Hot Christmas Nights: Shameful Secret, Shotgun Wedding / His for Revenge / Mistletoe Not Required. Anne Oliver
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The problem had been compounded by him forgetting to take the package home with him—and by a rather jealous shop assistant who had set out to cause trouble for Cassandra when she’d seen her in the changing room—only she had really hit the jackpot. On her say-so the floor manager had done a stock-check, discovered the discrepancy, and then immediately alerted the general manager. But the facts were plain enough. The candles had not been paid for and Cassandra had taken them. Technically, there had been a theft—and she could be charged.
‘Madre de Dio,’ Giancarlo said beneath his breath—despairing of the chaos which seemed to have come tumbling into his life. How was it possible that a little absent-mindedness could have had such a potentially damaging outcome? Because he had been blinded by her beauty, that was why! Because he, the master of order and control, had acted impulsively—and now he must pay the price for that impulsiveness. And so must she. Her virginity was lost and she was being branded a common thief—oh, she must be delighting in the day that she ever set eyes on him!
But he recognised that anger would not serve him well in such a situation—and neither would sheer force of character. Instead, with the judicious use of tact and determination, he managed to get the matter dropped by explaining that nothing more sinister than a mix-up had occurred and by repaying the money which was still owed.
And fortunately, he was a big-spending customer. He suspected that the jewellery he’d purchased for his various lovers over the years helped ensure that the whole incident was quickly glossed over. Within the hour, he and Cassandra were standing on the pavement outside the glittering windows of the store—while his driver sat in the limousine at the kerbside.
Giancarlo looked down at her slumped and dejected shoulders. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m free, aren’t I? If they’d got nasty they might have pressed charges and then I’d have ended up with a criminal record.’ She turned her teary eyes up to him—her unlikely saviour. ‘Th-thank you,’ she said, feeling some of the nightmarish feeling subside—but still unable to shake the strange sensation of numbness. As if everything which had happened since she’d knocked on his front door was happening to somebody else. She swallowed down yet more tears, but her voice was shaking so much that her words stuttered out like little pieces of gravel. ‘Th-thank you so much,’ she said again, her voice still trembling. ‘I feel so st-st-stupid.’
‘Well, don’t. Don’t.’ On impulse, he took her into his arms as she began to cry again—feeling her tears soak into his shirt and the soft tremble of her beautiful body as he held her close. And in that moment, her sheer and helpless vulnerability filled him with shame that he should have misjudged her so. Mistaken her for a provocative and experienced lover simply because she had been born to look that way. And now, because of a fierce attraction between them—an attraction which he had seized and capitalised on—her reputation lay in tatters.
Taking his crumpled handkerchief from her trembling fingers, he tilted her chin and began to wipe away the new tears which were trickling down her cheeks. ‘Don’t blame yourself. It was as much my fault as yours. I wasn’t paying attention. Neither of us were.’ He looked into her red-rimmed violet eyes and wondered how she could still manage to look so beautiful. ‘And you’ve lost your job.’
‘I know.’
‘What will you do?’
Cassandra swallowed. In his arms she had felt safe—but now that she was no longer protected by their powerful warmth the horror of what lay ahead filled her with anxiety. It was more than having to leave Hudson’s—though that was bad enough—it was how she was going to explain it to everyone. Her mum. Her flatmates. The owner of the shop back in Padstow when she crept back home and told them all that she had been a failure.
She’d let herself and everyone down—and made herself look like a complete fool in front of Giancarlo into the bargain. She knew she should be rejoicing that the outcome hadn’t been as bad as it could have been—because at least she hadn’t acquired a criminal record—but she felt utterly deflated. And isn’t part of that because you know that you’ll never see him again? Because you’ve made a fool of yourself in more ways than one.
‘I don’t know what I’ll do,’ she whispered. ‘But I’ll think of something.’
Giancarlo studied the forlorn slant of her shoulders. She was, he realized, still wearing the same dress she’d had on last night—and her face was bleached of all colour and shiny with tears. He felt another sharp stab of conscience.
‘Did you have any breakfast this morning?’ he demanded.
‘Not really. Well, no—I didn’t. I was rushing off to work,’ said Cassie quickly—not wanting to tell him that the thought of having to face Gina over a coffee-pot had filled her with disquiet.
He glanced at his watch and then pulled open the door of the car, his other hand in the small of her back as he gently propelled her forward. ‘Get in.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘Out for lunch.’
‘But I can’t go out looking like this.’
‘Precisamente, bella. That’s why we’re going shopping first—to buy you something pretty to wear.’
‘No, honestly—’
‘Yes, honestly,’ he mocked. ‘As a small recompense for the hassle you’ve had to endure this morning—for which I am partly responsible.’
He made it sound like buying a child an ice cream after they’d grazed their knee and Cassie flinched. ‘I don’t want recompense!’
‘A treat, then. Something nice after something so unpleasant. Please.’ He flicked a tear-damp strand of hair away from her lips. ‘It will take your mind off things. You know you’re going to have to agree, Cassandra—because I won’t take no for an answer.’
But something in the way he said it only increased her feelings of unease and isolation. As if she could be bought off—just as he’d bought off the store. Buy her ‘something pretty’ and she would go away quietly and never bother him again. Well, she would do all that anyway—but without the billionaire pay-off.
‘I mean it. I don’t want you to buy me something to wear,’ she said proudly.
He was about to argue when he saw the fierce light which shone from her eyes and the determined little tilt of her chin and realised that her words were not empty words. And wasn’t it a damning indictment of his own life that he should be so taken aback by her rejection of his offer? When had anyone last refused him anything—especially money?
‘But I want to take you to lunch,’ he persisted softly—because with her spirited little display she had gone from being someone who had the potential to become a burden to an object of desire again. ‘Can’t I drive you home to change?’
Cassie was about to refuse when something stopped her—because maybe here was an opportunity for them both to get a reality check. Wouldn’t Giancarlo be shocked when he realised just how different their two lives were—and wouldn’t it help her accept that it would never, ever have worked between them?
‘Okay,’ she agreed, with a shrug. ‘Why not?’
But