Christmas Kisses: The Spanish Billionaire's Christmas Bride / Christmas Bride-To-Be / Christmas Wishes, Mistletoe Kisses

‘Was there anything else you wanted to know?’

She pursed her lips and gazed straight ahead of her.

Cristiano’s brow furrowed. ‘Dominique?’

‘It’s just that … Well, is it right that I should contemplate going to live with Ramón’s family under the circumstances? I mean, when we’d already broken up and everything? It might have been different if we had been engaged to be married, but we weren’t.’

‘Did you want to marry him?’

‘No. That was something I never fooled myself about. Even when he was with me he never stopped admiring other girls. I was well aware he craved his freedom and detested the idea of a long-term commitment. A marriage between us wouldn’t have lasted five minutes!”

‘That may unfortunately have been the case, but I have to tell you that you have every right to expect the support of his family, Dominique. It is Matilde’s birthright we are talking about here! As well as my own responsibility towards her, Ramón had money and property that will naturally go to his daughter now that he is dead. Once you are established in Spain everything will be arranged legally.’

‘Assuming I agree to go, of course!’

Assessing the proud lift of her head and the continued defiance etched into her small, perfect jaw, Cristiano could not help but smile. Victory was close, he sensed, but he would not risk jeopardising it by displaying arrogance at such a crucial juncture.

‘I understand your concerns—it is unknown territory for you, and your fears about going to people you do not yet know are only natural. But you are an intelligent girl, and I think you are already aware that returning to Spain with me and the opportunities that would afford you if you decide to stay—as well as the family support you would receive—would surely make for a much better future than you could ever hope to enjoy here!’

She glanced away from him for a moment, chewing on her lip, her gaze reflective. ‘It’s a big step … moving to another country. All right. I’ll agree to go with you for Christmas, but after that … well, we’ll see. My main concern is that I make the right choices for my child. Naturally I want her to be with people who’ll love her as much as I do. And I’m well aware she probably won’t have that if I stay here. My mother is too bitter and disappointed in me to ever be the kind of grandmother I would wish for Matilde … I realise that.’

‘That is her loss—of that I have no doubt.’

Equal parts of anger and dismay clutched at Cristiano’s vitals when he thought about Dominique’s mother and her unforgiving, unnatural attitude towards her daughter. But he was also eager to ring home and give them some good news for a change. To let them know that Dominique and the baby would be coming back with him for Christmas would fill them with joy instead of the numbing sadness and grief they had been living with these past few weeks. A baby in the house would signify new life and a new beginning. New hope.

The thought laid a soft blanket over his own grief and despair, and he glanced at Dominique with genuine concern, seeing a young woman who clearly needed his protection and guidance. He could not let her down.

‘When can you be ready to leave?’ he asked her, stirring his coffee and taking a satisfying sip of the dark sweet brew.

Her cup rattling a little in its saucer as she placed it on the table, Dominique sank further back into her chair and folded her arms. ‘Well … I’ll have to discuss it with my manager at work, but I’d say the earliest I could go would be in about two weeks’ time. If I’m not going to be there over Christmas I’ll probably have to put in some extra hours to make up for my absence. There’ll be other things to arrange too … a medical check for Matilde, packing, and I’ll have to ask my neighbour to keep an eye on my place for me while I’m away.’

‘Two weeks is out of the question! I aim to be back in Spain in no more than a week, and I am not going back without you! You can arrange the little one’s medical check, but as for your work—I will be only too happy to speak to your manager and put him in the picture. You should be entitled to compassionate leave at the very least!’

Once again Dominique was made aware of the iron resolve of the man sitting opposite her. She recognised his natural proclivity for taking charge of both situations and people—and could not help feeling resentful. She had had a bellyful of being told what to do! Her teachers, her mother … everyone pushing and prodding her to achieve their own ends, not hers. If she was going to become part of this new Spanish family that her daughter had inherited then she had to establish for Cristiano Cordova the fact that she had a mind and a will of her own, and would not be backed into a corner by anyone.

‘That won’t be necessary. I’m quite capable of speaking to my manager myself, thank you! And if you can’t wait as long as two weeks, then why don’t you go back as planned and let me follow on later?’

‘No.’

Dominique had never heard such an intractable no in her life. Getting to his feet, Cristiano appeared suddenly restless, as if he had sat too long and was unused to such enforced inactivity.

‘We will return to Spain together and I will not hear of any other arrangement than that! Over the coming week I will be totally at your disposal to help you with whatever has to be done—and it will be done, rest assured. And, talking of travelling, you have an up-to-date passport, I presume?’

Dominique nodded, her expression stunned.

‘And Matilde?’

‘Well, no,’ Dominique answered. ‘There’s hardly been a need …’

‘No matter—I can easily speed things up with a word in the right ear at the embassy. And as for packing—you will not need to bring much with you when you first come out at all. I will ensure absolutely everything you need will be provided once we arrive back home.’

‘Can you turn water into wine too?’

He stared at her with a dark look in his eyes.

‘Very amusing! I can see that it will take time for you to become used to how I operate, Dominique, but you will soon learn. When I say a thing should be done then it is done without question, and I want you to know that I will be completely unrelenting in my goal to have Ramón’s daughter and her mother on Spanish soil sooner rather than later. I am absolutely adamant about that!’

Her cheeks twin beacons of indignant scarlet at his words, Dominique stubbornly refused to shy away from Cristiano’s arrogant gaze. But an icy chill of warning slid down her spine. Ramón had been right … his cousin was, indeed, formidable.

‘And I want you to know that whilst I may be young I’m no badly behaved five-year-old who needs to be told what to do—so don’t treat me like I am!’

‘Is that so? I will endeavour to try and remember that. I am beginning to see that Ramón certainly had his work cut out for him being with you, Dominique!’

To Dominique’s complete surprise, Cristiano’s steely-eyed glare was swiftly replaced by a teasing glance that made heat erupt inside her like a rip tide, scorching right through her centre.

Stunned by her disturbing response—and suddenly not feeling quite so defiant—she pushed to her feet. ‘I need to use the bathroom,’ she mumbled and, disconcerted that the smile had still not completely left her tormentor’s lips, she hurried away in the direction he indicated.

Standing in the luxurious marble bathroom, in front of a huge antique mirror edged with gold-painted rosebuds and curlicues, Dominique surveyed her flushed, heated face with impatience and surprise. What had just happened in there? Why was the man getting to her so? Dropping her shoulders, she flicked her hair back over her shoulder and sighed. She was scared, that was all. Fear was apt to make her anxious and edgy, liable to react nervously to even the most inconsequential thing.

But how could she feel anything but scared about the possibility of going to live in Spain amongst people she didn’t know, as well as putting herself under the daunting wing of a man like Cristiano Cordova? It hardly surprised her that he was a lawyer—no doubt a frighteningly successful one too. Once they were in his sphere, he would hold her and Matilde’s futures in his hands as ruthlessly and single-mindedly as he controlled the fates of the people he represented in court, she was sure.

Yet, even so, Dominique realised that this was the right thing to do for her child. She might not have had the chance to find out about her own father, or be close to his family, but Matilde would. And even though she could foresee that sparks would fly between herself and Cristiano—he would want to control her and Dominique would naturally want to resist being manipulated in any way—he had told her that his family were kind, loving people, and the picture he had painted so evocatively of the kind of Christmases they enjoyed had been compelling. Her heart had squeezed with longing for such an experience.

If only she could trust what he said, then maybe she could start to allow herself to hope that the future might not be so frightening as she feared. She ached to feel connected to the rest of the world again … not to be cut off by people who were so emotionally distant that they made Dominique feel like an island in a stark, cold sea. Her mother had scorned her for throwing away her future by having Matilde, but it was her emotional neglect that had driven her into Ramón Cordova’s arms in the first place.

Ramón. Even though he had been thoughtless and wild, and in the end had rejected her, when they’d been together he had given her more attention and affection than anyone else ever had. He had shown her what it was to laugh too, to be young and foolish and not to take life so seriously.

Suddenly it hit her hard that he was dead—his vibrant young life ended before it had really begun, leaving his child without even the possibility of ever meeting him. She felt her whole body sag towards the floor, as if some strange irresistible force were dragging her down, down into a dark abyss, and tears welled up in her eyes like hot springs, rolling down her cheeks in glistening wet tracks. Was she destined to be alone and unloved for ever? She almost couldn’t bear it.

‘Dominique? Is everything all right?’

Cristiano’s voice sounded from the other side of the door. Straightening in shock, Dominique ripped a tissue out of the chic box on the vanity unit, blew her nose and mumbled, ‘I’m fine. I just need a minute, okay?’

‘You are crying,’ he retorted, his voice accusing.

‘I suppose that’s a hanging offence where you come from?’ she burst out, unable to help herself.

‘Do not be so foolish! I never said it was an offence to cry.’

There was a surprisingly gentle quality to his tone that Dominique had not heard before.

‘But if you are upset I would like to help comfort you,’ he added.

Comfort … Spiritual, emotional, physical … It was the thing she longed for, but somehow it always escaped her. The distressing events of the past year had all but ripped away her confidence and trust in everything, and on top of that her hormones were going haywire after having Matilde.

‘You are the last person I would want to comfort me!’ she heard herself rail, before she could stem the impulse.

There was silence outside for a long moment, then Cristiano spoke again, his voice low and his words measured.