Читать книгу A Champagne Christmas: The Christmas Love-Child / The Christmas Night Miracle / The Italian Billionaire's Christmas Miracle - Кэрол Мортимер, Catherine Spencer - Страница 13

MAKSIM’S intention in bringing her here had been to seduce her. He’d intended to coldheartedly win her loyalty to get information he could use against Barrington. But his conscience had interfered again. He’d tried to resist. To let her go. To push her away.

Until she’d taken him in her soft arms and asked him to kiss her.

In that single instant he’d tossed aside his plans to get information from her. He’d given up his revenge on Barrington. He’d even given up the merger for the sake of possessing her.

He’d given it all up so he could possess her without guilt and be even half the man she believed him to be.

It had taken all his self-control to go slowly. He was determined to make it good for her. But when their eyes met as he slid deeply inside her, when he saw her beautiful face as their bodies joined, he could barely hold himself back from exploding.

He felt her arch and heard her gasp his name; and then he utterly lost control.

Thrusting one last time, he spilled into her with a hoarse, harsh cry that blended with hers. He closed his eyes as his body was racked with waves of pleasure almost too intense to bear.

He collapsed against her. He must have blacked out for a millisecond before he realized he was crushing her with his weight. And he never wanted to hurt her, never, this fragile innocent beauty who’d given him her virginity….

He rolled to one side of her, cradling her softly in his arms, kissing her forehead. She took several deep breaths before she opened her eyes and looked at him. But she did not speak. What had happened between them was too deep for words.

Candlelight and firelight flickered on the lush curves of her naked body. Grace was everything he’d imagined. Just what he’d fantasized about. But she had more than just an innocent beauty—she had an innocent soul.

He was her first.

Maksim gloried in the thought. It filled him with pride and wonder. No other man had ever touched her. No other man had ever thrust inside her—

Then he suddenly stopped breathing.

Distracted by the conflict between his conscience and his overwhelming need for her, he’d forgotten to use a condom. The first and only time he’d ever forgotten.

Turning from her on the blanket, he stared blankly at the high ceiling. Barely visible cherubs smiled down at him from the shadowed depths.

What if there were a child?

“Maksim.” Grace rolled her naked body over his. He felt the soft press of her breasts into his chest as she looked down at him with concern. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed her on the temple. “Don’t think that, solnishka mayo. Never think that.”

She ducked her head, placing her cheek against his heart. “Do you feel like you’ve betrayed Francesca?”

Francesca? He was trying not to think about her—something astonishingly easy to do, considering she’d been his mistress for a full year. He set his jaw. “Why ask me about her? Do you feel you’ve betrayed Barrington?”

She shook her head. “I never loved him. That was infatuation, nothing more.”

For reasons he couldn’t explain, those words seeped into him, relaxing him like a warm embrace. He stroked her naked back lazily, appreciating the curve of her body and sweet, smooth skin. “I’m glad to hear that. So there’s nothing to stop you from coming to work for me.”

“But I thought you said I shouldn’t endure sexual harassment from my boss?” she teased.

“You’ll enjoy it from me,” he growled.

“A lovely offer.” She sighed, then slowly shook her head. “But I can’t desert Alan. I feel sorry for him.”

“Why? He’s gotten the deal—and the bride.”

“But he just found out she never intended to actually marry him. They haven’t even slept together. She’s just trying to make some other man jealous.” She took a deep breath, then lifted her eyes to his. “I think it must be you.”

His hand stroking her back stilled.

“It’s not a real engagement?”

“The merger is real. Her father doesn’t know. But the engagement will end.” She licked her lips. “And you can have Francesca back, if you want her.”

For a moment Maksim couldn’t even breathe.

He couldn’t believe it.

What a joke of fate. The moment he’d decided to surrender to his conscience, the moment he’d decided he wouldn’t try to force information out of Grace—she’d tossed the key to destroying Alan Barrington right into his lap.

With this one bit of information, he could destroy the merger.

Part of him had suspected this all along. Francesca had been so furious when Maksim hadn’t caved to her ultimatum in October. After a tempestuous year together, a year of screaming breakups and passionate makeups, she’d demanded that he marry her. “Or else,” she’d threatened ominously, “you’ll lose me.” But Maksim never responded very well to threats or ultimatums. In reply he’d kissed her until she sagged in his arms, then he’d whispered, “In that case, I must lose you.”

Typical of Francesca to orchestrate her battle by going straight to his enemy. Managing to string Barrington along without even giving him her body—Maksim was impressed. But the fact that she’d never intended to actually go through with her threat to marry him revealed her weakness.

All Maksim had to do was tell the Earl of Hainesworth the truth, and the merger would be his. Along with Francesca, if he wanted her….

“Do you love her, Maksim?” he heard Grace whisper. “Do you?”

He abruptly focused on the sweet, beautiful girl in his arms.

Grace was so different from his former mistress in every way. She was curvaceous, with full cheeks the color of roses, skin that glowed with health, and natural blond hair that looked like blended gold and silver in the candlelight.

Francesca was tiny and thin in ultrachic designer clothes, with fiery red hair that came compliments of an expensive salon. Natural? Francesca was the type of woman who wore red lipstick to bed!

Grace was poor, young and sweet, and so kindhearted that she let others take advantage of her, while Francesca gleefully bossed the servants and rode all over anyone weaker than herself.

Grace was honest to a fault. Even now, Maksim could see the vulnerability in her eyes as she anxiously looked at him. Francesca savored nothing more than a viciously well-placed lie. She planned her love affairs like a chess match, or possibly like a general leading troops into a war she intended to win.

“She’s so beautiful,” Grace said, biting her lip. “She’s the kind of woman any man would want.”

It would be easy to hurt Grace, Maksim thought. And he never wanted to do it.

“I’m with you now.” He rose from the blanket and swiftly blew out the candles around them before he nestled back against her, pressing his naked body against hers. He cuddled her in his arms, turning them both on their sides toward the fire.

With a little sigh she relaxed in his arms. In no time at all he felt the even rise and fall of her breath as she slept peacefully against his chest. Trustingly.

Normally after he’d been with a woman, he couldn’t leave her fast enough. But with Grace, he felt different. She made him feel strangely at peace.

He stared at the fire, waving and crackling and dying in the marble fireplace.

He could complete the merger. Get his revenge on Barrington. Get everything he’d dreamed of: he could create and control the largest oil and gas company in the world.

Or…he could do the unimaginable.

He could forget he’d ever heard the information. And keep Grace as his mistress.

He’d planned to spend the winter in Moscow after the merger was done. He could bring Grace to live in his new Rublyovka estate. He rather liked the idea of having her cook for him, bustling about, making him laugh, sharing his bed at night. How better to keep himself warm through the long, cruel Russian winter?

He could open her credit accounts at all the luxury shops in one of the most expensive cities in the world. He could hire a tutor to give her Russian lessons.

And Maksim could give her other kinds of lessons as well. Personally. He suspected the recent virgin would be a quick and eager student….

Her only job would be to be his mistress, enjoy his company and spend his money. She would be happy.

Maksim stared at the hypnotic dwindling of the fire. Could he let Barrington win? Could he let the merger go? Could he give up his dream of world domination—and let Barrington have it, while he slipped into a distant second place, possibly making his own company ripe for an eventual hostile takeover?

Giving up this merger meant potentially losing everything he’d ever fought for. But the choice before him was plain.

Grace or the merger.

He couldn’t fool himself into thinking he could have both. If Grace found out he’d betrayed her, using her careless words in bed against her boss, she would never forgive him.

But if he didn’t betray her, would he ever be able to forgive himself?

Maksim held her in his arms as the moonlight flooded through the high windows. The dying firelight flickered in the sleek marble fireplace.

He’d never appreciated this house quite so much before. Never appreciated anything quite so sharply as this moment. He knew it would never come again. She sighed in sleep, her breasts swaying beneath his arms. He felt himself stir. This woman moved him like no other.

Her eyelids fluttered. She looked up at him with dream-drenched eyes.

“I think I love you,” she whispered.

His body went absolutely hard. So hard it hurt.

She blinked. “Oh my God, did I say that aloud? I thought I was dreaming.”

“You said it out loud,” he said tersely.

“I just meant—”

“I know what you meant.”

He gripped her.

She’d just experienced sex for the first time, he told himself. That was what she meant. She loved him in the way a man loved a well-cut suit or a perfect steak or watching sports on Sunday; or crushing an opponent to win a big business deal. She loved him in the way a person loves a pleasure they never want to end.

He told himself these things, but he knew they were lies.

“Maksim…” She touched his shoulder.

“Go to sleep,” he told her harshly.

The fire had turned to ashes before he heard her finally fall back into slumber. But he couldn’t sleep. He lay awake all night, watching as the pink dawn rose over the misty-white moor.

He had to make a choice.

The warm light of dawn sifted through the high windows, revealing the dust motes trembling in the air. He woke her with a kiss. On her shoulder. On her temple. All over her naked body.

She turned over with a sigh, blinking and not quite awake, but she held out her arms for him. Instinctively welcoming him into her soft body. Into her soft heart.

But this time, as he tenderly made love to her in the pink fresh light of dawn, he used a condom.

Horrible. Unbearable.

When could she leave?

Grace glanced at the clock on her computer screen and tapped her toes impatiently on the floor. She didn’t want to be at work on Christmas Eve!

Apparently, no one else wanted to be here, either, since she was the only one left in the office. She’d come to tie up a few loose ends before her two-week vacation in Los Angeles. She smiled as she thought of home. She just needed to wait long enough to pick up the check for $10,000 that would save her mother’s house.

But Alan was, of course, late.

Grace was trying to focus on compiling the necessary data for Cali-West’s fourth-quarter sales reports. But her mind kept wandering to her favorite subject.

Maksim.

The past two weeks had been the most wonderful of Grace’s life. Maksim had taken her out nearly every day. He’d taken her dancing. Out to dinner. And it was hilarious how he kept trying to buy her things. Like yesterday, when he’d suddenly pulled her into a car dealership in South Kensington and wanted to buy her a gold Maserati convertible.

“To match your hair,” he’d said, then smiled. “Think of it as a hair accessory.”

When she’d refused, he’d tried to argue with her. “It’s a small Christmas present,” he’d said. “A trifle. A token. A stocking stuffer!”

He’d really made her laugh with that one.

She’d steadfastly refused, of course. But later that night in his penthouse suite, he’d made her an offer she could not refuse—he’d made love to her all night.

That must be why she felt so tired today. So absolutely exhausted, and even a little bit queasy.

Especially when she thought about leaving Maksim for the next two weeks.

She was falling in love with him.

She’d already fallen like a brick!

So much for her defenses. Thank God he wasn’t in love with Francesca as she’d briefly feared, because she’d started to fall in love with him from the moment he’d taken her virginity in that empty house on the snow-swept moor. She’d even stupidly blurted it out.

Fortunately, by some miracle, telling him she loved him just days into their relationship hadn’t scared him off!

Perhaps he was starting to care for her, as well.

The thought made her heart leap in her chest. She wanted to buy him a Christmas present before she left, but what did you get a man who truly had everything? Her naked body wrapped in a big red bow?

Grace glanced down at her form-fitting gray cardigan, yellow silk blouse, pearls and gray wool slacks. Her clothes weren’t quite so glamorous as the Leighton cocktail dress, but they were fresh and pretty and new. She grinned down at her feet. She even had new shoes, lovely pale-pink pumps of such sturdy quality that they would never break. They squeezed her a little in the toe, but who cared about that? They were beautiful. She’d put her first paycheck since her raise to good use.

She wanted to look nice for Maksim.

A stronger wave of queasiness went over her. Grace glanced at her lukewarm coffee cup, feeling ill. Had she drunk too much wine last night at dinner with Maksim? Impossible, she remembered, she’d had just half a glass. It must have been the chicken tikka, then.

Picturing the spicy dish, usually her favorite, she felt so nauseated that she almost retched over her keyboard. Rising to her feet, she stumbled to the ladies’ bathroom just in time.

Afterward, as she came out of the bathroom she still felt a bit sick and in a cold sweat. She was just grateful she was alone in the office.

Then she saw she wasn’t. Alan stood by her desk.

Oh, thank heaven! He was here with the check, and that meant she could go! Hang the data for the fourth-quarter reports. No one would compile the information until January, so why kill herself over it? She’d collect her bonus, brush her teeth then go to the penthouse to see about convincing Maksim to come home to California with her for Christmas.

If all else failed, she’d convince him via that big red bow. She giggled. Perfect.

But she still felt a bit dizzy as she walked toward her boss. “I’m glad to see you!”

“Are you, Grace?” Leaning against her desk, Alan’s pale eyelashes blinked rapidly as he stared down at her. He looked strangely grim.

Something seemed to be bothering him, but Grace still felt queasy and couldn’t dredge up enough energy to wonder what it was. “Alan, if you’ll just give me my bonus check, I think I’ll head out. You don’t mind if the sales figures wait? I’m not feeling very well.” When he folded his arms and continued to glower at her, she added weakly, “It is Christmas Eve…”

“You can take as much time as you want.”

“Oh, thank you—”

“Because you’re fired.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “What?”

“You heard me. You have exactly three minutes to pack up your desk before I have you thrown out.”

“Is this a joke?”

“Yes, a joke. The secretary I trusted most just betrayed my secrets and caused me to lose the deal of my life.”

“What?” she gasped. “How?” She frantically tried to remember saying anything to anyone. Had she mentioned any details? The numbers, the price? She shook her head. “I never breathed a word to anyone!”

“Lord Hainesworth just pulled his funding and support,” he said furiously. “He found out this morning the engagement was fake. I’ve lost the deal and now I’ll likely lose my position as CEO. The board has been after me for the past year. I’ve lost everything. My only consolation is…so have you.”

Oh my God, what had happened?

“It’s got to be some ghastly mistake,” she said. “I would never betray you. Please, I need that bonus—”

“Bonus?” He barked a laugh. “You’re lucky I don’t have you thrown in jail for corporate espionage! You’ll never get hired again by anyone if I can help it. No job recommendation. No back pay.” His lip curled. “Now get the hell out before I call the police.”

“But I didn’t tell anyone about the fake engagement,” she cried. An icy trickle went down her back. “Except…”

“When you blackmailed me into giving you a raise, you didn’t mention that you were already working on your back for Maksim Rostov!”

She sucked in her breath.

“It wasn’t like that,” she gasped. “How did you find out about—”

“Francesca heard it from her friends.” Alan shook his head with a derisive snort. “Apparently he’s been flashing you all over town, his cheap little mistress. You’ve always been so desperate for money, Grace. Tell me. What did you enjoy more—selling him my secrets or selling him your body?”

She felt like he’d just slapped her across the face.

“I didn’t sell anything,” she whispered. “He wouldn’t do that to me.”

“No? You think Rostov wanted you for your intelligence?” he sneered. “For your beauty?” He looked her up and down. “You might have gotten new clothes, but you’re way out of your league. This was always a game between him and Francesca—always. He dumped her. She wanted him back. And now they’re together.”

“No!”

“If you really believe he would choose you over her, you’re even more stupid than I thought.” He turned his back on her. “I’m sending the security guard up here in two minutes.”

Numbly Grace gathered up a few items from her desk, putting a half-dead plant and two framed pictures of her family into a box. She left the building, then realized she’d forgotten her old coat. The security guard refused to let her back inside. Her only option would be to call Alan and ask him to bring it down to her.

Instead she left without it.

Outside, there was a biting chill in the gray afternoon sky. Clutching the cardboard box to her chest, she shivered in her thin cardigan and silk blouse.

Alan had to be wrong. Maksim wouldn’t have betrayed her!

She pictured his darkly handsome face. The way he’d teasingly fed her chow mein noodles at his penthouse last week. The way he’d tried to trick her into accepting expensive gifts. He’d made love to her. He’d made her laugh. He’d been her first.

He wouldn’t use her careless words in bed against her, the words she’d spoken when she’d been feeling insecure and had been seeking reassurance!

But she hadn’t told anyone else about the fake engagement. Who else could it be?

The answer was shockingly clear.

He’d intended all along to seduce and betray her.

No. A sob escaped her. She felt dizzy as she walked toward the nearest Tube entrance. Another wave of nausea went over her and her knees shook as she went down the escalator. As she sat on the half-empty train, she felt the curious and pitying stares of other passengers. She knew what they saw—a woman without a coat, red-eyed and holding a box with a plant and picture frames. Easy to follow that story. Sacked on Christmas Eve.

Just sacked—or also betrayed?

She found all her clothes stuffed in two suitcases sitting outside her basement flat in Knightsbridge. The locks had been changed. Alan had tossed her out.

Pulling her cell phone from her handbag, she dialed Maksim’s number.

No answer. After three rings, it clicked over to voice mail, to his terse voice saying, “Rostov. Leave a message.”

Another wave of dizziness washed over her. She started to leave a message. “Maksim, I’ve just heard something that can’t possibly be…”

Her phone went dead. She stared down at it in shock. It had been her business phone, paid for by her company. Alan must have had it disconnected.

Grace took a deep breath, trying to control the rising panic.

She placed her family photos in the suitcases, wrapped herself in her warmest, thickest, frumpiest sweater and left the box and plant in a nearby rubbish bin. She managed to get back on the Tube, dragging both suitcases behind her.

Could it be true?

She heard the echo of his voice. Husky. Deep. Slightly foreign. I have been accused of having no heart. I am telling you the truth, Grace. Take this as a warning.

Struggling with her luggage, she came out of the Tube stop near his hotel. He was likely not there but busy at his office, as he hadn’t answered his phone. She would wait for him in the penthouse and…

Then she saw he wasn’t busy in the office.

Maksim was walking arm-in-arm with Francesca.

He looked ruthlessly handsome in a gray suit and coat. The redhead at his side wore an ivory coat and six-inch heels. Grace watched in shock as they passed the smiling doorman and went inside his hotel.

She saw the look Francesca gave him over the shoulder. Flirtatious. Cozy. Affectionate.

And Grace felt her knees go weak beneath her.

Trembling, she stumbled out into the road to flag down a cab. She shoved the suitcases inside and collapsed in the back of the black cab. “Heathrow,” she gasped to the cabbie.

She could no longer deny the painful truth. She’d loved him, while he…

He’d taken her virginity to win back another woman.

Grace needed to get home. Her mother would take her in her arms and stroke her hair and tell her everything would be all right. Her mother knew about broken hearts.

Grace nearly cried with gratitude when a desk clerk at the airport managed to switch her seat to an earlier flight.

Crossing the Atlantic that endless day, crammed into a middle seat between two large, snoring men who both hogged the armrests and overlapped her space, Grace kept her eyes tightly closed. If she started crying, she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to stop.

She had more to worry about than a broken heart.

How would Grace save the house? How would she support her family? Now that her father’s life insurance was gone, her family was nearly destitute. And the economy was tough. How would Grace find employment when she’d just been fired for blurting out a billion-dollar secret in bed?

Grace clutched the thin airplane blanket to her chest. Funny to think she’d been so determined to not accept any gifts from Maksim. She’d returned the tiara and Leighton clothes. She’d refused his offer of the Maserati convertible and a new house and his many other suggestions of jewelry and clothes and luxury trips. She’d been so proud to stand on her own two feet. So proud to show Maksim she wanted him, not his money.

But money, it seemed, was all Maksim had ever wanted. Money. Revenge. Another billion or so dollars to pile on top of his fortune. She’d given him her virginity and her heart, but he’d only wanted money.

Money…and Francesca.