Heiress's Defiance Read online

  She sucked in a breath. “Always? Every moment of every day? Every minute we spent together?”

  He swallowed. “No. Not every moment.”

  She gave him a watery smile. “See? Progress.”

  He took her wrists in his hands and pulled her palms from his face. Then he kissed them both and let her go. “That’s not good enough. Not for you. You’re a good woman, Lucilla. You deserve a good man.”

  “There you go again,” she said softly, past the lump in her throat. “Making assumptions and giving orders. I’ll decide who’s good enough for me, thank you.”

  He checked his watch. “The car will be here by now.” He went and grabbed his suitcase and her heart throbbed hot and fast. He stopped at the elevator and turned back to her. “There’s something for you in the library. I was going to have it sent to you, but you can make those arrangements now.”

  Her legs trembled as she watched him step onto the elevator. “If you walk away, I won’t wait for you forever,” she said, her voice thick with pain. “I’ll move on. I’ll find someone else to love and I’ll forget all about you.”

  She never would forget him, but she was angry and hurt and she had to lash out or explode. Christos only smiled sadly.

  “I hope you do, Lucilla mou. I pray you do.”

  The limo was nearly to the airport when Christos suddenly couldn’t breathe. He put a hand over his chest and worked on pulling air in and out of his lungs, methodically, while a sensation very much like panic crawled down his spine and back up again. He’d felt this way before, long ago, when he’d been a kid trying to escape his father’s wrath and then later when he’d found himself in juvenile detention and responsible for his own survival in that horrible place.

  If he hadn’t known it was a panic attack, he would have made the driver take him straight to the hospital as his chest squeezed tight and sweat broke out on his skin. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat. It was panic, nothing more than panic.

  It would pass.

  And yet all he could see when he closed his eyes was Lucilla. Her face had been so wounded when he’d stepped into that elevator. She’d told him she wouldn’t wait, that she would find someone else to love—

  His chest squeezed tighter than before and he wondered if he really were having a heart attack. But then the pain eased when he thought of Lucilla’s hands on his face, of her sweet voice telling him she loved him. She loved him.

  That thought made warmth spread through his chest and his breathing eased. But then the driver took the exit for Heathrow and the tightness started again. Christos looked out the window at the traffic, at the planes crowding the sky, and he suddenly wanted to howl. He imagined himself getting on board the jet, strapping into his seat and leaning his head back after he told the pilot to take him … where? He had no idea where he was going yet, no idea where he wanted to be.

  Not true.

  He did know where he wanted to be. He wanted to be in Lucilla’s arms. In her bed. He’d wanted that for weeks now, and he’d had it for a brief while. But he had to do the right thing and let her go. He had to get out of her life and let her run her company, let her find a man who would love her as she deserved.

  The thought of Lucilla with another man tightened the bands around his chest again. He tried to picture it, tried to force himself through the pain so he could make it to the other side. But everything within him rebelled. One word echoed through his brain: mine.

  He wanted Lucilla. He wanted her in his life and he wanted to try and be what she needed him to be. Christos blinked as another feeling began to swell inside him. It was as if he’d fought so long and so hard and then let down his guard, just for a moment, and the enemy at the gates had broken through.

  Except it wasn’t an enemy at all. It was salvation.

  Fear and hope washed over him at once. His voice burst forth in a roar that came from the very depths of his soul. “We have to go back!”

  Lucilla didn’t have the strength to leave Christos’s apartment just yet. She found the library and gaped at the painting sitting there. Her mother looked so happy and beautiful in the portrait. Lucilla wished, just for a moment, that her mother was here, that she could ask for advice. That she could sit at her mother’s feet, lay her head on her mother’s lap and cry. Just for once, couldn’t she put the burden of her feelings onto someone else?

  She sank down on the carpet and sat there, staring up at the painting, feeling bitter and angry at the world. She’d never had anyone to rely on, never been able to lean on another soul except herself. She’d spent her life making sure everyone else was okay, trying to make her father proud of her—and yes, trying to be so good in the hopes her mother would come home again—and what did she have to show for it?

  Nothing. Oh, she had what she thought she’d always wanted—leadership of the company—but it was an empty victory. What a fool she’d been.

  Lucilla wiped her fingers beneath her eyes as the tears kept coming and dried them on her skirt. God, she was pitiful. She wanted someone to lean on, just once in a while, but she’d learned again and again that there was no one. There was only her.

  Christos didn’t want her. Her own mother didn’t want her. Her father was off in America with his new fiancé, and all her siblings had their own lives. She was as alone as she’d ever been.

  And she was angry, dammit. She curled her hands into fists and sat there on the floor until the dam burst. Then she was crying and beating her fists against the carpet, screaming and ranting and hurting. Vaguely, she knew she was a mess. A histrionic, dramatic mess. An embarrassment.

  But she couldn’t stop. She sobbed until she had no tears left and then she surged up off the floor and knocked the portrait off the easel. It bounced onto the carpet with a great whack and then fell onto its face.

  Lucilla gritted her teeth together and sucked in deep breaths. She wanted to stomp a hole in the damn thing and she wanted to grab it up and hug it close and tell her mother she was sorry.

  “Lucillitsa.”

  She spun around to find Christos standing in the doorway. “Damn you,” she growled, her heart breaking anew at the sight of him. He’d no doubt forgotten his passport or something equally trivial and had returned for it only to find her still here, making a mess of his pristine dwelling.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?” She clenched her fists at her sides. She knew she looked like hell, but what did it matter now? “That’s not a good enough word to atone for what you’ve done to me. I wish you’d never come to the Chatsfield, and I damn sure wish I’d never stayed in Greece with you.”

  “Agapi mou.”

  She closed her eyes tight. She had to cling to her anger to stay sane. “What did I tell you about calling me pet names, Christos? And what does this one mean, anyway? My little snowflake or something?”

  “It means ‘my love.’”

  She didn’t think her heart could hurt any worse. She was wrong. Fresh tears welled behind her eyes. “That’s not funny.”

  “It’s not meant to be.”

  She opened her eyes again and met his brilliant blue gaze. “I was just going. Get your passport or whatever you forgot and don’t worry about me.”

  “Lucillitsa.” He came over and took her hand in his. She tried to snatch it away but he was too strong. He put her hand on his chest, tugged her closer. “Feel this. Feel what you do to me.”

  She shook her head, too afraid to let even a kernel of hope take root once more. “I don’t know what you’re getting at. I’m tired and angry and I just want to go home. I can’t do this again. I can’t.”

  He slid his other hand along her jaw, speared his fingers into her hair. “My heart, Lucilla. Feel my heart.” He pressed her hand harder against his chest and she felt the roar of his blood. “It’s racing because I’m terrified.”

  “I don’t underst—”

  He cut her off. “Tell me I’m not too late. Tell me I haven’t lost you.”
>
  She was utterly and completely numb. And then a tiny bud of happiness began to grow in her belly, spreading and unfurling and warming her cold, cold veins. Maybe she should be more cautious, but she was too spent to care. “You haven’t lost me, Christos. Not in the space of an hour. Not even in the space of weeks, when I should have stopped loving you utterly if I could have.”

  He dragged her into his arms and held her tightly. Her ear was to his chest and she marveled at the reckless beat of his heart. For a moment, she thought she must be dreaming. She’d fallen asleep on the carpet in his library and she was dreaming that he’d returned, that he wanted her. It was the only logical explanation.

  But then she dug her fingernails into her palms and felt the bite of pain and she knew she wasn’t asleep. Still, she pushed back until she could look up into Christos’s eyes. She was awake, but that explained nothing.

  “I still don’t understand what’s happened. You left. You said you couldn’t love me. So why are you back?”

  He dragged in a breath. “Because you were right, agapi mou. Because I am a coward and a fool and an ass, and it was easier to walk out than to stay. I’ve always walked away when things got too difficult. I’ve spent a lifetime not getting attached to anyone, to pulling up stakes and moving on to the next challenge. I thought that was the hard part—leaving and starting again—but it’s not. The hard part is staying.”

  She was clutching his shirt in her fists. “I believe you can do anything you set your mind to, Christos. You remade yourself into a man who is brilliant, honorable and successful. Your mother would be proud of you.”

  His smile was both sad and tender. “I think she would, but I also think she would have been angry with me for walking out on you earlier. She would have known what I did not.”

  Her pulse skipped and slid recklessly. Was this really happening? “And what is that?”

  “That you are part of me. That I’ve wanted you from the first moment I saw you. That you are the one woman in this world I was meant to love.”

  “You’re going to make me cry.”

  He kissed her softly. “I don’t want to make you cry. I want to make you happy.”

  “I am happy. And scared. I need you too much, Christos, and it worries me.”

  “I understand this more than you know. I thought I was having a heart attack when I reached Heathrow. But it was simply my heart breaking because I’d left you.”

  She didn’t want to ask the question, but she had to know the answer. It was all or nothing, no matter how good it felt to be in his arms again. “Does this mean you love me?”

  He closed his eyes for a moment, as if he were gathering his courage. “Yes. So much it terrifies me. You are the strongest, bravest, most beautiful woman I know. And I am the man you deserve, because there is no other who will ever love you like I do.”

  Lucilla’s knees went weak. And then she laughed. “That’s the Christos I know and love. So certain of himself. So arrogant and bossy.”

  He speared his fingers into her hair and sifted the heavy strands. “It turns you on when I’m bossy. It always has.”

  “Yes, I’ll admit that now. I like it when you tell me what to do. It gives me great pleasure to do the opposite.”

  He laughed. “Then don’t kiss me, Lucilla. Don’t touch me or tell me you love me. Never do that.”

  “It’s a deal,” she said, spreading her hands over the contours of his chest. “I love you, Christos. So much.”

  And then she kissed him.

  EPILOGUE

  Several months later …

  THE WEDDING OF Gene Chatsfield to Helena Morgan was the talk of the society pages. The reception was held at the flagship Chatsfield Hotel in London, where all the Chatsfield children returned to celebrate with their father and the woman he adored. It was nearly Christmas now, and the hotel was decorated to celebrate the season. Even with Christmas trees, lights and garland, there was no doubt it was a celebration of marriage taking place today and not a Christmas party.

  The bride was lovely in a cream gown, and Lucilla’s father was handsome in his tuxedo. He clearly doted on his new bride, and Lucilla was happy for him. They’d had a talk earlier and he’d told her how proud he was of her and the job she’d been doing. She’d been stunned, and then she’d been pleased. She’d ceased needing her father’s approval but it had still been nice to hear it.

  Lucilla stopped at the bar to speak with the reception manager. The toast was coming soon and she wanted to make sure they had plenty of Rubida, a lovely sparkling wine that came from their exclusive new supplier, Purman Wines of Australia. Franco had done an outstanding job of convincing Purman Wines to sign with them. Not only that, but he’d also convinced Miss Holly Purman to wear his engagement ring. He looked blissfully happy where he stood with his fiancée, and Lucilla smiled to herself.

  Across the room, she caught Antonio’s eye. He was with his new wife, Orla, and he finally seemed settled in a way she hadn’t thought he ever would be. Her heart filled with happiness at the look in his eyes when he turned to smile at his wife again.

  Lucilla continued across the room, letting her gaze slide over the gathering as she picked out the rest of her baby chicks.

  Nicolo sat at a table with Sophie, his pregnant bride and Christos’s former PA. Lucilla chuckled to herself when she thought back to the utter shock with which Christos had greeted the resignation of his PA and the reason for it. He’d taken it in stride, however, and hired another PA—a man this time, which Lucilla found amusing. She’d assured him she did not care if he hired a beauty queen, so long as the woman could do the job. She believed in Christos’s love and commitment to her.

  At the same table sat Orsino and Poppy, who held hands and looked utterly in love as they chatted with Lucca and Charlotte. And then there was Aaliyah, their newest sibling, a half sister whom their father had introduced to them all only recently. She was dark and lovely as she sat with her husband, Sheikh Sayed, the heir to the throne of Zeena Sahra. She’d seemed very shy when she’d been introduced to them all, but Lucilla had discovered that she was actually quite strong when one got to know her. It had been a bit of a shock to discover they had a half sibling they knew nothing of, but Lucilla did what came natural to her: she took the newest chick under her metaphorical wing and added her to the list of people she cared about.

  Finally, there was Cara, who stood with their father and his new wife. And Cara’s new husband, Aiden. Lucilla loved all her siblings, but Cara held the most special place in her heart. Seeing her darling baby girl settled and happy eased Lucilla’s mind about her youngest sister. Perhaps Lucilla had done a good job, after all.

  “You’re thinking too much,” Christos said, sliding up behind her where she’d stopped in a doorway and turned to look back at everyone. His hands came around her waist, settled on her hips as he held her firmly to him.

  His breath feathered over her skin and she shivered. “I’m thinking how wonderful this day has turned out. And how happy everyone is.”

  Christos nuzzled her ear. She thought perhaps she should tell him to be discreet, but she found she didn’t actually care. “I’m happy,” he said. “Blissfully happy.”

  “So am I. Especially after that thing you did this morning.”

  Christos chuckled. “I would love to do it again. How about we disappear into your office for a bit?”

  “Naughty man. I meant later.”

  “If you can wait that long.”

  “Tease.”

  He pulled her harder against him, until she felt the evidence of his arousal against her bottom. Lucilla gasped.

  “Who’s the tease?” he growled in her ear.

  Her body liquefied. “Christos, you make me want to do the most shocking things.”

  “God, I hope so.”

  Lucilla swallowed. “I don’t know how I can wait. But I have to. There’s the toast, and then the dancing and who knows what else….”

  He turned her in his arms
until she was facing him. “There’s something we need to discuss, Lucilla.”

  She smoothed her hands over his tuxedo jacket. Dear heaven, he was a handsome man. And he was hers.

  “What is that, darling? Has your consultancy fee gone up again? You know I’ll pay it. The Chatsfield needs your expertise—”

  He put a finger over her lips. “No. I’m exclusively yours, my love. No other hotels may have my advice so long as you’re in charge of the Chatsfield.” He took his finger away from her lips and she trembled at the look in his eyes. Oh, he made her want to shimmy out of her gown right here and now. His gaze lifted, scanned the crowd behind her. “All this wedding fever. It’s contagious, Lucilla.”

  Her heart began to hammer at the look in his eyes.

  “I was going to wait until later to say this, but I can’t. I want you to marry me. Waking up in your arms is no longer enough for me. I want to know you won’t leave me, that no other man will ever have a claim on you. I want to see you grow big with our child and I want to hold your hand on the beach in Greece when we are so old our kids have to push us out there in our wheelchairs.”

  Her eyes were filling with tears. Dammit, it was too soon to be hormonal. Or maybe not. “That’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  He swallowed and for a moment she saw the scared little boy lurking behind the eyes of the enigmatic man. “I want to say beautiful things to you always.”

  She leaned up and kissed him, her heart so full she thought it would burst. “Yes, Christos. I will marry you.” She took his hand and brought it down to her belly, pressed it against her. “And it’s a good thing you asked. I’ll be growing big sooner than you might imagine.”

  He looked stunned as he processed that bit of information. And then he closed his eyes and tilted his head back. The words he spoke were Greek, but she didn’t need to know what they were to know he was pleased. She’d only found out a couple of days ago and she’d been planning to tell him as soon as the chaos of the wedding and reception were over. They were flying to Kefalonia for Christmas in a few days and she’d wanted to tell him there.