He’d wanted to crush her heart and spirit and make her suffer with him as he declined, and failed, and died. Clinging to her like a drowning man, like a filthy coward, he’d wanted to drag her down with him.
Most women he knew might have been happy to exchange six months of holding his hand and watching him die for a vast pot of gold at the end. Those women guarded their souls—if they even had souls.
But not Holly. He’d seen it in her warm, trusting face. From the first moment he’d taken her arm at her sister’s wedding, when they’d danced at the reception, when he’d first kissed her in the snowy darkness of Central Park, he’d seen how quickly her opinion of him had changed, from resentment, to curiosity, to bewildered desire.
And finally, when she’d opened her eyes just now in the gray light of Christmas morning in his bed, he’d seen the way her soft emerald eyes glowed. And he’d known.
He could break her.
“Stavros, you’re scaring me.” From behind him on the bed, the tone of her voice suddenly changed, becoming artificially bright. “You’ve changed your mind about marrying me, haven’t you? You’re scared to tell me. But don’t be. I wouldn’t blame you if—”
“Yes.” His voice was harsh as he turned to face her. “I’ve changed my mind.”
“You have?”
Her lovely face went pale, but she spoke the words as if this was exactly what she’d expected all along. As if she’d known her joy and ecstasy could only be a brief fantasy.
Setting his shoulders, forcing himself not to feel, he said shortly, “Last night was a mistake.”
Holly’s shoulders sagged, and she looked away, toward the twinkling white tree. Holding the comforter over her naked breasts, she whispered, “Was it something I did, or...?”
“I was drunk last night,” he lied harshly, knowing the fastest way through this was to hit her at her most vulnerable point, so she wouldn’t fight it. One hard painful wrench, and it would all be over. “I mean—” he shrugged, the stereotype of a casually cruel playboy “—let’s face it. Like you said, you aren’t my usual type.”
The blow hit her squarely. The last color drained from her cheeks, leaving her pale as a ghost beneath her fiery hair. She swallowed, tried to speak, failed. She was lost in pain and insecurity and couldn’t see past it. Wordlessly, she looked down at her hands, clasped together tightly over the comforter. “I...”
“You should go,” he said coldly.
Not meeting his eyes, Holly slowly got out of bed. Picking up her bra and panties, and her crumpled red gown from the floor, she covered her amazing body. Her face held the pure, unmitigated heartbreak of youth, and he hated himself at that moment more than he’d ever hated anyone. Which was saying something.
“My driver will take you home. He could stop at the drugstore, if you like.”
“What for?”
“Emergency contraception,” he said coldly.
“That’s not necessary.”
“It’s not?”
Stepping into her high-heeled shoes, she lifted her chin. With a deep breath, she looked back at him. “I told you. I can take the subway.”
His stomach churned at the bleakness in her eyes. “Holly—”
She cut him off with a harsh gesture. Then she gave a forced smile. “It’s my fault. I knew all along you couldn’t possibly—I never should have come here.”
Holly was apologizing...to him. It took all of Stavros’s willpower not to reach for her, pull her into his arms, tell her how he was to blame for everything. But the habits of a lifetime held him in good stead. His hands tightened into fists at his sides. “I’ll make sure you still get the promotion and raise you deserve,” was all he said. “But it’s better we don’t work together in the future.”
“Yes.” Looking back at him, her eyes suddenly glittered with a strange ferocity he’d never seen before. “You’re right. Goodbye.” She turned away.
But he couldn’t let her go, not like this. Not when he suddenly wondered if he’d ever see her again.
Stavros grabbed her arm. “Wait.”
“What else is there to say?” she asked, her voice catching.
His fingers tightened over her wrist. Last night had been the most incredible sexual experience of his life—and more than sexual. Their eyes locked, and all Stavros wanted to do was pull her back into his arms. Into his bed. Into his life.
But not at the cost of hers.