This time, a limousine waited for them. Collins, the driver, wore his formal uniform with a peaked cap as he held open her passenger door.
“Where is the ball this year?” she asked Darius.
“The Corlandt,” he said, naming a venue that was nearly as famous as the Met or Frick or Whitney.
She gulped. It was even worse than she’d thought. As the limo took them uptown, she felt sick with dread. She looked out the window, frantically trying to build ice around her heart and get herself back into a place where she was too well armored to feel any attack.
But her newly scrubbed skin felt far too thin now. Wearing this beautiful dress, and being with Darius, she felt vulnerable. She felt visible. She felt raw.
Even though she no longer loved him, she still didn’t want him hurt because of her. She tried to tell herself it would be for his own good, so he’d realize they had no future. But she couldn’t bear the thought of what was about to happen.
All too soon, the limo arrived. Looking out at the crowds and red carpet and paparazzi, Letty couldn’t breathe. Collins got out and opened their door.
Darius went first. There was a low roar from the crowds, watching from behind the cordons of the red carpet, at seeing Darius Kyrillos, the host of the evening and currently New York’s most famous billionaire bachelor, get out of the limo, gorgeous in his tuxedo. As cameras flashed in the darkening twilight, he gave a brusque wave.
Looking at the photographers, Letty felt so weak she wasn’t sure she could get out of the limo.
Turning back, Darius held out his hand to where she sat quivering in the backseat. He lifted a challenging eyebrow.
Shaking, Letty put her hand in his.
As she exited the limo, a low murmur started amid the photographers and press waiting outside the red carpet as someone recognized Letty.
Then it spread.
There was a gasp of recognition traveling among the photographers and crowd like a rumble of thunder rolling across the ground. The camera flashes went crazy as journalists and celebrity bloggers started screaming at her.
“Letitia Spencer!”
“Where have you been for the last ten years?”
“How does it feel now that your father’s out of prison?”
“Do you feel guilty for your father’s victims as you’re coming to a ball in diamonds?”
“Are you two together?”
“Mr. Kyrillos, with all the city at your feet, why would you date a jailbird’s daughter?”
Darius responded only with a glower as he arrogantly walked past them, Letty gripping his hand tightly. He led her past the reporters and inside the magnificent beaux-arts-style granite building. Only after she’d walked up the steps and past the imposing columns through the oversize door, and he’d shut it behind them, did she exhale. Immediately, he pulled her close. Letty closed her eyes, still shaking as she breathed in his strength, his warmth, his comfort.
“It’s over,” he said softly as he finally drew back, tucking back a dark tendril of her hair behind her ear. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“You think it’s over?” She gave him a trembling smile. “It’s only just begun.”
Darius’s expression darkened, but they were interrupted as a famous white-haired society matron covered in jewels entered the foyer behind them. Her face brightened when she saw Darius. She immediately left her much younger date to come forward and give him air-kisses.
“Darius, how lovely to see you! Thank you again for hosting this important event.” She simpered. “Though I think there will be many broken hearts when they see you brought a date—”
But as the matron turned to Letty, her smile froze. Her expression changed to shock, then outrage.
“Hello, Mrs. Alexander,” Letty said bashfully. “I don’t know if you remember, but I used to go to school with your daughter, Poppy. We were both debutantes at the—”
“Stop.” The woman’s eyes blazed. “Don’t you dare speak to me.” Looking back at Darius, she hissed, “Do you know who this girl is? What she’s done?”
He looked at her coldly. “Of course I know who Letty is. We’ve been friends since childhood. And as for what she’s done—I think you have her confused with her father.”
The woman turned to Letty with narrowed eyes. “You have some nerve coming here. Your father stole money from nearly every person attending tonight.” She looked at Darius incredulously. “And you are insane to bring her. Take my advice. Send Letitia Spencer straight out the door. Or you might find that you suddenly have no guests, and your charity will suffer. For what? So you can get that little tart in your bed?” She looked pointedly at Letty’s belly. “Or perhaps you did that already?”
Letty’s cheeks went hot. She suddenly felt like a tart, too, wearing this low-cut, formfitting pink dress that showed off every curve. Beneath the society matron’s scrutiny, even her beautiful sparkly shoes lost their gleam, and suddenly just pinched her feet.
“It’s only out of respect for those poor foster children that I’m not leaving here right now.” The woman glared between them, then flounced away in her jewels and fluttering silk sleeves.
Letty was left paralyzed from the ambush.
“Don’t listen to her,” Darius said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “She’s a witch.”
“I don’t blame her for being mad,” Letty said in a low voice. “Her family lost a lot of money. Tens of millions.”
“It obviously hasn’t cut into her jewelry and plastic-surgery budget. Forget her. Let’s go in.”
Wrapping her arm securely over his, he marched her into the ballroom as cheerfully as a revolutionary leading a French aristocrat to the guillotine.
But it was no good. The rest of the evening was just as Letty had feared. As lovely and magical as the afternoon had been, the ball sucked the joy out of everything.
Darius insisted on keeping her by his side as he greeted his society guests, each of whom had paid thousands of dollars to attend this ball, ostensibly for the benefit of college scholarships for foster kids but mostly just to have a good excuse to party with friends and show off new couture.
Letty felt their hostile stares, though with Darius beside her, none were as brave or foolhardy as Mrs. Alexander. None of them said anything to her face. Instead, the cream of New York society just stared at her in bewildered horror, as if she had a contagious and fatal disease, then looked at Darius as if they were waiting for him to reveal the punch line of whatever joke had inspired him to bring a pariah like Letitia Spencer to the Fall Ball when he could have had any beauty in the city for the asking.
She heard whispers and felt their hard stares as she and Darius passed through the crowds in the ballroom. When he briefly left her to get drinks, she felt vulnerable, alone. She kept her eyes focused on the floor, trying to be quiet and invisible, as if facing wild animals. If they didn’t notice her, they might not tear her to shreds with their teeth and claws.
It didn’t work.
Within moments, three former debutantes blocked her like bouncers at a bar.
“Well, well, well.” A skinny young woman in a designer gown gave her a hard-edged smile. “Letitia Spencer. This is a surprise. Isn’t it, Caroline?”
“A big surprise.”
Letty vaguely recognized the two women from her school, where they’d been a year older. They were looking at her now with the cold expressions