The Billionaires' Brides Bundle

by Sandra Marton

  “I would prefer my feet on the floor.”

  He almost laughed. She was still pale but there was no mistaking the indignation in her voice.

  “You will lie down while I phone for a doctor.”

  Ivy shook her head. “I don’t need a doctor. I fainted, that’s all.”

  She was right. He decided not to argue. They’d have enough to argue over in a little while.

  “You’re a stubborn woman, Miss Madison.”

  “Not half as stubborn as you, Your Highness.”

  Damian carried her to a small, brocade-covered sofa and sat her on it.

  “Amazing, how you manage to make ‘Your Highness’ sound like a four-letter word. No. Do not even try to stand up. I’m going to get a cold compress.”

  “I told you—”

  “And I’m telling you, sit there and behave yourself.”

  He strode off, found a towel in the kitchen, filled it with ice and returned to the living room, surprised to find she’d heeded his warning.

  It was, he thought, a bad sign.

  Almost as bad as the feverish color that was replacing the pallor in her skin. He wanted to take her in his arms, hold her close, tell her he was sorry he’d frightened her…

  Hell.

  “Here,” he said brusquely, thrusting the ice-filled towel into her hands.

  “I don’t need that,” she snapped, but she took the towel anyway and pressed it to her wrists.

  He took the time to take a long look at her.

  She looked worn out. Dark shadows were visible under her eyes despite a layer of heavy makeup. She hadn’t worn makeup the other day. Why would she, when her natural beauty was so breathtaking?

  His gaze swept over her.

  She had on a loose-fitting, heavy sweater. A matching skirt. And, Thee mou, what was she doing, wearing those shoes? They were the kind that would normally make his blood pressure rise but that wasn’t going to happen when he could see the straps denting her flesh.

  Damian looked up. “Your feet are swollen.”

  “How clever of you to notice.”

  “Are you so vain you’d wear shoes that hurt?”

  “I am not vain—what are you doing?”

  “Taking off these ridiculous shoes.”

  “Stop it!” Ivy tried slapping his hands away as he lifted one of her feet to his lap. “I said—”

  “I heard you.”

  His fingers moved swiftly, undoing straps and tiny jeweled buckles. The shoe fell off. Gently he lowered her leg, then removed the second shoe. When he’d finished, Ivy planted both her bare feet on the floor.

  It was all she could do to keep from groaning with relief.

  “Better?”

  She didn’t answer. Thee mou, he had never known such an intractable female.

  Damian muttered something under his breath and lifted her feet to his lap again.

  “Of course they’re better,” he said, answering his own question. His tone was brusque but his hands were gentle as he massaged her ankles, her toes, her insteps. “Why a woman would put herself through such torture—”

  “I just came from a cover shoot. The stylist gave me the shoes as a gift. They do that kind of thing sometimes,” she said, wondering why on earth she was explaining herself to this arrogant man.

  “And you were so thrilled you decided to wear them home even though they were killing you.”

  Ivy’s eyes narrowed. “Yes,” she said coldly, “that’s right.” She tugged her feet from his hands and sat up. “Now that you’ve told me what you think of my decisions, try telling me something that matters, like what you’re doing here.”

  A muscle knotted in his jaw. Then he took an envelope from his pocket and tossed it on the coffee table.

  Ivy caught her breath.

  “Are those the test results?”

  He nodded.

  “They were supposed to send them to me.”

  “And to me.”

  “Well, that’s wrong. That’s an invasion of privacy. The results of my test are my business—”

  Ivy knew she was babbling. She stopped, reached for the envelope but she couldn’t bring herself to touch it. They’d tested for pregnancy. For paternity. For the first time, she realized they could also have tested for maternity…

  Her hands began to shake. She sat back.

  “Tell me,” she said softly.

  “You already know.” His voice was without intonation, though she sensed a restrained violence in his words. “I am the father of the child in your womb. The child that would have been Kay’s.”

  Ivy swallowed hard. “And the sex?” she whispered.

  “It is a boy.”

  A little sound broke from her throat and she put her hand over her mouth. It was, Damian thought coldly, one hell of an act.

  “I tried to tell you I was pregnant. That you were the father. You wouldn’t listen.”

  “I am listening now.” Damian sat back and folded his arms. “Tell me again, from the beginning. I want to hear everything.”

  She did, from the moment Kay proposed the idea until the moment she’d confronted him in his apartment, though there were some parts—all right, one part—she left out.

  She didn’t dare tell him that. Not yet.

  Maybe not ever.

  But she went through all the facts, pausing to answer his questions, biting her lip each time he shook his head in disbelief because, in her heart, she still shared that disbelief.

  What Kay had asked of her, what she’d agreed to do, was insane.

  “Why?” he said, when she’d finished the tale. “Why would Kay ask you to be a—What did you call it?”

  “A gestational surrogate. Her egg. Your—your sperm.” She knew she was blushing, and wasn’t that ridiculous? The procedure Kay had planned, even the one they’d actually ended up doing, was about as intimate as a flu shot. “And I told you why. You wanted a child. She knew she couldn’t carry one.”

  Damian shot to his feet. “Lies! I never said anything about a child. And she didn’t know if she could carry one or not.”

  “You asked me to tell you everything. That’s what I’m doing.”

  She gasped as he hauled her to her feet.

  “The hell you are,” he snarled. “What did she pay you for your role in this?”

  “Pay me?” Ivy laughed. “Not a penny. You kept Kay on a tight allowance.”

  “Another lie!”

  “Even if you hadn’t, I’d never have done this for money.”

  “No,” he said grimly. “You did it out of love.”

  “I know you can’t understand something like that but—”

  “I understand, all right. You hatched out a plot between you. You’d have a baby Kay didn’t want to have, she’d use it to force me into marriage. And when she divorced me, the two of you would split whatever huge settlement a shyster lawyer could bleed out of me.”

  Ivy jerked free of his hands. “Do you have any idea how much I earn in a day? How much I’ll lose by not modeling for the next five or six months? Hell, for the next couple of years?”

  “Is that why you took an assignment today?” he said, sneering. “Because you have so much money you don’t need any more?”

  “That’s none of your business!”

  “You’re wrong,” he said coldly. “From now on, everything about you is my business.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “What did I just say? Starting now, everything about you is also about me.”

  “The hell it is!”

  Ivy glared at him. Damian glared back. Her chin was raised. Her eyes were cold. Her hands were knotted on her hips.

  She looked like one of the Furies, ready and determined to take on the world.

  He wanted to cover the distance between them, grab her and shake her. Or grab her, haul her into his arms and kiss her until she trembled.

  He hated the effect she had on him, hated himself for bending to it…And it was time to put all that asi
de.

  He knew what he had to do.

  It was time she knew it, too.

  “We’re getting sidetracked,” he said.

  “I agree, Your Highness.”

  That drove him crazy, too. The way she said “Your Highness.” He hadn’t been joking when he’d told her she made it sound like a four-letter word.

  “Under the circumstances,” he said brusquely, “I think you should call me Damian.”

  She got his meaning; he knew because he saw her cheeks flame. Good, he thought grimly. He wanted her a little uncertain. Why should he be the only one who was balancing on a tightrope?

  “This is a pointless conversation. Why should it matter what I call you? Once we determine what happens after my—after the baby’s born, we don’t have to see each other again.”

  “Is that what you would you like to happen?”

  Was he really asking? Ivy could hardly believe it but she was ready with an answer. This was all she’d thought about since the day she’d gone to his apartment.

  “I’d like a simple solution,” she said carefully, “one that would please us both.”

  “And that is?”

  She could hear her heart pounding. Could he hear it, too?

  “You—you’ve fathered a baby you say you didn’t want.”

  “More correctly, I fathered a baby I didn’t know about.”

  If that was true—and she had to believe it was—it worried her. The way he’d just stated the situation worried her, too. Fathering a baby he didn’t want wasn’t the same as fathering a baby he hadn’t known about.

  She wanted to call him on it but that wouldn’t help her case, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

  “A baby you didn’t know about,” she said, trying to sound as if she really believed it. “A baby my sister wanted.”

  “But?” He smiled thinly. “I could hear the word, even if it was unspoken.”

  She drew a breath, then let it out. “But, everything’s changed. Kay is gone and I—I want this baby. I didn’t know I’d feel this way. That I’d love the baby without ever seeing it. That I wouldn’t want to give it away or—”

  “Very nice,” he said coldly. “But please, spare me the performance. How much?”

  She looked puzzled. “I just told you. I want the baby with all my heart.”

  Damian came toward her, shaking his head and smiling. “You have it wrong. I’m not asking about your heart, I’m asking about your wallet. How much must I pay you to give up this child you carry?”

  “This has nothing to do with money.”

  “You are Kay’s sister. Everything has to do with money.” His mouth twisted. “How much?”

  “I want my baby, Damian! You don’t want it. You said so.”

  “You don’t listen, glyka mou. I said, I didn’t know about the child.” Slowly he reached out and slid his hand beneath Ivy’s sweater. She grabbed his wrist and tried to move it but it was like trying to move an oak.

  His fingers spread over her belly.

  “That’s my son,” he said softly. “In your womb. He carries my genes. My blood.”

  “And mine,” she said quickly.

  “You mean, Kay’s.”

  She flushed. “Yes. Of course that’s what I mean.”

  “A baby you meant to give up.”

  The words hurt her heart.

  “Yes,” she whispered, so softly he could hardly hear her. “I thought I could. But—but just as you said, this baby is in my womb—”

  Damian caught her face in his hands.

  “My seed,” he said. “Your womb. In other words, our child.” His gaze, like a caress, fell to her lips. “Via a syringe, Ivy. Not you in my arms, in my bed, the way it should have been.”

  “But it wasn’t.” Was that high, breathless voice really hers? “Besides, that has nothing to do with the facts.”

  She was right.

  But he’d given up trying to be logical. Nothing about this was logical, he thought, and he bent to her and kissed her.

  The kiss was long. Deep. And when she made a soft, sweet sound that could only have been a sigh of desire, Damian took the kiss deeper still. His tongue slipped into her mouth; he tasted her sweetness, God, her innocence…

  Except, she wasn’t innocent.

  She’d entered into an unholy bargain with her sister and he didn’t for a minute believe she’d done it as some great humanitarian gesture…

  And then he stopped thinking, gathered her tightly in his arms and kissed her again and again until she was gripping his shoulders, until she was parting her lips to his, until she rose to him, pressed against him, sighed into his mouth.

  She swayed when he let go of her. Her eyes flew open; she looked as shaken as he felt.

  He hated her for it.

  For the act, the drama…the effect it had on him.

  “So,” he said, his tone calm despite the pounding surge of his blood, “we have a dilemma. How do I claim a child that’s mine when it’s still in your womb?”

  “You don’t. I just told you, I want—”

  “Frankly I don’t give a damn what you want. Neither will a judge. You entered into a devil’s bargain with your sister. Now you’ll pay the price.”

  Her green eyes went black with fear. At least, it looked like fear. He knew it was greed.

  “No court is going to take a child from its mother.”

  “You’re not his mother, glyka mou. But I am its father.”

  “Still—”

  “There is no ‘still,’ Ivy. No if, no but, no maybe. I’ve spoken with my attorney.”

  “Your attorney isn’t God.”

  Damian laughed. “Try telling him that.” His laughter faded. “Do you have any idea how much I pay him each year?”

  “No, and I don’t give a damn! Your money doesn’t impress me.”

  “I pay him a million dollars. And that’s only a retainer.” He reached for her. She stepped back but he caught her with insolent ease and pulled her into his arms again. “He’s worth every penny. And I promise, he will take my son from you.”

  “No.” Tears rose in Ivy’s eyes. “You can’t do this. You wouldn’t do this!”

  “But I’m not heartless,” Damian said softly. “I’m even willing to believe there’s some truth to what you say about not wanting to give up my child.” He bent his head to hers; she tried to twist her face away but he slid his hands into her hair and held her fast. “So I’ve decided to make you an offer.” He smiled. “An offer, as they say, you cannot refuse.”

  The world, the room, everything seemed to stop.

  “What?” Ivy whispered.

  Damian took her mouth with his. Kissed her as she struggled. As she wept. As she tried to break free until, at last, she went still in his arms and let the kiss happen.

  It wasn’t what he wanted, damn it.

  He wanted her to kiss him back, as she had before. To melt against him, to moan, to show him that she wanted him, wanted him…

  Even if it was a lie.

  He drew back. She stood motionless.

  “I return to Greece tomorrow.”

  “You can return to Hades for all I care. I want to know what you’re offering me.”

  What he’d come up with was surprisingly simple. He’d worked it out late last night, on the impossible chance her story about her pregnancy turned out to be true.

  This morning, after the test results had proved that it was, he’d run the idea past his attorney who’d said yes, okay, with just a couple of touch-ups, it would work.

  Ivy would put herself into the hands of a physician of his choosing. She would stop working—he would support her through the pregnancy. He’d move her into a place nearer his condo. And when she gave birth, he would give her a one time payment of ten million dollars and she would give him his son.

  He’d even permit her to visit the child four times a year, if she was really as emotionally committed to him as she made it seem.

  More than
generous, his attorney had agreed.

  “Damn you,” Ivy demanded, “what offer?”

  Damian cleared his throat. “Ten million dollars on the birth of my child.”

  She laughed. Damn her, she laughed!

  “Until then, I will move you to a place of my choosing. And, of course, I will support you.”

  Another peal of laughter burst from her throat. He could feel every muscle in his body tensing.

  “You find this amusing?”

  “I find it amazing! Do you really think you can buy my baby? That you can take over my life?”

  “The child is not yours. You seem to keep forgetting that. As for your so-called life…” His eyes darkened. “Your sister had a life, too, one that was inappropriate.”

  “And you are a candidate for sainthood?”

  Damian could feel his control slipping. Who was she, this woman who thought she could defy him? Who had entered into a conspiracy that would change his life?

  “I know who I am,” he said coldly. “More to the point, I know who you are.” His eyes flickered over her in dismissal. “You are a woman who agreed to bear a child for money.”

  “I’m tired of defending myself, tired of explaining, tired of being bullied.” Ivy’s voice trembled with emotion. “I don’t want your money or your support, and I’m certainly not moving to an apartment where you can keep me prisoner!”

  She kept talking. He stopped listening. All he could see was her face, tearstained and determined.

  Did she think he was a complete fool? That this show of rebelliousness would convince him to up the ante?

  “I am not some—some meek little lamb,” she said, “eager to do your bidding.” She folded her arms and glared at him. “Do you understand, Your Highness? My answer to your offer is no!”

  She gasped as he captured her face in his hands.

  “It wasn’t an offer,” he growled. “It is what you will do—but I’m changing the terms. Forget the apartment near mine. I am taking you to Greece with me.”

  She stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. He hadn’t. He’d simply begun to see things more clearly.

  He was in New York once a month at best. What would she be doing while he was away? He had the right to know.

  She slung an obscenity at him that almost made him laugh, coming as it did from that perfect mouth.

  “I will not go anywhere with you. There are laws—”