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“What?”
“My fault, Damian. I didn’t realize it until—until I finally found Kay’s phone number and called her, and she came to the house where I lived and I told her what had happened and she made me see that I’d provoked it, that I should never have let him tuck me in or kiss me or even buy me that doll and I knew that, all along, I knew it was strange but I just thought—I just thought he liked me. Loved me. That he really wanted to be my father, and—”
Damian kissed her.
There was no other way to stop the racing river of pain-filled words except to cover Ivy’s mouth with his and kiss her and k
iss her and kiss her until, at last, she began to cry, her tears hot and salty against his lips.
“Ivy,” he whispered, “agapimeni, my darling, my heart, none of it was your fault. Damn Kay for telling you that it was!”
“It was. I should have known—”
“What? That a monster would take a little girl’s grief and use it to slake his sick desires?” Damian rocked her in his arms. “Ivy, sweetheart, no one would ever think what happened was your fault. Surely when you reported it—”
“I didn’t.”
“What?”
“He said—he said, if I told anyone, he’d deny it. And if—if a doctor examined me, he’d say—he’d say he’d caught me with boys in the neighborhood. And since I’d—I’d already been accused of stealing money, they’d believe him, not me. And I—I knew he was right, that nobody would listen to me—”
Damian pounded his fist against the table again. This time, it shattered and collapsed on the sand.
“Who is this man? Tell me his name. I will kill him!”
“Kay took me to live with her. Do you see? She saved me, Damian. She saved me! If she hadn’t taken me from him—”
“She did not save you,” he said viciously, his accent thickening, his thoughts coming in Greek instead of English. “She used you, glyka mou. She told you—you, a child—that you had caused your own rape.”
“She made me see my foolishness, Damian.”
“And she waited and waited, your bitch of a stepsister, waited until a time came when she could demand repayment,” he said through his teeth because now, finally, he understood why Ivy had agreed to bear his child.
“No.” Ivy’s voice was a broken whisper. “You don’t understand. I owed her for saving me.”
Damian fought for control when what he really wanted to do was find the beast who’d done this and kill him. And, Thee mou, if Kay were alive…
“Ivy,” he said, “listen to me. You saved yourself.”
“I didn’t. If I’d saved myself, I’d never have let what happened happen.”
“Sweetheart. You thought this man loved you as a father. Why would you have ever imagined otherwise? You were a child. Innocent. Lonely. Alone.” He paused, framed her face with his hands, made her meet his gaze. “Kay lied to you. It was never, not even remotely, your fault.”
Ivy stared at him. “No?” she whispered.
“No. Absolutely not.” He drew a breath. “But she’d planted the seed, and she knew it. So, years later, when she wanted something she knew you would not wish to do—”
“Bearing a baby for her,” Ivy said, as the tears flowed down her cheeks. “Oh, Damian, I didn’t want to! I said no, I couldn’t, I couldn’t have a child in my womb, feel it kick, see it born and—and give it up—”
“And she said…” He struggled to keep his tone even. “She said, you owed it to her.”
“She said she’d saved me once and now—now I had to save her.”
Ivy began to sob. Damian folded her into his arms. There was nothing more to say except one phrase, and he repeated it over and over and over, until, finally, her weeping stopped.
“I love you, Ivy,” he repeated. “I love you with all my heart.”
She drew back and looked at him. “Even after this?”
