by Jennie Lucas
“What for?”
“Emergency contraception,” he said coldly.
“That’s not necessary.”
“It’s not?”
Stepping into her high-heeled shoes, she lifted her chin. With a deep breath, she looked back at him. “I told you. I can take the subway.”
His stomach churned at the bleakness in her eyes. “Holly—”
She cut him off with a harsh gesture. Then she gave a forced smile. “It’s my fault. I knew all along you couldn’t possibly—I never should have come here.”
Holly was apologizing...to him. It took all of Stavros’s willpower not to reach for her, pull her into his arms, tell her how he was to blame for everything. But the habits of a lifetime held him in good stead. His hands tightened into fists at his sides. “I’ll make sure you still get the promotion and raise you deserve,” was all he said. “But it’s better we don’t work together in the future.”
“Yes.” Looking back at him, her eyes suddenly glittered with a strange ferocity he’d never seen before. “You’re right. Goodbye.” She turned away.
But he couldn’t let her go, not like this. Not when he suddenly wondered if he’d ever see her again.
Stavros grabbed her arm. “Wait.”
“What else is there to say?” she asked, her voice catching.
His fingers tightened over her wrist. Last night had been the most incredible sexual experience of his life—and more than sexual. Their eyes locked, and all Stavros wanted to do was pull her back into his arms. Into his bed. Into his life.
But not at the cost of hers.
He dropped her wrist.
“It’s unlikely you’re pregnant after just one night. But if anything happens,” he drawled, “you’ll let my lawyers know, won’t you?”
Her lips parted in confusion. “Your lawyers?”
“Yes. If you’re pregnant, they’ll take care of it.”
Her face went white, then red. Then her green eyes narrowed with cold fury. “You’re too kind.”
Stavros had played the part of a coldhearted, womanizing louse to perfection, insinuating that he would have his lawyers pay her off if there was a child. Insinuating he was too busy and important to even be bothered with such a minor detail.
No wonder she was now looking at him as if he was the most despicable human being on earth.
“That’s all.” He tilted his head, making his eyes as frozen and gray as the world outside. “Now get out.”
With an intake of breath, Holly said in a trembling voice, “I wish I’d never met you.”
And turning on her heel, she left his penthouse, taking all the warmth and light with her, leaving Stavros alone in the coldest Christmas he’d ever known.
CHAPTER FIVE
Eleven months later
HOLLY PAUSED IN shoveling snow, taking a deep breath that turned to smoke in the chill air. All around her, sunshine illuminated the snow, making the white blanket sparkle like diamonds.
It was the day after Thanksgiving, and for the first time in her life, she was spending it alone—and in Switzerland, of all places. Farther from home than she could ever have imagined last Christmas, when her heart had been so savagely broken.
She leaned against the shovel. A soft smile lifted to her face as she looked toward the porch. But she wasn’t alone, not truly. She’d never be alone again.
Late November snow was nearly four feet deep around the winding path that led from her tiny chalet, just a rustic cabin really, to the sliver of main road. The nearest village was a mile away, tucked in a remote valley of the Swiss Alps, and even that was nearly deserted in winter. The nearest real market town was Zedermatt, where the festive outdoor Christmas market would open today. A friend had begged her to accompany him there this afternoon. Somewhat hesitantly, she’d agreed. Why not enjoy the season?
Holly’s days of working long hours in an office, always filled with stress and urgency, now seemed like a strange dream from long ago. Here, there was only tranquility and peace, and of course, snow, but she’d gotten used to that, shoveling the path to her door every day, and listening to the quiet sound of snowflakes each night against the slanted roof.
In the last year, everything had changed. Her old life in New York, the person she’d once been, were all gone. So much lost. But even more gained.
A baby’s gurgle came from the small porch of her chalet, and Holly looked up tenderly, with a familiar joy in her heart.
“Are you hungry, sweet boy?” Shoveling the last few scoops of wet snow from the path to the road, she carried the shovel back toward the chalet. She tromped her winter boots heavily to knock off the snow, then climbed the steps to the porch and smiled down at her sweet two-month-old baby, Freddie, named after her own beloved father.
The baby gurgled and waved his arms happily, at least as much as he could do, bundled up as he was in a one-piece winter fleece that covered him from mittens to hood, tucked snugly into the baby seat with a blanket over the top.
“We’ll get you fed,” Holly promised, smiling. Setting down the shovel nearby, she lifted the baby seat’s handle and carried him inside.
Inside the rustic cabin, a fire blazed in the old stone fireplace. This chalet was two hundred years old, with low ceilings braced with hand-hewn wooden beams. The furniture wasn’t quite as old, but close. And the place was tiny: there was only one bedroom. But every day since she’d arrived here, pregnant and heartbroken, last February, she’d blessed her former employer, who’d offered her free lodging in exchange for keeping an eye on the place.
Coming inside, Holly set down the baby carrier then pushed the door closed behind her to keep out the frozen air. She yanked off her heavy winter coat and colorful hand-knitted hat, hanging them on the coat rack while she shook errant snowflakes out of her long red braid. Pulling off her boots, she left them on towels placed just inside the door and stepped nimbly into the room, wearing a loose green sweater and snug black leggings ending in thick warm socks.
Unbuckling Freddie out of the carrier, she changed his diaper then wrapped him snugly in a soft baby blanket. Cradling him in her arms, she carried him to the worn sofa near the fire. As she fed the baby, he looked up at her with big wondering eyes, nestling his tiny hand between her breasts.
Holly had arrived here in a panic in February, wondering how she’d ever cope with raising a child on her own. Then she’d remembered: she already had. She’d raised her baby sister when Holly was barely more than a child herself.
After Stavros had coldly thrown her out of his bed last Christmas morning, she’d never gone back to her job at Minos International. She hadn’t even gone back to collect her carefully tended plant or framed photos of her sister. A friend had collected them for her, along with her last check.
Holly had had money in her savings account. She’d learned to be careful with money the hard way, at eighteen, when she’d found herself with a little sister to raise and very little money from her parents’ life insurance to support them. Ever since, she’d always been careful.
That saved her when, in mid-January as she’d started her job search, she’d discovered the real source of the stomach flu she hadn’t been able to shake: she was pregnant.
And the memory of Stavros’s words in bed on Christmas morning chilled her. If you’re pregnant, let my lawyers know...they’ll take care of it.
That, more than anything, had destroyed any lingering illusions she’d had about Stavros Minos being a decent human being.
She’d, of course, heard stories about men lying to get a woman into bed. But she’d never imagined it would happen to her. When he’d desired her, Stavros had been romantic beyond belief, seducing her with sweet words, passionate kisses and, most astonishing of all, proposing marriage and having a child together.
But from the moment he’d gotten what he wanted, he’d expected her to
disappear.
Holly had known she wouldn’t let him make the baby disappear, too. She couldn’t take the risk of seeing Stavros Minos again, even accidentally, or letting him know she was pregnant.
So she’d left New York.
She’d been happy in Switzerland. She was lucky. All right, so Thanksgiving, the traditional American kickoff to the Christmas season, had felt a little quiet yesterday, since the holiday wasn’t celebrated in Switzerland. Growing up, Holly’s mother had always spent the whole day cooking turkey and baking pies that smelled heavenly, while the two girls stretched out in the morning on the carpet of the family room, watching the Thanksgiving Day parade on TV. In the afternoon, during commercials of his football game, their father inevitably wandered into the kitchen, hoping to sneak a taste of mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce, before their mother shooed him away with a playful smack of a Santa-decorated towel.
Christmas had always been Holly’s favorite time of year. At least until last year. Now, with her heartbreaking memories of Stavros last Christmas Day, she was almost afraid to face the holidays this year.
Holly steadied herself. She had so much to be thankful for now. This warm, cozy chalet, her baby, her health. And after nearly a year of estrangement, when she’d phoned her sister to wish her happy Thanksgiving yesterday, for the first time her sister had actually answered the phone.
All right, so Nicole had mostly just yelled at her during the ten-minute call. Apparently Oliver had been fired from three different jobs over the past year, causing the newlyweds to move from Hong Kong to Los Angeles, then back to New York, where he was now unemployed. Her sister blamed Holly.
“It’s your fault,” Nicole had shouted. “His bosses expect too much. You should be here taking care of things for him. And for me!”
Feeling guilty, Holly tried to change the subject. “I’ve been busy this year, too...” And she’d finally told her sister the happy news about the baby.
But if she’d hoped it would make Nicole forgive her, or have any joy at the news of a baby nephew, Holly was soon disappointed.
Her sister had been shocked, then furious, then demanded to know the identity of the father. Swearing her to secrecy, Holly had shivered as she’d whispered Stavros’s name into the phone. It had been the first time she’d spoken his name aloud in almost a year.
But knowing that secret only seemed to enrage Nicole more.
“So now you’re a baby mama for a billionaire?” she’d cried. “You selfish cow—you never have to worry about anything, do you?”
And her sister had slammed down the phone.
At least they were talking again, Holly told herself now, trying to remain cheerful. It was a start. And who knew what the future could hold? After all, they were coming into the season of miracles.
Her baby was the biggest miracle of all. She could never be sad about anything for long, not when she had him. She smiled down at Freddie, who was all bright eyes and plump cheeks. And if, with his dark eyes and black hair, her baby strongly resembled a man she didn’t want to remember, she blocked it from her mind with harsh determination.
Freddie was hers. He had no father. Holly would be the only parent he’d ever need.
The baby, born a week late in a Zurich hospital, had been over four kilos—nine pounds, two ounces—and continued to gain weight at a healthy clip. As Holly looked down at her precious child, her heart twisted with love such as she’d never known.
And Stavros would never even know he existed.
Holly looked into the fire. She’d had no choice, she reminded herself fiercely, as she’d done many times over the past year. Stavros had made his feelings clear. The morning after he’d seduced her with promises and lies, she’d woken up on the happiest Christmas morning she’d ever known, only to be tossed out with the trash.
After she’d found out she was pregnant, she’d fled New York in fear that his lawyers might try to force her to end the pregnancy. She’d gone to London, where her former employer had made it clear she had a standing job offer. He’d been bewildered when, instead of accepting a high-paying office job, she’d asked about being a caretaker to his family’s old chalet in Switzerland.
“It’s not St. Moritz, you know,” he’d replied doubtfully, stroking his white beard. “The village is deserted in winter. It was my great-grandfather’s cabin. It’s a bit of a wreck. Are you sure?”
Holly had been sure. And she’d never regretted her choice. She’d made friends with her elderly neighbors down the road, kind people who’d delighted in showering lonely, pregnant Holly with advice and Älplermagronen, and since her baby’s birth, with babysitting offers and cake. Holly’s high-school German was rapidly improving. As far as she was concerned, she’d be happy to live here forever. Happy enough.
How could she ever admit she felt lonely sometimes, or that she didn’t think her heart would ever completely heal from her brief affair with Stavros? It would be the height of ingratitude to ever feel sad, when she had so much: home, friends and Freddie.
It was enough. It had to be enough.
She looked down at the sleeping baby in her arms. Stroking his rosy cheek, her heart full of love, she whispered, “I’m going to make your first Christmas perfect, Freddie. See if I don’t.”
The baby yawned in reply, drowsy and sleepy with a full belly and a warm fire. Carefully, Holly rose to her feet and settled the baby into a small bassinet in the cabin’s bedroom. Leaving him in the darkened room to nap, she softly closed the door behind her.
Back in the main room, the fire crackled. Untying her braid to shake her hair free, she went to the closet and dug to the back, where she found a large box.
It was time to reclaim Christmas.
Reaching into her family’s old box of treasures, Holly pulled out her grandmother’s old quilt, the chipped ceramic Santa cookie jar, a garland of colorful felt stars and the Christmas recipe book with her mother’s faded handwriting. Vintage ornaments from her childhood. She touched the hand-knitted stockings, and her heart lifted to her throat.
She decorated the small main room, putting the ornaments on the wooden mantel above the fire, and then stepped back to look. That would have to do, at least until she got a tree at the Christmas market. A lump rose in her throat. She’d make sure Freddie had a wonderful Christmas—
There was a hard knock at the door, making her jump. Then she shook her head, smiling. Who was it? Elke with freshly baked gingerbread? Horst, offering to shovel snow? Brushing off some errant Christmas glitter from her black leggings, Holly opened the door.
And her smile dropped.
“Holly.” Stavros’s coldly handsome face glowered down at her. His voice was low, barely more than a growl.
Her lips parted in a silent gasp.
“Is it true?” he demanded. Moving closer, he narrowed his eyes, black as night. His jawline was dark with five-o’clock shadow, and his powerful form filled the door, all broad shoulders and muscle. Behind him, parked on the edge of the snowy road, she saw his driver waiting inside a black luxury SUV that looked totally out of place in this rural Swiss valley.
Terror went through her. Her baby. He’d come for her baby! Instinctively she started to close the door in his face. “I don’t want to see you—”
“Too bad.” Reaching out a powerful arm, he blocked the door, and pushed his way inside.
Shivering with sickening fear, she stepped back as he closed the door behind him. He calmly shook the snowflakes from his Italian cashmere coat.
He was even more handsome than she remembered. Even more dangerous.
“I heard a rumor.” Stavros looked slowly around the cabin, with its roaring fireplace and homemade Christmas decorations. Pulling off his black leather gloves, he tucked them into his pockets and turned to her with narrowed eyes. His voice was colder than the frigid winter air outside. “Is it true?”
&n
bsp; “Is what true?” she whispered, with a sinking heart.
Stavros’s jaw was tight as he looked right through her. “Did you have my baby, Holly?”
Her blood went cold. Teeth chattering, she stared at him. The man who’d once seduced her, who’d wooed her with words and languorous kisses, was now looking at her with hatred in his eyes.
She tried to laugh. “Where did you hear that?”
“You’re a terrible liar,” he said softly. “Is it possible you’ve lied to me for nearly a year?”
Her heart lifted to her throat. It was all she could do not to turn and rush into the bedroom, to grab their sleeping baby and try to run before it was too late.
But it was already too late. She’d never outrun Stavros. Especially with his driver outside. There was no escape.
Her mouth went dry as she tried to think of a lie he might believe. Something, anything. She could say Freddie was another man’s son. Stavros knew she’d been a virgin in his bed, but maybe she’d slept with someone else right afterward. A hookup after Christmas! A drunken one-night stand on New Year’s Eve! Anything!
But as her eyes met Stavros’s, she couldn’t force any lie from her trembling lips.
“Who told you?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Stavros staggered back, his dark eyes wide. For a split second, he did not move.
Then he took a deep breath. Reaching out, he cupped her cheek. She felt the rough warmth of his palm against her skin. His touch was tender, but his expression was cruel.
“Who told me? Oliver. Who heard it from your sister.” He said softly, “He enjoyed telling me. He’s never been able to make me feel like a fool before.” Blinding sunlight from the window, amplified by the snow, suddenly bathed the hard edges of his cheekbones and jawline in golden light. “But he’s not to blame. You are.”
Shivering, she licked her lips. “I...”
“You promised to tell me if there was a pregnancy.” His dark eyes were aflame with cold fury. “You’re a liar, Holly. A filthy, despicable liar.”
