Sandra Marton - The Greek Prince's Chosen Wife

What the hell was he doing? She was just like Kay. A siren, luring a man with sex—

Her hand flew through the air and slammed against his jaw.

“You bastard,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “You evil, horrible son of a bitch!”

“Don’t bother with the theatrics,” he snarled. “Or I’ll call you some names of my own.”

“I don’t understand why Kay loved you!”

“Your sister never loved anything that didn’t have a price tag on it. Now, go on. Get the hell out before I change my mind and call the police.”

“She loved you enough to let you talk her into having this baby!”

Damian had swung away. Now he turned around and faced Ivy Madison.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know damned well what I’m talking about! She lost the first baby and instead of offering her any comfort and compassion, you told her to get out because she couldn’t give you an heir.”

Could a woman’s lies actually leave a man speechless? Damian opened his mouth, then shut it again while he tried to make sense of what Ivy Madison had just said.

“You would have tossed away the woman who loved you, who adored you, just because she couldn’t give you a child. So my sister said she’d give you a baby, no matter what it took, even after the doctors said she couldn’t run the risk of pregnancy!”

“Wait a minute. Just wait one damned minute—”

Ivy stared at him, emerald eyes bright against the pallor of her skin.

“You used her love for you to try to get your own way and you didn’t care what it did to her, what happened to her—”

Damian was on her in two strides, hands gripping her shoulders, fingers biting into her flesh, lifting her to her toes so that their faces were inches apart.

“Get out,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “Do you hear me? Get out of my home and my life or I’ll have you arrested. And if you think you’ll walk away after a couple of hours in jail, think again. My attorneys will see to it that you stay in prison for the next hundred years.”

It was an empty threat. What could he charge her with besides being a world-class liar? He knew that. What counted was that she didn’t.

But it didn’t stop her.

“Kay was in love with you.”

“I just told you what Kay loved. You have five seconds, Miss Madison. One. Two—”

“She found a way to have your child. You were happy to go along with it but now, you refuse to acknowledge that—”

“Goodbye, Miss Madison.”

Damian spun Ivy toward the door. He put his hand in the small of her back, gave her a little push and she stumbled toward the elevator.

“I’m going to call down to the lobby. If the doorman doesn’t see you stepping out of this car in the next couple of minutes, the cops will be waiting.”

“You can’t do this!”

“Just watch me.”

The elevator door opened. Damian curled his fingers around her elbow and quick-marched her inside.

Tears were streaming down her face.

She was as good at crying on demand as Kay had been, he thought dispassionately, though Kay had never quite mastered the art. Her face would get red, her skin blotchy but despite all that, her nose never ran.

Ivy’s eyes were cloudy with tears. Her skin was the color of cream. And her nose—damn it, her nose was leaking.

A nice touch of authenticity, Damian told himself as he stepped from the car and the door began to close.

“I was a fool to come here.”

Damian grabbed the door. Her words were slurred. Another nice touch, he thought, and offered a wicked smile.

“Didn’t work out quite the way you’d planned it, did it?”

“I should have known. All these months, no call from you…”

“I’m every bit the son of a bitch you imagined I’d be,” he said, smiling again.

“I tried to tell Kay it was a bad idea, but she wouldn’t listen.”

“I’ll bet. Two con artists discussing how to handle a sucker. Must have been one hell of a conversation.”

She brushed the back of her hand over her eyes but, more credit to her acting skills, the tears kept coming.

“Just be sure of one thing, Prince Aristedes.”

“It’s Prince Damian,” he said coolly. “If you’re going to try to work royalty, you should use the proper form of address.”

“Don’t think you can change your mind after the baby’s born.”

“I wouldn’t dream of…” He jerked back. “What baby?”

“Because I won’t let you near this child. I don’t give a damn how many lawyers you turn loose on me!”

Damian stared at her. He’d let go of the elevator door and it was starting to close again. He moved fast and forced it open.

“What baby?” he demanded.

“You know damned well what baby! Mine. I mean, Kay’s.” Ivy’s chin lifted. “Kay’s—and yours.”

The earth gave a sickening tilt under his feet. There was a baby? No. There couldn’t be. Kay had never really been pregnant. Her doctor had told him so…

“You’re a vicious little liar!”

“Fine. Stay with that idea. I told you, I won’t let my baby—Kay’s baby—near a son of a bitch like—”

She let out a shriek as he dragged her from the elevator, marched her into his apartment and all but threw her into a chair.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He stood over her, feet apart, arms folded, eyes blazing with anger. “Start talking, and it better be the truth.”

She began sobbing. He didn’t give a damn.

“I’m waiting,” he growled. “What baby are you talking about? Whose is it? And where?”

Ivy sprang to her feet. “Get out of my way.”

He grabbed her again, hauled her to her toes.

“Answer me, goddamn it!”

Ivy looked up at him while the seconds seemed to turn to hours. Then she wrenched free of his hands.

This baby,” she said, laying a hand over her belly. “The one in my womb. I’m pregnant, Prince Damian. Pregnant—with your child.”

PREGNANT?

Pregnant, with his child?

Damian’s brain reeled.

Thee mou, a man didn’t want to hear that accusation from a woman he didn’t love once in a lifetime, let alone twice…

And then his sanity returned.

This woman, Ivy, might well be pregnant but it didn’t have a damned thing to do with him. Not unless science had come up with a way a man could have sex with a woman without ever seeing her or touching her.

She was looking at him, defiance stamped in every feature. What was she waiting for? Was he supposed to blink, fall down, clap his hand to his forehead?

The only thing he felt like doing was tossing her over his shoulder and throwing her out. But first—but first—

Damian snorted. Snorted again and then, to hell with it, burst out laughing.

Ivy Madison gave him a killing look.

“How can you laugh at this?” she demanded.

That only made him laugh harder.

He’d heard some really creative tall tales in his life. His father had been especially adept at telling them as he took his company to the edge of ruin but nothing, nothing topped this one.

It was funny.

It was infuriating.

Did she take him for a complete fool? Her sister had. Yes, but at least he’d had sex with the sister. There’d been a basis—shaky, but a basis—for Kay claiming she was pregnant.

Hell, the hours the two women must have spent talking about what a sucker he was, how easily he could be taken in by a beautiful face.

“Perhaps you’d like to share what’s so damned amusing, Prince Damian?”

Amusing? Damian’s laughter faded. “Actually,” he said, “I’m insulted.”

She blinked. “Insulted?”

“That you’d come up with such a pathetic lie.” He tucked his hands in his trouser pockets and sighed dramatically. “You have to have sex with a man before he can impregnate you, Miss Madison, and you and I…”

Suddenly he knew where this was heading. He’d heard of scams like it before.

A beautiful woman chooses a man who’s rich. Well-known. A man whose name would garner space in the tabloids.

When the time is right, she confronts him, tells him they met at a party, on a yacht—there were dozens of places they could have stumbled across each other.

That established, she drops the bomb.

She’s pregnant. He’s responsible. When he says That’s impossible, I never saw you before in my life, she starts to cry. He was drinking that night, she says. He seduced her, she says. Doesn’t he remember?

Because she does.

Every touch. Every sigh. Every nuance of their encounter is seared in her memory, and if he doesn’t want it all over the scandal sheets, he’ll Do The Right Thing.

He’ll give her a fat sum of money to help her. Nothing like a bribe, of course. Just money to get her through a bad time.

Some men would give in without much of a fight, even if they could disprove the story. They’d do whatever it took just to avoid publicity.

Damian’s jaw tightened.

Oh, yes. That was how this was supposed to go down…Except, it wouldn’t. His beautiful scam artist was about to learn she couldn’t draw him into that kind of trap.

He’d already been the victim of one Madison sister. He’d be damned if he’d be the victim of the second sister, too.

Damian looked up. The woman had not moved. She stood her ground, shoulders squared, head up, eyes glittering with defiance.

God, she was magnificent! Anyone walking in and seeing her would be sure she was a brave Amazon, overmatched but prepared to fight to her last breath.

Too bad there wasn’t an audience. There was only him, and he wasn’t buying the act.

Damian smiled. Slowly he brought his hands together in mocking applause.

“Excellent,” he said softly. “An outstanding performance.” His smile disappeared. “Just one problem, kardia mou. I’m on to you.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I know your game. And I’m not going to play it.”

“Game? Is that what you think this is? I come to you after my sister’s death because you didn’t have enough concern to come to me and you think—you think it’s a game?”

“Perhaps I used the wrong word. It’s more like a melodrama. You’re the innocent little flower, I’m the cruel villain.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Damian started slowly toward her. He saw her stiffen. She wanted to back away or maybe even turn and run. Good, he thought coldly. She was afraid of him, and she damned well ought to be.

“Don’t you want to tell me the rest? The details of our passionate encounter?”

She looked at him as if he were crazy. “What passionate encounter?”

“Come now, darling. Have you forgotten your lines? You’re supposed to remind me of what we did when I was drunk.” He stopped inches from her, a chill smile curling across his lips. “Well, I’m waiting. Where did it happen? Here? Athens? A party on my yacht at the Côte d’Azur? Not that it matters. The story’s the same no matter where we met.”

“I didn’t say—”

“No. You didn’t, and that’s my fault. I never gave you the chance to tell your heartbreaking little tale, but why waste time when it’s so trite? I was drunk. I seduced you. Now, it’s—it’s—How many months later, did you say?”

“Three months. You know that, just as you know the rest of what you said isn’t true!”

“Did I get the facts wrong?” His eyes narrowed; his voice turned hard. “Frankly I don’t give a damn. All I care about is seeing the last of you, lady. You understand?”

Ivy understood, all right.