The Christmas Love-Child

Beneath her examination, Grace felt shy and out of place. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know we were going to a birthday party,” she stammered. “I’m afraid I don’t have a gift.”

Dariya suddenly smiled, and her lovely face lit up with warmth. “It wouldn’t have even occurred to Francesca to bring a gift, so I already like you loads better. If you ask me, that woman was a snooty dry stick draped in furs.”

“Dariya,” her brother warned.

“What’s your name?” his sister said, ignoring him.

She cleared her throat. “Grace.”

“Well, Grace, you’ve actually brought the best present of the night.” She beamed up at her brother fondly. “Come say hello to everyone!”

Dariya led them into the enormous loft, with soaringly high ceilings and big windows overlooking St. Martin’s Lane. In the center of the room, a sharp, metallic chandelier held multicolored orbs for lights. Amid the vast space of the open-walled apartment, the furniture was a cross between 1960s retro and cartoonish avant-garde. Grace looked with dismay at backless chairs that were shaped like ripe strawberries.

“Look everyone,” Dariya announced happily. “Look who came! And he even brought a friend. Everyone, say hello to Grace!”

As a cheer of welcome went around the room, Grace felt happy in a way she hadn’t felt for months. She suddenly realized how much she’d missed having friends. She hadn’t kept up with her old friends since she’d started working for Alan, much less tried to make new ones. She’d given up the idea of friends or hobbies or anything but being Alan’s perfect on-call secretary.

But now…

The laughing, friendly group around her reminded Grace of bonfires on the beach when she’d been in school, before her father had died. Before she’d started working for Alan. Back when her life had been simple and easy. She ached remembering the fun she’d had, getting together with friends to eat, drink, talk and laugh.

The only difference being that these people were all impossibly rich and good-looking. And that the party was in an artistic, soaring two-floor loft that had once been the treasured possession of the Sheikh of Ramdah.

“I told you Maksim would come!” Dariya said triumphantly to a young man hovering nearby. “You owe me ten pounds!”

“Best bet I’ve ever lost. Hello, Maksim. Lovely to meet you, Grace,” he said with a grin. “Thanks for putting a smile on my girl’s face.”

“Your girl?” Dariya tossed her dark hair. “In your dreams, Simon!”

Maksim growled something incomprehensible to the aristocratic young man. He was obviously being protective, but it still seemed rude. Grace cleared her throat and turned to Dariya. “So it’s your twenty-fifth birthday?”

“Don’t remind me,” she groaned. She suddenly looked alarmed, putting her hands on her perfect face. “Do I look it?”

Grace laughed, then pointed at the hand-painted banner slung from the high, frescoed ceiling that read, Happy Twenty-fifth Birthday, Dariya! It was a charming homemade touch amid all the exorbitantly expensive, bright, sharp modernity.

“Oh. Right.” The girl followed her glance with a sigh. “A quarter of a century, and what have I done with my life?”

“I just turned twenty-five on Sunday,” Grace said sympathetically, “and I spent the day huddled in my flat in total denial.”

“No, really!” Dariya exclaimed. “Not even a party?”

“My boss gave me a gift card for a week’s worth of lunches at my favorite Japanese restaurant.”

“You had no party,” the girl repeated, shaking her head in horror. “You simply can’t turn twenty-five without a party! Maksim,” she turned to her brother, “tell her it’s ridiculous!”

“Ridiculous,” he agreed laconically.

“Lulu,” Dariya called over her shoulder, “get a party hat, will you? Right. So this party will be for both of us.” When Lulu brought the colorfully decorated hat, Dariya took the tiara off her head and stuck the hat in its place. “This will be for me.” She placed the diamond tiara on Grace’s blond head. “And that will be for you.”

“Oh no,” Grace gasped, feeling the weight of the diamonds on her head. She’d come without a gift, and now she was going to upstage Maksim’s sister, the famous socialite Princess Dariya, during her own birthday party? “That’s so generous of you, really, but I couldn’t—”

“To be honest, it suits you better.” She leaned forward and whispered mischievously in Grace’s ear, “It was a gift from my brother, anyway, and not at all my style!”

“Dariya, you promised to dance!” Simon called from the other side of the loft, where a four-person jazz band had started to play.

“In a mo!” She gave Grace one last hug. “Must go dance, I’m afraid. Otherwise he’ll pout, but I’m so glad you’re here. My brother looks happy. Make yourself at home!”

After she left, Grace touched the top of her head. Was it possible that they were actually real diamonds? The thought shocked her…frightened her. The wealth around her was already far beyond anything she’d ever seen, even working as Alan’s secretary. She felt like Alice who’d just stepped through the looking glass to a world where money really did grow on trees. And the tree branches were made of gold. And the berries were all diamonds, rubies and emeralds.

She felt Maksim come up behind her. Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed the crook of her neck. Her nipples instantly went hard, her breath shallow, her mind went dizzy. Then he whirled her around, handing her one of the crystal flutes from his other hand.

She took it with an awkward attempt at a smile. “My first champagne.”

“Cristal is not a poor way to start.”

She took a sip. The bubbles floated inside her, all soft and lovely and warm going down.

Maksim tilted her head upward with his hand, looking down at her from his towering height. His gaze was dark and intense. She suddenly knew he meant to kiss her again and she couldn’t think. Couldn’t even breathe.

Everything about him tempted her. Transfixed her. Made her long to really and truly be the woman who could mesmerize him in equal measure.

When would he kiss her?

Kiss her? What was she thinking? Clearly the tiara had constricted the blood flow to her brain!

Nervously she pulled away. She gulped down the rest of the expensive champagne as if chugging a can of soda, then pushed the tiara back crookedly on her head. “This thing isn’t real, is it? The tiara’s not real diamonds?”

He took a drink of champagne, his dark eyes resting on hers. “Set in platinum.”

She swallowed, thinking that she likely could pay off her mother’s whole mortgage with the sparkling tiara on her head. And maybe their neighbor’s house in the bargain!

“What if I break it?” She gave a weak laugh. “Do you have insurance?”

“Diamonds don’t break.” Finishing his champagne, he took both flutes and set them on the tray of a passing waiter. He took her in his arms. “The tiara suits you. You should keep it.” He slowly lowered his mouth toward hers. “You were born to wear jewels, Grace,” he whispered. “Born to be adored and pampered in a life of luxury.”

Someone turned out the side lights, leaving the loft lit only by the multicolored globes of the steel chandelier high above. Wide spotlights of red, green and blue shimmered in the semidarkness. In the wide space, she was aware of other people dancing, laughing, swaying to the music. She was in some strange fantastic world of stylish art, youth and limitless wealth.

But it wasn’t the luxury that lured her most.

It was Maksim.

“I won’t let you seduce me,” she whispered, trying to reassure herself. “I won’t.”

Every inch of her body, down to blood and bone, ached for him to kiss her. Her body arched toward his, taut with longing as her teal silk dress slid like a whisper against his tuxedo.

Pulling her against his hard body, too arrogant to care who might be watching, he lowered his mouth to hers.

He kissed her so deeply that their tongues intertwined, kissed her so hard that with one embrace he bruised and branded her forever as his own.

No! She sagged against his chest, her heart pounding wildly when he released her from the kiss. She couldn’t belong to Maksim. She couldn’t!

He straightened the diamond tiara, stroking the long hair that brushed her bare shoulders, making her shiver. He took two more flutes of champagne from a passing tray. Then, taking her hand, he led her to the dance floor.

For the next few hours they drank champagne and danced together, their bodies swaying to the music. Time moved strangely, sliding sideways so hours felt like minutes, and minutes felt like eternity. They danced to the soulful jazz music, to the poignant cry of the saxophone, until finally he pulled her gently to the furthest side of the loft.

There, alone in the shadows and away from the others, he pushed her against the wall. He gently bit at her neck, sucking on her ear. She gasped, breathless and desperate for more.

He finally kissed her mouth, his tongue stroking hers deeply, luring her. And suddenly she could barely remember Alan’s name, let alone why she should be loyal to him.