A Champagne Christmas: The Christmas Love-Child / The Christmas Night Miracle / The Italian Billionaire's Christmas Miracle

She sucked in her breath, hating him more than she’d ever hated anyone in her whole life. “What are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you be celebrating with Francesca?”

“No, damn you!” His steel-gray eyes blazed as he grabbed her by the shoulders. “I don’t want her. I want you!”

“On the side?” She gave a harsh, ugly laugh. “You really think you can have anything you want, don’t you? You always intended to seduce me for information, from the moment your car splashed me in the street!”

The rage in his eyes faded. His grip on her shoulders loosened.

“You’re right,” he said in a low voice. “You were nothing more to me then but Barrington’s secretary, and I thought you were his mistress. I intended to use you to take back what was rightfully mine.”

“You took my virginity for that.” She fought the angry tears rising to her eyes. She would die before she’d let him see her cry! “What is wrong with you? Don’t you have a soul?”

His jaw clenched. “When I made love to you, I gave up my plan,” he said, looking down at her. “I couldn’t use the information you’d told me in bed. I knew I would lose you. So I kept silent. Francesca was the one who told her father. It would have been foolish and useless for me to refuse the deal she brought to me yesterday.” He lifted her chin, holding her in his arms. “But I swear to you. On my honor. I never betrayed you.”

She wanted to believe him.

Wanted it so badly it hurt.

But she couldn’t.

“You mean the same word of honor,” she said evenly, “with which you swore you weren’t trying to use me against Alan?”

“My only lie,” he ground out. He looked at her, and his eyes glittered. “I hated lying to you. But I made the choice, Grace. I chose you.”

He stroked her cheek, looking down at her with emotion. She closed her eyes, her heart pounding at his touch.

“Come with me to Moscow,” he whispered. “I want you with me. As my secretary, as my mistress, whatever you—”

Her eyes flew open. “Your…secretary?”

She ripped away from him. After everything they’d been through together—the romance that had consumed her so utterly that she’d fallen in love with him and was about to have his child—that was still how he saw her. As a secretary?

And now that he’d won the merger with Exemplary Oil, he wasn’t even trying to hide it. He was no longer even vaguely trying to pretend that he cared for her.

“You mean because I’ve helped you steal a billion-dollar deal from my last boss,” she said scornfully, “you’ll kindly allow me to type your letters and make your coffee in Moscow? Except you’ll want different fringe benefits than Alan, I suppose. I assume I’m to spend my evenings and weekends earning my wages on my back?”

His dark brows lowered furiously as he grabbed her shoulders. “You know that’s not how it is—”

“You want to hide me away in Moscow, so you can enjoy Francesca in London!” The images she’d seen of Francesca with him outside the hotel went through her. “Marrying her is part of your deal, right?”

“Damn you!” he shouted. “I don’t want her! I want—”

“I saw you with her yesterday!” she shouted back. He dropped his hands from her shoulders. “What?”

Tears filled her eyes. She wiped them fiercely. “After I was fired, I went to your hotel. Stupid me, I actually had faith in all the lies you’d told me.”

“They weren’t lies, not all of them—”

“Oh, yes, I always get things wrong, don’t I?” She could barely speak over the lump in her throat. “Because I’m just a silly little secretary. That’s all I’ve ever been to you.”

“You little fool,” he ground out. “You know that’s not true—”

“Stop trying to have it both ways!” she shouted. “You never cared for me, you just took my virginity, you seduced me, you got me—” Pregnant with your child, she almost blurted out, but she stopped herself just in time. Humiliation gnawed at her, causing her cheeks to go hot.

She didn’t want to tell him about the baby. Ever.

She just wanted him out of their lives for good.

“I did you a favor to get you away from Barrington,” he ground out. “You were letting him walk all over you!”

He’d felt sorry for her?

“Oh, thank you. Thank you so much,” she said. Waves of acute misery continued to build inside her, making her feel more ill by the minute. “I wish to God I’d never let you touch me!”

Gut-wrenching nausea waved over her. Covering her mouth, she ran to the bathroom, stumbling on the floor to retch over the toilet just in time.

She heard him come in behind her. His voice was suddenly gentle as he said, “But Grace, you’re ill.”

“It’s nothing—the flu—just go!” She wiped her mouth, looking back at him with eyes of fury. “I hate you!”

“Grace—”

“Just go! You liar, you back-stabbing bastard!” She grabbed a bar of soap and threw it at him. He ducked it easily, enraging her still more.

“I’m not leaving you.”

“If I’m sick,” she bit out, “it’s because looking at your face makes me want to puke! My skin crawls when I think of how I let you touch me.” She looked at him with eyes of ice. “You’re not a prince—you’re not even a man.”

She’d finally pushed him too far.

He stiffened behind her.

“Fine.” His lip curled. “Now that I know your true opinion of me, I won’t fight to keep you. I see now there is nothing for me here…”

Turning to go, he stopped.

Bending over the carpet, he picked up something that had fallen to the floor and rolled across the carpet.

The pregnancy test had fallen from the hole in her pocket!

She gasped, rising quickly to her feet. “It’s not what you think. It’s nothing…an old test…a friend’s…left here,” she stammered helplessly.

“You’re pregnant.” He looked at her. “You’re pregnant?”

She stared at him. She wanted to deny it, but the lie stuck in her throat.

“Am I the father?”

She gasped at the insult.