A Champagne Christmas: The Christmas Love-Child / The Christmas Night Miracle / The Italian Billionaire's Christmas Miracle. Catherine SpencerЧитать онлайн книгу.
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