“Zoey will meet my niece and nephews this evening along with their nannies, all bonded and vetted and valued for their attentiveness to the children. They’ll only be a few floors away at the hotel, should anyone feel a need to check in.” His tone said that he expected Natalie to suffer the separation anxiety, not Zoey. “Apparently Evie enjoys playing with her boy cousins, but would love to spend time with a little girl.” To Zoey, he added, “Evie is three and likes princesses, too.”
Demitri must have a secret fetish for them himself. An hour later, Natalie began receiving the royal treatment, from a mud wrap to a Swedish massage to drinking a mimosa during her pedicure. She couldn’t remember a time she’d felt so pampered and renewed. All of her skin was waxed and lotioned, detoxified and revitalized. The stylist met with her twice before she dressed, taking measurements and consulting with the salon, agreeing with the plan to weave a sparkling ribbon into her updo so her hair became a subtle crown. Her makeup was a masterful understatement highlighting all of her best features, and finally, the dress...
Natalie hadn’t worn a long gown since high school graduation, and that one had been a thrift store find in garish pink with puffy sleeves.
Demitri had much better taste. According to the stylist, he’d chosen her gown himself. Nothing so predictable as burgundy for winter, it was a shade between lavender and gray, the color muted by the crushed velvet fabric, but it made her eyes look like mysterious pools in the Scottish highlands. Strapless, with intricate detailing at her hip that gathered the skirt before allowing it to flare around her shoes, the confection clung to her curves to make the most of her silhouette. A matching jacket that really only covered her shoulders and upper arms ensured she wouldn’t freeze to death.
Her shoes added height—a lot of height. They were deceptively simple black things, but the underside matched the color of her dress and the tops, open toe but closed back, drew a sparkling line from the ankle strap down one side of her foot and across her toes. More important, they looked as if they’d kill her yet made her feel as though she walked on clouds. She could dance all night.
She couldn’t accept this, she kept thinking, reminding herself he would have done this for countless women before her. It still felt as though she was climbing too high, starting to feel special and treasured.
“The jewelry is on loan,” the stylist said, trying a few different pieces before settling on an antique cameo on a thick silver rope chain and a pair of sapphire studs. “But I’ve done this for other clients and if I get it right...” She debated a bracelet, then rejected it. “The gentleman will buy them for you.”
“Oh, I don’t expect anything.”
The stylist smiled with smooth acceptance of what she plainly thought was a lie. “Of course not.”
Natalie found herself acknowledging it was a lie. Not the part about expecting jewelry, but the part about not expecting anything. She was starting to dream of things she had cautioned herself never to expect. Never to want.
Love. Family. Commitment. Marriage.
A life partner. Another baby.
Because she was falling in love with Demitri. Deeply and irrevocably.
* * *
Demitri might have spent the day brooding about the coming meeting with his family tonight if his mind hadn’t been completely occupied trying to keep up with a five-year-old in a museum. And the Empire State Building. And a world-famous toy store. After feeding ducks in the park, he finally brought Zoey back to watch a movie on his flat screen, set a bowl of popcorn in her lap and went to shave and change.
When he heard the door and Zoey’s gasp of “Mommy!” he smiled at the bittersweet sound. Bitter because time was running out—he would be facing his siblings soon—but sweet because Zoey’s wonder was so delightfully expressive.
There was something pure about her view of the world that dusted the cynicism out of his own eyes. She had no reason to hide enthusiasm or curiosity or any emotion. She’d never been bruised by life, let alone deeply hurt by it. He found himself wanting to protect and preserve her innocent confidence in adults. Where anger and resentment had made him see his siblings as deluded in their joy of being with their children, he felt privileged that Natalie was sharing her daughter with him. He wanted to guard her, spend time with her and watch her flourish into the bright, funny, self-possessed woman she was meant to become.
The more time he spent with the two of them, the more certain he was that he wanted to come home to them every day. Which flummoxed him. He’d never seen himself married with a ready-made family.
Natalie would never see him in the role, either, if he quit on his family because things had turned hard. That made the stakes on tonight’s reconciliation higher than anything he’d ever undertaken.
It was an unnerving state to be in, one he brushed away as determinedly as he smoothed his bow tie. Shrugging into his jacket, he walked out to the living, room where he took a punch to the heart. It was a ground-shaking reaction, considering he was a connoisseur of beautiful women.
But she was so beautiful. The color of the gown had caught his eye, making him think of chain mail and strength and Saint Jeanne d’Arc, while still reflecting the softness and light of Natalie’s true nature. It enhanced her beauty, rather than outshining it, so the impact was the woman, not the dress. Curvy and desirable, but elegant and resilient and completely feminine.
She stole his breath.
And her laughter at her daughter’s excitement, joyful and teasing and so loving, turned up the piece of himself that he’d buried long ago, exposing it to the sun so it burned and shook.
Natalie caught sight of him and straightened, mouth forming a pretty “Oh” that he wanted to kiss.
“I thought I was overdressed, but...” She swallowed, blushing a little while her gaze traveled over him like soft, feminine fingertips, touching all the places that responded most acutely to her every caress. “You look very handsome.”
“You look perfect,” he assured her, crossing to graze his lips against her cheekbone, lingering to take in the feminine scents designed to disorient a man. “Mesmerizing.”
Natalie blushed again and ducked her head to ask Zoey to take their photo. The little girl was beside herself with admiration for the two of them, and then quivered with excitement at riding in the limo.
Demitri took them into the underground parking lot beneath the Makricosta Manhattan rather than having them dropped at the front doors. As they arrived, he made the call to his sister-in-law to have the VIP elevator opened. Demitri had figured there was only one person with enough clout to get them into the hotel without notice while remaining secure enough to know she’d be forgiven for interfering: Nic’s wife, Rowan. She’d become Adara’s best friend and she was also booking all the entertainment for this event, so one more group in the elevator wasn’t suspicious.
This particular elevator was typically used to smuggle in celebrities trying to avoid detection by the paparazzi. They stepped directly into it from the car.
When they arrived on the penthouse floor, the door of the end one swung open before they reached it.
Nic. Damn. Demitri had asked Rowan to hang back and take them down to the party herself without mentioning to any of his siblings his intention to attend.
Looking rather like a vengeful god, Nic sent a level stare at Demitri that hit like a punch in the face. His features were oddly familiar, Theo-like yet older, with a Nordic cast to his cheekbones and blond hair.
“Your wife is expecting us,” Demitri said, falling back on a well-used, affable expression of indifference.
“So she has just informed me.” Judging by his tone, Nic didn’t appreciate Demitri going behind his back in talking to her.
“I waited until Theo and Jaya had dropped off Zephyr and left,” Rowan said in her welcoming Irish accent, smiling as she came forward from behind him. “But I don’t keep things from Nic. Please come in.”
Despite being famous from childhood, Rowan was always pleasantly self-effacing. Tonight she was as attractive as she always looked on-screen, wearing a gown that clung like emerald paint to her flawless figure, black hair loose and straight. Her smile seemed natural, but she was an actress. She had sounded eager to assist when he first contacted her, but now Demitri wasn’t sure about her, given that she’d revealed his presence here to Nic.
“You must be Natalie. And Zoey,” she greeted warmly.
Natalie seemed caught between intimidation and sensitivity to the undercurrents. Glancing at Demitri, she said, “I don’t want to impose if we weren’t expected.”
Nic turned his sharp gaze on her, blinking as though he was taking a photograph. “It’s fine.”
Natalie might have relaxed if he’d smiled, but he didn’t.
He only added, “I’ll fetch Evie,” and disappeared down a hall.
“We don’t know much about the falling-out,” Rowan said delicately. “But Nic and I are happy to help mend fences.”