“I still have quite a bit of work to do, but when I’m finished, I’ll give you a full report, including the steps that need to be taken.”
“Thank you, Mr. Crawford.” Lily hung up with a shaky hand and closed her eyes.
He’d lied to her. He’d stood there in the foyer last night and discussed what she could do with this house, when he already owned it.
Had anything between them ever been real? The tender moments they’d shared…Him staying with her in this mansion to ensure her safety…The love they’d made last night…She gripped the silver heart on her necklace as she attempted to settle nausea that had nothing to do with her pregnancy.
And this house—the one she’d planned to make over as a permanent place of stability for her and her child—didn’t belong to her. Damon had somehow acquired it.
Her legs trembled and felt weak, but she made herself stand. She had to leave. Cut ties with Damon. Now. It was unthinkable to remain here with a man who could so blatantly lie to her.
Betray her.
Burning tears filled her eyes, but she refused to acknowledge them. Instead she summoned the inner strength that had sustained her through a childhood with erratic parents.
Leaving the man who’d betrayed her as she’d never been betrayed before was the right thing to do for herself, but more important, for her baby.
She had to go.
Lily sat on a russet wingback in the mansion’s formal library, feet tucked up under her, hands clenched together on her lap. On the verge of emotional exhaustion. It had been three hours since Crawford had delivered the bombshell that had shattered her heart—her life—and her bags were packed and in the car. Now she only waited for her husband to arrive.
Since Damon had rung to say he was leaving work early, she’d been on tenterhooks, alternating between sitting on this chair and restlessly toying with books on the floor-to-ceiling shelves. Her whole body was taut, like a rubber band ready to snap, but she’d forced herself to bide her time before she could confront her husband about his betrayal.
Then she must leave.
An excruciating pain stabbed her heart at the thought, but she pushed the pain aside. There would be time enough to grieve later.
The crunch of wheels over the driveway’s polished gravel announced his arrival. Wanting to meet her fate head-on despite the heavy bands constricting her lungs, the pounding in her head, she rose and walked to the foyer. She listened with hyperfocus to his car door open and close. His steps on the walkway seemed to echo the thudding beat of her heart.
The door opened, then he was there, in the marble foyer with her, dominating the space. Her body was drawn by their magnetic connection even now; her heart cried out for him.
But she couldn’t listen.
He walked over and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Are you waiting to welcome me home?” he asked, a teasing note in his voice.
She swallowed, lifted her chin. “I’m waiting for you, yes.”
It had started to drizzle outside—she could see the fine droplets in his dark hair and on his suit coat. Part of her wanted to shake her fingers through the waves of his hair to rid him of the raindrops, the way a wife might lovingly nurture her husband. But her love for Damon had always been her Achilles’ heel.
Their marriage was irrevocably broken. He’d stood in this very foyer yesterday and lied to her about something as important as their child’s home. Her hands slid to her gently rounded belly and she took a small step back.
Damon seemed to take in her mood and frowned. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“I know—” Her voice wobbled to a stop. She took another breath. “I know about your…scheme.”
Wary now, Damon set his briefcase down, rested his hands on his hips. “My scheme?”
She gripped the silver heart on her necklace and found a strong, even voice. “I had a call from Crawford today.”
He winced and muttered an oath. “What did he tell you?”
Lily felt her jaw slacken, all traces of anguish over this confrontation gone in an instant. How very Blakely of him. His first response wasn’t to come clean. Wasn’t to beg her forgiveness. It was a damage assessment. Her blood heated at the calculated way his heart and mind worked, even when the stakes were so high.
She looked him square in the eye. “How about we start with this house. The one you own.”
He reached for her hand, but she took another step back, refusing to allow him that intimacy.
“Lily, I’m sorry you found out.” His voice had changed, become less confident. “I never meant for you to know.”
She shook her head, incredulous. “You’re not sorry for lying to me? Just that you got caught? I think I need to—”
“Lily, let me explain.” His eyes—his whole face—were uncertain, exposed, and that shocked her almost as much as finding out she didn’t own a single thing.
She crossed her arms under her breasts, trying desperately to protect her heart from his display of vulnerability. To keep this man’s sins at the forefront of her mind, how he’d callously taken every opportunity to stick the knife in his uncle’s back, had disregarded her choices at every turn.
“You have ten minutes to explain how you have the deed, Damon.”
She marched through the archway, then turned sharply to face him, beyond caring that he’d see her ragged breathing. “You can start now.”
He sat heavily in one of the russet wingbacks, leaning over to rest his forearms on his knees. Then he looked up and captured her gaze. “I’ve been buying my uncle’s assets since I was twenty. Travis made it ridiculously easy by taking out loans he couldn’t afford and not telling his lawyers. Greed and arrogance left him drastically overextended, so I’ve been using dummy companies to call in the loans.”
She closed her eyes briefly. Of course he had. Damon schemed and manipulated situations as second nature—why hadn’t she guessed he’d already claimed back everything he thought Travis owed him? She sank into the other wingback, summoning her reserves of courage to ask for the details. “Travis knew about two companies. No one knew about the rest?”
Damon shook his head slowly, eyes not leaving hers. “I was waiting until I had everything before I told him. Everything he thought he owned—even BlakeCorp—is mine.”
“Why?” Though she asked the question, she already knew the answer. She needed to hear it from him, to hear it all.
He shrugged one shoulder. “The lure of destroying him, the same way he tried to destroy me, was too strong. I’ve been working toward this for years, and now…” His voice trailed off.
Revenge. It was all about revenge.
Knowing Travis, she understood Damon’s thirst for vengeance, but she could never condone it. “And now he’s dead and you can’t gloat.” To her own ears, her voice was flat, as empty as she felt inside.
He closed his eyes, looking almost sick, or despairing. “No, that’s not it.” He swallowed hard. “I want you to keep the house.”
Lily almost smiled. How noble. But she didn’t need his house, or his housekeeper, or his nanny, or his millions. She never had. Another thing he’d failed to understand about her. From early in life she’d learned to make it on her own, and heaven knew she could make it on her own now. She’d look after herself, Gran and the baby.
She waved away his regret with a flick of her wrist and instead focused on the question pounding through her brain. “You didn’t think, at any time since you proposed, to tell me about this? Even when I told you Travis had changed his will?”
His hands curled over, then he released them. “I couldn’t undermine your security—I know what it means to you. You need to feel stable, and I was giving it to you.”
She gasped. Was he insane? By letting her live a lie, he hadn’t just undermined any sense of stability, he’d utterly destroyed it.
She set her jaw. “You underestimated me. I could have coped with losing the security—I’ve bounced back from worse.” Her father had ripped it
out from under her often enough. “But I’ll never forgive you for betraying me with the lies all this time.”
He moved smoothly over to grab one of her hands. “All of this means nothing. We’re still going to have a baby, we’re still going to be a family.”
Lily’s heart skipped a beat and she suddenly felt faint as the reality of what he hadn’t said hit home. He didn’t love her. He never had or could. He still held on to too much hurt.
And even though her heart bled for his troubled soul, she wouldn’t fall for his empty words. They were a pretty illusion, a means to an end.
“Don’t bother, Damon. You couldn’t say a single thing that would make me believe you have any feelings for me but ownership.”
She was so choked up she could barely get the words out. “So the house is yours. Enjoy it.” Where would she go? It didn’t matter, as long as it was far from the need to control still shining from his eyes.
She took a step toward the hall entrance, but Damon moved to block her path with the solidness of his body.
“My attorney will be in touch to tell you when the baby is born and to discuss visitation rights.” She stepped around him and headed for the hall, feeling as if she might be sick.
“Lily, you can’t leave.”
The gravel-edged rasp in his voice made her turn in time to see his face distort with grief. But she couldn’t let herself believe it; she had to protect herself and her baby.
She walked straight into the hall, picked up her keys on the way and continued outside. The blood rushed past her ears so loudly she could barely hear anything else.
Damon had been right about one thing. The house was full of torment. But it wasn’t in the walls. It was in the hearts and minds of the Blakely men. She would never let him have sway over her again, or warp her baby’s mind into the Blakely way of life.
Ten
D amon sat in his Lexus in the art gallery car park, unfamiliar nerves squirming in his belly. Lily was just inside those doors. His wife. It had been two whole weeks since he’d seen her and, God above, he wanted her. Wanted her in his bed. Talking to him. With him during the day. Holding his hand. Everything. Just her. So much, he ached with it. He couldn’t wait to see her hold their baby, to nurse it and bring a smile to its cherubic face.
But—he scrubbed his hands across his face—he couldn’t let himself get carried away with fantasy just yet or he might lose her for good. Lose their future.
His gut clenched and swooped at the memory of her walking out the door, walking away from him. He knew now he needed to lay the blame for ruining their marriage at his own door, and it tied him in knots knowing he’d hurt her. A beautiful soul like hers was a rare treasure. Priceless.
He also knew she might never forgive him for the deception, and that was a risk he had to take. Having her pure heart in his life unquestionably made him a better man. He’d done his damn best in the past two weeks to make things up to her, and now it was time to show her the results of that work.
His pulse spiked at the thought of seeing her again. Her smile swam before his eyes, her scent surrounded him. The silken feel of her long hair made his hands twitch. He craved the feel of her skin under his fingertips, needed to have her sweet lips touch his. Love? Such a small and inadequate word. He was drowning in the depth of need and want he felt for her.
Why hadn’t he realized before that he loved her? He dragged in a lungful of air and held it, trying to steady his breathing. He had no idea when he’d fallen in love with her. All he knew was he’d fallen harder than he’d thought possible.
And now it was time to show her how much.
Lily stood from her desk and stretched. Needing a break from the paperwork that had taken most of her morning, she strolled down the corridor of the gallery’s office section.
As she walked, her hands moved to a familiar position—across her rounded stomach—and her thoughts drifted to her baby. And her baby’s father.
Her pulse picked up at the mere thought of him, despite all he’d done. Worse still was the ache in her heart. She missed him with every fiber of her being. Each time the baby moved she wanted to put his hand on her belly, to share it. When she had news, she wanted to call him, to hear his voice filled with warm congratulation or gentle comfort. She even missed the things he’d done for her—high-handed, yes, but done because he wanted to make her life easier….
And she missed his touch. Not just sexual, though God knew that was constant—she missed his smile, the way he’d look at her, or hold her hand.
The little things.
But she hated that weakness. She needed to settle the financial mess between them, and make arrangements for their baby’s future. What was best for her unborn child had to be her only consideration. Divorce was definitely a priority. She couldn’t possibly get over him while she was his wife.
She wandered into an exhibition on Indian Art. The space looked beautiful with the choices of artwork the curator, her friend Robyn, had made, and the swathes of fabric draped around columns. Too gorgeous to dismantle in a week. Yet it was temporary, as her whole life seemed to be. Maybe always would be. She’d really believed the house Travis had left her would be the start of a new phase of permanence. And, despite repeated evidence to the contrary, that small kernel of hope that Damon could be a part of that stable future had refused to be squashed.
Would she ever learn?
From the corner of her eye she saw a man in a crisp tailored suit, his hair a shade darker than midnight. All the air in her lungs squeezed out as she turned to watch Damon stride toward her. His gaze intent on her, hungry and…and yes, in pain. His long legs strode across the room, eyes locked on hers, as if he saw nothing but her, wanted nothing but her.
She struggled to fill her oxygen-starved lungs.
In his hand was a single page that he fidgeted with—she’d never seen him restless before. Something must be wrong. Or perhaps he needed her signature on some business document. That must be why he’d come.
Feeling unsteady, as if she was about to fall from a cliff, she took the last steps to meet him.
It took tensing every muscle she had to stop from throwing herself into his arms—but that was ridiculous, she shouldn’t feel that way. She would stay strong to her last breath. She had to.
She nodded politely. “Hello, Damon.”
She saw it again…a discernible difference in his eyes—that raw emotion she thought she’d glimpsed moments ago. Pain, regret, yearning. And still he didn’t speak. She clasped her perspiring hands together. Oh, God, something was wrong.
“What is it? What’s happened?”
He shook his head sharply, as if waking from a dream. “You. You’ve happened.”
Confused, aching to touch him, she forced herself to step back. She’d been tricked before when her body had proven itself untrustworthy. She had to think with her head and forget about her heart.
Her chin kicked up even as her knees threatened to buckle. “You’re not making any sense. What do you mean, I’ve happened?”
Expression neutral, he said, “I’ve come to show you something. Come with me.” He extended a hand.
Yes. Even her palm burned to have the connection. Her hand began to lift before she tucked it tightly under her breasts with the other. “I’m not following you anywhere, Damon. And I’m not touching you.”
He gave a wry imitation of a smile and dropped his hand. “Of course.” He held out the page he carried.
She kept her arms tightly crossed. “What’s that?”
He quirked an eyebrow as if he had nothing to hide, as if he was the most trustworthy man on earth. “Read it,” he said, “and you’ll see.”
Lily bit down on her lip. She couldn’t think of anything Damon could show her that would make a difference. And yet, she couldn’t help but be drawn to this unusual aura he was exuding. If appearances were enough, she might almost be convinced that he’d turned over that new leaf. Where was the seductive charm, the manipulativ
e gleam in his eye?
She held herself tighter.
It had been difficult to say no to him before. Today it was near impossible.
Curiosity piqued and, heart drawn to him, she bit her lip again and finally relented. “Okay, but I’ll warn you now it won’t make a difference.”
He smiled, genuinely this time, and she marveled at how that expression transformed his face into something as breathtaking as a master’s Grecian sculpture. “Your warning is duly noted.”
She took the page and skimmed the words. It was a flyer for a new gallery; a privately owned gallery open to the public. Owned by…her grandmother!
“Would you like me to take you there?” His jaw tightened, as though readying himself to argue her refusal.
What was he up to? She raised her head to meet his ice-blue eyes. Had Damon turned to manipulating Gran?
She hardened her heart. “What have you done?”
“Something different—no games, I swear.” His eyes were clear, somber. “Let me show you. Can you get the afternoon off?”
Since she’d last seen him she’d accumulated more than enough overtime to cover an afternoon. The question was whether she wanted to be pulled back into one of his schemes. But if Gran was involved, Lily had to make sure it was all aboveboard. She’d never let anyone hurt Gran.
Watching him, she felt the familiar pull of arousal and struggled against it. It had betrayed her before. He couldn’t be genuine. Couldn’t be.
Could he?
Hating herself for giving in, she gave a brisk nod. “I’ll meet you in the car park in ten minutes.”
She rushed back to her desk, shut down her computer and told her boss she’d be back in the morning. When she made it to the front door, Damon stood beside his idling dark blue Lexus.
He held the car door open for her. When he’d slid into the driver’s seat and pulled out into the car park traffic, she asked, “Where is this gallery?”
Claiming His Bought Bride Page 13