StrokeofMidnight (6 page)

“That’s worse.” Wanda inhaled, held it, and released the
breath in a slow, deliberate exhalation. “No,” she growled, “what’s worse is
your bitchy sister making the rounds, spreading rumors that you slept with the
businessman your father is courting for the merger. According to her vicious
gossip, you’re trying to land this deal on your back.”

“What?” The word exploded from Rowyn’s lips on a hard gust
of breath. Fingers of ice clawed at her, freezing the blood in her veins.
“Darius?”

“Darius?” Wanda repeated. Confusion wrinkled her brow
seconds before surprise swept it away. “Do you mean the Darius you met in
Seattle last year?”

Rowyn nodded and uttered a faint, “Yes.” She skimmed the
room, the ice in her belly and chest reaching for her throat. For the first
time, she noticed the sly glances or careful avoidance of eye contact.

No. Why would Cindy…? Rowyn closed her eyes. Her
stepsister’s voice drifted past her ears as if the younger woman stood right
next to her.

It seems I do understand after all…

Oh God. Cindy—sweet, butter-won’t-melt-in-her-mouth,
Cindy—had fucked her.

“Rowyn.”

As her heart executed a swan dive toward her feet, she
turned around to face her mother’s pinched, thin-lipped face.

“In the study,” she snapped, her black eyes glinting with
fury. “Now.”

* * * * *

By the time Rowyn closed the study door, she couldn’t shake
the illusion she’d just survived a gantlet of stares and whispers. Each pointed
look and hushed comment slapped and punched at her, leaving invisible but very
real bruises to her pride.

And it isn’t over yet.
She drew back her shoulders,
fixed her I-don’t-give-a-fuck mask firmly in place and faced the family that stood
across the room as one unit—against her.

“Rowyn,” Pamela began, “I have never been more ashamed of
you than I am at this moment.” Contempt dripped from her voice and it wounded
Rowyn more than she cared to admit. Not the words or even the scorn—those she
was used to. Her mother’s quick acceptance of Rowyn’s alleged crime, though…it
most likely never occurred to Pamela to give her daughter the benefit of the
doubt. Or even defend her character.

“Convicted without a trial, I see,” she murmured.

Pamela slashed a hand through the air, cutting through
Rowyn’s protest. “Do you deny that you slept with Darius Fiore?” she asked,
eyes narrowed. “And before you lie, consider that we would not confront you if
we didn’t have a reliable source about your actions.”

Inside, Rowyn snorted. Like hell. The validity of the source
or the information didn’t matter one damn to them. It was the embarrassment of
being whispered about that had tried, convicted and hanged Rowyn. And the
source—she studied Cindy—wasn’t that reliable.

Her stepsister wore the appropriate
concerned-and-disappointed expression. Yet beneath the slightly troubled frown,
her eyes gleamed with a satisfaction and malice Rowyn had always known existed
beneath her sweet exterior. From the time Rowyn had entered Daniel and Cindy’s
home, the younger girl had perfected her innocent persona while all along
playing cruel games.

Daniel, so besotted with the child by his beloved first
wife, didn’t perceive how Cindy monopolized his affection, gently demanding his
attention so he wouldn’t give too much to his new wife. He didn’t catch on to
her seemingly guileless comparisons of her mother and Pamela, until finally he
found himself married to an embittered woman who hadn’t been able to compete
against her first husband’s family, and now couldn’t win the love of her
current husband from his dead wife.

Cindy delighted in drama, unhappiness and
confusion—especially if she was the maestro behind the discord.

Her stepsister met her stare and a tiny smile lifted a
corner of the younger woman’s mouth.

“Well?” Pamela demanded. “Do you deny it?”

“No,” Rowyn answered, voice steady. “I don’t.”

“You slut,” her mother spat. Rage contorted her features
and, for the first time, Rowyn recognized the hatred that ate at the older
woman like a cancer. Hatred for the daughter who was a constant reminder of her
failure as a woman and a wife. Hatred for the life that should have been happy
but instead had become a miserable prison where she abused alcohol to escape.
Hatred for herself.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Cindy said, regret heavy in the soft
tone. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but I thought you should know. I wish I
hadn’t recognized Rowyn’s purse and keys. I wish…” Misery etched Cindy’s
features as if being the bearer of bad news tortured her.

Rowyn’s palms itched to strangle the deceitful bitch.

“I wish you had come to me with your suspicions, Cindy,”
Rowyn said. “Then I could have explained my being with Darius had nothing to do
with your father’s company or the merger. He and I met months ago.”

“Liar,” her mother accused. “If that’s true, why didn’t you
say something Thursday night?”

“Because it was, and is, our business,” she countered
coldly.

“You are just like your father,” Pamela ranted. “Selfish. A
liar. I should have left you with him, you ungrateful—”

“Be. Quiet.”

Pamela gasped, eyes wide in shock over Rowyn’s boldness.
That made two of them. As often as she’d desired to, Rowyn had never
interrupted or outright contradicted her mother. No matter how nasty the woman
jabbed at her. But suddenly a lifetime of grief, resentment and hurt welled up
inside and swept free caution like debris dragged away by the waters of a
flood.

No more. She refused to be her mother’s punching bag any
longer. Yes. She was like her father. Loyal. Fair. Loving. And she deserved to
be loved. Rowyn had given this family everything. And every one of them had
either rejected her affection and hard work or had taken it selfishly as if
she
should be thankful they deigned to accept it.

No longer would she cast her heart before them. Rowyn had
worth, value. And if they were too blind to see it then…

Then fuck them.

Daniel cleared his throat and the sound seemed to
reverberate in the tomblike quiet.

“Even if what you say is true, Rowyn,”—though his tone
suggested he didn’t believe it any more than her mother did—“I’m afraid the
damage has been done. Under the circumstances, I’m going to have to insist you
step down from your position while the merger is in process. We cannot afford
the hint of scandal. I hope you understand.”

Yes, she did. All too well.

“Oh I do,” Rowyn said. “I understand that I have lived as
your stepdaughter for twenty years. I worked for you, headed the most
productive department and led the company in profits for the past three years.
And I didn’t do it for the title or the money. I did it for you.” A short bark
of laughter burst from her throat at Daniel’s confused frown. Because he had
never offered her his affection, he didn’t comprehend how she had willingly
tried to give him hers. “I not only step down, Daniel, I quit. And not because
I have anything to be ashamed of, because I don’t.”

Rowyn inhaled and met each pair of eyes that stared at her
in varying degrees of astonishment and anger.

“I refuse to be part of a company that will accept rumor
over fact without even giving a dependable, exemplary employee the courtesy of
defending herself. And I refuse to be part of a family who takes for granted
and despises the daughter and sister I’ve tried to be. In other words…” She
hitched her chin up and, in spite of her pounding heart, declared, “I’m through
with all of you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Pamela scoffed.

“I don’t think she’s being ridiculous at all,” a soft voice
commented from behind Rowyn.

Startled, she whirled around. Darius stood just inside the
open door. Formidable in a black jacket, shirt and pants, his brown curls
brushed away from his striking face, his presence seemed to shrink the large
study to the size of a closet.

He flicked his gaze to her face. Fury burned behind his
impassive demeanor. There was nothing calm about the emotion that seethed in
his blue eyes.

“Are you okay?” he murmured.

For a moment, an intense swell of I-am-so-falling-in-love-with-you
struck her speechless. Her avenging dark angel.

He arched that damn—wonderful—eyebrow.

The smile that curved her lips originated in her heart, the
eddy of warmth spreading to every part of her body. She was better than okay.
So much better.

She nodded and, appearing satisfied, Darius returned his
attention to her mother, Daniel and Cindy. Rowyn faced her family again. This
time apprehension didn’t clutch her heart as if she stood before a firing squad—not
with Darius at her back.

“Darius.” Daniel’s joviality didn’t conceal the strain that
tightened his smile or the nervous leap of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed
convulsively. “We apologize for this.” He loosed a false hearty laugh. “Just a
little family issue, but I assure you it does not affect our professional
relationship at all.”

“But it does,” Darius stated. Rowyn blinked. Was that a
flinch? Did her stepfather actually just
flinch
under the lash of
Darius’ hard voice? “A businessman who cannot recognize the contribution of his
employee or the caliber of her performance is shortsighted at best and grossly
incompetent at worst. And I refuse to do business with him.” The lapel of his
jacket brushed her skin—bared by her backless dress—as he shifted closer. “But
she is more than your employee or the head of the women’s fashion department.
Rowyn is your daughter. And that alone requires your loyalty. If you have none
for your daughter, why should I believe you would have any for me?”

He didn’t give Daniel an opportunity to reply. Heat from his
touch penetrated her dress to the flesh beneath as he settled his hands on her
hips.

“I pity you. All of you.” As he pressed against her, the
timbre of his voice vibrated from his chest through her back. Rowyn leaned into
him, trusting him to support her physically as he did emotionally. “For years
you had a daughter and sister ready and willing to love you, and each of you
rejected her time and again.”

“You have been in our home a handful of hours and have the
audacity to judge us? You know nothing.” Pamela sneered. Rage mottled her
features and Rowyn realized she could count on one hand the number of times she’d
witnessed a true smile on her mother’s face. Not the social, bogus caricature,
but a genuine smile full of joy and laughter.

God.
She inhaled, breathed deep past the fist that
seemed to squeeze her heart. What pain Pamela must have endured every day to
exude such anger and misery. She drank to escape the ache of living as the
“other woman” to a dead wife. The real tragedy was Rowyn had been there, trying
to love and accept her all along.

“It’s sad, isn’t it?” Darius asked softly. “In the short
amount of time I’ve known your daughter, I value her more than you do.”

Without another word, he slipped his hand over hers and,
with a small tug, turned her around. He grasped the doorknob, twisted it and
opened the study door. The tinkle of laughter and hum of conversation poured
into the room. They stepped through the entrance and Darius pulled the door
closed behind them, leaving her family—and her past—behind.

“Come with me,” he said and guided her through the crowd.
They received curious and smug glances, but Rowyn didn’t allow them to upset
her. Not when Darius’ hand was wrapped tightly around hers.

A couple of minutes later, she stood with him at the bottom
of the steps outside her parents’ home. A lovely, cool breeze wafted through
the hot June night, caressing her bare shoulders like a lover’s kiss. Like
Darius’ kiss.

She shivered and lifted her gaze to his. He stood in front
of her, silent.

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry.”

His grin matched hers as their words jumbled over one
another’s.

Darius inclined his head. “You first,” he offered.

“Thank you,” she repeated. “For coming to my defense. No one
has done that for me before. And I want to…thank you.”

He snorted. “I was apologizing for interfering in what may
not have been my business.” He lifted his hand and palmed her cheek, his
fingertips stroking her temple. “You are very welcome.”

Without giving thought to rejection or doubt, Rowyn turned
her face into his palm and pressed her lips to the center. It still wasn’t
easy, this public-displays-of-affection thing. But Darius made trying worth the
effort.

“I don’t want to say good bye to you again.” He lifted his
other hand, and then her face was cradled between both palms, her head tilted
back for the kiss he swept across her mouth. “I came here tonight with the
intention of convincing you not to drop out of my life again. But after that,”
he jerked his chin in the direction of the house behind her, “I want more. Come
to Seattle, Rowyn.”

Her breath caught in her lungs then escaped on a rush of
wind. The drumbeat of blood rushing through her veins resounded in her head.
She lifted her hands to his arms and clasped the hard muscles. “Darius—”

“I’m not a fool like Daniel. I recognize a gifted
businesswoman when I see one. I want to offer you the same position with my
company you have with Harrisons’. I won’t lie, Rowyn. The job is only a bribe
to convince you to move. To be with me.”

A quick flash of fear flared in her stomach. Fear of taking
this huge, impulsive step. Fear of leaving behind all she’d known. Fear of how
much she hungered to say yes.

“Don’t think, sweetheart,” he whispered. His blue eyes
burned down into hers, entrapping her with their fire so she couldn’t look
away. “Don’t use that beautiful, brilliant mind of yours. Speak from your
heart. What does your heart say?”

Her heart. Her heart said…“Yes.”

Joy lit his face and in that moment, all doubt and
insecurities were carried away with the evening breeze. As his mouth covered
hers and his tongue dipped inside to tangle, dance and discover, she was fine
with not being able to map out and analyze the next step in her future. As long
as it included this man, she was willing to take the chance.