Celebration: Italian Boss, Ruthless RevengeOne Magical ChristmasHired: The Italian’s Convenient Mistress

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘They seem OK with it.’ She could hear the relief in his voice. ‘Gemma called me at work. We’re going to do Christmas dinner here.’

  ‘That’s great.’

  ‘I’m not so sure …’ Angus frowned. ‘Won’t it be too confusing for them?’

  ‘They don’t seem confused!’ Imogen said, and then looked at him, really looked at him, because Angus didn’t seem confused either. The tense man she had met that first day, the strained man she had seen on the day everything had fallen apart, seemed light years away from the one who stood before her now. ‘Merry Christmas, Angus.’

  ‘It looks like we might just manage to scrape one together,’ Angus answered. ‘Merry Christmas, Imogen.’

  Standing on the landing with a lovely soft mouth that thoroughly kissed her, and a morning erection that had them both wondering if they could leave it to the kids to find out what Santa had bought them, while Daddy and Imogen concentrated on being naughty and nice, it actually started to look like it might be.

  ‘When did you get back?’ Imogen asked directly into his mouth.

  ‘Seven.’ His mouth answered into her kiss.

  ‘Daddy!’ Clemmie wailed from downstairs.

  Christmas really was magic.

  Imogen had seen it in her training when she’d worked a shift on the children’s ward—seen how, no matter how dire, everyone pulled together and made the impossible work on that day. She’d seen it in her own family a few short years ago and was seeing it now with Angus’s.

  Angus, with an hour’s sleep to his name, trying to work out what parcel Santa had left for whom, because he’d been sure when he’d wrapped them that he’d remember! Smiling and holding it together and doing his very best for the two little people who mattered most.

  Or rather three little people.

  Imogen pulled out her phone and chatted excitedly to Heath, who was ripping open parcels of his own, and then to Brad, instructing him to turn down the turkey and telling him that she’d be there by ten.

  And Gemma must be feeling the same, because she rang again, laughing and talking to the kids and reminding them she’d be there by eleven.

  And by the time the kids were whizzing around the room, building Lego castles and playing with dolls, Angus had his little pile of presents left to open and Imogen was blinking at her rather big pile.

  A big pile she truly hadn’t been expecting.

  ‘Go on, then!’ Angus prompted.

  ‘You first,’ Imogen replied, just wanting to get it over, kicking herself at the choice she’d made, of all the stupid, soppy, romantic things to go and buy him.

  Not that Angus thought it was.

  ‘A waffle-maker?’ She could hear the sort of bafflement in his voice as he stared at his kitchen appliance.

  ‘It’s going to be your new best friend.’ Imogen smiled. ‘Brilliant for a quick lunch, or a nice breakfast for the kids … sort of like a pancake mixture …’ She saw a smile flare at the side of his mouth as he examined his gift rather more closely.

  ‘Heart-shaped waffles!’ Angus said.

  ‘And they only take a few moments to make!’

  She saw his tongue roll in his cheek, saw the shake of his head as he got it—all the hours searching for the perfect gift more than worth it now, her humour his.

  His loss hers.

  ‘It looks like I’m going to be eating a lot of waffles when you’re …’

  He didn’t say it, he didn’t have to—they both knew what lay ahead. And Imogen actually got it then—she’d been waiting, waiting for the wave of grief to hit him, and she realised then that it already had. That hellish year he had lived through had been his mourning time, and Angus really was ready to move on.

  It nearly killed her that it wouldn’t be with her.

  ‘From the kids!’ Angus said, as she opened her smellies.

  ‘From me …’ he said gruffly, as she pulled back the wrapper on a vast silk bedspread. ‘I’ll pay the excess baggage—figured if I can’t be with you …’

  And it was so nice … too nice, just a whole world away where she’d have to cuddle up to this instead of him, it was easier to open her next present than to think about it.

  ‘From me too …’ Angus said as she unwrapped a beautiful glass snow globe, shaking it up and watching the snow fall on Knightsbridge.

  ‘I can see the food hall!’ Imogen joked, pretending to peer into the tiny windows. ‘Ooh, mangoes!’

  ‘Keep opening.’

  ‘There’s more? Angus you shouldn’t have …’

  ‘I didn’t. You seem to have built up quite a fan club since you’ve been here.’

  ‘Lollies?’

  ‘Sweets in England!’ Angus grinned. ‘Read the card.’

  Dear Imogen,

  I asked Elise to drop these off for you and your lovely little boy.

  I felt awful at first being so helpless, but Elise said she doesn’t mind a bit!!! Enjoy being spoiled. I do! Ivy Banford

  ‘Cheeky old thing!’ Imogen grinned, but her eyes were brimming. ‘What’s this?’ she asked, turning over a silver envelope.

  ‘I’m not sure. I saw Heather putting it in the agency nurse’s pigeon hole and I swiped it for you.’

  ‘Probably just a card from Heather …’

  But it wasn’t. She barely made it past the first line … handing it to Angus who after a moment read it out loud.

  ‘Dear Imogen,

  ‘You spent time with my sister when I could not. Maria worried about her house, she told me you understood—that meant a lot to her—to be understood on that day.

  ‘Forgive me if you find this gift offensive—my hope is to make you smile as you think of my sister.

  ‘With deepest thanks,

  ‘Elijah and Guido Vanaldi’

  ‘That’s quite a fan club you’ve got there,’ Angus said, his voice just a touch gruff, reading the gift card more closely. ‘You have a cleaner for a year.’

  ‘A cleaner?’

  ‘Actually, you have the crème de la crème of cleaners, to do with what you will for a year … What sort of a present is that?’

  ‘The perfect one.’ Imogen crumpled. ‘Only I won’t be here …’

  And she truly didn’t know if she was crying because she’d miss him and the children or crying because right now she missed Heath, or crying for Maria, or for the fact that the one time in her life she had the crème de la crème of everything lined up and at her service and raring to go, she was in absolutely no position to take what was on offer.

  ‘Come on …’ Angus summoned her to the kitchen. ‘We’ve got cooking to do.’

  Jack, wearing reindeer ears, poured the batter, and Clemmie insisted on being chief taster. Breakfast really was delicious, but as wonderful as it was to be with Angus, Jack and Clemmie on Christmas morning, there was somewhere else she needed to be.

  Wanted to be.

  ‘I’m going to go.’

  It was barely after nine, but long before that he had sensed her distraction, knew she wanted to be with Heath. Watched as she applied mascara, lipstick, pulled on her boots, hugged the kids and told them to have a great day.

  Watched as she left.

  Then waited for Gemma to arrive.

  And Christmas really was magic, because somehow he wasn’t quite so angry. Somehow he managed to just put it all on hold.

  He had understood when he’d seen Gemma’s puffy eyes and nervous face that she had been scared—scared of facing him, scared of telling the kids, scared of the future too, no doubt.

  So they had one thing in common at least! And now they had two, both wanting to give their kids a good Christmas to remember.

  ‘Wow!’ Gemma beamed as the kids showed her the graffiti job they’d performed on the tree. ‘You two have been busy!’

  ‘Imogen helped us make them.’

  ‘Imogen?’ She glanced over to Angus. ‘The kids do seem fond of her. Can she stay on?’

  ‘Afraid not!’ Angus busied himself
picking up wrapping paper. ‘But Mum’s coming in a couple of days and I’ll put an ad in in the new year.’

  ‘Well, between us all …’ Gemma was picking up paper too, holding a garbage bag for the first time in years and actually cleaning up the mess so they could enjoy the day ‘… we’ll work it all out.’

  Yes, magic, because when, after a vast Christmas dinner and a couple of very welcome glasses of Imogen’s red wine, he didn’t explode when Gemma asked if she could have the children with her that night where she was staying.

  ‘You’re staying with him?’

  ‘Yes, but he’s not there tonight—he’s going to visit his family. I thought it might be better for the children to see where I’m staying for the first time without Roger being there …’ She swallowed hard as she voiced his name. ‘I think that would be too confusing for them.’

  Oh, and there was such a smart retort on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it down with another swig of wine and managed a curt nod.

  Magic, because later, when the house was unbearably quiet, when the living room was littered with toys and no kids, and all the beds upstairs were empty, when for a second he didn’t think he could stand it, there she was. He watched from the window as Brad dropped Imogen off, grimacing just a touch as she kissed her ex goodbye. In turn Imogen sniffed Gemma’s perfume in the air when she walked through the door.

  ‘How was it?’

  ‘Great!’ Imogen beamed, depositing a large amount of bags, not noticing the set of his jaw as she opened a box and pulled out a pair of soft suede boots. ‘He remembered my size.’

  ‘How’s Heath?’

  ‘Asleep!’ Imogen giggled. ‘Not for long, though. With the amount of cake and drinks he’s had, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s up a few times in the night. But we had a great day. I was so worried how it would be, but it turned out to be wonderful. How about for you?’

  ‘It went pretty well,’ Angus said, ‘given the circumstances. We just put everything on hold and tried to give the kids a great day—which I think we did.’

  ‘Are they in bed?’

  ‘They’re at Gemma’s.’ He saw her eyes widen just a fraction. ‘They really did seem to have a good day. They’re going to stay again in a couple of nights if all goes well. They went about half an hour before you came home.’ She watched him flinch at his choice of words and gave a soft smile.

  ‘It feels like home.’ Imogen said, because it did. Getting out of the car and walking up the steps, for the first time in the longest time she actually felt as if she was coming home. This peace to her soul that he brought, a connection that was blissfully familiar. ‘And well done, you.’

  Yes, it felt like home and it felt like Christmas when, full from the day’s excesses, they still managed to gorge on Ivy’s presents as they sat cuddled up on the sofa beside the twinkling Christmas tree, watching the same slushy movie that was surely on the world over on Christmas night. It felt like home and it felt completely right.

  So right it hurt.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘I’M SCARED.’

  At three in the morning and after a long and exhausting labour, Roberta Cummings had every reason to be scared. Her labour hadn’t progressed but, determined to deliver naturally, she had held on. Imogen had come in often to check and finally the resident had sent for his registrar when, at still only five centimetres dilated, the baby’s heart rate had started to dip during contractions and an emergency caesarean had been decided on.

  ‘You’re going to be fine.’ Imogen assured Roberta.

  ‘What about the baby?’

  ‘Hey!’ Imogen held the terrified woman’s hand and it was such bliss to be able to reassure her, ‘We’ve been watching you closely all night and we’re doing this now, before the baby gets into too much distress … When you wake up, you’ll have your baby!’

  There was a quiet assuredness in Imogen, which she imbued in her patients. Here on Maternity, even though things could go wrong, even though they did, Imogen was confident in the process of birth, even when it was a complicated one. With the right team and the right approach, this emergency would turn into something wonderful and that for Imogen made it the place she wanted to be.

  ‘Now, do you understand what’s happening?’ Smiling down at his patient, despite the flurry of activity going on in the theatre, the obstetrician, Oliver Hanson, was calm and unruffled. ‘We can’t wait for the epidural to take effect, so the anaesthetist is going to put you to sleep …’

  ‘Think baby thoughts.’ Imogen smiled as the anaesthetist placed a mask over Roberta’s face, and Imogen held her hand, watched her relax and then stiffen. Then, as medications were slipped into her IV, she jolted as her body resisted, and then relaxed again as the anaesthetist swiftly intubated.

  ‘Let’s get this little guy out,’ Oliver said. Only now, with the patient safely asleep, did he show the haste this procedure required if the baby was to be born safely. Making his incision, strong arms had to work hard as the baby’s head was deep into the birth canal. A wrinkly purple bottom followed by two floppy legs was delivered onto the drapes, and even though it was the third delivery Imogen had seen that night, still it never ceased to amaze her. She watched as he was expertly lifted, a theatre nurse receiving the precious bundle and heading over to the cot as the team vigorously rubbed the baby, his navy eyes open, not even blinking.

  ‘Let’s cover that ugly head before Dad sees you!’ Rita, a senior midwife said with a laugh as the baby’s head was elongated from his difficult attempt at birth.

  They all knew it would all settle down soon, but could often scare new parents. ‘Right, Imogen, do you want to take him to the nursery?’

  Which was the best bit for Imogen, introducing the little fellow to his dad, who sat and held him as they waited for his mum to be ready to meet him too. Oh, and she could have bathed him and dressed him up in one of the little outfits his mum had brought in for this day, but she chose to wait and let Roberta see him all sticky and messy and covered in vernix.

  ‘Imogen?’ Rita popped her head in just as Imogen was introducing a very tired but elated Roberta to her son. ‘The nurse co-ordinator’s on the telephone. Now that we’ve quietened down here, she wondered if you’d mind popping down to Emergency for the last couple of hours of your shift.’

  ‘Sorry about this!’ Heather apologised the moment Imogen hit the department and she walked her over to Resus. ‘The place is steaming. I had to send two staff home at midnight with this wretched flu that’s going around—that’s why I’m stuck on nights too—then we had this one bought in …

  ‘Gunshot wound!’ she added as they walked briskly. ‘To the right upper chest, and from what the police say there might be a couple more on the way!’

  ‘Can we roll him over?’ Angus didn’t acknowledge her and she didn’t expect him to as she joined the rather sparse trauma team and helped to roll the patient over so that Angus could examine the exit wound. She knew she was just another pair of efficient hands as they raced to put in a chest drain and push through blood in the hope of getting him up to Theatre before he bled out. For the second time that night Imogen hit the theatre doors, running alongside Angus, the thoracic team having run ahead and already scrubbed and gotten in place.

  ‘Sorry!’ Both slightly breathless from the run and adrenaline, it took a while for Imogen to answer.

  ‘For what?’ Imogen stopped at the water cooler and took a long drink. ‘I don’t expect you to kiss me hello!’

  ‘For telling Heather to get you from Maternity.’

  ‘You told Heather that I was working?’ Imogen frowned.

  ‘I said that I’d bumped into you in the car park.’ Registering her frown, he spectacularly misinterpreted it. ‘It was hardly the place to say that I knew you were at work.’

  ‘I’m not worried about that.’ Stopping midway in the corridor she angrily confronted him. ‘I was actually enjoying my shift. I assumed that the nurse co-ordinator had requested m
e. You had no right to tell them to pull me off Maternity.’

  ‘Imogen, a guy was bleeding out. We had staff dropping like flies and Heather frantically trying to call people in. I knew that there was an experienced emergency nurse up on Maternity. We needed you—’

  ‘Needed me?’ Imogen furiously interrupted. ‘Or was it just terribly convenient that I happened to be there?’

  ‘Well done, guys!’ Heather’s weary face greeted two stony ones. ‘Thanks so much for that, Imogen—I don’t know what we’d have done without you.’

  ‘Survived, no doubt!’

  ‘Probably.’ Heather yawned. ‘But you made things a lot easier. Hey, Angus, I was going to drop round this afternoon when I woke up. I’ve made up a few meals …’

  ‘You don’t have to do that.’ Angus smiled and shook his head. ‘Anyway, I’m going to the airport to pick up Mum.’

  ‘Well, tomorrow, then,’ Heather pushed. ‘I can pop them over—’

  ‘And offend my mum!’ Angus’s smile froze in his face as he met Imogen’s eyes. ‘Honestly, Heather, we’re fine. You don’t have to worry.’

  ‘You were right.’ Angus arrived home a couple of hours after Imogen, and she could have pretended to be asleep but couldn’t be bothered with games. Instead, she just lay there as Angus placed a mug of tea on her bedside table and nudged her knees just a little bit to make room for him when he sat down. ‘I shouldn’t have told Heather that you were working—I should have left it to the co-ordinator to work it out. I just didn’t think. The department was bursting and we needed help quickly …’

  ‘I get all of that,’ Imogen said, staring up at the skylight, ‘but don’t …’ blue eyes snapped to his ‘… choose when it’s convenient to know me.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘Come on, Angus. You’re not leaving for the airport till five—don’t tell me if I wasn’t here that Heather wouldn’t be welcome to drop over.’

  ‘I don’t need food parcels, Imogen.’

  ‘Perhaps, but if Heather drops by and sees me here, then work will know, which wouldn’t look too good for you, would it?’