It felt like...
Happiness.
After they’d both joined and shattered like a supernova in each other’s arms, Darius held her as she slept. As he stared at the ceiling, her words on the beach floated back into his mind.
We’ll never see Fairholme again.
Her voice had been quietly despairing. As if she’d accepted bleak loss as her due.
Darius scowled. He didn’t accept that.
He suddenly wanted to give Letty back everything she’d lost. And more.
Careful not to wake her, he rose from the bed in the gray light of dawn. Going out onto the balcony, with its view of the wild gray sea, he made a quiet phone call to his long-suffering executive assistant in New York. Mildred Harrison had worked for him for seven years, so she didn’t even sound surprised that he’d be rude enough to call her so late.
“Pity you left New York right when you’re the city’s hero,” she said drily. “Your picture is on the cover of the Daily Post. Apparently you’re some kind of Robin Hood figure now, robbing from your own fortune to pay back Howard Spencer’s victims.”
“Glad I’m not there, then. We’ll be back in two weeks, by which time I expect the papers will all be insulting me again. Anything else?”
“That Brooklyn apartment building has been purchased as you requested. Your father-in-law—”
“Never call him that again,” Darius said tersely.
She cleared her throat. “Um, Mr. Spencer has been advised that he will be allowed to remain in the apartment for as long as he wishes, free of charge.”
“Good,” he said, already bored with the subject.
She paused. “There’s something else you should know.”
“Well?”
“The investigator following him says Spencer has been visiting an oncologist. Apparently he’s sick. Maybe dying.”
Darius’s eyes widened. Then he gave a snort. “It’s a trick.”
“Mr. Green didn’t think so. He managed to get his hands on the medical records. It seems legit.”
“Spencer must have paid the doctor off.”
“Maybe.” Mildred sounded doubtful. “But if it were my father, I’d still want to know.”
Yes, Darius thought. He looked back at the shadowy form of Letty sleeping in his bed. She would want to know. But there was no way he was telling her. Not when the old man was probably just trying once again to cause trouble between them.
At worst, Spencer probably had a cold and thought he could use it to get out of his well-deserved punishment. Darius was not going to let it happen.
“I won’t have my wife bothered,” he said shortly. “Spencer must have known he was being followed.”
“As you say, Mr. Kyrillos.”
He set his jaw. “I called you for another reason. I want to buy my wife a wedding gift.”
“Beyond the billions you’re already putting in trust for her father’s victims? We’ve had a whole team of accountants coming through here, by the way, working with the Feds to determine accurate payments, including those for third-party clients. We’re not really staffed for this...”
“You’ll sort it out. And at the end, I’ll send you and your husband to Miami for a week of well-deserved rest.”
“Rome,” she said firmly. “For three.”
He grinned. Mildred knew what she was worth. He respected that.