The Billionaires' Brides Bundle

“I didn’t steal anything! Kay, I beg you, don’t do this!”

“I got out as soon as I hit eighteen. And my dear stepsister lucked out. They put her in another home with a man like my father. And when the poor bastard finally took what she’d been waving under his nose—”

“Paliogyneko!” Damian grabbed Kay’s arm and jerked her forward. “Get out! Get the hell out of my home. If I ever see you again, I’ll—”

“My God, you bought her story! She told you he raped her. And you believed it!”

“Kay,” Ivy pleaded, “stop! We’re sisters. I always loved you—”

“Stepsisters. And your supposed love doesn’t mean a thing to me.” Kay spun toward Damian. “What else did she tell you? That she’s been scared of sex ever since?” She threw back her head and laughed. “Look at her, Damian. Think about the life she’s led. She moves in a world where people trade in flesh. Where women sell cars by making men get hard-ons. Do you really think my dear stepsister is a sweet portrait of virtue?”

Ivy shook her head. “Damian. Don’t listen to her. I’ve never—”

“You want to know what a good, kind little innocent my stepsister is?” Kay flashed a vicious smile. “That baby in her belly?”

“Kay. Oh, please, please, please, Kay, don’t do this!”

“You remember that charge at Tiffany? That I let you think was mine? It wasn’t. I spent it on her. On Ivy. She wanted a necklace. Diamonds. Rubies. I bought it for her.”

“Damian. God, she’s lying!”

“It was the price for the baby.” Kay paused, threw a triumphant look at Ivy, then turned back to Damian. “Because, you see, she’s right. I did lie, darling. That baby inside her? It’s yours, all right…but it’s yours and Ivy’s.”

Ivy swung toward Damian, saw the color leach from his face.

“What?” he said, his voice a husky rasp.

“I found out I couldn’t use my own eggs. So I said, Ivy, let me use yours. And she said—”

“Damian. Listen to me. It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t—”

“I said, how about letting me put my lover’s sperm inside you? How about conceiving a baby for me? And she said, is he rich? And I said, yes, he’s a royal. And she said, how much can you get out of him? And I said, well, I couldn’t come right out and ask for money but I could buy her something she wanted, and she said, how about this necklace at Tiffany? And that was enough until she thought I was dead and she figured, hey, no more middleman. I can collect all the bucks, marry Kay’s prince and live the life I’ve always wanted.”

Ivy saw the horror in Damian’s face. She turned and ran.

No footsteps came after her.

No footsteps. No Damian. Kay’s story was a hideous blend of truth and lies and he’d believed it.

She raced through the vast rooms of the ancient palace, through the entry hall. Esias called to her but she ran past him, out the door, down the steps, along the road that led to the airstrip, her breath sobbing in her throat.

“Ivy!”

She heard the footsteps now. Heard Damian’s voice and knew she could not face him. She hadn’t told him the final truth for just this reason, because she’d feared what she’d see in his eyes, a look that asked how a woman could agree to conceive a baby and give it up.

“Ivy!”

Weeping, she ran faster. A high-heeled sandal fell off and she kicked away the other one, felt the gravel cutting her flesh and knew the pain of that was nothing compared to the pain in her heart.

“Ivy, damn it…”

Hard arms closed around her.

“No,” she shouted. “No, Damian, don’t—”

He swung her toward her, his face harsh and angular in the moonlight.

“Ivy,” he said—and kissed her.