Mistletoe Wishes: The Billionaire's Christmas GiftOne Christmas Night in VeniceSnowbound With the Millionaire

by Carole Mortimer

  “Dom.” She was caught up in something powerful, the pressure intense, the tension stretching her senses to breaking. She flexed her bare foot against his warm shoulder, pressing him down, pressing away, but he sucked her into his mouth, sucked her as his tongue stroked, and then she screamed as she came, body arching, bucking helplessly against his mouth.

  As she climaxed Domenico sucked gently again, pushing her to that point of blindness and beyond. Diane screamed, “I surrender! I surrender.”

  He lifted his head, kissed her trembling inner thigh once, twice, before shifting his weight and stretching his legs between hers. “Will it hurt if we—?”

  “No. I want you. Need you. Need. You.”

  Dom entered her in a slow, deep thrust, giving her a moment to adjust to him before he withdrew to thrust even more deeply.

  Eyes open, Diane watched Dom’s face as he slowly made love to her in long, deep, steady strokes. His body was heaven. He made her feel like heaven. And she loved watching Dom’s expression, his look of concentration. He was savoring every moment, giving himself over to pleasure, sensation, and she felt a wave of protective love.

  He was hers.

  He was everything she loved. Everything she needed.

  “I love you,” she whispered, feeling the tension in him. He was beginning to thrust faster, and she sighed at each stroke of his shaft going in, and then out, hitting that spot inside her that made sensation stronger, sweeter.

  “I don’t want to come without you,” he gritted, his skin warm, damp.

  She reached up to touch the bunched muscles in his powerful shoulders. “I don’t need to come. I just want to watch you.”

  His features tightened, contorting. “I want you—”

  “You have me, and I love you.” He was close, so close, and she ran her hands over his shoulders, down his back, savoring his warmth and his muscles and the satiny texture of his firm skin. “You’re my miracle, Domenico,” she whispered.

  And then he thrust deep, hard, harder. Groaning, he tightened his entire body, shuddered, emptying into her.

  Spent, he lay down on his side and brought her close against the hard length of him. With his arm wrapped securely around her, one hand over her breast, he kissed her shoulder and then closed his eyes.

  Diane knew the moment he drifted off to sleep and drew an unsteady breath, grateful, so grateful, for all her blessings. For the longest time she just lay there in the dark, thinking of all she had. So much. So very, very much…

  Which meant it could all be taken away, too.

  Diane’s blood suddenly ran cold.

  Bad things had happened in the past. More bad things could happen in the future. But she couldn’t lose Dom again. It would kill her. It would.

  And the accident hadn’t been Dom’s fault anymore than it had been her fault. Things happened in life because that was what life was. Accidents. Illnesses. Births. Deaths. Change.

  Change.

  But change meant that she could lose Dom again. And Adriano.

  She whimpered into the crook of her arm, overwhelmed by the reality of life. The truth of their mortality.

  “Amore, my love, what is it?” Domenico asked sleepily, even as he leaned on his elbow to look down at her in the dark. “What’s wrong?”

  Chilled, frightened, she rolled against him, pressing her damp face against his bare chest. She couldn’t stop shivering. It was all very fine to be brave in public—and she’d tried to be brave, tried to be the strong—but she’d been through too much. Hurt too much. Knew too much.

  He kissed her cheek, and then, when she turned her face to his, her mouth. His kiss was deep, hungry, passionate, and she kissed him with blind desperation.

  “I can’t do this,” she choked against his mouth, salty from the tears she’d cried.

  “And what is that, my love?” he murmured, his thumb stroking her cheek as his lips moved gently to the edge of her mouth and kissed the corner, and then the bow of her upper lip.

  “Want you. Need you.”

  “I think it’s too late for that.” He kissed the curve of her lower lip and it trembled, so sensitive. “We already know how we much we love each other. Never mind how we feel when making love.”

  “But I was just learning to live without you. I was learning to be independent. I could sleep through the night without nightmares. I could get through a month without crying. I had a new, prestigious job…”

  “And now here I am?” he completed for her.

  She nodded. “Yes. And you could break my heart all over again.”

  “By being cold and hard and cruel?”

  She sniffed and wiped away tears. “No. And you’re not that cold and hard and cruel. You’re just a man.”

  He laughed softly, amused. “I promise you I won’t ever hurt you, not again—”

  “You can’t say that. There could be another accident. You could have another heart attack.”

  “Someday, yes, but not today. And probably not tomorrow. Or the day after that.”

  She lay still for a long time, her face buried against his chest. She loved the smell of him and the feel of him and the steady, reassuring beat of his heart. “All we have is today, isn’t it?”

  “It’s all we ever had. We just didn’t know it.”

  And wasn’t that the truth? There were no forevers. No guarantees. All they had was the moment, and they had to live in the moment. If they did that then they would have real love and, just maybe, all the assurances they’d ever need.

  “Then you have to do something for me, Domenico,” she said softly.

  “What is that?”

  “You have to stop blaming yourself for the accident. You have to stop hating yourself over something you couldn’t control. It makes me too sad. Hurts me too much—”

  “But I am responsible—”

  “Because you’re human. Just as I’m human. People make mistakes, and we have to learn to forgive ourselves for our mistakes or else we’ll always suffer. We’ll never know happiness. And that’s not fair to Adriano and not fair to us. We deserve better, Dom. You and I, we deserve better. We deserve peace after all our pain.”

  “You make it sound easy,” he said roughly.

  She slid a hand slowly up his chest, over the ribs and across the plane of hard muscle. She felt the ridge of the scar at his sternum and the steady thud of his heart beneath.

  What a good heart he had. A magnificent heart.

  “Not easy,” she answered. “Because I know what it’s like to blame yourself. For years I blamed myself for my brother’s death. If only I’d driven him to school that day. If only I’d woken him up before I went to my class he might not have been racing to school. If only I’d arrived at the hospital before he died…” Tears thickened her voice. “I know what it’s like to hate yourself, and it’s the worst feeling in the world. I hated me, hated my world, until you came along. And you made me smile and you made me hope and you made me love again. And that’s what I want for you. Hope. Love. Joy.”

  He was silent, and gently she continued exploring his chest, caressing up toward the hollow at his throat, over the thick shoulder and then down again, savoring the miracle of him. The gift of life.

  “Can you possibly forgive yourself? If you can’t do it for you, do it for me. Please?”

  He cupped her head, drew her face down to his and kissed her slowly, tenderly, as if she were the most beautiful thing on earth. “I love you,” he said against the softness of her mouth. “And I don’t want you to cry anymore. I don’t want to see you sad. It breaks my heart—”

  “Then forgive yourself. And love yourself. Just as I love you.”

  “Okay.”

  Her mouth trembled at the corners. “Okay?”

  “Yes. I will try.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.” And then he drew her down into his arms, tucking her against the strength and warmth of his chest. “I love you, Diane. I will always love you. You can count on that
.”

  And, with his assurance repeating in her head, she fell asleep tucked safely in his arms.

  THE NEXT FEW DAYS PASSED IN a flurry of Christmas activity. Domenico built the nativity scene in one of the sitting rooms with the help of the children. The cook worked with Diane and Juliana to plan the seven fish dishes that would be served at the Christmas Eve feast. And Diane spent the afternoon of December twenty-third shopping for gifts for everyone.

  That evening, when Domenico and Leo took the children to see the live nativity scene at St. Mark’s piazza, Diane wrapped her gifts and decorated them with elaborate bows, candies, glass beads and ribbons.

  That night she and Dom made love, and then, as they were just about to fall asleep, he surprised her by asking if she was happy.

  Sleepily she turned to face him in the dark. “Do you doubt it?” she asked.

  “I just want to be sure.”

  “I am happier than I’ve ever been.”

  “Would you marry me again?”

  “I thought we were already married.”

  “But you’d do it again? Even after everything we’ve been through?”

  “In a heartbeat. Right now. This very moment.”

  She could feel him smile. “We’ve no priest here, my love.”

  “Good thing,” she teased, snuggling up to him. “He’d probably find it rather awkward. We are both naked.”

  Dom laughed his husky laugh. “So tomorrow you’d renew your vows?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “Okay.”

  She waited for more, but he said nothing else, and yet it felt as if there was quite something else behind that one little word. Okay.

  What did okay mean?

  “Is there something happening tomorrow I should know about, Dom?”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Mmm, a small ceremony. You do have something you could wear, don’t you?”

  “For a ceremony?”

  “A renewal of vows.”

  “But that’s essentially a wedding.”

  “Mmmm.” His kissed her again. “Yes. I suppose it is. Goodnight. Sweet dreams.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SHE wasn’t really a bride. They were just renewing their vows. And yet in her bedroom, as she smoothed her ivory and gold couture gown over her tummy, Diane’s butterflies felt out of control.

  There was no reason to be nervous. She’d been through this before—had married the same man seven and a half years ago and loved him more today than she’d loved him then. But still, ceremonies were ceremonies and vows were vows, and today would be filled with emotion.

  A knock sounded on her door and then the door opened. Domenico. His dark hair had just been cut, cropped close, emphasizing the perfect line of cheekbone and jaw. As he took her in, his lips curved in a slow, appreciative smile. “You get more beautiful every day.”

  “Thank you for my dress. I’ve never had anything quite so glamorous before. I feel like a princess.”

  “Sadly, you’re just a contessa.”

  She laughed, and Domenico grinned, his teeth white, dark eyes lit with humor.

  This was Domenico, her Domenico, and her stomach did a crazy somersault as he walked toward her.

  Reaching her side, he drew a small jeweler’s box from inside his tuxedo pocket and snapped it open, to reveal a sparkling marquis-cut diamond set in platinum.

  “Your engagement ring,” he said, taking her left hand and slipping the ring onto her third finger. “I had it re-made, exactly as it was before.”

  Her eyes burned, but she wouldn’t let herself tear up. Juliana had just spent a half-hour doing Diane’s makeup, and Diane could not ruin Juliana’s efforts. Instead she held her ring up to the light and turned her hand this way and that, transfixed by the stone’s radiance.

  “It’s not exactly as it was before, Dom. It’s twice as large and twice as brilliant. Look how it sparkles.”

  “It’s the way it was cut,” he said, watching her, not the ring. “The hard cuts reveal the diamond’s true beauty.” He leaned toward her, kissed her. “Like you,” he added huskily, before kissing her again, his lips lingering. Reluctantly he lifted his head and extended his arm to her, supporting her so that she didn’t need the cane. “Come, our guests await.”

  Domenico had told her the ceremony would be simple. He’d said it would be in the grand salon on the second floor. She’d expected a priest and their family, but was surprised by the magical world that awaited.

  Banks of Christmas trees with white fairy lights filled the room, and Diane glanced up at Dom, her dark eyebrows arching. “Christmas trees are such silly things,” she teased him.

  “Yes, but my wife loves them.”

  She laughed even as her heart ached. How wonderful and impossible and joyous all this was.

  Juliana stepped forward, kissed Diane, and handed her a lush white, gold and green bouquet that complemented Diane’s gown perfectly. The lights were dimmed, leaving them in a soft halo of candlelight as a string quartet began playing “The Wedding March.”

  The ceremony wasn’t particularly long, but the vows were sincere and heartfelt. Diane felt Adriano’s rapt gaze as she and Dom exchanged rings. Turning her head, she caught sight of him, dressed in a little black tuxedo, one that matched his father’s. His blue-green eyes were wide, his expression serious. He knew this was a monumental occasion.

  He was, she thought, the heart and soul of the future.

  Reaching out, she drew him forward, and held his hand in hers as the priest blessed them. This wasn’t just a wedding, a renewal of their marriage vows, this was a homecoming, and Adriano belonged there with them.

  When the elegant candlelit ceremony ended the real party began. Dinner was the traditional Christmas Eve feast of fish, as meat was not served in Italy on the night before Christmas. The dishes came one after the other—eels, clams, shrimp, calamari and more. The meal was interrupted again and again with toasts, and it ended late with cake and chocolates and after-dinner drinks.

  It was midnight before the children were tucked into bed, and then she and Domenico were in his room, which was now officially their room.

  A fire was burning in the hearth and the lights had been turned down, as had the covers on the luxurious canopy bed. White roses and lilies scented the room, and a small table sat next to the bed with two crystal flutes and a bottle of champagne chilling in an elaborate silver bucket.

  Diane looked at the fire, the flowers, the champagne, and then smiled shyly at Dom. “Well, husband…”

  “Well, wife…”

  She laughed at his tone, and Dom leaned against one bedpost to study this woman who’d twice promised herself to him.

  She was extraordinary. Beyond beautiful. She was a woman to cherish. “Any regrets?” he asked softly. “Absolutely none.”

  “You’ve made me a happy man. Thank you.”

  Pink color stained her cheeks and her eyes were bright. “We’re lucky.”

  “Very.” And then he moved to sit down on the edge of the bed. He beckoned her. “Come, join me. We must thoroughly consummate this renewal of ours.”

  Diane blushed. “Thoroughly, is it?” she repeated breathlessly as she walked towards him.

  “I’m Italian.”

  “And male.”

  “Powerful.”

  “And very well endowed.”

  Dark eyes glittering, he proceeded to kiss her, undress her, and make love to her for hours. And hours. After all, there was only one wedding night.

  Or two, if you were lucky.

  Diane fell asleep to the sound of freezing rain drumming on the roof and pinging against the windows of their bedroom, but the glow of the fire and the heat of Dom’s body kept her warm well into the night.

  She slept deeply, more content than she’d been in years and years. But later she stirred in Dom’s arms and, sitting up, noticed the fire had gone out and the covers had fallen off their bed.

  Taking her cane, she slid from the bed
to pick the duvet off the floor, and as she did so something caught her eye at the window.

  Fat white flakes drifted slowly, lazily, past the tall paned glass.

  Snow!

  Astonished, Diane crossed to the window and pushed the heavy brocade drape back, exposing the thick Venetian pane of glass.

  Dazzling bright snowflakes tumbled from the sky, powdering the banks of the Grand Canal and the bows of the tethered gondolas in shimmering white. More snow piled on the colorful poles.

  “Snow,” she whispered, touching the chilly glass, as delighted as a child by the wonder of this fairytale water city glittering in snow and ice.

  “It doesn’t happen often in Venice.” Dom’s deep voice sounded from bed. “But it’s beautiful when it does.”

  “So beautiful,” she breathed, eyes wide, turning to look at him.

  “You’re beautiful,” he answered.

  “No—”

  “You are. I’ve never met anyone more beautiful than you.”

  Her smile grew even as happiness bubbled up inside her, so big, so warm, so full. “Let’s wake up Adriano. He should see the snow.”

  He curved his lips, amused. “It’s four in the morning. Come back to bed. He’ll be awake soon enough. Trust me.”

  “But shouldn’t he see this? Shouldn’t he see Venice in the snow?”

  Dom threw back the covers. “I’ve a better idea. How about you and I just slip out together? The city will be deserted and we can have our own Christmas morning, just the two of us.”

  Her heart turned over. He was back. The Domenico she’d always loved. The Domenico who’d loved her better than anyone in the whole world. “Yes. Let’s.”

  Quietly they dressed, and even more quietly snuck from the palazzo out onto the banks of the Grand Canal, where they walked towards the Rialto Bridge, and then on toward St. Mark’s Square. The world was so silent, so white and serene. It was a dream world. Perfect. Glistening. Pristine.

  As they approached the square Diane’s cane hit a patch of ice beneath the snow and slipped, throwing her off balance. She would have fallen if Domenico’s arm hadn’t swiftly wrapped around her and pulled her to his side.