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Damian wanted to argue but how could he when he held those same convictions? And since that was the case, why did he feel his muscles knotting at Lucas’s cold words?
“She’s playing you like a Stradivarius, Damian.”
“Perhaps,” Damian said carefully. “But that doesn’t change the facts. She’s carrying my—”
“She can carry him here as well as in Greece. You want her watched? Hire a private investigator but for God’s sake, don’t play into her hands. She’s no good, Damian. The woman is an avaricious, scheming bitch.”
“Don’t call her that,” Damian snapped.
Lucas looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. Hell, maybe he had. Lucas had just given a perfect description of Ivy…
Except for those brief moments she’d softened in his arms, let his mouth taste the sweetness of hers. Those moments when she’d responded to him…
Pretended to respond, he thought coldly, and forced a laugh.
“I’m joking,” he said lightly. “You know that American expression? Apple pie, the flag, motherhood? You’re supposed to show respect for all three.”
Lucas didn’t look convinced. “Just as long as it’s a joke,” he finally said.
Damian nodded. “It was. Thank you for worrying about me but trust me, Lucas. I know what I’m doing.”
I know what I’m doing.
The words haunted him the rest of the day. At midnight, after tossing and turning, Damian rose from his bed, made a pot of coffee and took a cup out onto the terrace that wrapped around his apartment.
Did he really know what he was doing? He’d had mistresses and lovers but he’d never taken a woman to live with him.
Not that he proposed to do that with Ivy.
Moving her into one of the suites in his palace was hardly taking her to live with him. Still, was it necessary? He could hire someone to watch her, as Lucas suggested. He could hire a companion to live with her.
He almost laughed.
He could imagine Ivy’s reaction to that. She’d confront the private detective, order the companion out the door. She had the beauty of Diana and the courage of Athena. It was one hell of a combination.
Wind tousled his hair. Damian shivered. The night was cold and he was wearing only a pair of black sweatpants. It was time to go inside. Or put on a sweatshirt.
Not just yet, though.
He loved New York, especially at night.
People said the city never slept but at this hour, especially on a weekday night, Central Park West grew quiet. Only a few vehicles moved along the street far below.
Was Lucas right? Had he handled this all wrong?
He could warn Ivy that any tendency she had to behave like her sister would result in severe penalties. A cut in allowance, for a start.
As for the child…Plenty of kids grew up without their fathers. He certainly had. Hell, he’d grown up without either parent, when you thought about it. His mother had been too busy jet-setting to one party after another to pay attention to him; his father had done exactly what his father had done, ignored him until he was old enough to send to boarding school.
He had survived, hadn’t he?
Damian sipped at his coffee, gone cold and bitter.
As cold and bitter as Ivy Madison’s heart?
It was a definite possibility. She might well have plotted and schemed, as Lucas insisted. For all he knew, she was out celebrating, knowing she was on her way to collecting the big prize, that he had demanded she go to Greece with him.
Out celebrating with whom?
