Penniless and Secretly Pregnant Page 15

  “I don’t care,” Daisy said. “As long as the Picasso is genuine. And I want the story of where the person found it.”

  Aria popped her gum. “Don’t worry. I’ll get the story.”

  That had been a few days ago. Now, holding her sleeping baby, Daisy was rocking in the chair in the nursery. It was late August, hot and sweaty summer in New York, but cool and calm inside their West Village mansion. She looked down at Livvy, softly snoring in her arms, in rhythm with the much louder snoring of the large dog snoozing at Daisy’s feet.

  “Soon,” she whispered to her baby. “Aria will find it. And then your father will be home, and he’ll realize at last that he’s really, truly loved—”

  The nursery door was suddenly flung open, hitting the wall with a bang. The dog jumped at her feet. Livvy woke and started wailing, then Sunny started barking.

  Looking up at the doorway in shock, Daisy saw her husband, dark as a shadow. He was dressed in a suit, but his handsome face held a savage glower.

  For a moment, in spite of her baby’s wails, Daisy’s heart lifted. Her husband had come home to her at last. Her body yearned for his embrace, for connection, for reassurance. A smile lifted to her lips.

  “Leonidas,” she breathed. “I’m so glad to see you—”

  “Do you really hate me this much, Daisy?” His voice was low and cold. “How could you do it?”

  “What?” she cried, bewildered.

  “As if you didn’t know.” Leonidas gave a low, bitter laugh. “I should have known you would betray me. Just like everyone else.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE WELCOMING SMILE on his wife’s face fled.

  She’d made such a lovely picture, snuggled in the rocking chair beside the nursery’s window, holding their sleeping baby, with the floppy golden dog at her feet.

  Now Daisy’s beautiful face was anguished, the baby was wailing and Sunny was dancing desperately around Leonidas, wagging her tail, trying to get his attention.

  He ignored the dog, looking only at his wife.

  Turning away, she calmed the baby down, pulling out a breast and tucking her nipple into Livvy’s tiny mouth as comfort.

  It shouldn’t have been erotic, but it was. Probably because he hadn’t made love to her in months. Leonidas tried not to look. He couldn’t let himself want her. He couldn’t.

  He forced himself to look away.

  She’d hurt him. In a way he’d never thought he’d hurt again.

  He never should have told her about his past. Never...

  As the baby fell quiet, falling asleep with her tiny hand pressed against his wife’s breast, Daisy finally looked up at him. Her green eyes narrowed.

  “What do you mean, I betrayed you?”

  Ignoring the dog still pressing against his knees, Leonidas glared back, but lowered his voice so as not to wake their child. “You spoke with Aria Johnson.”

  “Oh, that.” She relaxed, then gave a soft smile. “I was trying to help. I know what the Picasso means to you, and I asked her to find it. I didn’t think—”

  “No, you didn’t think, or else you wouldn’t have told a muckraking blogger that I cut into the painting with a pair of scissors!”

  “What?” she gasped. “I never told her it was you!”

  “Well, she knows. She just called me at the office. And if that weren’t enough she’s been looking into my mother’s past,” he said grimly.

  Daisy went pale. She whispered, “What did she find?”

  “My mother apparently had many lovers, both in Greece and Turkey. She tracked them all down, except for her last one, who apparently died with her in the earthquake.” He glared at Daisy. “One of the lovers knew how I was born. My mother must have confessed. So now that blogger knows I’m not really my father’s son, but the son of my drug-addicted uncle. She asked me to confirm or deny!”

  “What did you say?” Daisy cried.

  “I hung up the phone!” Clawing back his hair, Leonidas paced the nursery. Every muscle felt tense. “How could you have told her to look into my past?”

  “I didn’t! I just told her to find the Picasso!”

  He looked down at her, his heart in his throat. “Aria Johnson has a reputation. She can’t be bought off. All she cares about is entertaining her army of followers with the most shocking scandal she can find. And she always finds them. This is going to be all over the internet within hours.”

  Daisy looked up at him miserably, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry. I was trying to help.”

  “Help? Now the whole world is going to learn my deepest, darkest secret, which I’ve spent a lifetime trying to hide.” He clenched his hands at his sides. “I never should have trusted you.”

  “I’m sorry.” She blinked fast, her face anguished. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was trying to bring you back!”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The day Livvy was born, you disappeared!” The baby flinched a little in her arms at the rise in her voice. With a deep breath, Daisy carefully got to her feet, then lifted Livvy into her crib. Gently setting down the sleeping infant, she quietly backed away, motioning for Leonidas to follow, Sunny at his feet. Closing the nursery door silently behind them, Daisy turned to face him in the hallway.

  The window at the end of the hallway slanted warm light into the hundred-year-old brownstone, gleaming against the marble floors. The big golden dog stood between them, her tongue lagging, looking hopefully first at one, then the other.

  “I need you, Leonidas,” Daisy whispered. “Our baby needs you. Why won’t you even hold her?”

  A tumble of feelings wrenched though him. He couldn’t let them burst through his heart, he couldn’t. He said stiffly, “I held her.”

  “Just once, in the hospital. Since then, you’ve avoided her.” Her eyes lifted to his. “You’ve avoided me.”

  His wife’s stricken expression burned through him like acid. He turned away.

  “Work has been busy. You cannot be angry at me for trying to secure our daughter’s empire...” Then he remembered that Daisy didn’t care about his business empire. It wasn’t enough for her. And if that wasn’t, how could Leonidas ever be? “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

  The lie was poison in his mouth.

  “Please,” she said in a low voice. “I need you.”

  “You don’t. You’re doing fine. And Livvy is better off with you than with me.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  How could he explain that his baby daughter already knew he was no good? And from the pain and hurt in his wife’s eyes, Daisy was rapidly learning the same thing, too. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Reaching out, she put her hand on his arm. “You helped me love art again, after all my hope was lost. Drawing you on our honeymoon, I realized that people are my passion. Not random smudges or colors. People.” Blinking fast, she tried a smile. “You helped me find my voice.”

  Daisy had never looked more beautiful to him than she did right now, her green eyes so luminous, her heart fully in her face.

  And her love. He saw her love for him shining from her eyes. He didn’t deserve it. He couldn’t bear it. Because it wouldn’t last.

  His fate was in her hands, as he waited for Daisy to finally realize he wasn’t worthy of her love. You’re wonderful, she’d told him. Wonderful and perfect.

  He wasn’t. He knew his flaws; he could be cold and arrogant and selfish. But from the moment she’d decided to love him, she had become willfully blind. She had rose-colored glasses and was determined to see only the best of him.

  But sooner or later she’d see the real him. Then her love would crumble to dust. To disgust.

  Just the thought of that ripped him up.

  And soon, the whole world would learn about his scandalous birth and not ev
en his wealth or power would protect him. He’d done everything he set out to do. He’d built an empire. He was rich and powerful beyond imagination. But it had changed nothing.

  All his worst fears were about to come true. The world would learn that his very birth had been a deceit. His parents had despised him and wished he’d never been born.

  Leonidas was unlovable. Unworthy. Empty.

  And now he was dragging Daisy into it as well.

  “I’m sorry, Leonidas,” she said quietly. “I never meant to hurt you. Can you ever forgive me?”

  Shaking his head, he looked toward the window at the end of the hallway. If he had any decency, he would let both her and the baby go.

  But just the thought of that made his soul howl with grief...

  Daisy bit her lip. “Even if Aria publishes everything, why would anyone care? What does the way you were conceived have to do with you?”

  He looked at her incredulously. “Everything.”

  She shook her head. “You had an awful childhood and triumphed in spite of it all. That’s the real story, whoever your father was.”

  Leonidas didn’t answer.

  “Besides. You never know,” she tried, “maybe the Picasso will be found...”

  “It will never be found.” He gave a low, bitter laugh. “It was buried beneath ten tons of rock and fire.”

  “But you said they never found it—”

  “It must have been destroyed.” Like so much else.

  A long, empty silence fell between them in the hallway.

  “Leonidas,” she said quietly. “Look at me.”

  It took him a moment to gather the courage. Then he did. His heart broke just looking at her, so beautiful and brave, as she faced him, her shoulders tight.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve caused you pain,” she said quietly. “My desperation made me reckless.” Her lovely face was bewildered. “You asked me to marry you. You insisted on marriage. You said there was nothing you wanted more than to be Livvy’s father. What happened?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “If you’re never going to hold her, never going to look at me—why are we married? Why am I even here?”

  It was clear. He had to let them go. If he didn’t, he’d only ending up hurting them so much more.

  But how could he let them go, when they were everything?

  Hurt them—or hurt himself. There was only one choice to make. But it hurt so much that Leonidas thought he might die. He looked around the hallway wildly, then gasped, “I need some fresh air—”

  Turning, he rushed down the stone staircase and stumbled outside, desperate to breathe.

  Outside the brownstone mansion, the tree-lined street was strangely quiet. The orange sun, setting to the west, left long shadows in the hot, humid August twilight. He stopped, leaning over, gasping for breath, trying to stop the frantic pounding of his heart.

  Daisy came out of the house behind him, to stand in the fading light.

  “I love you, Leonidas,” she said quietly.

  His hands clenched. Finally, he turned to face her.

  “You can’t.”

  “The truth is, I’ve always loved you, from the moment we met at the diner, and I thought you were just Leo, a salesclerk in a shop.” Reaching up, she cupped his unshaven cheek. “I fell in love with you. And who you could be. And I only have one question for you.” She tilted her head. “Can you ever love me back?”

  Trembling beneath the shady trees of summer twilight, Leonidas closed his stinging eyes. He felt like he was spinning out of control, coming undone. But his heart was empty. He’d learned long ago that begging for love only brought scorn. The only way to be safe was to pull back. To not care.

  The only way to keep Daisy and Livvy safe from him, to make sure he never hurt or disappointed them, was to let them go.

  He had to. No matter how much it killed him. He had to find the strength, for their sakes.

  Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath.

  Then he opened them.

  “No. I’m sorry.” He covered her hand gently with his own. “I thought I could do this but I can’t.”

  “Do what?”

  He looked down at her.

  “Marriage,” he said quietly.

  Her eyes widened, her face pale. He pushed her hand away.

  “No,” she choked out. “We can go to counseling. We can—”

  “You’re in love with some imaginary man, not me. I’m not wonderful. I’m not perfect. I’m a selfish, cold bastard.”

  “No, you’re not, you’re not!”

  “I am. Why can’t you admit it?” he said incredulously. “Whatever you say, I know you’ve never forgiven me for killing your father.”

  “I have... I’ve tried.” Tears were streaming down her face. “Dad was innocent, but I know now you never meant to cause his death.”

  “Stop.” He looked at her, feeling exhausted. “It’s time to face reality.”

  “The reality is that I love you!”

  “You’re forcing yourself to overlook my flaws. But I’ve known from the moment Livvy was born that you’d soon see the truth, as she did from the first time I held her.”

  “Because she cried? That’s crazy! She’s a baby!”

  “It’s not crazy. You both deserve better than me. And I’m tired of feeling it every day, tired of knowing I’m not good enough. I’m not this perfect man you want me to be. Seeing the cold accusation in your eyes—”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Better to end it now, rather than...” Turning away, he said in a low voice, “You and the baby should go.”

  “Go?” She gave a wild, humorless laugh. “Go where?”

  “Anywhere you want. Your old dream of California.”

  “You’re my dream! You!”

  Every part of Leonidas’s body hurt. He felt like he was two hundred years old. Why was she fighting him so hard? Why—when everything he said was true? “Or if you want, you can keep this house.” He looked up at the place where they’d been so happy, the house with the ballroom where they’d quarreled and the garden where they’d played with the dog in the spring sunshine, where wild things grew in the middle of Manhattan. “I’ll go to a hotel.” He paused. “Forget what the prenup said. You can have half my fortune—half of everything. Whatever you want.”

  She looked up at him, tears in her eyes.

  “But I want you.”

  “Someday, you’ll thank me,” he said hoarsely. It was true. It had to be true. He looked one last time at her beautiful, heartbroken face. “Goodbye, Daisy.”

  Squaring his shoulders, he turned away, walking fast down the quiet residential lane, filled with the soft rustle of leaves in the warm wind.

  But even as he walked away, he felt her tears, her anguished grief, reverberating through his body, down to blood and bone.

  It’s better this way, Leonidas repeated to himself fiercely, wiping his eyes. Better for everyone.

  So why did he feel like he’d just died?

  * * *

  Daisy watched in shock as her husband disappeared down the quiet lane in the twilight. At the end of the street, she saw him hail a yellow cab.

  Then he was gone.

  Once, long ago, she’d made Leonidas promise that if she ever wanted to leave, he had to let her go.

  She’d never imagined he would be the one to leave.

  All her love hadn’t been enough to make him stay. He’d turned on her.

  Yes, she’d blamed Leonidas once, for her father’s unjust imprisonment and death. But she’d forgiven that, even if she hadn’t forgotten it. Right?

  Well. It didn’t matter now.

  Tears streamed down her face. Turning unsteadily, she stumbled back up the stoop to enter the house he’d just told her was he
rs. He’d given up the fifty-million-dollar brownstone easily, as if it meant nothing. Just like Daisy and their daughter.

  If he’d cared at all, he never would have abandoned them. He would have tried to make their marriage work. Tried to love her.

  But he hadn’t.

  Daisy closed the door behind her and leaned back against it. Above her, the crystal chandelier chimed discordantly in the puff of air.

  The luxury of this mansion mocked her in her grief. This place was a palace. It was heaven. But it felt like an empty hell.

  She stared blankly at the sweeping stone staircase where her husband had once carried her up to the bedroom, lost in reckless passion.

  Her knees gave out beneath her and she slid back against the wall with a sob, crumpling onto the floor.

  Her dog, coming downstairs to investigate, gave a worried whine and pushed her soft furry body against Daisy, offering comfort. She wrapped her arm around the animal and stared dimly at the opposite wall, where she’d framed sketches of her husband and baby.

  “Mrs. Niarxos.”

  She looked up to see Mrs. Berry looking down at her with worried eyes. Swallowing, she whispered, “He left me.”

  “Oh, my dear.” The white-haired housekeeper put her hand on Daisy’s shoulder. Her voice was gentler than she’d ever heard before. “I’m so sorry.”

  The ache in Daisy’s throat sharpened to a razor blade. “I thought, if I loved him enough...” Her image shimmered through a haze of tears. “I thought I could love him enough for both of us.”

  Mrs. Berry’s hand tightened, and she said quietly, “I’ve known the boy for a long time. He never learned to love anyone. Least of all himself.”

  “But why wouldn’t he? He’s amazing. He’s wonderful. He...” She heard the echo of his words. I’m not wonderful. I’m not perfect. I’m a selfish, cold bastard.

  “What can I do, my dear?”

  “I...” Shaking, Daisy closed her eyes. Still sitting on the marble floor, she gripped her knees against her broken heart. She couldn’t imagine any future. All she saw ahead of her was a bleak wasteland of pain.