Virgin: Undone by the Billionaire. Jennie Lucas
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but so cold!”
“Cold?” Roark muttered. “I don’t remember her that way.” She’d been nothing but fire and heat and warmth, from the passion of their first shared kiss to the fierce intensity of her hatred.
“She caught you in her web, didn’t she?”
Roark looked up, saw the amusement in Nathan’s eyes.
“Of course not,” he retorted. “She’s just the woman who put a park where my skyscrapers should have been. Other than that, she means nothing to me.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Nathan said gravely. “Because she’s obviously forgotten you. She’s been seeing the same man for months. Her engagement is expected any day.”
A cold shock burned through Roark’s body.
Lia … engaged?
“Who is he?”
“A wealthy lawyer from an established New York family.”
The cold turned to ice. “What’s his name?”
“Andrew Oppenheimer.”
Oppenheimer.
The white-haired, powerful man who’d known Roark’s grandfather.
Him? Lia’s husband?
And Roark knew this marriage wouldn’t be celibate as her first one had been. Oppenheimer wanted her … as all men did.
As Roark did.
He took a deep breath as the colors and sounds of the bar swirled around him. He realized that eighteen months of hard physical work hadn’t changed his desire for Lia Villani. Not at all.
He wasn’t done with her. Not by a long shot.
He still wanted her.
And even if Lia hated him … Roark would have her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“YOU know I care for you, my dear.” Andrew’s arm tightened around her shoulder as they sat in the church pew. “When will you say yes?”
Lia looked up at him, biting her lip. “Andrew …”
“I love Christmas, don’t you?” he murmured, tactfully changing the subject. “The presents. The snow. Isn’t this place romantic with the candles and roses?”
The cathedral was indeed very romantic, decked out for Christmas with holly, fir boughs and red roses lit by a multitude of candles. The wedding was aglow with all the breathless magic of a winter’s night.
But it didn’t make Lia want a Christmas wedding of her own. It only made her yearn for her baby daughter, who was already tucked into her crib for the night beneath the watchful eye of her nanny.
And the red roses made Lia think of a black-haired, broad-shouldered man who had set her world on fire, then cut her to the heart.
“Marry me, Lia,” Andrew whispered. “I’ll be a good father to Ruby. I’ll take care of you both forever.”
She licked her lips. Andrew Oppenheimer was a kind man. He’d make a good husband and an even better father.
So why couldn’t she say yes? What was wrong with her?
“What do you say?”
Swallowing, she looked away. “I’m sorry, Andrew. My answer is still no.”
He watched her for a moment, then patted her hand gently. “It’s all right, Lia. I’ll wait for you. Wait and hope.”
Lia flushed guiltily. She liked Andrew. She kept hoping that she would fall for him, or be able to accept a marriage of friendship, like her first marriage had been.
But one night of passion with Roark had ruined her forever. Now she couldn’t imagine marrying a man without that fire.
She knew she was being stupid. Her daughter needed a father. And yet …
She looked away. The church pews were packed full of friends of both her friend and employee Emily Saunders, and the bridegroom, Nathan Carter. She heard a late arrival come into the pew behind her, passing by other guests to find a spot directly behind her.
“I’d like to take you someplace for New Year’s Eve,” Andrew continued, holding her hand. “The Caribbean. St. Lucia. Or skiing in Sun Valley. Anywhere you like …”
Andrew bent his head and kissed her hand.
She heard a low cough in the pew behind her. She glanced behind her. Then looked again as time suddenly froze.
Roark.
He was sitting behind her, looking straight at her. Wearing a black shirt, a black tie and black pants, he looked more handsome and alluring and wicked than the devil himself—the only man who’d ever made her feel hot and alive. The only man she hated with every fiber of her being!
“Hello, Lia,” he said coolly.
“What are you doing here?” she blurted out. “Emily said you were in Asia—said you wouldn’t possibly make it!”
“Haven’t you heard?” he said lazily. “I’m magic.” He nodded at Andrew. “Oppenheimer. I remember you.”
“And I remember you, Navarre.” Andrew’s eyes darkened. “But times have changed. You won’t be taking another dance from me.”
For answer, Roark looked back at Lia. His dark eyes tore through her and he really seemed to be magic, because with a single glance he changed the winter into summer. He ripped off her prim gray silk Chanel dress and she felt the heat of his naked body pressed against her skin.
Even after a year and a half, the memory of him making love to her amid the roses was as intense and sharp as if it had just happened an hour ago.
She’d told herself she’d erased him from her memory. But how could she, when every morning she woke up to those same dark eyes shining from her baby’s chubby, adorable face?
Ruby.
Oh, my God, what if he found out?
Fear stabbed down her spine. After nearly nine months of pregnancy and nine months of her baby’s infancy she’d thought they were finally safe. That Roark would never come back to New York. He would never find out she’d had his baby.
Everyone in society believed that Ruby was the count’s posthumous child—a miracle born nine months after his death. She couldn’t disgrace Giovanni’s memory now or give the man she hated any reason to interfere in their lives!
“You are more beautiful than ever,” he said.
“I hate you,” she replied, turning away.
She heard him give a low, sensual laugh in reply, and a tremble went through her.
What was he doing here?
What did he want?
How long would he stay?
He’s just here for the wedding, she told herself. He’s not here for me.
But the way he’d looked at her …
It had been like a Viking looking at a long-sought treasure he’d come to plunder. He’d looked at her as if he intended to possess her. To make her moan and writhe beneath him again and again until Lia’s senses sucked her under and she screamed with the intensity of her unwilling pleasure….
The harpist began to play the bridal music and all the guests stood in the pews, craning their heads to see the bride at the end of the aisle.
Lia’s knees trembled beneath her as she stood. She watched as Emily, luminous in her white tulle bridal gown and veil, walked down the aisle on her father’s arm. Their faces were beaming.