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No way out, except past him.
“Don’t play with me, lady. I want straight answers.”
She caught a bit of her lower lip between her teeth, worried it for a second before releasing it and quickly touching the tip of her tongue to the flesh she’d gnawed.
Damian’s belly clenched. Lucas had it right. He’d been too long without a woman.
“A delivery boy at the service entrance held the door for me.” She smiled thinly. “He was very courteous. Then I used the fire stairs.”
“If you’re Kay’s sister, why didn’t you simply ask the doorman to announce you?”
“I waited all this time to hear from you but nothing happened. Telling your doorman I wanted to see you didn’t strike me as useful.”
“Let me see some ID.”
“What?”
“Identification. Something that says you’re who you claim to be.”
“I don’t know why Kay loved you,” Ivy said bitterly.
Damian decided it was the better part of valor not to answer that. Instead he watched in silence as she dug through the bag slung over one shoulder, took out a wallet and opened it.
“Here. My driver’s license. Satisfied?”
Not satisfied, just more puzzled. The license said she was Ivy Madison, age twenty-seven, with an address in Chelsea. And the photo checked out. It was the woman standing before him. Not even the bored Motor Vehicle clerks and their soulless machines had been able to snap a picture that dimmed her looks.
Damian looked up.
&nbs
p; “This doesn’t make you Kay’s sister.”
Without a word, she dug into her purse again, took out a business-card size folder and flipped it open. The photo inside was obviously years old but there was no mistaking the faces of the two women looking at the camera.
“All right. What if you are Kay’s sister. Why are you here?”
Ivy stared at him. “You can’t be serious!”
He was…and then, with breathtaking speed, things started to fall into place.
The sisters didn’t resemble each other, but that didn’t mean the apple had fallen far from the tree.
“Let me save you some time,” Damian said coolly. “Your sister didn’t leave any money.”
Those bright green eyes flashed with defiance. “I’m not here for money.”
“There’s no jewelry, either. No spoils of war. I donated everything I’d given her to charity.”
“I don’t care about that, either.”
“Really?” He folded his arms. “You mean, I haven’t ruined your hopes for a big score?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
Indeed, Damian thought grimly, that was exactly what he’d done.
“You—you egotistical, self-aggrandizing, aristocratic pig,” she hissed, her voice shaking. “You haven’t spoiled anything except for yourself. And believe me, Prince or Mr. or whatever name you want, you’ll never, ever know what you missed!”
