The Redemption of Darius Sterne (11 page)

‘Mother!'

‘Darius, do stop interrupting when I'm talking to Ms Jacobs.'

His mother shot him an irritated glance before turning back to smile at Miranda. ‘I can't tell you what a thrill it would be for everyone if you would agree to perform.'

‘That is quite enough, Mother!' Darius thundered as Miranda seemed to go even paler, her eyes huge green wells of despair against that pallor. ‘More than enough,' he added grimly. ‘Miranda will not be dancing at one of your charity galas, next month or at any other time.'

He pulled Miranda effortlessly to her feet to stand beside him, his arm moving about her waist and securing her at his side as she seemed to sway slightly.

‘You're being very high-handed, Darius.' Catherine frowned her disapproval. ‘I'm sure that Ms Jacobs is more than capable of answering for herself.'

Not at the moment she wasn't. In fact, Darius felt sure that if he didn't get Miranda out of here in the next few minutes she was going to do one of two things. One, be extremely rude to his mother, which Darius had no doubt she would later regret. Or two, she might just faint, which she would also later regret. The last thing Miranda would want was to draw attention to herself. To perhaps be recognised by more people than his mother and stepfather and Tia Bellamy.

Miranda definitely would not want to cause a scene in front of Tia Bellamy.

His mouth tightened. ‘As I said, Miranda and I were just leaving, Mother.'

‘But...'

Darius's glare finally seemed to have penetrated his mother's dogged determination as she fell suddenly silent. ‘I'll call you tomorrow, Mother,' he promised tightly, not waiting for her to answer this time as he guided Miranda effortlessly through and away from the crowded and noisy ballroom.

Aware as he did so of the shocked expression on her deathly white face and the trembling of her slender body beside his own.

As aware as Darius was that he was the one who had insisted—blackmailed her—into stepping into this vipers' den this evening.

CHAPTER SIX

D
ARIUS
COLLECTED
M
IRANDA
'
S
wrap from the cloakroom and got the two of them out of the hotel in the minimum of time and with the minimum of effort, making sure the still silent Miranda was comfortably seated in the passenger seat of his car the moment it was brought round to the front entrance of the hotel, before quietly thanking the valet and climbing in behind the wheel of the vehicle and pulling away.

The two of them drove along the busy London streets in silence for some minutes, Miranda obviously still slightly shell-shocked from the conversation with his mother. Darius brooded over the fact that he was responsible for having placed Miranda in that vulnerable position in the first place. Not once but twice.

First with Tia Bellamy.

And then again with his mother.

What the hell had his mother been thinking of, just coming over to Miranda in that way and bluntly asking her to perform for her?

No, damn it, his mother wasn't to blame for any of what had happened tonight;
he
was. Miranda hadn't wanted to go to the charity dinner with him in the first place; Darius had blackmailed her into attending. And his mother's conversation hadn't been the start of the disintegration of the evening, either—that encounter with Tia Bellamy had.

‘I'm sorry.'

Andy was so lost in thought that for a moment she wasn't even aware that Darius had spoken. Her eyes widened in surprise when his words finally registered. Was the arrogant Darius Sterne actually apologising to her? And if so, exactly what was he apologising for?

Although she couldn't deny, one way or another, the evening
had
been something of a disaster.

Attending the charity dinner at all had been an ordeal forced upon her by Darius himself.

Being introduced to Darius's parents had been nerve-racking.

Meeting Tia Bellamy again had been even worse.

The time alone with Darius in that conference room still made Andy blush just to think of it.

The conversation with Xander before dinner had also been a little strange, revealing a more brooding and complex man than any of the press had ever reported seeing.

Catherine Latimer coming over to them just now, and asking Andy if she would consider dancing at the gala concert she was organising for next month, had been a total shock.

But it had been intriguing too, if Andy was being completely honest.

There was no way she would be able to dance professionally ever again; her hip and thigh, although strong enough for everyday activity and a minimum of dancing at her studio, just weren't capable of taking the rigorous physical demands of a full-time career in ballet. But that didn't mean Andy couldn't still dance, it just meant the amount of time she could perform, at any one time, was limited. A five-or ten-minute performance, on behalf of charity, was not only possible but also tempting. Very tempting.

Hence Andy's distraction now.

Was she seriously considering Catherine Latimer's invitation?

And she still had no idea precisely what Darius was now apologising for when so much of the evening had been fraught with tension.

To such a degree that Andy now felt hysterical laughter welling up from deep within her. Really, could the evening have been any
more
of a disaster?

Maybe if Kim had been there too, glowering her disapproval of Darius Sterne on top of everything else that had gone wrong with the evening.

It had been one trauma after another from start to finish. Andy certainly doubted that roller coaster of emotion was what Darius usually expected when he deigned to take a woman out for the evening. It was—

Well, it was hilarious—that was what it was, Andy acknowledged, and she gave an inelegant snort as she tried to resist the laughter that threatened to burst free. And failed.

‘Miranda?' Darius shot Miranda an anxious glance as he heard her draw in a deep breath and then give a choked sob. ‘Oh, hell, Miranda, please don't cry!' he groaned, frantically looking for a side road he could turn the car into so that he could park up and take Miranda into his arms.

Miranda's only answer was to bury her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she obviously began to cry in earnest.

‘Hell!' Darius muttered again darkly, no longer waiting for the right opportunity to get out of the traffic but just flicking on the indicator to signal he was turning the car off the main road.

He lifted his hand in apology to a couple of other drivers as they tooted their protest as he eased the Bentley in front of their vehicles and down into a narrow side road; consideration for other drivers wasn't high on his list of priorities at the moment—Miranda was.

He pulled the car in next to the pavement and parked before switching off the engine and turning to reach across the leather divide to take Miranda into his arms. ‘I really am sorry I put you through any of this evening, Miranda,' he murmured into the perfumed silkiness of her hair as she now shook in his arms.

Her only answer was to draw in another sharp breath followed by another sob, as she continued to keep her face buried in her hands and her shoulders shook even harder.

Darius wasn't sure how to deal with a woman's tears. Well, he wasn't sure how to deal with Miranda's tears.

He was more used to the beautiful women he dated using pouting and wheedling in order to get their own way. And he had certainly grown immune, over the years, to his mother's brand of emotional manipulation.

But Miranda wasn't like any of those women. She was too forthright to use wheedling, and she definitely wasn't the type of woman to emotionally manipulate a man.

If she had been Darius might not have felt quite so impotent right now.

‘Miranda...'

He paused, Miranda having finally lowered her hands from her face before lifting her head to look up at him, and frowned his confusion as he saw that Miranda wasn't crying but laughing. Well...her cheeks were certainly wet with tears, but they appeared to be tears of laughter rather than distress.

‘Miranda?' Darius eyed her uncertainly.

She gave a shake of her head. ‘Wasn't that just the most awful night of your life?' She chuckled, green eyes gleaming with that same humour. ‘All it needed to make it horrendously perfect was the disapproving presence of my older sister.'

Darius released her to slowly lean back in his own seat, his expression perplexed as he studied her through narrowed lids across the dimmed interior of the car.

In his experience, most women would have taken full advantage right now of the fact that he was responsible for blackmailing her into the midst of that sequence of awkward situations, and they would have made sure he paid a price for it too, either in the form of an expensive gift, or some other form of manipulation. Not Miranda. Miranda was
laughing.

It was the first time Darius had seen her laugh without restraint. The green of her eyes gleamed with amusement; it brought a flush to her cheeks; her lips curved into the fullness of a relaxed smile. She looked younger and more carefree than he had ever seen her. And incredibly beautiful.

Although Darius wasn't a hundred per cent sure it was altogether flattering, hearing her class the time the two of them had spent together in the conference room as part of the most awful night of her life.

‘Oh, come on, Darius,' Andy encouraged as she saw the frown between his eyes. ‘Admit it, it was so awful there's nothing else to do but laugh.' She took a tissue from her clutch bag and mopped the dampness from her cheeks.

‘It had its moments of humour,' he allowed grudgingly.

Andy grinned across at him. ‘It had all of the hallmarks of a disaster movie.'

He eyed her irritably. ‘I don't consider all of the evening to have been a disaster.'

Andy pretended to give the idea some thought, hoping that in the dimly lit interior of the car Darius couldn't see the blush in her cheeks that revealed that she knew exactly which part of the evening he was referring to. ‘Well, no,' she finally conceded. ‘For instance, I very much enjoyed finally meeting your brother.'

Darius scowled. ‘I'm not sure I didn't prefer you
before
you discovered your sense of humour.'

The past four years had been a bit grim, Andy acknowledged ruefully, so maybe she had lost her sense of humour along the way too?

If that was the case she had certainly rediscovered it this evening. Necessarily so. It was either laugh or curl up in a ball and feel sorry for herself, and she had no intentions of doing that; her days of self-pity had been over long ago.

‘Oh, that remark had nothing to do with humour, Darius; Xander is extremely handsome, and he was very charming after dinner.'

‘As opposed to...?'

‘Xander is extremely handsome and charming,' she repeated dryly.

He scowled. ‘Xander was far from in a charming mood when he arrived at the hotel this evening.'

‘Something had obviously upset him, but he got over it.'

‘Meaning?'

Andy shrugged. ‘The mood was unusual rather than the norm.'

‘Unlike some people you could mention?'

She gave him an innocent glance. ‘I repeat, I found him extremely handsome and charming.'

Darius felt his lips twitch as he tried to control the smile threatening and failed utterly. ‘You really are determined to shatter my ego.' He chuckled.

‘I believe a little humility to be a great leveller,' she added pertly.

Darius felt his admiration and liking for this woman grow. Miranda was only twenty-three, and she had already been through so much. She had lost both her parents at only eighteen, and then suffered through the worst disappointment of her life, when her career in ballet came to such a tragic and abrupt end just months later.

But Miranda had survived. She was a survivor, carving out another career for herself, and now he also learnt that she could laugh at herself, and him, even in the midst of the type of adversity she had suffered through this evening.

‘Have lunch with me tomorrow?' he asked without giving himself time to consider the wisdom of the invitation.

He had no doubts that Miranda was slowly but surely burrowing not just beneath his natural reserve, but also past the barrier he had kept about his emotions for so many years. Tonight he had realised that he not only felt desire for Miranda, but also protectiveness. He didn't want to see Miranda hurt by the actions of others, like Tia Bellamy who'd slighted her deliberately, his mother less so, but she had still upset her nonetheless. And Darius hadn't liked seeing Miranda unhappy. At all.

The smile slowly fading from her lips and the warmth from her eyes, she looked across at him searchingly, the interior of the car illuminated from the street lamp outside. ‘Why?' she finally enquired warily.

There was no hesitation in Darius's laughter this time as he chuckled throatily. ‘Maybe I would just like to take you out to lunch.'

‘But it's Sunday.'

‘And?'

She shrugged. ‘Sunday is a day to spend with family, eating roast lunch, before lounging around watching an old movie together on TV in the afternoon, stuff like that.'

‘Is that what you're doing tomorrow?'

‘Well, no,' she answered slowly. ‘But that's only because it's Kim and Colin's turn to spend the day with Colin's parents.'

Darius nodded. ‘It all sounds idyllic, but to my knowledge my own mother has never cooked a Sunday roast for her family in her life, nor have we ever all lounged around watching an old movie on the television together on a Sunday afternoon.'

Before her parents died, and when her school and ballet schedule had allowed, Andy had always gone home on a Sunday to spend time with her family. And when she had it had usually involved helping her mother to cook the family meal, before they all overate and then watched a really old film on the television together.

Darius was a billionaire, could buy whatever he wanted, no doubt employed a housekeeper or cook to take care of him—or both!—and he could also eat in the most expensive restaurants all over the world, but he had never enjoyed anything so simple as a Sunday lunch cooked and eaten at home with his family, before spending the day together?

‘I really don't want to go out to lunch, but if you would care to come round to my apartment at about twelve-thirty tomorrow, then you'll be in time to join me for lunch. No blackmail involved in the invitation,' she added dryly.

And then berated herself for having made the invitation at all. Okay, so this evening had been awful enough to be considered funny, but there was no escaping the fact that Darius had also kissed and touched and caressed her, more intimately than any other man had ever done.

Or that by inviting him to her apartment tomorrow, for
any
reason, she was simply asking for a repeat of the same. Literally
inviting
a repeat of the same.

‘Your brother-in-law's job is safe, Miranda,' Darius answered her abruptly. ‘Turns out he's the best IT guy Midas Enterprises employs anywhere.'

She eyed him derisively. ‘The invitation to Sunday lunch still stands.'

Darius looked irritated. ‘You aren't my mother, Miranda!'

Her eyes widened at the ludicrousness of that statement, given the circumstances. ‘I think we're both only too well aware of that,' she answered tartly.

‘And I assure you, I don't feel in the least deprived because my mother has never cooked me a roast meal for Sunday lunch.'

Of course he didn't. He was Darius Sterne, billionaire businessman and successful entrepreneur. A man who owned homes in several capital cities around the world. A man who owned his own private jet. The same man who had paid thousands of pounds for two tickets so that they could attend a charity dinner this evening. What had Andy been thinking of, inviting him to her apartment, for a home-cooked Sunday lunch?