Countdown Surprise

Dalia freezes mid-step when David walks through the door. Her heart pounds in her throat so violently she can’t swallow. The New Year’s party at the Chelsea’s mansion is in full swing, everyone singing, dancing and laughing, drunk on free-flowing champagne and their hopes for what the new year will bring.

Dalia wrings her hands together, hearing only the pounding of her heart between her ears.

David stands in the archway, hands buried in the pockets of his tuxedo pants, surveying the room when his gaze lands on Dalia. He glides toward her, his long stride smooth as a tiger’s.

Her stomach twists, threatening to eject her dinner. “Calm down,” she whispers, swallowing hard. She sniffs, straightening her spine and raising her chin, refusing to reveal fear to the jackals in the room. All of whom, she notices, are looking her way. She can almost see the steam rising off her skin at the heat of their stares. Tiny beads of sweat break across her forehead. They’re waiting for the show of David berating her in public. The crème de la crème of society, poised to witness a public humiliation as the spawn of two prominent families engage in an ugly scene before their hungry eyes. She’ll never understand why some people find a perverse joy in the fall of others. Once the darlings of high society, now she and David are at the top of the gossip mill.

She presses the palm of her hand hard against her churning stomach.

It’s been two weeks since Dalia betrayed David, telling his bully of a father all about his plan to become a veterinarian, of all things, instead of following his father’s oversized footsteps into finance as he’s been groomed to do. An embarrassment of the worst kind in the moneyed world of the rich and proud. And she did it for no reason other than jealousy. Her so-called friends convinced her that David was cheating with her cousin, a beautiful and successful lawyer as well as a hardcore flirt, when they spotted the two over dinner with their heads bowed together in conspiratorial conversation.

Dalia’s been waiting for their perfect love story to go wrong almost from its start. Yet, as prepared as she was, the sting of it still burns deep. After all the months they spent together, sharing their secrets, revealing their hopes and dreams and falling in love, she was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. She knew it wouldn’t last, that he’d break her heart. Everyone she ever loved eventually did. She thought she was so clever, breaking David’s heart first.

Unfortunately—or fortunately?—David wasn’t having an affair with anyone. He loved Dalia, something she should have realized when he’d proposed to her the day before she’d lost her mind and ran to his father like some vindictive harpy. She knew how David’s father would react, that he’d threaten to cut funds off to David unless he chose the career path his father had laid before him. Apparently that form of control over one’s children in rich families didn’t die with the arrival of the twenty-first century.

As David draws closer to her, every muscle in Dalia’s body tenses. She deserves his anger, but can’t he at least confront her in private? Of course not. The punishment has to fit the crime. She closes her eyes, drawing in a deep breath.

She has no defense to throw at David since Dalia’s cousin-in-question explained that the reason she and David were seen together is because David was working out his surprise proposal with her help. The two cousins were close before all this happened, so she was the best source for David in his planning. Unfortunately, Dalia neglected to remember that Cindy had her own lover in France whom she planned to wed in the summer despite the disapproval of her parents.

Dalia tried several times to apologize to David, but her calls went directly to voicemail. She left messages, asking for forgiveness, admitting her stupidity, but the damage was done and David isn’t talking to her. And who could blame him? This is what happens when you let your insecurities out of the box.

“Hello,” David says, stopping in front of her, his hands still in his pockets. As usual, his baritone voice sends a shiver of desire shooting up her spine. Did he have to look so good in that damn tuxedo?

She opens her mouth to speak, but it takes several attempts before the words form. When they do, they’re low and scratchy. She’s not even certain he hears her. “Hi.” She clears her throat, tries again. “I didn’t think you’d come tonight.”

His expression is unreadable, and although it would be out of character for David to do, Dalia closes her hands into fists, bracing for a barrage of anger and insults.

“Whatever you’re going to say, I deserve.” Her eyes fill, but she refuses to let the tears fall, pulling her shoulders back. “Go ahead.”

Heat climbs her neck as she waits for him to speak. Then, to her confusion, the corner of his mouth curves into a slow, crooked smile. He reaches a hand out to her, hesitating when she flinches.

“Don’t do that,” he says. “I would never hurt you. I’m not your father.” After a pause, he slowly raises his hand again and lightly presses it to her cheek. This time she doesn’t move. “I didn’t come to humiliate you, Dalia, or reprimand you.”

She swipes at a runaway tear, her head cocked to one side. “Why not? You must hate me. I probably destroyed your relationship with your father and I betrayed your trust.” She chokes on a sob. “I’m an idiot, David. A world-class fool.”

He steps closer, resting both his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look up at him. They’re only inches apart. She can smell his cologne and the mint of his toothpaste. And something else that is deliciously David.

“Do you love me?” he whispers.

Dalia nods. “Yes. More than anything. But it doesn’t matter now. What I did is unforgivable.” Her nose is running and her eyes are leaking, but she doesn’t care.

“You were a fool and I was angry, but…” He shakes his head. “Not unforgivable.”

She’s still trying to make sense of his words when he says, “I have something for you. But not until midnight.” Frowning, he glances around as if realizing for the first time that there’s an audience hanging on his every movement, every word.

Dalia’s heart sinks and her body stiffens. Now. He’s going to do it now, going to give her what she deserves.

She attempts to take a step away, but he anchors her in place, his hands heavy on her shoulders.

“Ten, nine, eight…” the crowd recites in unison, their attention temporarily averted.

Dalia’s eyes dart around the room for the exit. Maybe she can sneak away, get out from under their radar and away from David’s penetrating gaze.

She’s about to make her move when her eyes land on the pocket of David’s tuxedo jacket where a square object is protruding. Her breath catches. It’s the same shape as the box he held open to her when he asked her to be his wife. But it isn’t possible. Is it?

She shakes her head to clear it, sneaking a glance up at David, her hand covering her mouth, fingers trembling. When he winks at her, her knees almost buckle.

Bending closer to her ear, he whispers, “Three seconds to go.”

Dalia’s lower lip quivers as she joins in the countdown, her eyes wet with hope, her head spinning with confusion. “Three, two, one…”