Virgin: Undone by the Billionaire: The Innocent's Dark Seduction / Count Maxime's Virgin / Untamed Billionaire, Undressed Virgin. Jennie Lucas
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didn’t touch her. He hadn’t touched her in the Rolls-Royce, either, on the ride from her office. They hadn’t spoken a word since he’d told her he wanted her.
Even now, his hands were tucked into his black wool coat, as if to keep himself from pulling her into a kiss. But the brightness of the snow and blue sky caressed his tanned face, tracing his Roman nose, the strong cut of his jawline and his impossibly chiseled cheekbones.
Every time she looked at him, his dark gaze was on her, sizzling her blood, electrifying her to the core.
But he didn’t touch her. And every moment, she felt the space between them get smaller, drawing her inevitably closer. How long could she resist this? How?
She looked away, trying to remember her loyalty to her dead family and her need to protect her baby daughter.
Roark didn’t want to settle down and raise a family. He wanted a mistress who would toss aside everything to spend her life in endless pleasures around the world.
The image flashed through her of what it would be like to be Roark’s mistress. The luxury. The freedom from responsibility. A life of adventure without constraints. Sleeping in his bed every night …
Swallowing, she pushed the thought aside. She was a mother. And even if she hadn’t been, that sort of life wouldn’t have appealed to her for long. She wanted—needed—a home. She needed someplace in the world to call her own.
Yet she remembered his words: “I’ve had everything any man could want. Except one dream that keeps slipping through my fingers. And I’m not going to let it get away this time …”
“It’s beautiful.”
Startled, she looked up at his voice. From the northern edge on top of a snowy hill, Roark was looking out at the wide emptiness of the park. In the distance behind him she could see the sparkle of the Hudson River. “Not as beautiful to you as ten million square feet of office space, though, is it?”
His dark eyes cut through her.
“Not as beautiful to me as you are,” he said in a low voice. “I meant what I said. I want you to be with me, Lia. Until we’re sick of each other. Until I have my fill of you. No matter how long it takes.” He gave a light laugh. “Who knows. It might take forever.”
Her heart pounded. Just when she thought she couldn’t take the dark intensity of his gaze for another moment, he looked away.
“I’ve never liked this city. But your park …” He took a deep breath. “It almost feels like home.”
“You have a home?” she blurted without thinking.
Glancing at her, he gave a harsh laugh. “You’re right. I don’t. But the place I’m thinking of is northern Canada.” He looked back over the snowy park. “My father was an ice trucker. He drove supplies across frozen lakes and rivers in winter. My mother met him when she was heli-skiing over spring break. They had three dates and that was it for both of them.”
“She was Canadian?”
“American. The only child of a wealthy New York family.” His lips pressed together as if holding back some emotion. “When I was seven, I came to live here with my grandfather.”
She stared at him. “You grew up in New York?”
He gave a harsh laugh. “Yes. I grew up fast. My grandfather was a cold man. He disinherited my mother at nineteen for eloping. He never forgave her for marrying a trucker. Nor did he think I was worthy of being his grandson.”
“But … but he was your grandfather!” Lia gasped. “Surely he loved you!”
Roark looked out at the wide vista of the snowy park. In the distance, a swirl of wind picked up a scattering of snowflakes and sent them whirling to the sky. “He said he’d spoiled my mother and wouldn’t make the same mistake raising me. He fired a new nanny every six months. He didn’t want me to get too attached to any of the servants, he said. He was afraid I’d get soft—or show my low-class origins.”
His emotionless words struck at her heart. Her throat hurt as she whispered, “Oh, Roark.”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve had the last laugh. I’ve made a fortune ten times the size of the one he left to charity when he died. He disinherited me, of course. The day I turned eighteen, I left New York, and he was furious. Said he’d wasted his time raising me. He was thrilled to send me back to the gutter where I belonged.”
“He couldn’t have meant it!”
“You don’t think so?” Roark’s lips curved into a humorless smile. “He said I should have died with the rest of my family. He said I should have burned in the fire.”
“That’s how your parents died?” she whispered. “In a fire?”
For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he turned his bleak eyes on her. “Not just my parents. My brother, as well. The curtains caught fire from the space heater in the middle of the night. My mother woke me up and carried me from the cabin. My father was supposed to wake up my older brother. When they didn’t come out, she went back for them.”
Lia sucked in her breath. Without thinking, she placed her hand over his, desperate to offer comfort. “Oh, Roark …”
Without moving his hand, he looked away. “It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter now.”
“But it does. I know how it feels.” She took a deep breath, blinking back tears. “I’m so sorry.”
He glanced down at her hand so tightly clasping his.
“I’m the one who’s sorry, Lia.” His dark eyes seemed haunted as he looked up. “I never meant to hurt your family when I took your father’s company. If I’d known …” He gave a harsh laugh and ripped his hand from hers. “Christ, maybe I’d still have taken it anyway. You’re right. I am a selfish bastard.”
Staring at him now, so troubled as he looked out over the snowy winter wonderland of the unfinished park, she felt her heart in her throat. It hurt too much to speak.
“But you have to know one thing,” he said in a low voice. “Making love to you in Italy had nothing to do with any business deal. I just wanted you. Wanted you beyond reason. I’ve always known I didn’t want children, yet I was so far gone that I forgot to use a condom.” He shook his head fiercely. “Do you know that for months after I left you, I waited for you to contact me with the news we’d conceived a child?”
Suddenly the truth was pounding in her throat. She wanted to tell him. She had to tell him.
She took a deep breath. “Would that have been so terrible,” she whispered, “if I’d gotten pregnant with your child?”
Raking back his hair, he gave a harsh laugh. “It would have been a disaster! I’d be no good as a father. The responsibility. The pressure. Lucky for us you weren’t pregnant, wasn’t it?”
She choked down the ridiculous hope that had been building in her heart.
“Yes,” she said dully. “Very lucky.”
He looked out over the sparkle of the snow, the endless white fields bare of trees. “I know this thing between us can’t last. You’re right. We’re nothing alike. You want a home and I must have my freedom.”
She watched his handsome face, her heart breaking.
Then he turned to face her. “Do you know you’re the first woman who ever turned me down? I admired you the moment I saw you. Your beauty, your grace. Your pride. You challenged me. Unlike most women, you never needed me to save you. And I admired that most of all.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m not nearly so strong as I look. Since Giovanni died, I’ve been alone.”
“Alone? How can you think that?”