His Perfect Match (6 page)

“You son-of-a-bitch! Get off me!”

“No matter what other lies you told, I know you enjoyed our lovemaking. The way you melted in my arms was no lie.”

“Get off or I'll scream!” She bucked hard, determined not to cry. Not here. Not now. And certainly
not
in front of this man.

Suddenly Darius was on his feet and she was free. “No need to be so dramatic.”

Liz scooted to the opposite side before standing to put the bed between them. “Is this what you're into now, Darius?!”

Her eyes had adjusted to the dark and she saw his brown eyes almost twinkle with malicious intent. “I don't have to take what can be given.”

She stopped herself from asking what he meant by that. She was afraid she already knew.

He turned and headed toward the door. “Meet me at eight for breakfast, and I'll tell you my price.” He
opened the door, paused and chuckled. “When you hear what I want you may wish you'd bargained with the devil instead.” He walked out and closed the door behind him.

“I think I already do,” Liz whispered to the empty room.

A
s she tossed one outfit after another across the bed Liz once again regretted ignoring Dee's suggestion that she buy some decent clothes for the trip. She finally settled on a navy-blue sheath with a gold chain belt and matching gold high-heeled sandals.

Spritzing her hair with moisturizer she brushed, twisted and pinned it in an upturned ponytail. In one day she'd already discovered that New Zealand mornings came in with scorching temperatures. As she applied a light coating of eye shadow and lipstick, she wondered why she was doing all this, and remembered the night before and the implied message in his words.

Staring at her image in the mirror she silently wondered if some part of her was inviting trouble. She glanced at the clock. She still had time to call Marc.

A few minutes later, fortified by her son's excited
words about their trip to the zoo, Liz left her bungalow heading to the main building where the hotel restaurant was located. Although Darius had not specified a location, she could only imagine that was where he wanted to meet her. As she entered the elegant glass-walled restaurant giving a spectacular circular view of the harbor, she discovered that when it came to Darius she would be wise to stop making assumptions.

She approached the hostess. “Excuse me, I'm supposed to meet Mr. North here this morning.”

“You must be Ms. Smith.” The hostess reached under her podium and pulled out a sealed envelope. “He left this for you.”

Liz quickly opened the envelope and enclosed was a small piece of paper that read: Auta Fafine suite. She sighed and shook her head. Of course, they would meet in his suite if he planned to finish what he had started last night. And she had every belief that that would be his price.

She quickly found the suite and knocked on the door.

“Come in, it's open.”

As she entered the suite she was immediately struck by the elegance of the place. The beautiful furnishings and artwork spoke of a wealth she had only guessed at until now. Darius had moved far beyond his delis and supermarkets of the past years.

This morning he was sporting a more corporate look, in sage-green linen slacks and an untucked, cream linen shirt. The clothes hung comfortably loose on his muscular frame, making him seem a lot less harmless than he was.

With his hands in his pockets, he stood watching her. “Good morning, Ms.
Smith
.” He entered the room from
the balcony. “I would've thought you'd be more creative with your alias.”

“I was in a hurry. I just needed a name you wouldn't notice on the register.” Liz closed the door behind her, still taking in her surroundings. “It worked, didn't it?”

“Yes, it did.” He followed her eyes as she surveyed his home. “Just realizing you bet on the wrong horse?”

She straightened her shoulders and met his eyes across the room. They roamed over her body, taking in every detail of her appearance, and she found herself secretly satisfied that she'd taken the time to primp that morning. Despite her desperate need for his help, she was determined that he would detect no further weaknesses in her.

“So, name your price.”

“Not so fast. Come, have breakfast with me.” He gestured to the balcony.

She forced her feet to move and followed him out to the balcony where a small table was set for two with various breakfast entrees, everything from fresh fruit to danishes to eggs.

He held a chair for her to sit and she accepted the offer graciously until he bent forward and smelt her hair.

“Hmmm…still using that apple stuff after all these years.”

She ignored the remark and opened her napkin across her lap. “Why don't you just get to it, Darius?”

He sat across from her with a wide grin. “Because the waiting is making you nuts.”

“And making me nuts makes you happy?”

He shrugged. “Small satisfaction for what you did to me.”

“And that's the ultimate goal here, isn't it? Punishing me for what I did to you?”

“Yes.” He picked up a plate of fruit. “Try the kiwi, it's picked right here on the island. They are incredibly fresh and juicy.”

She ignored the bowl of fruit. “Darius, I can't change the past and this…” She gestured around them. “This won't take away your hurt.”

“I know that.” He put down the bowl and looked directly into the eyes. “But you took so much from me, I just can't seem to help myself.”

“What did I take from you, Darius? You seem to be doing just fine here. And I refuse to believe you've been celibate all these years. You could've married if you wanted to. I hurt you, I broke your heart—yes, but I didn't take anything from you.”

His eyes narrowed and darkened at the same time. “You took my brother.”

Liz swallowed hard, realizing for the first time that she'd only felt the tip of the iceberg in regards to the depth of this man's rage toward her.

“My last memory of him is what you two did. We never got the chance to make things right between us. I never got the chance to say goodbye. I knew Darren was selfish and deceitful but he was still my brother. I loved him, and now he's gone.”

“Oh, my God.” Her eyes widened. “You blame me for his death, don't you?”

“Shouldn't I?”

She shook her head frantically. “No, you don't understand—”

“What don't I understand, Liz? Darren was in Vegas with you. Because of you. He was working in that club to make money to take care of you. What don't I understand?”

Liz wanted to tell him the truth. That Darren's attraction to her had ended almost the moment she'd agreed to run away with him. That he'd practically abandoned her from the first day they arrived in Vegas. That she'd supported herself working as a cocktail waitress. That the only times she saw Darren in those last two months were when he needed a place to crash or to borrow money. She'd had no idea where he was or what he was doing most of the time, and whatever he was doing certainly was not for her. In fact, the only reason she'd stayed in Vegas, instead of returning home immediately to her family, had been the remnants of pride she still possessed at the time. But, in the end, after Darren's death and the loss of her job as a cocktail waitress, she'd been forced to surrender even that.

But she didn't tell him any of that. Somehow enduring his hatred and disdain seemed far easier than the possibility of seeing pity in his eyes. “Believe what you want, Darius. I'll say it again. I can't change the past.”

He sat back in his chair. “No, you can't.” He picked up a danish and toyed with it for a moment before returning it to the plate. “Tell me about my nephew.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything. I've missed out on the first ten years of his life.”

Liz let her mind wander to her son and couldn't stop the small smile that formed on her lips. “He's wonderful. Funny and smart, and terribly spoiled. He's an incredible chess player and knows it—did I mention he's a terrible winner?”

He smiled. “The North men have never been known for our grace.”

“He's extremely lazy about his schoolwork and still
manages to get all As and Bs.” She shook her head. “It's almost impossible trying to find an incentive to make him work harder when he does so well doing so little.”

She looked down at the napkin in her lap and blinked rapidly, trying to push back the tears that had suddenly come to her eyes. “And he's the bravest person I know.”

Once she had her tears under control she looked up at him. “The dialysis treatments…he has to have them twice a week, but he never complains, even though his little arms stay blue and purple all the time from the needles constantly being inserted and removed. The doctor tries to numb the area but I know he still feels the pain. He always tells me ‘Don't worry, Mom. It's not that bad.' But I know it is.” She blinked again, but this time it did no good and the tears welled up in her eyes. “I know it is. I can almost feel his pain. And when he's undergoing the treatment, he holds my hand and sometimes…sometimes, he squeezes my hand
so tight
and I know it's to keep from crying out.”

Suddenly, Darius was kneeling beside her with his arm wrapped around her shoulders. “Shh. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stir painful memories.”

She used the napkin to wipe her eyes. “It's okay. My memories are not nearly as painful as his.”

“He sounds like a remarkable boy.”

“He is.” She sniffled and wiped her running nose. “I always said he got the best of me and his father.”

Suddenly the reassuring arm was gone, and Liz was surprised by how much she missed his warm strength. It had been so long since she'd leaned on anyone for support, the temptation to follow him and seek his comfort was almost overwhelming. But she remained in her chair. The care of her son was her burden and hers
alone. She only needed one thing from this man, and then he would be out of their lives forever.

He returned to his seat and, resting his arms on the table, leaned forward. “I need to know something, Liz.” He looked directly into her eyes. “Did you ever love me?”

Liz stared back, wondering how much of the truth she should share. He deserved to know that not only had she loved him, but she had never stopped. Even with all the pain vibrating in the air around them she knew beyond a doubt that she still loved this man. What a fool she'd been.

“Yes.”

“When did you stop?”

“What do you expect to gain from this, Darius?”

“Some understanding of how I could've gotten everything so wrong. Where did I mess up?”

She frowned. “You didn't. You did nothing wrong, Darius.” She twisted the napkin in her hands, wondering if she should share her next words, but before she could decide they were off her lips.

“I was such a coward back then. Too much of a coward to face you and tell you how I felt. I wasn't ready to be your wife, Darius. I wasn't ready to be
anyone's
wife. I was too immature, too unsure of myself. But I didn't understand that then, all I knew was that I felt like I was choking. The closer and closer we came to the actual wedding date—I felt I was suffocating.”

“And what was Darren? Oxygen?”

She thought about that for a moment. “In a way, yes.”

He stood and walked to the balcony bracing his hands against the stucco half wall. “I wondered if it was because he was younger, closer to your age.”

“Maybe. I don't know. I just know he seemed…
exciting. Unpredictable and spontaneous. He'd been so many places and seen and done so many things.”

“He dropped out of high school when he was sixteen, my father told him he would have to either find a job or get out. So he took off. We didn't hear from him for almost a year and he called to tell us he was working as a bouncer at a club on the French Riviera.
The French Riviera
—for goodness sake! To this day we have no idea how he got the money for a ticket to France.”

“He told me about that.” She smiled, remembering one of the few good memories she had of Darren. “He told me about all the places he'd been. He made it all seem like a great adventure.” She glanced at Darius's stiff back. “I'd never had an adventure.”

He huffed. “And you knew with me you probably never would.”

“I know it's no excuse, but I was young and scared, and didn't know how to talk to you about what I was feeling. Darren offered me a way out—I took it.”

He stood sentinel for several minutes just looking out over the harbor and Liz waited patiently, she knew he had more questions and he deserved answers.

Finally he asked. “Do your parents know about Marc?”

“Yes.”

He turned to face her. “And they still wouldn't help you?”

She chuckled. “You obviously underestimate the importance of public appearance to the Donovans. I was officially an embarrassment. I and my bastard child didn't really fit into their country-club world.”

“How did you survive?”

“I worked as a cocktail waitress and put myself through school.” She sat up a little straighter, feeling
pride in her accomplishments. “I'm a teacher. Kindergarten.” She shrugged stiffly. “Although, I'm just substituting for now.” She quickly glanced up at him and looked away. “It allows me more time with Marc.”

Darius studied her face, trying to see what was not being said. Despite her fine appearance—and she did look fine, he thought, taking in the sleeveless dress—she could not be making that much as a substitute teacher.

He watched her discreetly wring her hands on her lap.

“Kindergarten, huh?” His eyes widened with exaggeration, trying to recapture the easy mood of the past moments. “Yikes.”

She laughed. “I know. But they're not so bad, you just have to keep their minds engaged. They're so bright and hungry for knowledge at that age. I love my job.”