Angelo started chattering in a hail of words, only a handful of which were in distinguishable Italian and occasional ones were in English. Mamma figured a lot. Nonna, as he called his grandmother Concetta, figured too. If Angelo was to be believed, he, his mother and his grandmother had spent the afternoon feeding a dinosaur. A very small dinosaur was waved in Vito’s general direction and comprehension set in as he crouched down to dutifully admire the toy.
A giant Christmas tree adorned the hall. It was festooned with ornaments and lights. There were no gifts heaped below the branches because Angelo loved to rip off wrapping paper. Silvestro had been heard to tell a tenant that the Zaffaris were having ‘an English Christmas’, and Vito’s chef, Francisco, had been feeding them turkey for weeks as he fine-tuned his recipes to provide them with an English banquet on Christmas Day. In respect of the Italian traditions, Angelo would receive la calza—a stocking full of sweets. The red-suited Babbo Natale would obviously visit on Christmas Eve, but the kind-hearted Italian witch La Befana, who searched for the Christ child in all the houses, would visit at Epiphany with more gifts.
Vito breathed in deep as he saw a small figure clad in white-fur-trimmed scarlet appear at the top of the stairs. ‘You’re not wearing your hat,’ he complained.
Holly stopped midway and jammed it on over her mane of hair and made a face at him. ‘Satisfied now?’
Vito angled a lazy, sexy smile at her. ‘Don’t I have to wait until bedtime for that?’
‘Maybe I’ll suggest an early night.’ Holly remained anchored two steps up so that she was almost level with him.
Vito took the invitation, leaning down to claim that lush pink mouth that he still fantasised about and curving his hands to the swell of her hips to lift her up into his arms. Her hands locked round his neck with satisfying possessiveness and held him fast. He could feel the slight bump of the baby she was carrying against his stomach and he smiled as he lifted his head again.
‘I love you,’ he groaned.
‘Love you madly.’ Holly felt ridiculously intoxicated and happy. One kiss from Vito could do that, two were irresistible, and three would only end with her dragging him up the stairs. Evidently falling pregnant sooner than they had expected had done nothing to cool her husband’s desire for her and that truly did make her feel as alluring as some legendary temptress. That was very welcome to a woman who was five months pregnant and subject to all the usual aches and complaints of her condition.
Her redecoration schemes at the castello had led to an approach from an exclusive interiors magazine, which had taken a whole host of photos. The glossy photo spread and the accompanying article had ensured that within days of the magazine going on sale, Holly was inundated with exciting offers of design work.
This, however, was their first family Christmas and she was revelling in every detail because Vito had really thrown himself into the spirit of the holidays and she didn’t think it was solely because he had become a father. She reckoned he had put his sour childhood memories of Christmas behind him. His mother, recently divorced, was joining their festivities and hugely excited about the second grandchild on the way.
‘Please tell me turkey isn’t on the menu again tonight,’ Vito murmured.
‘No, we’re having steak. I told Francisco I fancied steak,’ she admitted.
‘When are our guests arriving?’ Vito prompted.
‘Well, they were supposed to be here for dinner but Apollo’s social secretary rang to say they would be late. Why does he need a social secretary?’
‘He’s always got hundreds of invitations and he’s never at home.’ Vito paused. ‘I appreciate you being willing to give him another chance.’
Holly gave him a soothing smile that concealed her tension. It was past time to forgive and forget—she knew that. After all, Apollo was Vito’s closest friend, but Holly had only seen him twice since their wedding. And when she had made the mistake of voicing her opinion on what he considered to be his private business it had been awkward as hell. But she was madly curious to see who he was bringing with him as a guest. Another leggy underwear model? Or his wife?
That, Holly supposed, would be another story...
* * * * *
Lynne Graham
A good Greek wife…
Coldly ruthless and deeply cynical, Apollo Metraxis has made a career of bachelorhood. But when the inheritance of his father’s estate is conditional on a marriage and a child, he is forced to do the unthinkable!
Unpolished Pixie Robinson is the world’s worst choice of a wife for Apollo. Yet her family’s mounting debts leave her defenseless and therefore uniquely suitable. But when the wedding night exposes Pixie’s untouched vulnerability, striking a chord in the dark reaches of his heart, Apollo is forced to think again.
And that’s before he discovers that she’s carrying not one but two Metraxis heirs!
I do enjoy an alpha male, but none of them are a match for my husband. This one is for you
THE MALE VOICES drifted in from the balcony while Holly hovered, waiting uneasily for the right moment to join the conversation. That was a challenge when she knew she was never particularly welcome in Apollo’s radius.
But there wasn’t much she could do about that when she was married to Vito, Apollo’s best friend. Only recently had she come to appreciate just how close the two men were and how often they talked no matter where they were in the world. Friends from a childhood spent at boarding school, they were as close as brothers and Apollo had distrusted Holly from the outset because she was a poor woman marrying a very rich man. Aware of that fact, she had offered to stay home instead of attending the funeral of Apollo’s father but Vito had been shocked at that suggestion.
So far, their visit to the privately owned island of Nexos and the Metraxis compound had been anything but pleasant. The funeral had been massive. Every one of Apollo’s former stepmothers and their children had attended. Earlier today the reading of the will had taken place and Apollo had stormed out in a passion, having learned that he needed a wife to inherit the vast empire he had been running for several years on his ailing father’s behalf. Vito had shared only that bare detail with his wife, clearly uncomfortable at divulging even that much. But as virtually anybody who knew Apollo also knew of his aversion to matrimony, it was obvious that his father’s last will and testament had put him between a rock and a hard place.
‘So, you pick one of your women and marry her,’ Vito breathed, sounding not at all like the loving husband Holly knew and adored. ‘Dio mio, there’s a long enough list. You marry her, stay married as long as you can bear it, and—’
‘And how am I going to get rid of her again?’ Apollo growled. ‘Women cling to me like superglue. How am I going to trust her to keep her mouth shut? If word escapes that it’s a fake marriage, the stepfamilies will go to court and try and take my inheritance off me. If you tell a woman you don’t
