Now, as he swirled her around in that waltz, it was like going back in time. The audience standing on the edge of the dance floor clapped their approval. In this moment, in this place, Darius and Letty were the king and queen of the city, the pinnacle of all his youthful dreams.
But he barely noticed the crowds. There was only Letty. He was back in that meadow, a young man so sure of his own heart, so naively enthusiastic about his future, dancing with the beautiful princess he’d dreamed about, the one he could never deserve. And, oh, how he’d craved her to his very core…
Now, Darius pulled her more indecently close to his hard, aching body than any waltz allowed. She lifted her luminous gaze to his, visibly holding her breath. The electricity between them suddenly sizzled with heat.
He stopped dancing. Louder than the music, he heard the rush of his blood in his ears, the pounding of his own heart.
He needed her in his bed.
Now.
The music abruptly ended, and the ballroom exploded in applause echoing from the high ceiling. Without a word, Darius led her from the dance floor. He pulled her through the crowds, which parted for them like magic. Compliments and cheers followed them. Everywhere, people were apologizing to Letty for how badly they’d treated her. He recognized Poppy Alexander.
“I’m so sorry, Letty,” the girl blurted out. “I was afraid to be your friend. I knew it wasn’t your fault, what happened, but I was a coward…”
“That’s all right, Poppy,” Letty replied gently. She looked around at everyone else. “I don’t blame anyone.”
Darius thought about the dragon Poppy had for a mother, and he couldn’t blame her for being scared. Until he thought of how bad Letty’s life had been for the last decade, and he didn’t think any of them deserved another minute of Letty’s time.
He swept Letty away without looking back. He didn’t care about anyone or anything right now, except getting her into his bed.
Darius pulled his phone from his tuxedo jacket pocket. By the time they exited the stately beaux-arts building, his limo was waiting at the curb. Collins leaped out and opened the passenger door.
The second they were in the backseat, and the door closed behind them, Darius pulled Letty roughly into his arms and kissed her.
Her lips were sweet as sin. She trembled, her curves melting against him. His whole body was hard with need. He had to have her.
“Sir?” said Collins from the driver’s seat.
“Home,” he said hoarsely. “As fast as you can.”
Then he pressed the button that raised the barrier between front and back seats. Just those few seconds were agony. But he was not willing to share Letty with anyone. He’d shared her enough.
She belonged to him now. To him alone.
Once they had privacy in the backseat, he kissed her passionately as the limo moved through the sparkling streets of the lit-up city at midnight. But all he could see was her sensual beauty. All he could feel was the soft brush of her long dark hair, and her warm skin like silk beneath his hands. He pushed her back against the leather seat, devouring her soft lips, kissing her neck, running his hands over her full breasts overflowing the tight pink bodice of her dress.
He kissed her savagely, biting and sucking her lower lip. A gasp of need came from her throat as she returned his kiss with matching fire, gripping his shoulders through his tuxedo jacket. He kissed slowly down her neck as her head fell back, her eyes closed, her expression one of ecstasy.
When he saw that, it was all he could do not to take her, right here in the back of the limo. He was unconsciously reaching for his fly when he realized they’d stopped.
Resurfacing from his haze of desire, he saw the limo was parked beneath the porte cochere in front of his building. Just in time, too. He glanced at Letty, stretched back against the smooth calfskin leather seat. Her big hazel eyes were smoky with passion, her dark hair mussed, her pink dress disheveled. Another moment and he would have yanked up her dress and roughly pushed inside her.
That wasn’t how he wanted this night to be, fast and brutish in the back of a limo. No. After the disaster of their first night together, when he’d taken her virginity then insulted her and tossed her out of the penthouse into the snow, he wanted this night to be perfect.
He would finally treat Letitia Spencer, the forbidden princess of his youth, as she deserved to be treated.
He would enjoy her as he deserved to enjoy her.
Thoroughly.
Reaching over, he smoothed the fabric of Letty’s bodice modestly back over her breasts just as the passenger door opened behind him.
Taking her hand, he led her out of the limo and into the elegant lobby, where the doorman greeted him. “Good evening, sir.”
“Good evening, Jones.” Such civilized words. Wearing a tuxedo, Darius knew he must appear civilized on the outside. On the inside, he felt anything but.
Gripping Letty’s hand, he desperately kept himself in check. Neither of them looked at each other as they went through the high-ceilinged lobby, past the front desk to the elevator. Civilized.
But as soon as the door closed behind them, they were in each other’s arms. He pushed her against the wall, kissing her hungrily, desperately.
She breathed against his skin, “I still can’t believe you’re doing this.”
“Kissing you?”
“Giving five billion dollars away. Why did you do it?”
“Don’t you know?” he growled, his lips against hers. “Can’t you guess?”
Panting, she shook her head. “You hate my father…”
Darius’s lip curled as he drew back. “I didn’t do it for him.”
“For your friends?”
“Those aren’t my friends.”
“For the other victims, then. All those hardworking people with pensions. Firemen. Nurses…”
“I’m not that noble.”
The elevator door opened. The floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the penthouse with moonlight. Taking her hand, he led her inside. He could hear the tap of her stiletto heels against the marble.
She stopped, staring up at him.
“Then why?” she whispered.
“I couldn’t stand to see you treated badly,” Darius said huskily, “when all you’ve done is give your love and loyalty to someone who doesn’t deserve it.”
She bit her lip. “I know my father isn’t perfect—”
“Perfect?” His jaw tightened. “He’s a criminal—” He cut himself off, then said, “You’re under my protection now.”
She looked troubled. “Your protection—or your rule?”
“It is the same. I protect what is mine.”
“Our baby.”
His eyes met hers. “And you.”
Letty stared at him, her eyes wide, as if she had no idea how to react. As if she had forgotten what it was like to have anyone properly look after her.
He wondered how long it had been since anyone had tried to take care of her, rather than the other way around. He suspected Letty always sacrificed herself to take care of others—especially that father of hers—while her own heart bled.
“But I’m not yours,” she said quietly. “Not truly.