Modern Romance February Books 5-8. Heidi RiceЧитать онлайн книгу.
had been even worse, and anyway was way out of her price range. So she’d moved to a working-class neighborhood in Brooklyn where she could be anonymous. No one bothered her. Mostly, people were kind.
But without money or family or friends, Letty had learned the hard way what it meant to struggle and always have too much month at the end of her paycheck.
No one likes self-pity. Help someone else, baby. Letty could almost hear the whisper of her mother’s voice, so kind, so warm, so loving. Almost see her mother’s eyes glowing with love. The best way to feel better when you’re sad is to help someone who’s hurting more.
Good advice.
Taking a deep breath, Letty turned to Darius in the sports car. “So tell me about your charity, the one benefiting from the Fall Ball tonight.”
Driving, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “It provides college scholarships for foster kids.”
“Nice,” she said, surprised. “But I never pegged you as the society-ball-hosting type.”
He shrugged. “I have the time. Might as well use it.”
“You could just waste your days dating beautiful women and spending your obscene amounts of money.”
He pulled his car to a curb where a valet waited. “That’s exactly what I plan to do today.”
“You’re going on a date?” Then she saw his look and realized he meant her. She blushed. “Oh.”
The door opened, and Letty stepped out onto Fifth Avenue, which was lined with exclusive designer shops from famous international brands to quirky boutiques less well-known but every bit as expensive. The last time she’d shopped on this street she’d been a pampered seventeen-year-old looking for a white dress for the graduation ceremony at her private school, Miss Parker’s. She hadn’t fit into society, even then. She’d been too bookish, too tenderhearted, too socially awkward.
But now Letty was actually scared. She glanced at the people coming out of an exclusive department store, almost expecting one of them to tell her to get lost, that she no longer belonged here.
“Which shop first?” Darius asked, his dark eyes smiling.
“I changed my mind,” she muttered. “I don’t want to go.”
The smile disappeared. “Too late for that.”
“Darius...”
Ignoring her protests, he grabbed her hand. Letty tried not to notice the sizzle of electricity from their touching palms as he pulled her into a famous luxury store.
As soon as they passed the doorman into the store’s foyer, a salesgirl came up to them, offering a tray of champagne. “Monsieur?”
He took a glass. “Thank you.”
Noting Letty’s pregnant belly, the salesgirl didn’t offer champagne. “And for madame? Some sparkling water, perhaps, some juice of pamplemousse?”
“No, thanks,” Letty said, pulling away from Darius. Ducking her head, she pretended to look through the nearest dress racks, sparsely and expensively filled with garments that seemed to be designed for a size zero.
“We require assistance,” he said.
“Sir?”
He turned to an elegant white-haired woman, apparently the manager, dressed in an expensive-looking tweed suit. “I need a ball gown for my fiancée.”
Fiancée. The word made Letty shiver. But it was true, in a way. She’d agreed to his marriage proposal.
It’s not a real engagement, she told herself firmly. She glanced down at her bare left hand. There was no ring. No ring meant it wasn’t real. Anyway, the engagement would be over before the end of the night.
“Couture or ready-to-wear, Mr. Kyrillos?” The white-haired woman somehow already knew who he was.
“It’s for tonight.”
“We can, of course, do any last-minute alterations that madame may require. If you’ll please come this way?”
They were led to a private area with a white leather sofa and a three-way mirror, as a succession of salesgirls, under the sharp-eyed direction of the manager, brought in clothes.
“She’ll try on everything,” Darius said, standing in front of the sofa as his cell phone rang. Lifting it from his pocket, he told Letty, “Come out when you have something to show me.”
As salesgirls filled her arms with gowns and gently pushed her toward the changing room, she hesitated. “What do you want to see?”
Looking her body over slowly, Darius gave her a heavy-lidded sensual smile. “Everything.”
Beneath his hot gaze, somehow, he made her feel like a goddess of sex—even at six months pregnant, in her old T-shirt and jeans!
Darius sat down calmly on the white leather sofa, talking into his phone and sipping champagne. She turned away with a sigh to try on gowns for a ball that she was dreading.
Maybe it wouldn’t be all bad, she tried to tell herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had new clothes. Everything in her closet was either from high school or purchased from the bargain bin at the thrift store. It might be fun to get a dress that was not only pretty, but actually fit.
Then she saw the price tag of the first gown.
Darius looked up expectantly when she came out of the dressing room. His expression changed to a scowl. “Why are you still in your old clothes?”
“The price of these gowns is ridiculous! We can go to the local thrift shop and find a barely used prom dress...”
“Letty.”
“I mean it. It’s foolish for you to throw money away when you might never see me again after tonight.”
“Now you’re talking nonsense.” He tilted his head, looking her over critically. “Are you not feeling well? Are you hungry? Thirsty? Tired?”
She wasn’t going to say a word about being hungry. Wild horses couldn’t drag it out of her!
Her stomach growled again.
“Um. I might have missed breakfast.”
It wasn’t her fault! The baby made her say it!
He looked mad. “You should have told me.” He grabbed a glass of sparkling mineral water from a salesgirl. “Here,” he said gravely, pushing it into her hand. “Start with that. Breakfast or lunch?”
The cool water tasted delicious, and did make her feel slightly better. “Breakfast?”
Turning to one of the hovering assistants, he ordered, “Have a large breakfast sent down from your café.”
“Oh, sir.” The salesgirl looked sorrowful. “I’m afraid that’s impossible...”
“Of course it’s possible for Mr. Kyrillos,” the white-haired manager snapped, turning to them with a bright smile. “A pregnant woman must never go hungry. What would madame like?”
“Everything,” Darius said. “Send down a tray or two. We’ll be here a while. We need a ball gown, but also a great deal more. Shoes, accessories, maternity clothes. Price is no object. We may be here for hours.”
“Yes, sir,” the woman replied happily, clapping her hands at her assistants, who rushed to obey.
“Darius, you don’t need to make a fuss!”
“You’re wrong. I can see all too well that I need to be in charge. Because you’ve always been better at taking care of others than yourself.” He drew Letty gently to the white sofa. “Here. Sit down. Take a breath.”
“But I left all those dresses in the changing room—”