A Champagne Christmas
He gaped at her. “Where else would you go?”
“I’ve had another job offer.”
“From whom?”
“That’s irrelevant,” she said. “Since I had to move from Los Angeles, my mother’s had trouble paying her mortgage. I need ten thousand dollars to stay working for you. Call it a retroactive raise.”
“Ten thousand?” he gasped. “Dollars? Are you joking?”
“And effective immediately,” she continued sweetly, “I expect a raise in pay commensurate with the increased cost-of-living expenses in London.”
“Grace!”
“So what do you say?” She paused. “Shall I stay and finish writing your speech for the charity event this afternoon? Or shall I clean out my desk?”
He stared at her.
“Stay,” he muttered. “Finish the speech. You’ll get your raise with your next paycheck.”
“And my bonus?”
“Ten thousand dollars? That will take longer.”
“You have until Christmas Eve.”
He ground his teeth. “Fine. Would you perhaps like to take the rest of the afternoon off, as well?” he suggested acidly.
“Yes, thank you.” She smiled at him. “I’ll go as soon as I’m done with your lovely speech.”
Alan tightened his jaw, then turned away. “Fine.”
She almost felt sorry for him as she watched his hunched shoulders as he returned to his office and slammed the door. Almost.
Getting one afternoon off wasn’t even close to all the hours she’d worked for free over the past two years, but…Maksim was outside at this very moment, waiting for her. Grace’s feet tapped excitedly as she polished the last few paragraphs of the speech, making sure it was perfect before she e-mailed Alan the finished copy. Her spirits were soaring as she put on her old coat and came triumphantly out of the building.
She found Maksim waiting for her at the curb in an ultra-expensive, black Bugatti Veyron.
“Thank God,” he said with a dark gleam in his eye as she climbed into the car. “It was agony waiting for you.”
“It was twenty minutes.”
He put on dark sunglasses. “I’m not a patient man.”
She laughed aloud, happier than she’d been for years. “Thanks for the flowers,” she said. “They really lifted employee morale. I just got a raise from my boss.”
“You lift my morale, solnishka mayo,” he growled. He reached over to change gears, and his hand accidentally brushed her thigh. “Ready to celebrate?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“So am I,” he said, looking down at her steadily in a way that made her feel hot all over. Then he gunned the thousand-horsepower motor, and the Bugatti flew like a black raven through the mist and rain.
CHAPTER SEVEN
GRACE took a deep breath as she stood on the terrace of Maksim’s Dartmoor estate, staring out at the snow-dusted fields. They’d left the London rain far behind. Here the moors were wide and haunted beneath the last rays of fading red sun. A thick white mist was blowing in from the sea.
Tears fell unheeded down Grace’s cold cheeks. The sound of her mother’s happy crying still echoed in her ears as she tucked her cell phone back into her bag.
She’d done it. She’d told her mother that she would save the house from foreclosure. Now Grace would make sure her family never worried about money again. She took another deep breath, grateful beyond words that she’d found her strength. That she’d found herself.
Thanks to Maksim.
Maksim, who’d treated Grace like a princess. She’d never have imagined that any man, let alone someone so handsome and powerful and rich beyond belief, would treat her that way.
Now Grace realized she should accept nothing less. She would never settle again.
She wanted the fairy tale.
She turned from the wide terrace overlooking the carefully tended classical garden and returned through the back door of his eighteenth-century country house. Maksim was waiting.
The inside of the house was every bit as Gothic and misty as the moors outside. Perhaps because the fifty rooms had no furniture—just white translucent curtains that seemed to move against the windows even when they were closed, twisting eerily in an invisible draft that no human skin could feel.
She’d called her mother outside on the terrace, where the cell phone reception was better, and where she could have privacy. She didn’t want Maksim to know how desperate she’d been for money. She didn’t want him to think of her as someone who needed saving.
She’d been proud to save herself.
She wanted Maksim as her equal. As her friend. As her…lover? She could barely move her lips to form the word, but there it was. Her secret.
She wanted him as her lover.
She wanted him for the fire he sparked inside her. For the way he’d somehow made her become the woman she’d always dreamed she could be. For the dreams suddenly coming true around her, like roses blooming full and red amid the breathless hush of winter.
Grace walked back through the empty salon. Painted cherubs looked down at her from the two-hundred-year-old painting soaring high above the enormous chandelier.
This house was beautiful, large…and lonely.
No one lived here, Maksim had told her. He’d bought it to use as his weekend escape, but he’d been too busy with work to bother visiting. The caretaker and his elderly wife, who resided in a nearby cottage, were the only ones who’d entered the estate for the last several years.
Until now.
The house seemed happy to finally have company, she thought, then nearly laughed at her own ridiculous thought. The house was happy?
What was it about houses that made people so batty?
Grace wiped her eyes as she approached the dining room. She felt like an idiot for crying because she was happy, but as foolish as it sounded, she felt as if her family—as long as they had their home—could survive and be strong.
She entered the dining room, then stopped in shock.
The room was dark, lit by the fire in the marble fireplace—and by dozens of white pillar candles of various sizes and shapes on the floor.
Maksim was lighting the last candle as she entered. He was darkly handsome, wearing a black shirt and black pants. He looked up at her, then straightened as the expression on his handsome face changed to concern.
“You were crying,” he demanded.
“Houses,” she sniffled, looking with wonder at all the candles. “They don’t make a family, except they do, don’t they?”
He frowned. “You’re not making any sense.”
Laughing through her tears, she shook her head. “I’m just happy. I needed money for my house. Thanks to the raise, I’ll have it.”
“Good,” he growled. “About time you moved out of Barrington’s basement.”
He’d misunderstood her, but she didn’t correct him. Moving out of Alan’s house was a good idea, and as soon as her family’s home was secure, that was exactly what she intended to do.
Blowing out the match and tossing it aside, he put his arms around her. “Now leave his office and come work for me.”
“Mixing business and pleasure would be a bad idea,” she whispered.
He stroked her chin. “I’ll buy you a house as your bonus. Any house you want.”
She looked around the eighteenth-century country mansion mischievously. “Really? Any house?”
He laughed, then he kissed her. His lips were warm and passionate. She felt his rough chin against her skin as his tongue stroked hers, luring her, intoxicating her. She pressed her body against his. When he pulled away, a little sigh escaped her.
“Let me take care of you, Grace,” he murmured against her skin.
“I don’t want you as my boss,” she managed to say. “And I don’t want your money. I just want you.”
His eyes flickered.
“And I take care of what is mine,” he growled.
She was his? The idea of his possession was like a warm blanket wrapped around her. He cared about her. Hadn’t he proved that last night when he’d let her go? He could have easily made her a one-night stand, but instead he was wooing her. Courting her in this romantic way.
And she was starting to care about him more than she wanted to admit.
He sat down on a thick white blanket on the floor near the fire. He patted a spot next to him. “Sit down,” he said, quirking a seductive eyebrow. When she did, he handed her a flute of champagne.
“Sure, you have champagne,” she teased. “But what about furniture?”
Reaching into the hamper, he held out a chocolate-covered strawberry. “I don’t need a bed for what I intend to do to you.”
She opened her mouth obediently, and he fed it to her. Then she took the next strawberry from the basket and returned the favor. As he suckled the rich chocolate from the lush fruit, he never took his gaze from hers.
She shivered. When she finished the flute of champagne, he took it from her without a word. Gently brushing her hair aside, he kissed her neck. She closed her eyes, shuddering with desire as he nibbled his way down her throat.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.
And for no good reason, she felt like crying.
“Thank you,” she said, opening her eyes to look directly into his. “Thank you, Maksim.”
His dark eyes looked surprised. “For what?”
She looked past him, to the translucent white curtains and lead-paned windows overlooking the winter twilight. Shaking with the force of her emotion, she looked into his face.
“It has been a hard few years for my family.” She took a deep breath. “I didn’t know what to cling to anymore. Didn’t know what to believe in.”
Maksim looked at her steadily above the shimmering firelight. His eyes were deep smoke, his strong jawline shadowed with bristle. Surrounded by the flickering white candles on the floor around them, he looked like a dark king from a medieval fantasy.
“Now I do,” she said softly, then took a deep breath. “I can believe in you.”
He blinked. Hard.
Clenching his jaw, he looked away.
“I’m no saint,” he said in a low voice. “I told you from the beginning. I’m selfish. Ruthless.”
“You’re wonderful.” Reaching her hand up to his rough chin, she gently turned his cheek until he looked at her. “I’ve never met a man like you before. You claim to be selfish and even cruel, but you’re not.You’re a good man, Maksim.You don’t want anyone to know it.You think it’s weakness,” she said softly. “But I know your secret.”
She felt him tremble in her arms. He took a haggard breath, briefly closing his eyes before he looked down at her. His dark gaze shot through her soul. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Grace. So determined to see the best in people even if they don’t deserve it.”
“Because of you.” She licked her lips with sudden nervousness. “For the first time in my life, I feel brave. Brave enough to…”
Her words dwindled off as the expression in his dark gaze changed, became fired with heat. He stroked her cheek, looking down at her. Their bodies were so close. She could feel every inch of hard muscle, all the strength of his power. Their eyes were interlocked, and in that moment she could hardly say where her soul ended and his began.
“Grace…”
Lowering his mouth to hers, he kissed her. It was a kiss of anguish and longing and such tenderness that a little whimper escaped her.
Then a Russian curse exploded from his lips. He suddenly pushed away from her.
Rising to his feet, he paced in front of her, clawing his hands through his dark hair.
“What is it, Maksim?” she whispered, staring up at him from the blanket. It was the second time he’d pushed away from her. Was something wrong with her? Something about the way she kissed that he didn’t like?
Insecurity went through her. She thought of what Alan had told her, that Francesca only agreed to a fake engagement to make some other man jealous.
What if Maksim still loved Francesca?
“It’s all right,” Grace said miserably. “I understand. I’m not the one you want.”
When he spoke, his voice was low. Harsh. “You think I don’t want you?”
“It’s all right, truly.” She shook her head, trying to keep the tears from her eyes. “I’m not remotely your type—”
Falling to his knees, he grabbed her upper arms so tightly that they bruised.
“Not want you? God! Not want you?” he exploded. “All I can think about is taking you, Grace. In the bed, against the wall, on the floor! Not want you? I want to spread your thighs beneath me. I want to caress and suckle and taste you until you explode and shake around me. I want you and every second I physically hold myself back from making love to you is killing me!”
His voice echoed against the soaring ceilings of the empty dining room as it slowly sank in. He wanted her.
“Then why do you keep pushing me away?”
He cradled her face in his hands. “Because you are the only sunlight I’ve known for years,” he said in a low voice. “I can’t extinguish that warmth in you, Grace. I can’t let the world go dark and cold without your light.”
“You’re afraid to hurt me?”
Clenching his jaw, he nodded.
“Don’t be.” She took a deep breath. “After my bad experience with Alan, I’ve decided love is totally overrated.” She wouldn’t be stupid enough to risk her heart again. No matter how Maksim made her feel. She reached out to stroke his rough cheek, tracing her fingertips down his throat. “I promise you can’t hurt me….”
He grabbed her wrist. “Don’t,” he said harshly.
“Please,” she whispered. “Just kiss me.”
Their eyes locked.
With a groan, he surrendered.
His lips brushed hers, then bruised her. The rush that spread through her body was unimaginable. He yanked off her coat. He pulled off her oversize brown cardigan. His hands moved urgently over her plain white shirt, undoing the buttons rapidly, pulling the last one until it ripped. He dropped the shirt to the floor and looked at her in the firelight.
“I will try to go slow,” he whispered, visibly shaking as he touched her bare skin. “But the way you affect me, Grace…”
He kissed her again, reaching his strong arms around her, and her white cotton bra fell to the floor. Then suddenly his shirt was off, as well, and pants and skirt all disappeared in a frantic tumble.
And suddenly he was standing before her.
She’d never seen a naked man before. She took a deep breath and looked at him in the firelight. Candles were glowing all around them in the darkness of the empty mansion as she gently reached her hand to stroke him.
He shuddered, jumping beneath her touch.
“You’re beautiful,” she whispered.
He gasped. Gathering her up in his arms, he laid her gently beneath him on the thick blanket in front of the fire.
She felt the hard muscles of his masculine body, so much bigger and stronger than she would ever be, and as he stroked her naked body in front of the fire she arched beneath his hands. He slowly kissed down her neck, between her breasts, down her belly.
Did he mean to…? He couldn’t possibly intend to…?
Moonlight traced the translucent, gauzy curtains. A sudden frozen rain rattled the windows as he pushed her thighs apart.
Lowering himself between her legs, he kissed the inside of her thighs, slowly licking higher and higher. Her cheeks burned and she tried to scoot out of his grasp, but he held her.
Spreading her wide, he tasted her.
Her nipples tightened so painfully that she gasped aloud. A thousand zinging sensations went up and down her body like lightning shooting out of her fingertips, her toes, her hair. Every nerve was on fire, and she twisted beneath him.
His tongue changed width and pressure, lapping her widely then swirling lightly against her aching nub. She felt dizzy. She was breathless as her body tightened in agony, wanting…wanting…
She cried out as the first burst rolled through her like thunder, starting low and deep inside her and sweeping through her body until she screamed. At that moment he moved his body and pushed himself inside her.
For an instant the pain was wrenching, but pleasure immediately rode behind it, making her shudder in rhythmic contractions around him. As he thrust inside her, she heard his low gasp. With agonizing slowness, he pulled back, then thrust again. She whimpered as increasing pleasure built inside her. Then her hips rose to meet his as he rode her.
He filled her completely. Slowly, steadily, deeper and deeper until he seemed to reach her very heart. The intensity was too much, pleasure so great it was almost pain.
She looked up and saw his hard masculine body over hers, his chest laced with dark hair and his muscles glistening with sweat in the firelight as he thrust inside her. His eyes were closed. She saw the agony on his face as he held himself back, forcing himself to move slowly. His handsome face was taut as he gasped with every slow, deep thrust, filling her to the hilt.
Maksim.
Her prince.
Her lover.
Her…love?
As if he’d heard her thought, he opened his eyes. Their gazes locked, their souls linked. And as he pushed inside her one last time, her world shattered into a million pieces. She shuddered and shook with him so deeply inside her, deeper, deeper, until she felt like she was being ripped in two by his brutally hard body. Her body arched with electricity as she exploded and gasped out his name.
CHAPTER EIGHT
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.”