This Christmas and Forever: A heartwarming anthology of billionaire holiday romances...

by Clare Connelly

  With eyes that were wide, she pressed the cover of the book shut and handed it to Marianne wordlessly. She stared at the tree, flickering with lights, ravaged by present-opening with an excited little Rose. Confusion swirled through her.

  An eternity seemed to elapse, with both of them sitting, silently, contemplatively. Finally, Marianne broke the silence.

  “Elizabeth,” she put her hand on Elizabeth’s knee. Her voice sounded strange, as though it was travelling from a great distance. “I know you took great comfort from believing that your meeting with Alastair was somehow fated. That so many things had to line up in order for you to meet him. And in meeting him, blessing us all with Rosie.”

  Elizabeth nodded. They had spoken about it openly the first time she’d met Alastair’s parents, and then again when she discovered her pregnancy. It sounded a little trite, but Elizabeth took comfort from the fact that sometimes, things happened for a reason. Like graduating school early, and undertaking medicine early, and then meeting Al. Then again, sometimes they didn’t. Like Alastair getting cancer and dying.

  “The fire at Bashir, right before the event… what if it was all so you could meet Antonio?”

  Elizabeth turned her wide-eyed face to her mother in law, strained confusion in all her features. She thought about that. Even the timing of Antonio buying Bashir added weight to the theory. So many little things had needed to line up in order for them to meet. But still…“No.” She shook her head resolutely. “I don’t believe in second chances. Not when it comes to love. Lightning doesn’t strike twice.”

  “Alastair believed in second chances, and Elizabeth… I say this with the utmost love… I don’t think he would like the way you’ve put your life on hold for him. In fact, I believe strongly that if he’d had a crystal ball, and known this is how you would be existing, in a sort of half-life, he would never have married you.”

  Elizabeth gasped, but Marianne continued.

  “Darling, I’m not telling you how you should feel. About Antonio, or any other man you might meet. I’m only saying that if you do meet a man who makes you feel something, then don’t close yourself off to it. You have Alastair’s blessing to move on, and God knows you have mine, and Rupert’s.”

  “It’s just so final. I know he’s gone, but if I meet someone else,” her cheeks infused with pretty color, “and even marry them, one day, it relegates Alastair to a tiny part of my life. It makes him less somehow.”

  “No,” Elizabeth shook her head confidently. “That could never happen. Anyone who knew and loved him as we did will always cherish him. You can love someone else without feeling that it’s a betrayal. Love comes in varied shapes and sizes. What you felt for Alastair will never be replicated. And what you feel for the man you choose to love next will be unique and special, but no less real.”

  The chasm of remorse that had gaped inside of her was growing wider by the minute. Was it possible she’d stuffed everything up so completely?

  She brooded all day, whilst going through the motions of a normal Christmas day with Rose. But inside, her mind just kept going over Alastair’s note. A note from the grave. Was Marianne right? Had the heavens somehow aligned to orchestrate a meeting with a man who could be the second love of her life?

  Boxing Day morning came, with a frost that was thick on the ground, and a sky that was ominous and grey.

  Elizabeth had hardly slept, and had finally given up in the early hours of the morning. She’d dressed in a pair of stovepipe jeans and an oversized black sweater and a bright pink scarf and still she felt frozen.

  It was one of those British winter days that was heavy with the promise of snow.

  As she listened to the conversation in the kitchen, all centered around Rose’s new bike and why she couldn’t ride it in the fog, Elizabeth couldn’t stop thinking about Antonio.

  And she knew.

  She knew then.

  She loved him.

  Hell, she’d probably known all along, but just been hiding her head in the sand to avoid having to face the fact that life after Alastair would eventually move on.

  “Marianne,” she spoke quickly, standing and fishing her handbag off the back of her chair. “I have to go somewhere.” The look she gave her was meaningful. “Can you mind Rosie for me?”

  “Thank goodness,” Marianne practically whooped in approval.

  Ravens Manor was deserted. Even the stalwart Agnes was absent, probably given the liberty of some time off over Christmas. Even housekeepers as traditional in style as Agnes liked time with their own families during the festive season. Every shred of the ball had been removed from the house by the efficient cleaning crew she employed every year.

  As she ran from room to room, she had only one thought in her mind. Taking back the hateful things she’d said to Antonio.

  She burst out of the hallway into the small paved courtyard she’d been in once before, and looked down towards the old stables. And what she saw made her heart stall in her chest.

  Faster, almost, than the speed of light, was a blur of red race car, being thrashed around the slippery track at break neck speeds. She lifted a hand to her mouth to stifle a cry of fear and began to run, down the winding path, towards that hateful race track. She ran the whole way, bursting onto the trackside pit as he zipped past. He was driving so fast she couldn’t even see his blurred face as he passed.

  But he saw her.

  Her face obviously etched with anguish.

  And he put aside the rage he’d been feeling towards her for a whole day, slammed on the brakes and spun the vehicle around. With a loud squealing of tires on bitumen, he stopped right beside her and leaped from the vehicle.

  “What is it? Elizabeth? What’s the matter? Madre di Dio,” he exclaimed in frustration, unclipping his helmet and tossing it carelessly on a bench beside her. Elizabeth was shaking and he pushed aside the knowledge that he didn’t share her feelings and acted on instinct alone, wrapping his arms around her waist and bringing him to his chest. “Is it Rose? Is she okay?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I hate that you drive these things,” she said the first thing that came to her mind.

  Antonio froze, and slowly, put some distance between them. “You came here to tell me that?”

  “No.” She looked beyond his shoulder. “But then I saw you driving like a man possessed and everything else flew from my mind. You are going to kill yourself, Antonio.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I have already told you, Elizabeth, you cannot spend the rest of your life in fear of what may come to pass.” He rubbed his hands down his jacket then, realizing she was yet again woefully ill-equipped for the cruelly cold weather, he unzipped his jacket and held it out for her. But she brushed it aside.

  “I know that,” she said, her eyes locking with his. “I know that.” She licked her dry lips. “Antonio, I’m so sorry for what I said.”

  He angled his head away from her, a muscle moving in his jaw. “I did not like hearing it, but I will always value honesty over flattery. I am grateful you were sincere about your feelings.”

  “Still, I wasn’t exactly tactful,” she said with a grimace. “And not entirely honest, either, as it turns out.”

  He whipped his head back to face her, but his expression was wary. “What do you mean?”

  “I couldn’t admit to anyone, least of all myself, how I felt about you.” Rain began to fall and it plastered her hair to her face but she didn’t care. “I thought that loving you meant I somehow loved Alastair less. That the two were mutually exclusive. I was so, so wrong.” She lifted a hand to his face, a mingled laugh and sob bubbling out from her as she felt his stubbled jaw. “I was horrid to you. Absolutely awful. But it wasn’t because I don’t love you. It was because I do. So much. I probably have from the first second I saw you, half-dressed, and delicious as all heck.”

  His eyes were hooded, and his expression gave little away. Elizabeth could have had no way of knowing that his usually untouched heart was racing
inside his muscled chest.

  “Antonio? Say something. Please.” Her smile was tight; nerves making her strangely unsteady on her feet.

  He shook his head slowly, and then, that smile that set her body on fire without fail, touched his lips, for the fraction of a second before he lowered his head and kissed her. “Ti amo, bellissima,” he whispered against her mouth as his lips claimed hers. He scooped her up without breaking the kiss and carried her against his chest, up the winding path and back to Ravens Manor.

  Once inside, he peeled her wet clothes off, and then his, and the whole time, he kissed her and touched her and worshipped her as he had wanted to do all along.

  “I will cherish you always,” he promised, as he once more scooped her up and carried her up the wooden staircase that creaked a little beneath them. He bypassed the guest room and instead, shouldered open the door to his own room.

  She barely had the sense to take in the décor; the enormous bed with the wrought iron frame, the streamlined furniture and a bright arrangement of Iris flowers on a table by the window.

  He lay her down gently on the bed, his eyes full of love as he pressed a delicate line of kisses along her décolletage. “I didn’t believe in love until I met you,” he whispered against her ear lobe, moving his fingers down her body until they connected with the gap at the top of her thighs. “I didn’t believe in the goodness of women, either. Then, I met you, and I was lost. Everything I thought about the world was gone, because you were a game changer. A mind changer. A revelation.”

  She flushed to the roots of her hair.

  “You don’t know how happy it makes me to finally be able to say that to you,” he said, sliding a finger into her core and watching with satisfaction as her eyes widened.

  “And for me to hear it,” she responded breathily, as her body began to power towards an inevitable release that only Antonio could provide.

  “That day I heard you speaking with Marianne – you don’t know how enraged I was.”

  She winced, momentarily pulled out of her sensual haze. “Marianne and Rupert, most of all, I wanted to protect from feeling pain. I thought …it would…insult them…” she finished groggily, as pleasure made speech difficult.

  He grunted, and then lowered his body, so that he could move inside of her. As he took possession of her body, he kissed her lips, hard and hungrily. Any thought of conversation evaporated as together, their bodies moved as one, and what they hadn’t yet said with their mouths, they said through the physical expression of the deepest love and need.

  Later, much later, as they lay tangled in one another’s arms, he turned to face her. “And do you think they’ll be insulted?”

  Elizabeth sighed. “No. In fact, it was Marianne who made me realize what an idiot I was being. I think she likes you.”

  “I am pleased. It is mutual.” He said with a smile. “Well, whatever happened to change your mind, I will be forever grateful.”

  She bit down on her lip and looked over at him. “Actually, Alastair had a hand in it.”

  She had expected him to tense, as he had done in the past when she’d referred to her husband. But he didn’t. It was as if revealing her feelings to him had absolved him of any envy towards the other man. He prompted her to continue, and she did, explaining about the book and the inscription.

  “I am pleased that he was such a reasonable man,” Antonio said, hugging her against his chest and kissing her forehead. “I do love you, bella. With all that I am, for the rest of my life, I will adore you, and cherish you, and encourage you to chase your dreams. All of them. Because Alastair was right – we get one life. And I want to live it with you.”

  Epilogue

  Nine months later

  A gentle breeze puffed in the French doors from the terrace of Elizabeth’s bedroom. It would have been an autumnal breeze, except there didn’t seem to be much of an Autumn here, on the outskirts of Rome. In the two weeks since they’d arrived, she and Rose had been swimming every day, or Rose and Marianne had been enjoying gelati by the sea in nearby Ostia. Back home, the trees would be turning amber in color, the weather would be decidedly cool, and shops would be gearing up for Winter. But here, in la bell’italia, the weather was warm and Elizabeth’s heart was filled with love.

  “You look stunning,” Bianca, Elizabeth’s sister in law to-be admired, her distinctive Australian accent lending her a permanently happy sound. “I’m so pleased you went with this dress.”

  Elizabeth nodded slowly. She hadn’t been sure about wearing white. After all, it was her second wedding, and they’d been living together since Christmas, so the usual traditions didn’t seem to apply. And yet, in the end, she’d gone for a cream gown, that was like a well-fitted sheath rather than a meringue shape. Her hair she’d had styled loose about her shoulders, and it fell in luxurious waves to her waist.

  “Me too. Do you happen to know if Rose is ready?”

  Bianca’s smile was bright. “Last I saw, she was insisting on giving baby Valentina another cuddle.”

  “Oh dear!” Elizabeth laughed apologetically. “She did ask for a new baby for Christmas. I’m just glad you and Niko were able to oblige with one as adorable as Leni.”

  “She is a doll, isn’t she?” Bianca gushed with the enthusiasm of a mother to a brand new one month old baby.

  Miranda popped her head around the door, her dark hair pulled into a fashionable top-knot. “We’re ready, girls.” She looked behind her and then slipped inside, shutting the door behind herself. “What’s with the third brother?”

  “Marcos?” Bianca threw Elizabeth a look of understanding. “He’s just a bit out of sorts at the moment.”

  The truth was, neither girl knew what was bothering the oldest Casacelli brother. He was acting as Antonio’s Best Man, but he’d barely cracked a smile in the whole lead up to the wedding. He’d been involved in the bare minimum of organizational fun, and he had hardly spoken to anyone.

  “Ignore him,” Elizabeth said shrewdly.

  “Easier said than done. You’ve paired me with him for everything.”

  Elizabeth laughed good naturedly. “Well, you’re my Matron of Honor and he’s Best Man. That’s sort of the way it works.”

  “I know, I know. He just needs to lighten up or I’m going to dig my stiletto into his shoe,” she said with a melodramatic sigh.

  Another knock at the door brought Marianne and Rose. “Darlings, Antonio asked me to give you this.” She passed a huge bunch of Irises to Elizabeth.

  She grinned at the gorgeous arrangement. The bright purple flowers never failed to remind her of the first time they’d made love when they had known they were making love, for real, at Ravens Manor.

  But right in the middle, there was a solitary white rose. And she knew what he had intended by having it included. Her smile turned wistful, and tears pricked her eyes as she thought how fortunate she was to have loved not one, but two, incredible men. She opened the card at the base of the arrangement and read Antonio’s confident scrawl.

  Mia Bella, Today, we become husband and wife, and our future is bright. All that will be is ahead of us. But your past will always be with us, and from this day forward, we will honor it together.

  “Ahhh,” she made a groan of frustration as tears sprang to her violet colored eyes. She fanned at them quickly with her hands. Her make-up artist would not be happy if she ruined her make up even before the ceremony had taken place.

  “What is it, Bess?” Marianne, who had become a sort of stand in mother to Antonio as well as Elizabeth, came and put a concerned hand around her shoulder.

  Antonio had adopted Rose as his daughter – in fact, the date of their wedding was centered around when the adoption had become official – and Elizabeth wanted Marianne to understand how perfect Antonio was as a man, and a father. She held the card out to Marianne and watched as the other woman’s face crumpled in wistful pleasure.

  “I am happy for you,” she said honestly, but she conspicuously withdre
w and went to look out of the doors, towards the rolling landscape beyond.

  “You ready, mama?” Rose asked, coming up and hugging her mother around the legs.

  “Oh, princess, you look just perfect,” she said with a smile. For once, Rose had been allowed to wear one of the fluffiest, tutu style dresses she’d ever seen, and Elizabeth had not demurred. The dress she’d chosen was bright yellow and fell to her dainty little feet. She had accessorized with a sparkly yellow headband. “Just perfect,” Elizabeth said again, leaning down and scooping her up for a huge hug. “Are you ready?”

  “Assolutamente, Si,” She responded definitely, sounding every bit as confident as the man who was today pledging to raise her as his own.

  The ceremony was even more magical than Elizabeth had anticipated. By far her favorite part was the moment the priest officiating announced them, “Husband, Wife and Daughter”. For it was as much about Rose as it was about them.

  “I love you, Mrs. Casacelli,” he whispered against her ear, as they walked down the graveled aisle. On both sides, people were cheering and clapping and throwing rose petals.