Читать книгу Christmas Kisses: The Spanish Billionaire's Christmas Bride / Christmas Bride-To-Be / Christmas Wishes, Mistletoe Kisses - Алисон Робертс - Страница 6

DOMINIQUE couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It was as if her worst nightmare had come to life. Still in shock from the news her mother had called to deliver, she was having trouble taking in the rest of the tirade.

‘Let me get this straight,’ she said to her mother. ‘You told Cristiano Cordova where I lived so that he could come and see the baby and … What was it you said? See for himself the dreadful conditions in which I’m living?’

She stared at the telephone receiver in her hand as though it were an unexploded bomb, mute outrage gripping her throat while fear and dread cascaded through her bloodstream like a swollen river bursting its banks.

‘Why? Why would you do such a thing?’

‘Why do you think? I told him because the Cordovas obviously aren’t short of a penny or two, and they owe you! Since that good-for-nothing Ramón is dead, and you’ve been saddled with his child to try and raise on your own instead of finishing your degree, they ought to take some sort of responsibility for what’s happened, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Is that what you told him? That he was responsible for Matilde?’

‘Yes!’ There was stubborn defiance in the other woman’s voice. ‘And he agreed!’

‘Listen … they owe me nothing! It was my own decision to go ahead with the pregnancy and have the baby, and it’s nothing to do with anyone else! If Ramón himself wasn’t interested in his daughter why do you think for one moment that I would be remotely interested in making contact with the rest of his family? Much less have one of them come visit me!’

‘Well, someone should pay for the mess that man got you into—and why shouldn’t his family cough up? He ruined your life, Dominique! You were on course for a wonderful career and now look at you!’

For a moment Dominique couldn’t speak over the raw pain inside her throat. Her mother made it sound as if she was the biggest failure that ever lived! Was there nothing she could ever do to please her? Already knowing the answer, she fought off the wave of shame and despondency that washed over her and dispiritedly murmured a strained goodbye.

A week on and still she greeted each minute in dread of Cristiano Cordova showing up at her door, possibly wanting to assume some sort of control over her baby’s future. The already broken nights she endured, waking to feed Matilde, had been disrupted further by anxiety and fear. The freedom to lead her own life that she’d so desperately sought when she’d finally left her mother’s house to care for her baby on her own had been horribly threatened and spoiled.

She had already been feeling strangely disconnected from the rest of the world—the only light in her life being derived from her beautiful baby girl—while other people were looking forward to the holiday season, busy flitting in and out of the shops that were bursting with glittering arrays of Christmas paraphernalia, and counting down the days for the big event itself. The restaurant where Dominique worked as a waitress was already inundated with orders for lunch on Christmas Day, and she could have increased her hours in a heartbeat if she didn’t fiercely guard the maximum time she could afford to spend with her baby. But other people’s anticipation of Christmas only served to heighten her sense of isolation.

And now her mother had betrayed her. She had colluded with Cristiano Cordova—Ramón’s rich and influential cousin—behind her back, and encouraged the idea that Dominique’s baby was now his responsibility, since there was now no hope of Ramón himself ever fulfilling that role. The revelation still had the power to stun her senseless. She was still reeling from the news that Ramón was dead … killed in a car accident on some remote mountain pass in Spain. The catalogue of heartbreak since Dominique had met him was surely now complete?

Cristiano declined the offer of more coffee from the smiling air stewardess and, making a steeple of his fingers, stared out at the dazzling vista of pale clouds that resembled sun-struck snow-covered mountain peaks in the sky. For a poignant moment he imagined his young cousin’s restless and unhappy spirit, roaming free amongst those selfsame clouds—no longer bound by the constraints of the physical existence that had seemed to cause him so much turmoil and difficulty while he lived … Emotion welled up inside him and painfully cramped his throat. If only he had been able to get through to Ramón as he’d longed to … get him to see that the family would have forgiven him every transgression if he had only met them halfway …

But it was too late for recriminations. The situation was beyond rescue now. Cristiano had never voiced out loud his terrible fear that perhaps Ramón had deliberately sought to end his own life by driving his car over a clifftop that dreadful night—but he could not help thinking it just the same, and the thought gave him nightmares.

When a letter had been discovered amongst Ramón’s things after the funeral—from a girl none of the family had ever even heard of before—Cristiano and the family had honestly been stunned by its contents. The girl … Dominique … wrote to tell him news of the birth of her baby—Ramón’s baby—and had even included a photograph of the infant. Although things were well and truly over between them, she wrote, she thought he should at least know that he was the father of a healthy and beautiful little girl.

The letter had been dated six months earlier, and though he knew he would have to go to the UK and investigate for himself the legitimacy of the girl’s claims, Cristiano had also realised it must fall to him to convey the news that Ramón was dead—and that could not wait. But he had not had the opportunity to speak to Dominique herself. Instead, when he had called the telephone number she’d included in her letter, the girl’s mother had answered. Upon his revealing to her who he was and why he was calling the woman had not held back.

His ‘heartless, good-for-nothing cousin’ had wrecked her daughter’s life, Cristiano had been told in no uncertain terms, and his family had better do something about it. Dominique had only had a year to go before she finished her degree, and had had a bright future to look forward to. Now, instead, she was weighed down with the responsibilities of a baby!

When Jean Sanderson had calmed down sufficiently for him to get a word in edgeways Cristiano had soothingly but authoritatively told her that if it were true that her daughter’s baby was Ramón’s then he would of course take steps to ensure their future prospects were comfortable and to her liking. Certainly Dominique would not be denied the opportunity to finish her education. The Cordova family took their responsibilities seriously and would not turn their backs on one of their own. Slightly placated, Mrs Sanderson had then volunteered Dominique’s new address—she had apparently moved out since her letter to Ramón—and was living in a ‘grubby little bedsit’ in one of London’s least attractive boroughs.

The accusations had come hard and fast. Dominique’s mother’s anger and resentment were glaringly evident. Even in death it seemed that Ramón’s reckless and thoughtless behaviour was still having massive repercussions on people’s lives …

Yet again it had been left to Cristiano to smooth the troubled waters his cousin had left in his wake.

Releasing a troubled sigh, he pulled his gaze away from the spectacular view offered by the small window beside him and concerned himself instead with thoughts of his family. A family whose sorrow at losing a beloved son had been unexpectedly eased by the revelation that he’d fathered a child … a child they hoped and prayed Cristiano would be bringing back with him on his return—back where they were convinced she belonged …

There was a knock at the door, and in the same instant the milk she’d been heating on the stove for hot chocolate boiled over. Cursing softly, Dominique turned off the gas, surveyed the burnt sticky mess clinging to the side of the saucepan, and unhappily mourned the diminishing ability of her once sharp brain to concentrate for even two seconds flat. The trouble was Matilde was teething, and they had both had a horrendously sleepless night. Now fed, and finally asleep, the baby lay cosily wrapped up against the cold in her cot, and Dominique had been looking forward to the comfort of a hot drink for herself.

No doubt the person knocking on the door at that inopportune moment was Katie—the ballet student who lived in the bedsit opposite. Frequently out of milk, sugar, tea, coffee … food—anything you cared to name—she often walked across the landing to see if Dominique could help out. Leaving the cramped space that laughingly masqueraded as a kitchen and padding across the thin, worn carpet in her stockinged feet, Dominique opened the door with a resigned smile already in place—and a swift, silent prayer of thanks that she had done her shopping yesterday, before Matilde’s teething problem had kept them both awake for half the night …

‘Dominique Sanderson?’

She stared up at the imposing male on the other side of the door with her heart racing a mile a minute. He was obviously foreign—even if his accent hadn’t alerted her to the fact, his dark and striking looks strongly confirmed it—and Dominique half closed the door again, feeling sick with dread. ‘Who wants to know?’ she answered, the smile she had automatically summoned for Katie firmly banished.

‘I am Cristiano Cordova … Ramón Cordova’s cousin. May I come in and speak with you?’ he enquired formally.

‘No, you can’t!’ In a panic, Dominique glanced over at the tattered Chinese screen behind which her infant daughter’s cot was positioned—grateful that at this angle it was completely hidden from view. ‘It was very wrong of my mother to give you my address, and I told her so! I’m sorry, but you’re just going to have to turn around and go back to wherever you came from. Because although you want to speak to me, I do not want to speak to you!’ She went to shut the door, but he was too quick for her and grabbed the edge with a grip like steel. Dominique gasped.

‘If you shut the door in my face I promise you I will wait outside all night if I have to!’ the man warned. ‘And I do not make idle promises. So, if you want to avoid the embarrassment of explaining the reason for my presence to your neighbours, I suggest you simply let me come in and talk quietly to you in private.’

Seeing by his steely-eyed, hard-jawed expression that he was more than capable of carrying out an all-night vigil if she went back inside and closed the door, Dominique reluctantly moved away to allow him entrance. Her legs had gone to jelly, and she wondered how she even managed that small feat.

As the tall Spaniard came in through the door she couldn’t help glaring at him. From the moment her mother had announced she’d given him her address—and implied that he and his family were now responsible for her predicament—Dominique had been quite prepared to dislike him and all he stood for intensely. After all, hadn’t she already had a bitter example of how his family could behave in Ramón? Why should this man be any less heartless?

Even though her first view of him was through a red mist of anger, she saw nothing in the striking bronzed face with its sleek, taut lines to change her mind in any way. All she saw was another unwanted authority figure who believed it was his God-given right to try and take control of her and her baby’s life, and she wanted to physically push him out the door and yell at him never to come back.

‘What do you want to talk to me about?’ she demanded, folding her arms to try and still the tremors that had seized her.

‘The baby, of course … and the fact that her father was my cousin, who is now dead. There are things to discuss relating to both these matters.’

‘Well, I don’t want you here. Can’t you see that? Ramón and I broke up several months ago, and he couldn’t have cared less when I told him I was pregnant! I’m really sorry if you’ve had a wasted journey, but I didn’t ask you to come in the first place!’

‘No … you did not ask me to come,’ Cristiano Cordova replied, his voice smooth but with a rich undertone that made Dominique’s senses snap to attention. ‘But I would very much be failing in my duty to Ramón if I had elected to stay in Spain and ignore his baby’s existence. I found your letter, and I am aware of all that has happened. Now I am here to help alleviate some of the considerable stress and worry you must undoubtedly be under in such a difficult situation.’

‘You’re not going to take Matilde away from me, so don’t even think it!’

Stepping boldly in front of the six feet plus frame that exuded a bearing nothing less than regal—even here, in her deplorably shabby little bedsit with its threadbare floor covering and faded ancient wallpaper—Dominique was enraged at even the mere thought of such a possibility. She might only be twenty-one, but she still had rights—even if nobody else seemed to think so!

‘I think you need to calm yourself, Dominique. How can we discuss anything if you are in such a state of agitation? Perhaps we should start over again?’ The Spaniard considered her gravely for a moment, before extending his hand and letting his previously solemn mouth curve briefly into a smile. ‘It is unfortunate that our paths should only cross after such a tragic turn of events, but even so … I am very pleased to meet you, Dominique.’

Dominique warned herself not to be won over by the appearance of warmth and charm. Ramón had once told her that his rich and powerful cousin could be described as ‘dynamite in a silk glove’, and that people would do well not to be deceived by his amenable exterior and underestimate him. She remembered Ramón had sounded impressed when he’d revealed this—as though he envied his cousin’s gravitas and power. Apparently he was a man with a formidable reputation—and not just professionally. Cristiano commanded great respect and admiration from all those who knew him, and in the hallowed circle of the influential and respected his word and opinion was law.

A tiny shiver scudded down her spine as his large hand with its sprinkling of fine dark hair across the knuckles enfolded hers. His eyes were black as impenetrable caves, fringed with luxuriant sable lashes, and for a suspended moment Dominique was magnetised by them.

‘Well …’ She pulled her hand free as quickly as possible, to dispel the sense of deep disquiet that rippled through her, and took a step back. ‘All I want is to be left alone to raise my child in peace. Ramón’s family are under no obligation to help me in any way. It was my decision to have her, and I’m certainly not looking for hand-outs from his relatives!’

Her imposing visitor held up his hand as if to restore calm, the gesture conveying all the authority and command of Moses overseeing the parting of the Red Sea. His dark gaze was pensive as he focused it on Dominique. ‘Your bid for independence is admirable … but I have to tell you that there are certain things about our family that you must understand, and one of them is that we have a code of honour that must be upheld in all circumstances. Part of that code is that we take care of our own.’

Clearly Ramón had missed that memo, Dominique thought wryly. As much as she had judged Ramón for his lack of responsibility, now she could not help resenting his cousin’s presence with a vengeance. But the formidably broad shoulders encased by the superbly tailored jacket he wore over a black cashmere sweater seemed to signify an indomitable fortress that she had no hope of breaching, and she suddenly knew without a shadow of a doubt that this proud, handsome Spaniard had no intention of going quietly away and leaving her to manage Matilde on her own.

Her heart slammed up against her ribcage in alarm. ‘I told you—I don’t want anyone’s help! Least of all help from the family of a man who proved anything but honourable!’

She had sandy brown hair fashioned into one long silky plait that fell over a slender shoulder, eyes the colour and appearance of a placid blue lake on a summer’s day, and features that might easily have been the inspiration for any of the Grand Masters if she had but been born in another century.

The realisation of how young she was hit Cristiano like an iron fist. Ramón himself had only been twenty-five, but even so … Dominique Sanderson barely looked out of the schoolroom! What had his thoughtless irresponsible cousin been thinking of when he took up with such an innocent and why hadn’t he protected her from possible consequences when he had decided to seduce her?

He fielded the strong sense of outrage that unexpectedly burned inside him and mentally stored it for contemplation at a more appropriate time. Despite that, a muscle at the side of his temple continued to throb with tension. The girl presented a challenge. He knew now she was not going to be easily won over and persuaded to accept the aid that was due to her and, confessing silent surprise at that, Cristiano sensed he had a battle on his hands.

There were two well-worn tapestry-covered armchairs, one either side of a fireplace that housed an inadequate electric bar heater rather than a comforting glowing fire, and he gestured towards them. ‘Let us sit down, shall we? Now, tell me … where did you get the astonishing idea that I came to try and take the child away from you?’

‘Didn’t you?’

‘Of course not! A child belongs with her mother—unless that mother is unfit, of course—and that is where she should stay.’

‘I am a good mother!’ She sat forward in her chair suddenly, and Cristiano could tell by the way the muscles in her face were working that she was having trouble keeping back her emotions. ‘We may not live in the lap of luxury, but I work hard and do my best, and I would die rather than let my baby come to harm in any way!’

Cristiano frowned. ‘Please … do not distress yourself. Your ability as a mother is not in question. Regarding why I am here: I told your mother that as the head of the Cordova family I see it as my duty to oversee the care and protection of my cousin’s child, since he has so sadly died, and I naturally extend that care and protection to include you too, Dominique.’

‘I don’t need anybody’s care and protection! I can manage quite well on my own, thank you!’

Her huge blue eyes were suddenly bathed in tears, but Cristiano quickly realised that the reaction was born out of fury and frustration rather than self-pity.

‘My mother only wants rid of the baby … can’t you tell? She wants me to go back to university and complete my degree as if nothing has changed! She sees Matilde as an inconvenience that needs to be dealt with, and that’s why she jumped at the chance to invite you over here! I think she was really hoping that you would take Matilde away!’

‘I am very sorry to hear that. But if that is true, then it only confirms my opinion that you and your daughter would be better off returning with me to Spain than remaining here in England. If Ramón were still alive, I am certain he would come to that conclusion too, given time.’ He was not certain about that at all, but Cristiano would say anything he had to if it would help him achieve the outcome he desired.

‘I want you to know that I told him I would never make any claims on him regarding the baby. It was clear he didn’t want her right from the start, so why would I humiliate myself by pursuing some sort of recompense? Besides … having Matilde was my decision and my decision alone. Becoming a father and being responsible for another human being—even his own child—held no appeal for Ramón whatsoever.’

‘I do not doubt it!’ Cristiano returned acidly. ‘But it is a shame he did not think of that before he impregnated you!’

She blushed, and the sight of that subtle spread of pink fanning across her smooth pale cheeks, and the way her innocent unadorned mouth parted softly in surprise, caused an acute charge of electricity to explode in the pit of his stomach. It so disturbed him that for a moment Cristiano lost his train of thought.

‘It wasn’t all his fault. I was equally as foolish … as reckless—though I don’t regret having my baby for a second!’

Frankly incredulous at her immediate defence of his wayward cousin—especially when he had to all intents and purposes abandoned her—Cristiano flattened his hands over his knees as he released an impatient irritated sigh. ‘I am appalled that he did not make proper provision for you and his daughter whether he wanted to be in your lives or not! How did he expect you to support the baby when you were still a student and living at home with your mother?’

A tiny furrow appeared just above the bridge of her nose, and her slim hands moved restlessly in her lap. ‘He probably didn’t think about it much, if the truth were known. But I want you to know that I am supporting my baby quite adequately without him! Just before I left home I got myself a job. I waitress five nights a week at a local restaurant, and my friend Marie minds Matilde for me while I’m working.’

So that was how she earned her living and paid for this inhospitable room.

Instantly any fear Cristiano might have played in his mind that Dominique could turn out to be some opportunist gold-digger, seeking a chance to be financially supported for life once she knew Ramón’s family was wealthy, was completely rendered null and void. She simply did not seem capable of such subterfuge. And someone looking to benefit from the Cordova estate would hardly try and slam the door in his face when he turned up on the doorstep, would they? She was not the kind of girl he’d been expecting to meet at all. She was the polar opposite of the other immature females Ramón had played fast and loose with in his short and disreputable life! Instead of sulky demands she radiated a quiet dignity and resolve that was impressive in one so young.

Cristiano felt the renewed throb of painful tension pulsating in his temple like a relentless drumbeat as he glanced round once more at the poor state of the room he was in. It looked clean enough, but its aging furniture and fittings and inadequate heating made his stomach clench in dismay. Considering the child, he guessed she must be with this friend of Dominique’s right now, because there was no sign of her. A shame. He had very much been looking forward to seeing her.

‘Faced with the reality of how you live—’ he frowned ‘—I would dispute your assertion that you are managing even adequately. These are clearly not the kind of circumstances conducive to raising a child and giving her the sense of security and comfort that she deserves! Especially when her father came from a privileged and wealthy background with a family who would have moved heaven and earth to help him if he had only come to us and revealed the truth of his impending fatherhood!’

‘I got the feeling Ramón didn’t like the idea of being under any sort of obligation to his family.’

‘Under an obligation?’ Cristiano hardly knew how he stayed sitting in his seat. His expression was formidably grim. This from a man whose proclivity for taking what he wanted—no matter who it hurt—had been second nature? A man who had been busy squandering his inheritance on fast living and reckless and sometimes dangerous pursuits without a care for anyone but himself right up until the day he died!

‘Anyway … whatever people think of him … he’s dead now, isn’t he? He’s not here to defend himself against what anybody says any more.’ Her faultless blue eyes momentarily dazzled Cristiano with the flare of pain he saw reflected there.

‘Yes, he is dead.’ Feeling as though someone had taken a sledgehammer to his middle with this distressing reminder, he momentarily rubbed at the tension that had now extended to the front of his brow. ‘Which is even more reason why this completely unacceptable situation cannot continue. Having met you, and acquainted myself with your situation, I have no doubt in my mind that you and the child must return with me to Spain,’ he announced commandingly, rising to his feet.