A Champagne Christmas: The Christmas Love-Child / The Christmas Night Miracle / The Italian Billionaire's Christmas Miracle. Catherine Spencer
to make me your household slave, chained to your bed.”
He stroked her chin.
“I’m not asking you,” he said coolly. “I’m telling you. You are pregnant with my child. You will be my wife. Every jewel and home and luxury you could possibly desire will be yours. You are now mine.”
He was offering her money, in exchange for giving her body and soul to a man she hated—a man in love with another woman! “A gilded cage. You’re offering me the life of a whore!”
He grabbed her wrist, pulling her hard against his muscular body.
“Have it your way, then. You will be my pretty songbird in a golden cage.” He kissed her cruelly, punishing her. As she felt her lips bruise beneath his embrace, a whimper escaped her. He drew away with a hard smile, looking down at her with a gaze like frozen steel. “And, my beautiful one, you will sing only for me.”
MOSCOW, ancient stronghold of czars, was white and frozen in the breathless hush of winter. The sprawling modern city of untold wealth was as brutal as Maksim’s will, Grace thought. And in the frosty twilight of New Year’s Eve, it was as cold as her husband’s icy heart.
Grace stared out the window of her large, elegant, lonely bedroom. After nearly a week in this vast city of old poverty and new wealth, her only outings had been to the doctor and to the exclusive shops of Barvikha Village and Tverskaya Street, driven by bodyguards in a Humvee with darkened windows. She’d shopped beside powerful oligarchs and their pouting trophy girlfriends dripping with furs and diamonds.
She’d seen little of the city. She’d seen traffic, traffic and more traffic on the paved, guarded road to Rublyovka. She’d seen huge billboards on Moscow’s ring roads, advertising luxury cars and jewels as they drove past old buildings with aging Communist icons chiseled in stone.
For a woman who’d once hated fancy shops, they were now her only excuse to escape her luxury compound. Surrounded by bodyguards and servants, Grace was never alone.
And yet she was always alone.
She was a captive bride in a guarded palace, and she’d been forced to accept she was completely in Maksim’s power. He’d made that clear by coldly marrying her in Las Vegas on Christmas Day.
Once her family came back from their Christmas service, Grace had been forced to tell her mother she was pregnant. Then she lied and said she loved her baby’s father. She’d endured her family’s delighted surprise and her mother’s whispered blessing on their hasty elopement. When she learned they had no ring, Carol had wrenched off the precious ring that hadn’t left her finger for twenty-seven years.
“Your father would want you to have this,” she’d said to Grace, holding out the simple half-carat diamond ring in rose gold as tears streamed down her face. “He would be so happy for you today. I just wish he could be here now.”
Grace had blinked back her own tears two hours later, as she gave her vows to Maksim in the small chapel of the Hermitage Resort, a Russian-style casino owned by his friend, Greek tycoon Nikos Stavrakis. And Grace hadn’t been blinking back tears of joy, either. Beneath the candlelight and mournful, painted Russian icons, she’d pledged herself to Maksim for life. Barely looking at her, Maksim had tersely done the same.
After their cold wedding, there had been no sunny honeymoon. Maksim had brought her to Moscow on his private jet and abandoned her in his luxurious palace compound in an exclusive neighborhood outside the city. Grace had no idea where he’d spent his days and nights since they’d arrived. She tried to tell herself she didn’t care.
Her only consolation was that her family was safe. They would never lose their home or be worried about money again. Maksim had paid off the entire mortgage and had placed a large sum in a bank account to make sure her family would always be financially secure and her brothers could go to college. They were happy because they believed Grace was, too.
She had been well and truly bought.
I’m sorry I did this to you, baby, she thought, rubbing her flat tummy mournfully. She looked around the large, feminine bedroom with the blue canopy bed and the lady’s study beside it. Down the hall, the next room was empty. Maksim had ordered her to create the baby’s nursery there, but Grace didn’t have the heart. She couldn’t accept her new life here. Couldn’t accept that this was all the home life her child would have.
As purplish twilight fell softly over the skyline of the distant city, Grace finally saw his armored car pull past their front gate.
Where had he been for the past six days? Where was he sleeping at night? Clenching her hands into fists, she rose from her chair at the window and left her bedroom.
From the high second-story landing overlooking the wide marble floors of the downstairs foyer, she saw Maksim enter the house, followed by assistants and bodyguards. His face was dark and tired. He didn’t bother to ask the housekeeper about how his new bride was faring. He didn’t bother to even glance upstairs. He simply handed Elena his coat, went into his study and closed the door behind him.
For Grace, it was the final straw.
She ran downstairs. Without knocking, she pushed through his study door.
Sitting at his desk, he looked up at her with infuriating calmness. “Yes?”
She hated his coldness. She envied that he had ice water in his veins instead of blood. She wished she, too, could feel nothing, instead of feeling like her heart was continually breaking anew!
“Where have you been?”
He barely glanced at her as he gathered papers on his desk. “You have missed me, my bride?” he said sardonically.
“I’m your wife. I have a right to know if you’ve been sleeping with someone else!”
“Of course you do,” he said with a cold laugh. “I can tell you I’ve been working day and night to finish details on the Exemplary merger, sleeping two hours a night on a cot in my office. But of course you will immediately know I have been with another woman. You will immediately suspect I’ve set up Francesca in a suite at the Ritz-Carlton.”
Grace’s heart fell to the floor.
“Francesca’s in Moscow?” she whispered.
His lips twisted into an ironic smile. “And to think I once believed you had such faith in people.”
“You destroyed that!”
“Have no fear, my dear wife,” he drawled. “I have no interest in Francesca. How could I, when I have such a warm, loving wife waiting in my bed at home?”
His barb went straight to the heart. She clenched her hands into fists. “Just try getting into bed with me sometime, and you’ll see how warm and loving I am!”
Maksim rose wearily from his desk. “Enough.” Placing a stack of papers in his briefcase beside his laptop, he started walking toward the study door. “If you have nothing else to discuss, I’ll wish you good-night.”
She stared at him incredulously. “You’re leaving? Just like that?”
He stopped and turned back to her. At the intensity of his expression, she trembled from within.
Then he lowered his head and kissed her softly on the cheek. “Snovem godem, Grace,” he said softly. “Happy New Year.”
She turned her face up toward his, her heart aching with the memory of the man she’d loved in London. She searched his gaze for some remnant of the man she’d laughed with, cared for. Loved.
Then he turned from her.
“Don’t wait up.”
Anguish rose in her heart…then anger. She hated his coldness.