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

He shrugged. “I have as many as I need. I sell them when I’m bored.” He licked the thick whipped cream off the top of the mug with his wide tongue, causing her to stare in spite of herself. He took a sip of hot chocolate, then a bite of the croissant. “This is delicious.”

“I’m glad you like it. Alan hates hot chocolate.”

Maksim’s eyes suddenly sliced through hers. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

She felt sucker punched.

“What?” she whispered. “Who?”

“You’re his loyal slave. You live in his house. You spend your free hours running his errands. It’s plain you’re not doing it for the money, since you have none. There’s only one explanation. You love him.”

Grace opened up her mouth to deny it, but suddenly she was so tired of lying. Tired of holding everything inside, of keeping it together, of having no one to confide in and no one she could rely upon. She took a deep breath.

“Yes. I love him.” Sinking her head into her hands, she whispered, “It’s hopeless.”

“I know.” She looked up, saw surprising warmth and sympathy in his handsome face. “I’m usually on the other side of it. Old or young, secretaries imagine themselves in love with me and drop like flies from my office. It’s painful. It causes disruption. I hate it.”

“Me, too.” She gave a little laugh that ended with a sob—or was it a sob that ended with a laugh? She tried her best at a laissez-faire shrug. “And now he’s engaged to someone who’s beautiful, wealthy and so, well…”

“Vicious?” His eyes met hers. “Cruel and mean?”

With a gulp, she nodded. “I’m surprised to hear you say that. Didn’t you love her?”

He changed the subject. “You don’t have to endure it, Grace. Come work for me instead.”

It was a good thing she’d already finished her hot chocolate or it would have snorted out her nose. Her eyes flew open, and she saw he wasn’t joking. He was deadly serious.

Her throat closed.

“Work for you?” she gasped.

“I could use another secretary. Leave Barrington. Work for a man who will pay you well and take you far.” He smiled. “The fact that you’re in love with someone else is actually in your favor.”

She swallowed. “Even though it’s the man who stole your girlfriend?”

He took another drink of the hot chocolate.

“Delicious,” he murmured, then looked up at her. “I need a secretary I can trust, Grace. A smart woman who knows the meaning of loyalty. You wouldn’t regret changing your allegiance. I swear to you.”

For an instant she was tempted. What would it be like to work for this handsome prince, instead of Alan?

Maksim was handsome, dangerous and ruthless. But he was also a man she would be free to fight, free to leave, free to speak her mind with, because she did not love him!

“I would pay you double whatever Barrington’s paying you.”

Double?

She licked her lips. “Would you consider paying me in advance?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

She took a deep breath, tempted beyond measure. This could save her mother’s house. Save everything.

“And the catch?”

“You would help me win the merger.”

“And Francesca?”

He shrugged, then held out his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

Grace closed her eyes, remembering all the times Alan had teased her, flirted with her. He’d told her more than once that he never wanted her to leave him. “I just couldn’t survive without you, Gracie,” he’d said with his charming movie-star grin. And it had made her so happy! She’d hugged his words to her heart, hoping that he might be starting to see her as more than just a secretary!

Then Lady Francesca Danvers had offered him money and power in such a perfectly beautiful package.

But no matter how Alan had treated her, Grace couldn’t betray him.

Stubborn and foolish, she thought sourly, but she shook her head. “Thanks for asking, but my answer is no.”

Taking back his hand, he nodded. “I understand.”

But he didn’t seem disappointed. On the contrary, he seemed to savor her refusal like a cat licking a bowl of cream.

Finishing the last crumbs of her croissant, Grace left some coins on the table and rose regretfully from her chair. She held out her hand.

“Thank you for a very pleasant afternoon, Prince Maksim.”

He looked at her, and for a moment she was lost in his gaze, swirling in the endless shades of gray.

“No. I thank you, Grace.” He took her hand in his own. A sizzling warmth spread through her body from their intertwined fingers. Then, still holding her hand, he kissed each of her fingers, and she shivered.

“Da svedanya, solnishka mayo. I’ll never forget the way you looked in the street, with the last rays of winter twilight in your pale-blond hair. Like an angel. Like the sun.” He turned her hand over and kissed her palm. An erotic charge arced through her, making her nipples tight and her breasts heavy. Her whole body was suddenly tense, waiting, waiting…

Looking up into her face, he murmured, “Until we meet again.”

He released her, and Grace walked out of the tea shop in a daze. As she slogged through the crowds outside Harrods, gripping her Leighton bag as if her life depended on it, she could still feel that sensual kiss against her palm.

With one brief touch of his lips, he’d branded her. In the dark winter night lit up by Christmas lights and shop windows, she looked down at her right hand, expecting to see the burn of his lips emblazoned on her skin for all the world to see.

But her skin was bare.

She knew she’d never see him again. Probably a good thing.

Definitely a good thing.

And yet…

When Alan yelled at her for not magically foreseeing his wishes in advance…when a check bounced in her bank account…when she was forced to watch the man she loved get married to another woman…when she felt helpless, hopeless, invisible…