Читать книгу Christmas Kisses: The Spanish Billionaire's Christmas Bride / Christmas Bride-To-Be / Christmas Wishes, Mistletoe Kisses - Алисон Робертс - Страница 7

‘NOW, wait a minute!’ It was Dominique’s turn to jump to her feet. ‘Before you get too carried away, don’t you think you ought to listen to what I want? This is my life we’re talking about here … mine and my daughter’s!’

‘I am well aware of that, and I am only suggesting this solution because I have your best interests at heart! And because, as far as I am concerned, your child is a Cordova and should be where she belongs—enjoying the advantages of her birthright in Spain, with a family who will love and cherish her!’

‘I love and cherish her!’

‘And what about the rest of your family?’

‘There’s only my mother.’

‘And clearly from what I have heard so far your mother does not love and cherish your daughter, and that is not an acceptable state of affairs!’

The beautiful face in front of Cristiano drained of colour, but he felt no remorse for simply stating the truth. He saw his solution to this predicament as imperative, and had to admit that his family had been absolutely right when they had declared that Ramón’s child belonged with them.

‘But Spain …?’

‘It is hardly a million miles away.’ He allowed himself an ironic little smile. ‘In these days when you can catch a plane to anywhere almost at the drop of a hat the world grows ever smaller, no?’

‘It’s just that—’

‘You are concerned about not finishing your education, perhaps? Your mother indicated that was a big regret for you. Let me allay your worries on that score. I will be quite happy to pay for the rest of your education, Dominique, and there will be no shortage of offers to help take care of Matilde so that you can study, I assure you! We have some wonderful universities in Spain, and I see no reason why you cannot complete your degree there.’

‘Well, my mother misled you, Señor Cordova. Not completing my degree was her big regret—not mine! I’m a mother now, and that’s my first priority. And even if I did want to go back to university I certainly wouldn’t be happy to have you foot the bill for it!’

Again Cristiano was struck by how fiercely independent and proud she was, and his unexpected feeling of admiration was genuinely disturbing. It was far from the way he had expected to be feeling at this meeting—in fact, he had prepared himself for the worst.

‘In that case I cannot see that there are any obstacles whatsoever to prevent you from coming to reside in Spain.’

‘Can’t you? Well, you’re not me, are you? And I have lots of doubts about the whole idea—despite what you say!’

‘Listen to me!’ Calmness suddenly gave way to the frustration and impatience Cristiano had hardly realised he was harbouring. ‘You are not the only one to think about in this distressing situation! Ramón’s mother is desperate to see the baby. She has lost her only son and is destroyed! Learning that he fathered a child has helped give her solace in the midst of her terrible grief. Would you deny her that solace, Dominique?’

She looked stricken. Then she made an agitated movement with her hand, before lifting it anxiously to her throat. ‘I know so little about how he was killed … will you tell me more?’

Even though he’d known this was coming, Cristiano was still ill prepared to relive the disturbing events of that night, and his mouth flattened grimly. He silently resolved to keep the explanation as brief as possible.

‘He was driving too fast on a hazardous mountain road in the early hours of the morning,’ he intoned, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth. ‘The light was poor, and the investigation concluded that he probably lost control of the car on a sharp bend that no doubt took him by surprise. It would have happened very quickly and he was probably killed outright. His car was found at the bottom of a cliff the next morning by a couple walking on the beach. The coroner recorded a verdict of accidental death. I cannot tell you any more than that.’

Cannot or will not? Inside Dominique despair set in. Ramón might have died in considerable pain. She might have stopped loving him a long time ago, but he’d still been the father of her baby. She wrapped her arms around her chest to hold in her grief.

Needing to divert her unhappiness, she grasped at what Cristiano had said previously. ‘I understand how much his mother must want to see Matilde, and I am truly sorry for her suffering … the poor woman must be demented at losing her only son! But Christmas is just a couple of weeks away, and it’s the busiest time of year at the restaurant I work at. You must understand that I have responsibilities too, and if I were to go to Spain I couldn’t possibly go until the New Year.’

His black eyes stared at her in disbelief. ‘You would put this unimportant job you have in a restaurant before letting a grieving woman see her only grandchild?’

His lip curled contemptuously, and Dominique flinched at the scorn in his voice.

‘Unimportant? It’s the means of earning my living so that I can provide for Matilde and me! You might not be aware, but job opportunities aren’t exactly overflowing for women in my situation, so don’t you dare look at me as if I’m deliberately creating problems where there aren’t any!’

‘You talk about opportunity … can you not see that is exactly what I am offering you by suggesting you move to Spain? There we can provide opportunities that will improve your lives a hundredfold.’

Moving onto her opposite hip, Dominique scraped her hand wearily through her hair. ‘Even if I agreed to go with you and meet Ramón’s mother and his family you must understand it could only be for a short visit. You can hardly expect me to just leave everything behind and decamp to another country as though I was just moving round the corner! And to go and live with a bunch of strangers too!’

‘They would not be strangers for very long. They are warm, loving people, and they would embrace you as though you were one of their own—which, of course, by virtue of being the mother of Ramón’s child, you are. It is a shame your own mother could not be as forthcoming! I have heard myself her obvious antagonism towards you for taking a path she did not want by bearing the child of a man she clearly despised. The sooner you and the baby are far away from such a woman the better, as far as I am concerned!’

Cristiano’s words hit their mark. The relationship between Dominique and her mother had deteriorated to an all-time low from the moment Dominique had confessed her pregnancy, and even Matilde’s arrival had not softened the other woman’s heart in any way. She refused to even hold the baby, let alone mind her for any length of time! Her lack of affection had blighted Dominique’s own childhood, and it was heartbreaking that she was now treating her grandchild in the same cruel way. Yet even so … it would be a hell of a gamble to go and live with the family of a man Dominique knew had never loved her, who had callously turned his back on her when he’d found out she was pregnant.

‘I’m sorry … But, like I said, I can’t go anywhere until after the New Year—and then only for a visit.’

‘So you say.’

‘I’ve explained my reasons. Why won’t you—?’

‘Where is the baby tonight? With this friend of yours?’ Cristiano interrupted. ‘I was very much hoping to see her.’

The annoyance in his voice was clear, and Dominique felt her body tighten even more in response. ‘She’s not with my friend.’

‘Then where is she?’

‘She’s right here … asleep in her cot behind that screen. It helps shut out the light a little, so it won’t disturb her.’

She was already moving towards the other side of the room, and Cristiano followed her with a stunned look on his face. Dominique knew she could have deceived him by agreeing that the baby was with her friend, but whilst she was afraid to let him see Matilde for fear of future demands, in all conscience she knew she could not refuse his request. As overwhelming as the thought was, Cristiano Cordova was part of her daughter’s family.

‘Here she is. She’s teething at the moment—that’s why her cheeks look so pink.’ She heard the love and pride in her own voice as she stood to the side to allow Cristiano a better view.

The sleeping infant looked blissfully peaceful and angelic as Cristiano peered into the cot to gaze at her. With her cap of sable hair, sweet little face and dimpled chin—a definite genetic inheritance from the Cordovas—she was absolutely enchanting. For disturbing seconds his head swam and his heart raced as he remembered another infant—had she lived, she would have been just like her. Then he recalled the fact that this was Ramón’s baby, and that his cousin would never enjoy the privilege of gazing at his beautiful daughter as Cristiano was gazing at her now. Once again, sadness and regret bore down on him like a heavy iron cloak laid across his shoulders.

Glancing up, he solemnly studied the pale, strained features of the girl standing beside him. He could scarcely think of her as a woman at all—she appeared no more than a teenager.

‘She is exquisite,’ he remarked, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile despite the terrible circumstances that had brought him here.

‘She’s a contented, happy soul. I can sense that about her already.’

Her guard down, Dominique ventured a smile back, and Cristiano thought he had never seen eyes of that vivid heavenly blue before. The mesmerising colour was tempting him to dive down deep into their iridescent crystal depths and lose himself completely. Young or not, there was something about her that affected him deeply, and the leap of hunger that suddenly flared inside him shockingly confirmed it.

‘She must be—what? Around six … seven months old now?’

‘Nearly seven, yes.’

‘She is much changed from the picture you sent with your letter to Ramón.’

‘I’d only just had her then. She was a tiny pink scrunched-up little thing, but she was still the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen!’ Coiling her long honey-brown plait round her fingers, Dominique sighed and let it go again. ‘It’s such a shame that Ramón couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge her. Not for my sake but for Matilde’s. A child deserves to know her father, or at least something about him, don’t you think?’

The statement had a doubly poignant resonance for her. Her own father had left her mother when Dominique was just a baby, and her mother had always refused to talk about him except to run him down. No matter how she personally felt about Ramón, Dominique would never do that to her own child.

Reaching inside the cot, she tenderly ran the tip of her finger across the sleeping baby’s downy cheek. ‘I think she’d make any man proud to be her father.’ Her voice was an emotional whisper as her glistening eyes met Cristiano’s.

‘Yes … she would …’

Suddenly Cristiano realised he was weary right down to his marrow, and not as in charge of his emotions as he would like. Although no stranger to the deadening weight of grief, he had honestly forgotten how enervating it could be. Now tiredness and sorrow was draining him of the capacity to stay clearheaded and in control, and this girl with her flawless blue eyes and stubborn pride was disturbing things in him that he would prefer remained dormant.

His thoughts inevitably turned to his family. He knew that they were waiting anxiously to hear about the success of his trip so that they could make preparations for welcoming Dominique and the baby into their home. Despite Dominique’s reservations about returning to Spain with him, Cristiano had no intention of disappointing them.

‘It is getting late.’ Glancing down at the gold Cartier watch that glinted expensively against his tanned wrist, he deliberately assumed a more businesslike manner to help put things back on an even keel. ‘I need to book into my hotel and get a shower and some dinner. Tomorrow I will send a car for you, and we can meet to discuss the situation further when we are both feeling a little less emotional and overwrought. Do you agree?’

‘I’ll agree for Ramón’s mother’s sake,’ Dominique replied, moving stiffly towards the door. ‘But I’m not promising anything more than that.

Biting back his frustration, Cristiano reached inside his jacket pocket, withdrew his wallet, and then a small embossed card. ‘This is the name and telephone number of where I am staying. If you should think of anything you need before we meet tomorrow … anything at all … I want you to ring me. I will send the car at around ten a.m. Will that suit? The sooner we can talk again the better.’

‘Ten is fine. I’m always up early with Matilde.’

‘So … I will say goodbye for now, and look forward to seeing you again tomorrow, Dominique.’ He extended his hand to her and she took it reluctantly, slipping her palm away from contact with his as soon as she could, as if she was wary of his touch and his promises. Cristiano’s shoulders stiffened. He nodded towards her rather curtly, to show his displeasure at this small act of rebellion, and ruefully made his exit.

Dominique asked for Cristiano at the desk and was stunned by the deferential response she received. No sooner did she mention his name than a smartly suited concierge arrived to whisk her personally up to the top floor in the spacious lift of the glamorous Mayfair hotel. He left her outside the door of his suite with all the respectful attention that any visiting VIP might receive.

Feeling somewhat overwhelmed, Dominique waited until her escort departed before she touched her knuckles to the walnut panelling and knocked. As she did so, she would have sworn that her heartbeat was far louder than the answering echo that seemed to bounce ominously round the wide, softly carpeted corridor. She had never set foot in such a smart, exclusive hotel before, and couldn’t help but feel like an impostor. And the prospect of seeing Cristiano again after the turbulent encounter of last night was growing ever more daunting.

When the shiny black chauffeur-driven Jaguar had arrived to pick her up and bring her here it had sent Dominique’s fears spiralling almost out of control. Now here, in these luxurious, opulent surroundings, her concerns about the power the Cordovas might potentially have over her were frighteningly confirmed. She’d hardly slept a wink for thinking about the Spaniard’s visit. Had Cristiano been telling her the truth when he’d said that Ramón’s family would welcome her and Matilde with open arms? What if it had just been a ruse to get her on Spanish soil where, with their money and power, they could bring the full force of the legal system to bear to ensure that Matilde stayed with them for ever?

‘Dominique.’

Suddenly the man she’d come to visit was in the open doorway before her—a tall, dark clothed figure, lean-hipped and hard-muscled, the suggestion of reined-in power very much evident despite his casual stance. Like a cat ready to pounce at the first hint of danger. Glancing up into his compelling face, she saw that his eyes were as fathomless as a black night studded with stars, and his jet hair gleamed like a dark moonlit sea. Dominique’s mouth seemed to instantly dry up at the sight of him.

‘Where is Matilde?’

‘I left her with my friend for a couple of hours … I thought it would make it easier for us to talk.’

‘That is a shame. I was looking forward to seeing her again.’

Dominique felt both guilty and chastised. ‘I’m not trying to stop you seeing her. I just thought—’

‘It is early yet. Perhaps I can see her later on in the day?’

Cristiano studied her face intently for a moment, as though needing to discern whether he could trust her or not, and Dominique sensed he knew she had not brought Matilde along because her fears about the outcome of this meeting had not yet been allayed.

‘You had better come in.’

The elegant drawing room she entered was decorated in a tasteful quintessentially English style, with antique furniture, inviting luxurious sofas and armchairs, and plush red velvet curtains finished with opulent swags at the windows. There was even a baby grand piano in residence, its polished ebony wood gleaming. Dominique felt like the little match girl, wandering in from the cold in her nondescript black woollen dress and slightly oversized tweed coat. A room like this, she mused, called for nothing less than a tall elegant blonde clad in haute couture and diamonds—the kind that graced billboards, not a five-foot-five unconfident girl with nondescript brown hair and a deepening sense of dread.

‘I’ve ordered us some coffee. It should be with us shortly. Please … let me take your coat.’

Embarrassed and then angry at the idea that Cristiano must guess that her well worn, less-than-elegant coat was a charity shop buy, Dominique handed it to him with an air of defiance.

‘Sit down,’ he told her, his dark gaze briefly skimming her figure in the unremarkable black dress … another cast-off from a charity shop.

It was impossible to know what was going on behind those extraordinary dark eyes of his, but everything about Cristiano Cordova reeked of class and money. Standing there in that elegant drawing room with him, Dominique was painfully aware of the discrepancy in their backgrounds. It was funny, but she hadn’t felt that way with Ramón. Maybe it was because he had been younger and a little less sure of himself? There had been times in their shortlived relationship when he had definitely displayed what had seemed like vulnerability to her. In contrast, she had never met a man who appeared more certain of his place in the world than Cristiano Cordova. No doubt he already had a tall elegant blonde in his life, Dominique mused.

‘Make yourself comfortable,’ he suggested. ‘It is cold outside today, no?’

He didn’t seem the type to casually discuss the weather, and she guessed that maybe he was doing it to try and help her feel less overwhelmed. But would a man like him be that considerate? A man who clearly knew what he wanted and would not let a little thing like somebody else’s conflicting desires get in the way?

As she sank into one of the inviting armchairs, Dominique watched Cristiano take up residence at the end of the sofa nearest to her—which was far too close for comfort, if she was honest—and she swallowed hard.

‘Yes, it is cold.’

‘I can see that you are somewhat tense about this meeting, Dominique. I want to reassure you that I have asked you here only because I want the very best for you and your daughter.’

‘That’s all well and good, but I’m a little tired of everybody else being convinced they know what’s best for me and Matilde!’ she snapped, feeling her throat threatening to close.

‘How old are you?’

‘Twenty-one … Why? I suppose now you’re going to tell me that I’m far too young and irresponsible to possibly know my own mind? Well, for your information I know exactly what I want for me and my baby, and I don’t need anyone else to tell me different!’

A knock on the door heralded the arrival of their coffee and prevented Cristiano from immediately replying to her tirade. While the smartly attired steward arranged an exquisite silver tray on the low burnished wood table in front of them, Dominique tried hard to get her emotions back under control. Why did the man get to her this way? Make her feel so defensive and angry?

Watching him tip the steward at the door, she waited until he returned to his seat before she spoke again. ‘I’m sorry—I lost my temper.’

‘It is an emotional time for all of us. Let me pour you some coffee. Do you take cream and sugar?’

‘Yes, please.’

He looked frighteningly calm and collected in comparison with the riot of nerves and emotions she was personally experiencing inside, and as Dominique accepted her drink, his gaze met and held hers for perturbing seconds.

‘I spoke to my family last night and I explained to them why you are reticent about returning to Spain with me. They understand your concerns about your job, but—like me—do not see it as an obstacle that cannot be easily overcome. They have implored me to do my utmost to persuade you to come and join us for Christmas at least. You have had some time to think things over and now I would really like your answer, Dominique. What do you say?’