“Our baby.”
His eyes met hers. “And you.”
Letty stared at him, her eyes wide, as if she had no idea how to react. As if she had forgotten what it was like to have anyone properly look after her.
He wondered how long it had been since anyone had tried to take care of her, rather than the other way around. He suspected Letty always sacrificed herself to take care of others—especially that father of hers—while her own heart bled.
“But I’m not yours,” she said quietly. “Not truly. We got pregnant by accident. I didn’t think you were serious about marriage.”
“I am.”
“That commitment is serious, Darius. It means...forever.”
“I know,” he said.
She swallowed, searching his gaze. “I was sure after tonight you’d never want to see me again.”
Taking her hand, he lifted it slowly to his lips. She seemed to hold her breath, watching as he kissed the back of her hand, breathing against her skin. Straightening, he held her hand tightly in his own. “I want to see you tomorrow, and every other tomorrow for the rest of our lives.”
“Darius...”
“You will marry me, Letty,”
he said in a low voice. “You know it, and I know it. In your heart, you were always meant to be mine.”
* * *
Marry him? For real?
How could she?
Even if Darius no longer hated her, he certainly didn’t love her. And she was starting to fear she could love him again. Perhaps all too easily.
What hope could they have of happiness?
He’d never love her back. All he wished to do was possess her. He offered sex and money, and in return, he’d expect sex and total devotion. For her, those things went together. He wouldn’t have just her body, but her soul.
So why was she still so tempted?
She shivered, caught between fear and desire.
“Are you cold?” he asked huskily, his eyes dark.
“No, I... I...” Hugging her baby bump, she gasped, “I need some fresh air.”
He smiled. “Come with me.”
Still holding her hand, he led her through the moon-bathed penthouse, and she thought dimly how she was getting in the habit of following where he led. But with his hand enveloping hers so protectively, she didn’t want to do anything else.
She still couldn’t believe what he’d done, announcing their engagement, defending her in front of all those people—and then telling the world he intended to pay billions of dollars of his own money to repay what her father had stolen.
She’d been dazed. Then she’d danced with him, the same routine he’d helped her learn so long ago, and she’d been back in that spring meadow, practicing the waltz not for the pimply-faced Harvard boy, who was the nephew of her father’s lawyer, but for Darius, always for him, only for him. As they’d danced in the ballroom, she’d felt time melt away.
Darius was right. She was his. From the very beginning, Darius Kyrillos had been the only man she’d ever wanted. The only man she’d ever loved.
I don’t love him anymore, she told herself desperately. She wouldn’t let him buy her!
Darius led her up an elaborate staircase, then pushed open a glass door that led out onto a private rooftop garden.