.

He stayed where he was. “God. Luce.” He said it low. Soft and rough at the same time. As if he really had missed her. As if his arms ached to reach for her.

Or maybe that was only wishful thinking on her part. “What are you doing here?”

He stuck his hands in the pockets of his beautiful coat. He looked down at his Italian shoes, then lifted his head again and locked those amazing dark eyes on her. There was pain in those eyes. And hope, too. And longing. Wasn’t there?

She didn’t dare to believe.

But then he spoke. “I was wrong. So wrong. I didn’t know, not really. I didn’t let myself see. I’d convinced myself it wasn’t going to happen for me, that somewhere along the line, between one barely remembered liaison and the next, I’d lost whatever it takes, that willingness of the heart. I’d lost whatever chance I had of finding a woman to love, a woman I could love with everything in me, the way my father loves my mother. But then I met you.”

She put up a hand, palm out. “I don’t understand. You said you couldn’t love me....”

“Luce. I was wrong. You’re the one. The only one for me. I’m here because I had to come, to take a chance that maybe you might forgive me for being such a complete ass, for turning you down, for not seeing the truth sooner, for not letting you show me what you’ve been trying to show me. I’m hoping, I’m praying that just maybe it’s not too late.”

Tears scalded the back of her throat. She gulped them down. “But how? When...?” Her throat clutched and she couldn’t finish.

“Yesterday,” he said. “Christmas Day. I was at my favorite café in La Cacheron. You remember the one?”

“I remember, yes.”

His eyes went bleak. “Vesuvia cornered me there. She started in on me about how I was going to have to marry her.”

“Because of the Marriage Law, you mean?”

“That’s right. She started laying out all the reasons why she was the right wife for me. She said she understood me, she knew what I required in a wife. And then, out of nowhere, shocking the hell out of both of us, I just said it. I said it out loud without even stopping to think about it.”

“Said what?”

“That what I require is love and forever. That I’m in love with you. That you’re the only one I would ever marry, the only woman for me.”

The chains of hurt around her heart loosened. The sunny day seemed brighter still. Could this really be happening? Could all of her dreams, every last shining one of them, miraculously come true? “I don’t... Dami, what are you saying? Are you asking me to marry you?”

He raked a hand back through that thick midnight hair. “I know you’re young. I know it’s probably too soon to be talking about marriage. I was just telling you what I said to Vesuvia, which was only the simple, absolute truth. I love you, Lucy Cordell. I want only you. I want us to have a life together. I’ve been thinking about how we might make that happen. I know your dream is to go to school here. So if you would have me, if you would give me another chance to show you all you mean to me, I would make New York my home base. I would move in upstairs. We would move in upstairs. You could keep this place, if you want it, for your work. Or whatever....”

Her silly mouth kept trembling and the happy tears wouldn’t stay down. “Oh, Dami. I can’t... I don’t...” She had a million questions. She asked the first one that popped into her head. “But what about the Marriage Law? Don’t you have to marry someone soon?”

He smiled then, at last, that wonderful, unforgettable killer smile of his. “Yes, if I don’t marry within a year of my next birthday, I lose my titles and all I’ve inherited as a prince of Montedoro. But I do have three brothers ahead of me in line for the throne. And all three of them have children. And after me there are five sisters. The Bravo-Calabrettis will have no problem holding the throne whether I remain a prince or not. And my inheritance aside, I’ve done well for myself. I don’t have to marry anyone to continue living in the style to which I’ve always been accustomed.”

“So that’s what you meant at Thanksgiving when you said you were going to leave it alone, not worry about the Marriage Law anymore.”

“Exactly.”

“And so...you don’t want to marry me?”

He laughed. “Of course I want to marry you.” He grew serious again. “I just think you need more time to deal with that. And I’m willing to give you as long as you need.”

“Oh, Dami...”

“Whenever you’re ready, say the word. We’ll get married tomorrow if that’s what you want.”

“You mean that?”

“I do. With all of my heart.”

“Is this...a dream? Am I still asleep?”

“No dream, Luce. Real. You and me forever. That’s what I want. I found you—and then I lost you through my own blind pigheadedness. If you’ll only take me back, I will always be here for you, always love you. Always, Luce. I swear it.”

She didn’t want to break the spell of all this wonderfulness with her deepest fear. But she knew that she had to. “I only... What about the children? What if I can’t have your children?”

His gaze never wavered. “You’re the one for me. That’s what matters. We’ll deal with the challenges as they come. If we never have children or if we adopt or find a surrogate... Whatever happens, as long as you’re with me, as long as we can face it together, we can get through it. We’ll be all right.”

“You sound so certain.”

“I am certain. I was an idiot. Your brother even told me so. But not anymore. Never again.”

“Noah said you were an idiot?”

“Yes. He called me on Christmas Eve. He said I was an idiot to leave you. He was right. Luce, I know what I want now. I get it at last. I am absolutely sure that you are the one for me. The question is, what do you want?”

“Oh, Dami...”

He watched her, waiting for her answer. His eyes were so bright, full of hope. Full of yearning.

She saw the truth in him then, and she believed. His heart was hers to take.

“Yes,” she answered with total conviction. “You’re the one for me, too. Oh, Dami, there’s no one else, there never could be. I love you so much.”

“Luce.” He opened his arms to her.

She ran to him. He grabbed her close.

The kiss they shared made her head spin and her knees go weak. He was her friend, her prince, her hero, her hot and tender holiday lover. And now, at last, on the day after Christmas, he was giving her the gift she wanted most of all. That gift was his love.

She had his heart and he had hers. Forever belonged to the two of them now. They would claim it hand in hand, together.

* * * * *

Read on for an extract from THE MAVERICK'S CHRISTMAS BABY by Victoria Pade.