A Champagne Christmas: The Christmas Love-Child / The Christmas Night Miracle / The Italian Billionaire's Christmas Miracle. Catherine Spencer
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“Of course you do,” he said with a cold laugh. “I can tell you I’ve been working day and night to finish details on the Exemplary merger, sleeping two hours a night on a cot in my office. But of course you will immediately know I have been with another woman. You will immediately suspect I’ve set up Francesca in a suite at the Ritz-Carlton.”
Grace’s heart fell to the floor.
“Francesca’s in Moscow?” she whispered.
His lips twisted into an ironic smile. “And to think I once believed you had such faith in people.”
“You destroyed that!”
“Have no fear, my dear wife,” he drawled. “I have no interest in Francesca. How could I, when I have such a warm, loving wife waiting in my bed at home?”
His barb went straight to the heart. She clenched her hands into fists. “Just try getting into bed with me sometime, and you’ll see how warm and loving I am!”
Maksim rose wearily from his desk. “Enough.” Placing a stack of papers in his briefcase beside his laptop, he started walking toward the study door. “If you have nothing else to discuss, I’ll wish you good-night.”
She stared at him incredulously. “You’re leaving? Just like that?”
He stopped and turned back to her. At the intensity of his expression, she trembled from within.
Then he lowered his head and kissed her softly on the cheek. “Snovem godem, Grace,” he said softly. “Happy New Year.”
She turned her face up toward his, her heart aching with the memory of the man she’d loved in London. She searched his gaze for some remnant of the man she’d laughed with, cared for. Loved.
Then he turned from her.
“Don’t wait up.”
Anguish rose in her heart…then anger. She hated his coldness. How could she have ever thought he was a good man?
“You can’t keep me locked up here!”
He glanced back curiously. “Do you not think so?”
“I’m not your slave!”
“No.” He gave her a brief, cool smile. “You are my wife. You are carrying my child. You will live in comfort and luxury, with nothing to do but enjoy the pleasure of your own company.”
“I’m going insane!”
“How surprising.”
She ground her teeth in frustration. “It’s New Year’s Eve. Elena is going to Red Square…”
Her voice trailed off as she saw him shaking his head.
“There will be half a million people in Red Square. The bodyguards couldn’t protect you.”
“Protect me? From what?”
He shrugged. “I have enemies. Some hate me for my billions, some hate me for my title. You could be kidnapped for ransom. It’s rare but it does sometimes happen. Or perhaps—” he glanced at her keenly “—you’d be tempted to run off in the crowd.”
“I won’t,” she said tearfully. “Please. I just want to live a normal life!”
“Just what every princess wants,” he said sardonically. “And cannot have.”
He turned away.
“Maksim, please don’t leave me here,” she whispered. “I can’t bear to be left like this.”
He paused at the door, not bothering to turn around.
“Have a pleasant evening, my bride.”
She stood in shock in his office until she heard the front door slam and the silence as his bodyguards and assistants left with him.
She walked slowly up the wide, sweeping stairs to her lonely bedroom.
He’d left her alone on New Year’s Eve.
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