Sway With Me (Inspiring the Greek Billionaire) (18 page)

He smiled, but it appeared forced. The woman he’d been dancing with stomped her foot and stalked off the dance floor. Portia got the sense he’d used her to get rid of his dance partner. With her gone, surely he wouldn’t expect her to actually dance with him. “I’d rather check on him. There’s something I need to tell him and it can’t wait another minute.”

“Portia, wait—”

She cut through the crowd, hurrying toward the entrance of the ballroom. She opened the door to the lobby and walked through, relieved to be out of the crowded room. Only a few guests lingered, drinking glasses of wine and speaking in quiet tones. None of them were Ryan.

Wondering if he’d gone to the restroom, she looked around and saw a sign indicating the bathrooms were down the hall to the left. She headed in that direction when she heard Ryan’s voice. She couldn’t wait to tell him what she’d learned from his mother.

Turning down the hallway, she no longer heard him speaking and it immediately became clear why.

She froze as she watched him kissing a woman.

An arm slipped around Portia’s waist, turned her around, and propelled her back to the lobby. Hoping her mascara was waterproof, she looked up at her rescuer. Sean withdrew his handkerchief from his tuxedo’s left breast pocket and handed it to her.  

He’d known. That’s why he’d asked her to dance.

“Who is she?” she asked even though she didn’t want to know.

He sighed. “That’s Samantha. She was his college girlfriend until she dumped him when he lost his fortune. It wasn’t long after that he stopped talking to all of us and moved in with Braden.”

It all made sense to her now. Ryan had noticed Samantha when they’d arrived and that’s when he’d started acting uncomfortable. Portia had stupidly thought he was nervous about facing his parents and that he’d run off because of his mother’s comments. Her fingers curled into fists. He hadn’t been running away from anything; he’d been running to someone. Samantha. Sam.

“Well, thanks to your uncle, he’s a millionaire again. Now I know why the money is so important to him.” She needed to leave before she completely broke down in tears. “Will you excuse me? I’m not feeling very well.”

She gave him back his handkerchief and went outside to hail a cab. Her eyes were dry and for the first time in three months, wide open. Everything between them had been a lie. Ryan had pretended to care for her in order to convince her to sell the house so that he could win back Samantha.

As of tomorrow, Portia would once again be homeless. And worse, with her heart shattered into pieces, she’d lost her will to care.

Ryan extracted himself from Samantha’s hold. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have done that.”    

She’d laid a kiss on him before he could stop her and when she did, all he could think about was Portia. For the rest of his life, he never wanted another woman’s lips on his.

He was totally and irrevocably in love with Portia.

“Can’t blame a girl for trying,” she said, shrugging nonchalantly. “I should’ve known some lucky girl would’ve scooped you up by now.” She smiled and motioned to his left hand with a quick nod of her head. “I see you’re not married. Maybe I’ve got time to change your mind.”

He shook his head. “No. I’ve found the woman I’m going to marry, but even if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t go down that road again with you.”

She laughed, tossing her golden hair over her shoulder. “Ouch. Here I thought we had something special.”

Ryan wrung his hands together, amazed Samantha was so clueless. All this time he’d blamed her for everything he’d lost. How could he have been so blind? “Special isn’t making promises of forever then leaving the continent without another word.”

She bit her lip, trying to act innocent. “I wrote you a letter.”

“Right, the letter in which you said you loved me, but we wanted different things. The letter in which you reduced my feelings for you to youthful infatuation. The letter in which you accused me of being unable to live without my wealth.”

“Ryan, if I had pulled you away from your family, from the lifestyle you’d grown up in, you would’ve resented me.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Sooner or later you would have left me. I did it to save you from making a mistake.”

He gently removed her hand and took a step back. He’d hate for anyone to get the wrong idea about them. “The day before you left for Africa, I gave it all up for you. Every last cent of my trust fund went to children’s charities. The money, the lifestyle, none of it meant a damn thing until you left. I’ve spent the last two years without a dime to my name. I let everyone believe I’d wasted my money on toys and gifts and parties, and everyone was so quick to believe it.”

She gasped. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” Leaning against the wall, she looked up him with guilt in her eyes. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

When she’d left him with only a letter, he thought he’d never recover. Thinking back on it now, he realized she’d only wounded his pride. It was his pride which kept him from admitting the truth to his family, allowing them to believe the worst of him. Samantha hadn’t broken his heart. She couldn’t break it, because it had never belonged to her.

“You have nothing to feel guilty about, Sam.” He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall next to her. “You did the right thing. I might not have thought so back then, but everything has led up to finding the woman I love and I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“I’m happy for you,” she said, nudging him in the side with her elbow. “I assume she’s the beautiful brunette you brought tonight?”

Pushing off the wall, he noticed Sean standing at the end of the hall. “Yes, and I ran off without an explanation, so I should get back to her.”

“I hope I get an invitation to your wedding,” Sam said, staring at Sean. She gave Ryan a small smile before walking away, tipping her head in acknowledgement to Sean as she past him and disappeared into the ladies’ room.

Sean’s eyes tracked her movement. The moment the ladies’ room door swung shut, he bolted down the hall to Ryan.

“Still got a thing for Samantha I see,” Ryan teased, never giving up an opportunity to rib his brother.

It was no secret Sean had a huge crush on her for years. Ryan had thought it was all one-sided, but after observing her reaction to Sean’s presence in the hallway, he wasn’t so sure.

“Listen, bro. Did Portia come find you?” Sean asked, noticeably out-of-breath.

An uneasy feeling settled into his gut. “No. I left her with Mom and Dad.”

Sean swore and ran his fingers through his hair. “She saw you kiss Samantha. She ran off. I tried to follow but I lost her. I thought maybe she backtracked to confront you.”

Ryan didn’t waste another moment, the fear of losing Portia slicing through him like a blade. He veered toward the ballroom with Sean nipping at his heels. “I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me. It was a few seconds at most.”

“Seemed longer to me,” Sean quipped, disgust obvious in his tone.

Ryan didn’t know if it was on Portia’s behalf or his own, and frankly, he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was finding her and explaining that what she’d witnessed meant nothing. Ryan pushed his way into the crowded ballroom scanning the space for her.

Sean pulled on his sleeve to get his attention. “I already checked. She’s not in here. I think she left.”

At this point, he was considering hopping on the stage and grabbing the microphone from the band to call out for her. Too bad that would not only piss Portia off, but his folks as well. He couldn’t ruin their night or risk losing funding for their charity.

He spotted Braden with a bottle of beer in his hand, talking with his sister, Rose, at one of the bars across the room. He pushed his way through the guests as politely as possible until he reached his friend. “Have you seen Portia?”

Braden frowned. “What did you do?”

“I confronted Samantha about Africa and somehow, Portia managed to catch the moment Samantha tried to rekindle our relationship by kissing me. Unfortunately, I didn’t find out until after she’d taken off and disappeared.”

Braden shook his head. “I’ll keep an eye out for her, but I’m guessing she grabbed a taxi outside the hotel lobby.” He smirked and pounded Ryan on the back. “I’m sure she’s at the house ready to tear you a new one. Go home. Apologize. Grovel on your knees and give her a couple orgasms. She’ll forgive you. I mean, you’ve told her about Sam, so she knows what she’s like.”

Ryan’s chest tightened. “I was going to explain everything to her tonight.”

“Explain what?” Sean asked as he ambled up.

Braden grimaced and took a swig of his beer, ignoring Sean. “Go.”

Ryan dashed out the ballroom. He didn’t wait his turn at the valet kiosk, instead cutting to the front of the line and shoving a hundred dollar bill into the kid’s hand. He ignored the glares and the vocal displeasure from the people waiting in line. Nothing mattered but getting home to Portia.

A minute later, he jumped into his car and raced out of the parking lot. He drove as fast as he could without getting a speeding ticket and prayed Portia would listen to him when he got home. He should’ve told her everything before tonight. Then he wouldn’t have had to surreptitiously slip out of the ballroom to speak to Samantha. He could’ve spoken to her with Portia at his side, where she belonged.

He parked in the garage and threw open the door. “Portia!” All the lights were out, but he sensed her presence in the house, her vanilla scent lingering in the air. Taking two at a time, he rushed up the stairs, calling her name the whole way. When he got to their bedroom, he tried to open the door, but found it locked. Damn, he didn’t even know it had a lock. He knocked on the door. “Portia. I know you’re in there. Open the door and talk to me, baby.”

“Don’t ‘baby’ me, you jerk,” she said from inside the room.

His gut tightened. “Let me explain.”

The door flew open. Although her face was dry, Portia’s eyes were swollen and bloodshot, and her nose was red. “I saw you and Samantha kissing.”

It killed him to see how much he’d hurt her. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

“Really? Because it looked like your lips were pressed against hers.”

“She kissed
me
. It meant nothing. She’s an old girlfriend.”

Her face crumbled and tears slid down her cheeks. “From what I saw, you were kissing her back. Ryan, just admit it, I don’t fit into your world. You belong with someone like her. It just took me until tonight to really understand that. We’re not good for each other. Goodbye, Ryan.” Without giving him a chance to speak, she slammed the door.

Ryan heard the click of the lock.

Fear gripped him as he realized she wasn’t going to allow him to explain. He could shout the truth at the top of his lungs, but at this point, she wouldn’t believe him. Portia needed more than words to prove how much she meant to him.

Ignoring the urge to kick down the door and beg for forgiveness, he turned and walked away, leaving Portia alone in their bed. If his plan worked, this would be the last night either one of them would sleep alone again.

Chapter 18

The quality of mercy is not strained.

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

Upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed:

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.

William Shakespeare
, Merchant of Venice,
act 4, scene 1

Portia forced her lids open, the morning light filtering through the window. This was the last day she’d awaken in this bed. In a couple hours, she and Ryan would meet with George to discuss what they’d do with the house now that they’d met the conditions of Alexander’s Will.

From spending most of last night crying, her eyes felt swollen and gritty, like she’d sanded them with some of that paper Ryan used on his wood. The tears only stopped when Zeus curled up on the pillow next to her and purred her to sleep. No matter what happened between her and Ryan today, Zeus belonged with her.

But where did
she
belong?

A ringing brought her out of her musings. She stretched to pick up the cell from her nightstand and looked at the display. Sighing, she hit the green button to take the call. “Hi, Mom.”

Reina didn’t bother with pointless preliminaries. “Don’t give up on him. I know things seem impossible right now, but you just have to listen and follow the signs.”

She was used to her mother speaking like a message from a fortune cookie, but this hit a little too close to home. How did her mother know? Sometimes Portia thought her mom had hired detectives to trail her every move.

Portia rubbed her temple. “He kissed someone else. I don’t see how—”

“I know what you saw, because I dreamed about it last night, but remember, you can’t always believe your eyes.”

She sat up and rested her back against the headboard. Zeus watched her from his perch on a pillow. “No, my eyes work just fine. I’m sure he was kissing another woman.”

Her mother chuckled. “So?”

Clasping the sheets, frustration coursed through her. How could her mother laugh at the situation? No wonder she was single. “He obviously doesn’t care enough about me not to suck face with his ex-girlfriend. He pretended to have feelings for me so I’d sell my share of the house and he could win back the love of his life.”

“Really? Is that what he said when you confronted him?”

Portia paused, taking the time to consider her mother’s question. Why had she run last night without allowing Ryan to explain? She’d jumped to the worst-case-scenario without giving him even the slightest benefit of the doubt, and when he’d tried to speak with her, she’d turned him away at the door.

But seeing him with Samantha had brought all her insecurities to the forefront. Last night had proven to her she didn’t belong in Ryan’s high society world. He belonged with a sophisticated woman from the right side of the tracks and not someone like her.

Had she fled because she didn’t want to hear him confirm what she’d feared most? That she wasn’t good enough for him? Only Ryan had never made her feel that way. Even his parents had accepted her with open arms. In fact, since moving to Michigan, no one ever made her feel inferior; she did that all on her own.

Portia shifted to pet Zeus who continued watching her with a fixed gaze. “I didn’t confront Ryan,” she admitted. “And when he tried to explain, I refused to listen.”

Her mother
tsked
. “Forget your eyes and ears. What does your heart tell you?”

For years she’d dreamed of owning a house. Of course, she’d pictured something small with a yard and a flower garden—not a seven thousand square foot mansion on acres of land with an apple orchard. But did the size of the house matter? Whether she lived in a cottage or a mansion didn’t matter because without Ryan, it was only a house—not a home. She’d gladly live in a tent if she slept beside Ryan each night.

She loved him. Ryan was her home.

“He’s my destiny.”

“And you are his Muse. There are no coincidences in life. Every decision, every mistake, brought you one step closer to your fate. You were always meant for one another. I’m assuming you both had the dreams of your past life together?”

How could she have known about that? Could Portia really be Ryan’s Muse?

Zeus stretched beneath Portia’s fingers then stalked to her lap, bringing his face within inches of hers as if confirming Reina’s words.
Which was ridiculous, right?

“Yes, we have.” She pushed the cat off her legs. “Mom, I want to apologize to you. I’ve spent years craving a home when I had one all along with you and Viola. I may not understand why you moved us from place to place, but I’m grateful I always had you and Viola to love and care for me.”

Her mother sniffed. “Thank you. I know things were tough for you growing up the way you did and I wish fate could’ve chosen a less complicated path for us to follow. Along with your acceptance of your responsibilities as Ryan’s Muse, you’ll learn to see things in a different light. If I had ignored the signs, you wouldn’t be where you are at this moment and Viola wouldn’t be where she is, either. But it wasn’t time for us. I’ll come to visit you soon and we’ll talk. My daughters aren’t the only ones with a destiny.”

The cat meowed, jumped off the bed, and prowled to the door like he wanted her to follow. Maybe he wanted her to feed him.

Come to think of it, how had he gotten in the room? After she’d gotten home last night, she’d locked herself in the bedroom without the cat and then somehow he’d appeared in the middle of the night.

She shook her head and laughed. He must have been hiding under the bed and gotten locked in with her.

“I miss you, Mom. And thank you.”

They said their goodbyes and Portia hung up with her mind clear. She got up and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. She needed to find Ryan and apologize for failing to trust and listen to him. Her mother was right. He wouldn’t have cheated on her. They were destined for one another.

As soon as she opened the bedroom door, the cat fled down the stairs. She followed, listening for any sign of Ryan’s presence in the house, but only silence greeted her.

“Ryan?” she called out, walking through the hallway and peeking into each room.

What a difference three months had made to this place, she realized as she passed the great room. They’d fixed the cracks in the ceiling and all the water damage. Now the space beckoned a family to sit on the couches and enjoy each other’s company. If she stayed here, she’d replace the furniture so no one would worry about staining the white fabric. She couldn’t help picturing her and Ryan drinking wine with his parents in this room.

Strolling out into the foyer, she glanced at the front door, recalling how it had fallen—with them underneath—on the floor that first night, and how somehow, Ryan had gotten her laughing about it. Then, when he’d fixed it, he’d carried her over the threshold as if they were newlyweds. She swallowed as she remembered how safe and warm she felt in his arms. Would she ever experience that again?

Zeus darted across the foyer, heading toward the kitchen. He stopped and looked back at her before continuing down the hallway. She’d hoped the cat might lead her to Ryan, but when she came to the kitchen, she immediately noted the missing scent of coffee and knew he was not in the house. He must have left before sunrise in order to avoid her.

She brushed her fingers along the smooth granite of the kitchen counter to the sink. This is where they’d kissed for the first time. Since that day, they’d transformed her dream into reality. The gourmet kitchen was the heart of the home. The copper pots hung from the ceiling, the appliances gleamed and worked perfectly now that they’d fixed them. Would she ever eat dinner with Ryan again in this kitchen?

She pressed her fingers to her tingling lips as she left the distant past behind and strode out of the kitchen. Zeus meowed loudly, catching her attention. He rubbed his body on the wall leading to the ballroom.

Portia’s heart slammed against her ribs and her hands shook in anticipation, but somehow she managed to put one foot in front of the other until she arrived at the closed door of the ballroom. Placing her ear against the door, she listened for a sign.

She snorted. A sign! She sounded just like her mother! How far she’d come since meeting Ryan.

Unfortunately, the earth wasn’t singing for her this morning. She twisted the knob and stepped inside the empty room, gasping at the sight. Overwhelmed, tears blurred her vision.

He’d converted the ballroom into a dance studio. For her. And it was identical to the room from her dream the night before she met him.

The back wall was now covered by an unblemished mirror with a full-length dance
barre
running down the middle. He’d added track lighting and spotlights which would aid her in setting the mood and teaching her students . . .

Why would he turn the space into a dance studio if he still intended to sell the mansion?
She released a shuttered breath and covered her heart with her hand. It didn’t make sense. He’d never given her any indication he’d changed his mind. All the changes he’d made to this room must have taken days. Why hadn’t he said anything?

Her entire body grew hot and she didn’t need to check to know a blush spread from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

He loved her.

She stared at the empty room, wishing Ryan was with her.

He might not have spoken the words out loud, but it didn’t matter. His actions spoke louder than words, and he’d spoken the truth loud and clear.    

Something sitting on top of the iPod speakers caught her eye. Drawn to it, she wandered over and picked it up the small wooden object, cradling it in her hand. It was a tiny sculpture of a ballet dancer on
pointe
with her arms up overhead as if she were spinning. Portia had never seen anything more beautiful. Had she inspired that beauty or would it have eventually spilled forth on its own, a gift too strong to remain dormant?

She shook her head, clearing it of all the questions running through. It didn’t matter why he’d finally returned to his art—only that he had.

With the money they would receive from the sale of the mansion, he could focus his energy on art. She couldn’t deprive him, or the world, of such beauty. Returning her gaze to the dance studio, she realized that he intended to sacrifice his dreams for her. She wouldn’t let him.

How could she when she was his Muse?

She glanced at the clock hanging on the back wall. She still had time to stop him.

Knowing what she needed to do, she raced through the house, grabbed her coat and purse, and fled out the front door. While she started the car, she called Ryan’s cell, dismayed when it went straight to voicemail. She begged him to call her, apologizing for not listening to him last night. When she hung up, she dialed George’s office, only to get the lawyer’s answering machine. She left a message asking him not to let Ryan sign anything until she arrived.

A half-hour later, she parked across the street from the attorney’s office. Neither Ryan nor George had returned her call. She prayed she wasn’t too late to fix her mistakes. She sprinted into the building, her shoes clipping across the tiled floor as she rushed for the elevator, barely making it inside before the doors began to close. A man’s shoe appeared between the doors, popping them back open. Her breath caught in her chest and hope bloomed that maybe the foot belonged to Ryan. Her gaze moved up his legs until the doors bounced open to show his face.

Disappointment swelled as the man stepped onto the elevator smelling of spicy cologne. Nothing like the natural male scent she’d grown to identify as Ryan’s. She gave the man a brief smile then returned her attention to the closing elevator doors. Unlike the trip she’d taken with Ryan in this elevator, the man got off on the third floor, leaving her alone for the final ascension to George’s office.

To calm herself, she held a pose in
arabesque
until the elevator stopped, then resumed a faux collected demeanor in case the doors opened to any waiting people. As soon as she could, she stepped off the elevator and politely pushed past the three gentlemen who had indeed been waiting.

No high heels for her today. In her sensible, yet fashionable sneakers, she raced down the hall and swore remnants of Ryan’s scent lingered in the air. Her pulse quickened and her body heated in response, every cell familiar with the promise of Ryan’s touch. Was he still here?

This time when she entered George’s office suite, a young female receptionist with a bright smile and an even brighter orange blouse greeted Portia from her desk. “How can I help you this morning?”

She rocked back and forth on her toes. “I’m here to see Mr. Pappas.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Not exactly, but he is expecting us—me—this morning.” She desperately wanted to ask if Ryan was here but the receptionist had already picked up the phone.

“Mr. Pappas, I have a—” She held her hand over the phone’s mouthpiece and looked up at Portia. “What is your name?”

“Portia Dubrovsky.”

“Ms. Dubrovsky here to see you.” She listened and nodded as if George could see her then hung up the phone and stood. “Follow me and I’ll take you to his office.”

The butterflies in her stomach threatened to fly away they fluttered so furiously. She took a deep breath and tried to smile as she followed the young woman through the door and down the hallway to George’s office. She still smelled Ryan, but she didn’t hear his voice.

The receptionist ushered her inside George’s office where the attorney sat at his desk.

Alone.

She’d missed Ryan. She was too late.

The short and harried lawyer wore the same suit he’d worn when they’d met previously in this space. The piles of paperwork and files had grown taller in three months. He stood and ambled around his desk to take her hand, his eyes twinkling. “Portia. It’s always a pleasure to see you. I assume you’re here to sign the documents?”