Cinderella's Christmas Secret (Mills & Boon Modern)

by Sharon Kendrick

  And wasn’t it crazy how his kiss had the power to dissolve every last doubt?

  The limousine dropped them at an expensive-looking department store in central London with doormen who looked as if they had stepped straight out of a Victorian novel. And although the post-Christmas sales had just started and there were stampedes of people buying sequinned dresses and puddings which would shortly reach their sell-by dates, Hollie was assigned a personal shopper all to herself, though Maximo’s insistence on accompanying her took her a little by surprise.

  He watched as she paraded before him in a variety of outfits and the molten smoulder of his eyes when he approved a particular article of clothing was flattering, yes—but his attention quickly turned back to his computer, as though his work was more engrossing than anything else. Of course it was. He was just dressing her up like a doll so that she wouldn’t disappoint him in front of all his rich friends.

  But she couldn’t deny that the exquisite garments felt wonderful against her skin—more than that, they made her look like someone she’d never believed she could be. Why, at certain angles she looked almost...pretty.

  ‘I suppose you’ve taken lots of women shopping in the past like this?’ she probed.

  ‘Not a single one,’ he admitted. ‘But then, I’ve never asked anyone to marry me before either. Just as I have never been quite so much in physical thrall to a woman as I am to you. And so, to avoid unnecessary repetition of predictable questions, shall I simply assure you that having my full attention like this is not the way I usually operate? Does that put your mind at rest, as well as flattering your ego, Hollie?’

  It did. It made her feel...special. It made her want to whistle a tune, to sing out loud at the top of her voice. She felt as if she could conquer the world.

  And when the shopping expedition was concluded and they had eaten lunch in a hushed restaurant with thick white tablecloths and women who watched him with predatory eyes, Maximo dropped her back at the store, where she was whisked off to a basement spa which smelt faintly of sandalwood and tuberose. There she had her first ever bikini wax, a pedicure and make-up lesson, though she begged them to go easy on the mascara. Next, a sweet girl in a white uniform took her to the hairdressing section to have a couple of inches snipped off her mane and some choppy layers added. And when it was all done, she stood in front of the full-length mirror in her new silk dress, with a shiny fall of hair shimmering around her shoulders, and her transformation seemed complete.

  She didn’t look like Hollie Walker any more.

  Neither an uptight office girl nor a giddy Christmas elf stared back at her today.

  She looked like an expensive glossy stranger.

  And when Maximo came to collect her, he must have thought along similar lines because he appeared almost taken aback by her appearance.

  ‘Bien, bien, bien—what have we here, mia belleza?’ he mused, his black gaze travelling over every inch of her, before he slid onto the back seat of the car beside her.

  ‘You don’t like it?’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’ His hand slid over her thigh, his fingers stroking over the navy silk. ‘You look out of this world.’

  ‘Like an alien, you mean?’

  He laughed. ‘No, not remotely like that. Why do you always put yourself down?’

  ‘Perhaps I’m not used to compliments.’

  ‘Then I shall have to make sure you get used to them. Like a beautiful woman at her peak, is that better? My only complaint is that there isn’t time for me to prove just how much you have excited my senses, because we need to buy you a ring before the shop closes.’

  ‘We don’t really have to do that today, do we, Maximo? Haven’t we shopped enough?’

  ‘I’m afraid we do. I was given to understand that women can never have too much shopping, although maybe you’re the exception to the rule,’ he added drily. ‘But tomorrow, we fly to Madrid and I intend that you should arrive there wearing the biggest diamond in the world.’

  Hollie supposed it would be churlish to object to having ‘the biggest diamond in the world’ on the grounds that she was feeling increasingly detached from reality with all this high-end purchasing power. Yet wasn’t this just another example of making sure she was ‘good enough’ to meet his wealthy friends?

  She tried to shake off her insecurity as he took her to a darkened store somewhere near Hatton Garden, which didn’t really look like a jeweller’s from the outside, and he and the owner began speaking in a language she barely recognised as English. They spoke of cushion and marquise and princess, which she gathered were cuts of diamonds, though when she emerged from the store an hour later, it was with an enormous rock called a round brilliant dripping from her finger.

  As they were leaving, she saw a woman in the street do a double take when she spotted the size of the jewel. But all Hollie could focus on was the sobering thought that the entire purchase had been conducted with zero emotion. There had been no joy on the face of her husband-to-be as he slipped the priceless ring on her finger—just a glimmer of quiet satisfaction in his eyes as the shop’s owner informed him that he had just purchased the finest gem in his collection.

  Because there was no emotion involved, Hollie reminded herself fiercely as they got into the waiting car. There might be mutual attraction and a determination to do the right thing by their baby, but this marriage was nothing but a solution to their dilemma, and she should forget that at her peril.

  ‘So where are we going now?’ she asked, slightly dazzled by the rainbow rays which sparkled on her left hand and wondering if she would have to remove it when she was cooking.

  He glanced up from his phone, momentarily distracted. ‘We’ll spend tonight at the Granchester Hotel, for you must be tired after so much travelling?’

  ‘A little,’ she admitted.

  ‘And tomorrow we head for the airfield where my jet is ready to fly us to Spain, because it’s New Year’s Eve and we have a big party to attend.’

  ‘How big a party?’ she said, suddenly nervous.

  ‘Very big. The Spanish love to celebrate the start of the new year and since many of my friends will be gathered together in the same place, it means I can introduce you as my bride.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We should arrive in Madrid in time for lunch.’

  ‘And that’s where you live? In Madrid?’ It seemed crazy that soon she would marry him and she didn’t actually know. There were so many things about him she didn’t know.

  ‘Yes, I have an apartment there, very close to the Retiro Park. I think you’ll like it.’

  Hollie felt dizzy. London for shopping. Madrid for lunch. And a massive New Year’s Eve party with, no doubt, all the world’s glitterati there. Was this going to be her life from now on? She supposed it was. Would she fit in? Or, even with all her fancy new clothes and hairstyle, would she still look like ordinary Hollie Walker who worked in an office and baked cakes on the side?

  But Maximo had put his phone away and was circling his fingertip over the palm of her hand and making her tremble, and her eyelids were fluttering to a close as he leaned over to kiss her. And really, what more could she possibly want?

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘AND THIS IS my housekeeper, Carmen. Anything you want—Carmen will be able to get for you.’ Maximo’s eyes glinted as he ushered Hollie inside. ‘Within reason, of course.’

  ‘Encantada de conocerte,’ said Hollie, using one of the phrases her fiancé had taught her during the flight over from London that morning.

  ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, too. I speak fluent English, by the way,’ added Carmen, with a smile.

  Hollie beamed. ‘Thank goodness for that.’

  ‘And congratulations on your engagement.’ Carmen shot a brief smile in the direction of the knuckleduster diamond. ‘The staff are all delighted for you and Señor Diaz.’

  ‘I appreciate
that, Carmen. And it’s wonderful to be here.’

  Carmen inclined her head. ‘Welcome to your new home.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Hollie slid her tongue over her lips. Her new home—a huge and contemporary penthouse apartment overlooking Madrid’s beautiful Retiro Park. It was terrifyingly immaculate, with not a single thing out of place, and as she shook the middle-aged housekeeper’s hand she wondered if it would ever actually feel like home for her. But at least she was feeling calmer than she had done on the journey here. Their one-night stay at the Granchester Hotel had been unforgettable. Hollie had never stayed anywhere quite so luxurious and they’d been given an incredible suite with reputedly the best view over the London skyline, because Maximo was friends with the owner.

  But butterfly nerves had been fluttering in her stomach as her fiancé’s jet had touched down in Spain and they had been driven straight from the airfield to his apartment. It had been daunting at first, meeting his staff—Carmen, and a permanent cook as well as a daily cleaner. But they’d seemed very open and friendly, and genuinely pleased to meet her, and that gave Hollie a flare of hope.

  I can do this, she thought.

  I will do this.

  ‘Would you like to see the rest of the apartment?’ asked Maximo softly, once they were out of Carmen’s earshot.

  ‘Yes, please,’ she said.

  ‘And then, after lunch, I think it is time to introduce you to the very important Spanish tradition of the siesta.’

  ‘Maximo!’

  ‘You do realise that every time you whisper my name like that, it only turns me on some more, so you must never stop doing it? Now follow me and I will show you your new home.’

  Hollie nodded, trying to concentrate on her surroundings, wanting to like them more than first impressions had suggested she might. Because although she was aware that she was in one of the most prestigious parts of Madrid, her initial reaction to Maximo’s apartment had been one of disappointment. It was so modern and so functional. The spaces were vast and curiously impersonal, even thought they housed some pretty stunning furniture and artworks. Huge canvases adorned the giant walls and most of the furniture was dark, soft leather and almost tauntingly masculine. In fact, dark was the theme which predominated—apart from an illuminated wine cellar, which looked more like an art installation, a dining room which overlooked the city lights and a floodlit rectangular lap pool on the sprawling terrace, where Maximo informed her he liked to swim every morning before breakfast.

  She tried to find the right words to say. Tried to imagine herself living here with a baby, with all these hard and gleaming surfaces. She thought about smudged little fingerprints clouding the acres of polished glass. ‘It’s lovely,’ she said politely.

  ‘There are plenty of good restaurants nearby and an interesting mix of people.’

  ‘Gorgeous,’ she said obediently, using the same tone she used to project in the office when a prospective vendor would canvas her opinion about the house they were just about to market. It wasn’t a question of not being honest, it was simply showing consideration for other people’s feelings. Because Hollie knew how a person could form a huge emotional attachment to their home. What right did she have to tell Maximo that she thought his apartment was a hideous monument to brutalism, when clearly he loved it? In England they often said an Englishman’s home was his castle, well, maybe it was the same for Spanish men.

  Yet all she could think about was a real castle, back in Trescombe, where they had shared that magical Christmas and candlelight had flickered intriguing shadows across the bare stone walls. Yes, Kastelloes could be chilly and, yes, the grounds were untamed and some of the interiors were crumbling away. But at least it had heart and soul and an artistic symmetry which took her breath away. Perhaps Maximo would capitalise on all those assets when he turned it into a luxury hotel to add to his existing group. She couldn’t wait to see what he would do with it.

  ‘Hollie?’

  Maximo’s voice interrupted her reverie.

  ‘Mmm...?’ she said absently.

  ‘Weren’t we talking about a siesta?’

  She looked up, meeting the narrowed glint in his black eyes, and her heart turned over and melted. Who cared about bricks and mortar when a man looked at you that way? Who cared about anything when he could make her senses sing without even touching her?

  ‘I believe we were,’ she agreed and her answering smile seemed to spur him into instant and very masterful action. But she liked it when he made that soft roaring sound at the back of his throat and then carried her into their bedroom like a victor, carrying his spoils.

  She liked it a lot.

  Maximo watched Hollie’s breasts rise and fall in time with her steady, even breathing. Her gleaming golden-brown hair was spread out over the pillow, her cheeks were lightly brushed with roses and she looked...

  He swallowed.

  Not beautiful, no. Her nose was a little too big and her lips not quite full enough ever to fit that imprecise and elusive definition which women craved and most men sought.

  She looked sexy and serene. In fact, very serene and very sexy.

  Once again he felt the tightening of desire low in his belly.

  She had just flicked her tongue over his body and made his large frame convulse with spasms of delight he’d thought were never going to end. And afterwards he had done the same to her. Given swift featherlight licks against the hidden honey at the top of her legs, until she had clutched his bare shoulders with flailing fingertips and cried out his name.

  But his remembered satisfaction was tempered by a sudden flicker of apprehension. She was the most perfect lover he could have ever imagined, and there had been a fair number during his thirty-four years of bachelorhood. But Hollie was like no other woman he’d ever known before. She was sweet and uncomplicated and innocent.

  And she was having his baby.

  His baby.

  Didn’t that give her a particular power—the kind of power he had vowed no woman would ever wield over him again? He could feel a sudden tightness in his throat. He had never wanted a child of his own, reasoning that someone who had never experienced parental love would be incapable of demonstrating any himself. He’d been scared of falling short and hadn’t wanted another child to endure what he had endured. Plus, he’d liked his freedom and the ability to do what he wanted, when he wanted.

  But now?

  Suddenly he felt the winds of change upon him, and a feeling of inevitability blowing in their wake. He could sense a very different world opening up before him and simple, straightforward Hollie at the beating centre of it.

  Hollie.

  Hollie who seemed so soft and vulnerable. Almost too soft. Too vulnerable. He wasn’t used to a woman looking at him that way, all wide-eyed and wondering. His mouth hardened. He would protect her and their child for as long as he lived, yes. He would give her whatever she wanted—hadn’t he told her so just an hour ago, when he had carried her into the bedroom and stripped that provocative lingerie from her delicious body? She would have security for her and their child for the rest of her life, and he would put money in a trust to ensure that his son or daughter’s future was secure. But those were practical needs he was able to fulfil, because this was a practical marriage and nothing more. He had made that clear to her when he’d asked her to be his wife and maybe now it was time to remember it himself. He wouldn’t let her think this relationship was going to become any deeper than it already was, because that was never going to happen. Far better she get used to reality, rather than having her hopes raised and then dashed by unrealistic expectations. In the short term, wasn’t it better to be a little cruel in order to be kind?

  He stroked his fingers over the silky flesh of her cheek. ‘Hollie?’

  At the sound of his voice she began to stir, opening her eyes to find him watching her, and, almost shyly, she smiled. ‘Th
at was...amazing,’ she said softly.

  ‘Mmm. It certainly was, but now we must move. The party will already be in full swing and they’re expecting us. Everyone’s going to want to meet my fiancée.’

  She bit down on her bottom lip. ‘Have you told them we’re engaged?’

  ‘Not yet.’ He lifted her hand and the dazzle of the large diamond shot bright fire over her hand. ‘We’ll let this ring announce it for us, shall we?’

  ‘I’m nervous, Maximo.’

  ‘Why are you nervous?’

  ‘What if they don’t like me?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t they like you? Now go and get ready and I’ll ask Carmen to serve us a glass of casera before we leave.’

  Hollie nodded and made her way towards the bathroom as Maximo’s words echoed inside her head. Why wouldn’t they like you? he had asked—because he had no comprehension of what it was like to be her. His world was very different and was inhabited by very different people. Would they welcome an unsophisticated stranger like her into their midst, or would they wonder if Maximo had taken leave of his senses?

  She turned on the power shower and let the warm water bounce off her skin, telling herself she mustn’t catastrophise the evening before it had even begun. Maximo’s staff had already welcomed her with open arms and there was no reason why his friends shouldn’t do the same.

  She was feeling much better by the time she emerged from the bathroom, to see Maximo already dressed in a dark evening suit—a delectable sight which made her heart twist with predictable longing. He was lounging back in one of the bedroom’s dark leather armchairs and looked up from his phone when she entered, clad in nothing but a snowy bathrobe.

  ‘I haven’t a clue what to wear,’ she said, rifling through the row of new clothes which someone must have hung neatly in the wardrobe while they were having lunch.

  ‘Wear the black,’ he said suddenly. ‘And put your hair up.’

  ‘I thought you liked it down.’