скачать книгу бесплатно
Damian stared at her. He’d let go of the elevator door and it was starting to close again. He moved fast and forced it open.
“What baby?” he demanded.
“You know damned well what baby! Mine. I mean, Kay’s.” Ivy’s chin lifted. “Kay’s—and yours.”
The earth gave a sickening tilt under his feet. There was a baby? No. There couldn’t be. Kay had never really been pregnant. Her doctor had told him so…
“You’re a vicious little liar!”
“Fine. Stay with that idea. I told you, I won’t let my baby—Kay’s baby—near a son of a bitch like—”
She let out a shriek as he dragged her from the elevator, marched her into his apartment and all but threw her into a chair.
“What the hell are you talking about?” He stood over her, feet apart, arms folded, eyes blazing with anger. “Start talking, and it better be the truth.”
She began sobbing. He didn’t give a damn.
“I’m waiting,” he growled. “What baby are you talking about? Whose is it? And where?”
Ivy sprang to her feet. “Get out of my way.”
He grabbed her again, hauled her to her toes.
“Answer me, goddamn it!”
Ivy looked up at him while the seconds seemed to turn to hours. Then she wrenched free of his hands.
This baby,” she said, laying a hand over her belly. “The one in my womb. I’m pregnant, Prince Damian. Pregnant—with your child.”
CHAPTER THREE
PREGNANT?
Pregnant, with his child?
Damian’s brain reeled.
Thee mou, a man didn’t want to hear that accusation from a woman he didn’t love once in a lifetime, let alone twice…
And then his sanity returned.
This woman, Ivy, might well be pregnant but it didn’t have a damned thing to do with him. Not unless science had come up with a way a man could have sex with a woman without ever seeing her or touching her.
She was looking at him, defiance stamped in every feature. What was she waiting for? Was he supposed to blink, fall down, clap his hand to his forehead?
The only thing he felt like doing was tossing her over his shoulder and throwing her out. But first—but first—
Damian snorted. Snorted again and then, to hell with it, burst out laughing.
Ivy Madison gave him a killing look.
“How can you laugh at this?” she demanded.
That only made him laugh harder.
He’d heard some really creative tall tales in his life. His father had been especially adept at telling them as he took his company to the edge of ruin but nothing, nothing topped this one.
It was funny.
It was infuriating.
Did she take him for a complete fool? Her sister had. Yes, but at least he’d had sex with the sister. There’d been a basis—shaky, but a basis—for Kay claiming she was pregnant.
Hell, the hours the two women must have spent talking about what a sucker he was, how easily he could be taken in by a beautiful face.
“Perhaps you’d like to share what’s so damned amusing, Prince Damian?”
Amusing? Damian’s laughter faded. “Actually,” he said, “I’m insulted.”
She blinked. “Insulted?”
“That you’d come up with such a pathetic lie.” He tucked his hands in his trouser pockets and sighed dramatically. “You have to have sex with a man before he can impregnate you, Miss Madison, and you and I…”
Suddenly he knew where this was heading. He’d heard of scams like it before.
A beautiful woman chooses a man who’s rich. Well-known. A man whose name would garner space in the tabloids.
When the time is right, she confronts him, tells him they met at a party, on a yacht—there were dozens of places they could have stumbled across each other.
That established, she drops the bomb.
She’s pregnant. He’s responsible. When he says That’s impossible, I never saw you before in my life, she starts to cry. He was drinking that night, she says. He seduced her, she says. Doesn’t he remember?
Because she does.
Every touch. Every sigh. Every nuance of their encounter is seared in her memory, and if he doesn’t want it all over the scandal sheets, he’ll Do The Right Thing.
He’ll give her a fat sum of money to help her. Nothing like a bribe, of course. Just money to get her through a bad time.
Some men would give in without much of a fight, even if they could disprove the story. They’d do whatever it took just to avoid publicity.
Damian’s jaw tightened.
Oh, yes. That was how this was supposed to go down…Except, it wouldn’t. His beautiful scam artist was about to learn she couldn’t draw him into that kind of trap.
He’d already been the victim of one Madison sister. He’d be damned if he’d be the victim of the second sister, too.
Damian looked up. The woman had not moved. She stood her ground, shoulders squared, head up, eyes glittering with defiance.
God, she was magnificent! Anyone walking in and seeing her would be sure she was a brave Amazon, overmatched but prepared to fight to her last breath.
Too bad there wasn’t an audience. There was only him, and he wasn’t buying the act.
Damian smiled. Slowly he brought his hands together in mocking applause.
“Excellent,” he said softly. “An outstanding performance.” His smile disappeared. “Just one problem, kardia mou. I’m on to you.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I know your game. And I’m not going to play it.”
“Game? Is that what you think this is? I come to you after my sister’s death because you didn’t have enough concern to come to me and you think—you think it’s a game?”
“Perhaps I used the wrong word. It’s more like a melodrama. You’re the innocent little flower, I’m the cruel villain.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Damian started slowly toward her. He saw her stiffen. She wanted to back away or maybe even turn and run. Good, he thought coldly. She was afraid of him, and she damned well ought to be.
“Don’t you want to tell me the rest? The details of our passionate encounter?”
She looked at him as if he were crazy. “What passionate encounter?”
“Come now, darling. Have you forgotten your lines? You’re supposed to remind me of what we did when I was drunk.” He stopped inches from her, a chill smile curling across his lips. “Well, I’m waiting. Where did it happen? Here? Athens? A party on my yacht at the C?te d’Azur? Not that it matters. The story’s the same no matter where we met.”
“I didn’t say—”
“No. You didn’t, and that’s my fault. I never gave you the chance to tell your heartbreaking little tale, but why waste time when it’s so trite? I was drunk. I seduced you. Now, it’s—it’s—How many months later, did you say?”
“Three months. You know that, just as you know the rest of what you said isn’t true!”
“Did I get the facts wrong?” His eyes narrowed; his voice turned hard. “Frankly I don’t give a damn. All I care about is seeing the last of you, lady. You understand?”
Ivy understood, all right.
This man her sister had worshipped, this—this Adonis whose face and body were enough to quicken the beat of a woman’s heart…
This man Kay had been willing to do anything for, was looking at her and lying through his teeth.
How could Kay have loved him?
“Shall I be more direct, Miss Madison?” Damian clamped his hands on her shoulders. “Get out of here before I lose my temper.”
His voice was low, his grasp painful. He was furious and, Ivy was sure, capable of violence.
That wasn’t half as important as being certain she understood exactly what he was telling her.
He didn’t want the child she was carrying.
She’d figured as much, when she hadn’t heard from him after the accident. She’d waited and waited, caught up first in shock at losing Kay, then in growing awareness of her own desperation until, finally, she’d realized the prince’s silence was a message.
Still, it wasn’t enough.
He had to put his denial of his rights to his child in writing. She needed a document that said he didn’t want the baby, that he’d rather believe her story was a lie than acknowledge he’d fathered a child.
Even that was no guarantee.
Damian Aristedes was powerful. He could hire all the lawyers in Manhattan and have money left over. He could not only make his own rules, he could change them when he had to.
But if she had something on paper, something that might give her a legal edge if he ever changed his mind—
“I can almost see you thinking, Miss Madison.”
Ivy blinked. The prince was standing with his arms folded over his chest, narrowed eyes locked on her face.
It was disconcerting.
She was accustomed to having men look at her. It went with the territory.
When you had done hundreds of photo shoots, when your own face looked back at you from magazine covers, you expected it. It was part of the price you paid for success in the world of modeling.
Men noticed you. They looked at you.
But not like this.
The expression on Damian Aristedes’s face spoke of contempt, not desire. How dare he be disdainful of her? She’d made a devil’s bargain—she knew that, had known it almost from the beginning—but she’d been prepared to stand by that bargain even if it tore out her heart.
Not him.
He was the man who’d started this. Now, he was pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about.
That was fine. It was perfect. It meant she’d kept her promise and now she was free to put the past behind her and concentrate on the future. On the child she’d soon have.
Her child, not his.
It was just infuriating to have him look at her as if she were a liar and a cheat.
Except, there’d been a moment, more than one, when she’d caught him watching her in a different way, his eyes glinting not with disdain but with hunger.
Hunger only she could ease.
And when that had happened, she’d felt—she’d felt—
“You’re as transparent as glass, Miss Madison.”
Years of letting the camera steal her face but never her thoughts kept Ivy from showing any reaction.
“How interesting. Do you read minds when you’re not busy evading responsibility, Your Highness?”
