He licked his lips and tried, “Letty, I don’t blame you for being upset—”
“Upset? No. I’m not upset.” She paused. “I’m happy.”
That was so obviously not true he had no idea how to react. “If you’ll just give me a chance to explain.”
“You already explained to me, long ago, that you wouldn’t love me. That love was for children. You told me. I just didn’t listen,” she said softly. “Now I really, truly get it. And I want you out of my life for good.”
“No—”
“I’ve brought my father to Fairholme.”
Gripping the phone, he nearly staggered back. “Howard Spencer—in my house?”
“Yes.” Her voice was ice-cold. “I’m not leaving him in the hospital, surrounded by strangers. He’s going to spend his last days surrounded by love, in the home where he was married to my mother.”
“It’s not just your decision. I bought that house and…” He stopped himself, realizing how pompous he sounded. But it was too late.
“Right.” Her voice was a sneer. “Because money makes the man. You think you can buy your way through life. That’s what you do, isn’t it? Buy things. You bought my virginity, and ever since, you’ve kept buying me. With marriage. With money. You didn’t realize it was never your money I wanted.” Her voice suddenly broke to a whisper. “It was you, Darius. My dream of you. The amazing boy you were.” She took a breath. “The man I actually thought you still were, deep down inside.”
“I’m still that man,” he said tightly. “I was going to tell you. I just didn’t want you upset…”
“Upset by my father dying!”
Darius flinched at the derision in her voice. “Perhaps I made a bad decision, but I was trying to look after you.”
“And you assumed I would forgive you.”
He felt shaken. “Forgiveness is what you do.”
She gave a hard laugh. “How convenient for you. Only the idiots who love you have to forgive. But since you never love anyone, you never have to worry about that. You’re free to hurt whomever you please.”
She didn’t sound like his wife at all, the kindhearted woman who greeted him every day with kisses, who gave so much of herself and asked for very little in return.
Except for him to forgive her father, Darius realized. That was the one thing she’d actually asked for. And the one thing he’d refused, again and again.
He, who was never afraid of anything, felt the first stirrings of real fear. “If you’ll just listen to me—”
“I’ve had suitcases boxed up for you. Collins is taking them to your penthouse in Midtown. Don’t worry. I won’t stay here forever. You can have Fairholme back after…” Her voice was suddenly unsteady. “After. I don’t want anything from you in our divorce. The baby and I will be leaving New York.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Poppy Alexander lives in Los Angeles now. She offered me a job a while back. I told her no. Now I’m going to say yes.”
“No.”
“Try and stop me. Just try.” He could hear the ragged gasp of her breath. “You called my dad a monster. You’re the real monster, Darius. Because you know what it was like to have your father die alone. That was the reason for all your vengeance and rage, wasn’t it? That was the big reason you wouldn’t let me see my dad. Well, you know what? My dad nearly died alone, too. Because of you.”
The pang of fear became sharper, piercing down his spine. He licked his lips. “Letty—”
“Stay away from us,” she said in a low voice. “I never want to see you again. Better that our son has no father at all than a heartless one like you.”
The line went dead. He stared down at the phone in his hand.
Numb with shock, Darius raised his head. He looked blankly around his office, still decorated with his wife’s sweet touches. A photo of them on their Greek honeymoon. A sonogram picture of their baby. He stared in bewilderment at the bright blue jeweler’s bag on his desk. The push present for his wife, the emerald earrings once owned by a queen that he’d bought to express his appreciation and joy.
Above him, he could hear the rain falling heavily against the roof. Loud. Like a child’s rattle.
And felt totally alone.
He’d known this would happen. Known if he ever lowered his guard and let himself care, he would get kicked in the teeth. Teeth? He felt like his guts had just been ripped out. For a second, he felt only that physical pain, like the flash of lightning before thunder.
Then the emotional impact reached his heart, and he had to lean one hand on his desk to keep his balance. The pain he felt then was almost more than he could bear.
Standing in his office, in the place he’d been happily whistling a lullaby just moments before, anguish and rage rushed through him. Throwing out his arm, he savagely knocked the jewelry bag to the ground.
Suddenly, he could almost understand why Howard Spencer had turned criminal when he’d lost his wife. Because Darius suddenly wanted to set fire to everything in his life, to burn it all down.
Slowly, as if he’d gained fifty years, he walked out of his office.
“Everything all right, sir?” Mildred Harrison said serenely from her desk. “Are you headed to the hospital for Mrs. Kyrillos?”
Mrs. Kyrillos. He almost laughed at the name. She’d never been his wife, not really. How could she, when she’d seen through him from the start?
You always said a man could be measured by his money.
He looked slowly around the bustling office loft, with its exposed brick walls, its high ceilings, the open spaces full of employees busily working on computers or taking their breaks at the foosball table. He said softly, “No.”
His executive assistant frowned. “Sir?”
“I don’t want it anymore.” Darius looked at her. “Take the company. You can have it. I’m done.”
And he left without looking back.
He spent the afternoon in one of Manhattan’s old dive bars, trying to get drunk. He could have called Santiago Velazquez or Kassius Black, but they weren’t exactly the kind of friends who shared confidences and feelings. Darius had only really done that with Letty. He told himself Scotch would keep him company now.
It didn’t.
Finally he gave up. He was alone. He would always be alone. Time to accept it.
Dropped off by the taxi, Darius came home late that night to his dark penthouse. All the bright lights of Manhattan sparkled through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He saw nothing but darkness and shadows.
And three expensive suitcases left in his foyer. Suitcases Letty had packed for him when she’d taken his measure, found him completely lacking and tossed him out of their family home.
You think you can buy your way through life. That’s what you do, isn’t it? Buy things.
Slowly, Darius looked around the stark, impersonal penthouse at the sparse, expensive furniture. Everything was black and white. He’d bought this place two years ago, as a trophy to show how far he’d come from the poverty-stricken village boy he’d once been. A trophy to prove to himself that Letitia Spencer had made a fatal error the day she’d decided he wasn’t good enough to marry.
This penthouse was not his home.
His home was Fairholme.
Darius