A Champagne Christmas: The Christmas Love-Child / The Christmas Night Miracle / The Italian Billionaire's Christmas Miracle. Catherine Spencer
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“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