He gave her a sardonic smile, all emotion gone from his eyes. “And how well you repaid me.”
“I made a horrible mistake.” She was humiliated by the whimper in her voice, but she couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not when she’d finally realized he was truly the man she’d always wanted. “Please, Maksim…”
“Stop begging,” he said harshly. “You are a princess. Begging is beneath you.”
“I can’t lose you.” She felt a sharp pain in her heart. “But I already have, haven’t I?” she whispered. “You want to be with her.”
“Who?”
“Do I have to say her name?”
His jaw clenched as he exhaled with a flare of his nostrils. “I am sick of having to defend my actions where Francesca is concerned. You are my wife. You are pregnant with my child. There will be no other woman in my life. There can’t be. How clear do I have to make it?”
“But if there were no baby?” she said, her heart in her throat. “Would you still have married me?”
“That is a pointless question. There is a baby. The decision has been made. Love doesn’t matter.”
She closed her eyes to block out the pain. “You’re wrong,” she whispered. “It’s all that matters.”
Maksim had married Grace out of honor. The honor she’d bitingly, insultingly accused him of never having. And for the sake of honor, he was determined to stand by her side.
But if Grace hadn’t been pregnant, he would have gone to Francesca like a shot. His heart was with her. She was beautiful and wealthy and a perfect match for Maksim in every way.
“I will always protect you both,” he said in a low voice. “Don’t ask for more than I can give.”
He would protect her with money and his name. Nothing more.
Grace’s own parents had had such a blissful marriage. She thought of how they’d laughed together, teased each other. The way her father had playfully wrapped his arms around her mother’s waist while she cooked in the kitchen. Her parents’ love had shone through everything, especially their children. Grace and her brothers had shared such a happy childhood beneath the umbrella of their parents’ love.
She suddenly realized it had never been their house that had made them a family. The house hadn’t made them secure and warm. It had been her parents’ love. Their mutual adoration that had endured long after her father had died.
The lump in her throat sharpened.
What kind of home life would Grace’s loveless marriage create for their baby?
How would their son or daughter feel, raised by a father who’d been forced to give up his own happiness because of the child’s very existence?
Grace suddenly felt like crying.
Maksim held out his arm stiffly. “Come. Our guests are waiting.”
Her heart felt shattered in her chest as he escorted her down the limestone Art Deco stairs.
In the wide marble foyer, beneath the soaring crystal chandelier, she saw a swirl of faces. Hundreds of people applauded for her as she was introduced as Her Highness Princess Grace Rostova. Gorgeous women in diamonds and Maksim’s billionaire friends cheered in both English and Russian, holding up their champagne flutes in a toast to the new princess.
Grace got a glimpse of herself in the enormous gilded mirror across the foyer. She truly looked like a princess. The tiara sparkled in her hair. The champagne-colored gown moved against her like a whisper. This time, even her shoes were perfect, the twenty-first-century version of glass slippers. Beautiful, rather uncomfortable and very, very expensive.
But she would have done anything to go back in time to when she was just a plain, poor secretary, happy in Maksim’s arms and bed. Back to when they’d actually had a chance at happiness.
Back to when he’d loved her. He’d never said the words then, but he’d made her feel them.
Grace saw Maksim’s sister waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs. Dariya glowed as she hugged them both. “I’m so glad you’re my sister,” she whispered to Grace. “Not just my sister…my friend. And you’re going to make me an aunt!”
“Thank you.” Blinking back tears, Grace did her best to smile. “Your friendship means so much…”
She froze when she saw Lady Francesca Danvers over Dariya’s shoulder.
She felt her husband stiffen beside her. She glanced at him. His face had closed down, his mouth a grim line, as he looked straight at Francesca.
“Excuse me,” he said shortly.
Grace watched as he crossed through the crowd, grabbed the redhead’s wrist and dragged her toward his study. His expression looked furious as he closed the door behind him.
And staring at the closed door, everything suddenly became clear for Grace.
He wasn’t having an affair with Francesca. She now knew that to her core. He’d promised fidelity to Grace and he would keep to that vow. He was a man of honor.
He hadn’t invited her here. He was determined to remain faithful to the wife he’d never wanted. Family and honor meant everything to Maksim. He would remain faithful to Grace.
But did she want him to?
After so many years of being Alan’s doormat, desperate for any sign of tenderness, did she really want to be tied forever to a man who didn’t love her?
And worse: did she want to raise their child that way?
Could she raise her baby to be happy in this palace of ice? Could she risk her child’s bright, joyful new spirit in this frozen place, knowing he’d always be bewildered by his parents’ cold misery and might eventually blame himself?
Grace may have sacrificed herself for her baby’s sake, but she couldn’t allow the life and warmth to be sapped out of her newborn’s soul. She couldn’t allow her precious baby to grow up suffocated in an endless winter of unspoken blame.
“What’s she doing here?” Dariya said sourly. “Can’t the woman take a hint?”
“I…I’m not feeling very well,” Grace said, rubbing her forehead. “Will you please make my excuses and thank everyone for coming?”
“Of course, absolutely.” Dariya peered at her in worry. “You do look pale. I’ll go get my brother—”
“No! Don’t tell him anything. I want to be alone.” She ran upstairs with a hard lump in her throat.
Slamming her bedroom door behind her, she collapsed on her bed.
Love made a family.
She loved their baby. She loved Maksim.
But Maksim loved Francesca.
Grace’s eyes fell on her battered old suitcase in the massive walk-in closet. It had taken her to London, back to California, to Moscow. It could take her back home.
“If you love him, let him go,” Francesca had said.
Grace loved Maksim. She loved her baby. She loved them both so much and there was only one way to save them. One way to make sure they were both safe and happy. One way to set them both free.
Rising from the bed, she picked up her suitcase.
“How dare you show up here?” Maksim said furiously as he closed the study door behind them. “I expressly told you in London—we’re through. We were done two and a half months ago when you gave me your little ultimatum.”
Francesca looked up at him with her perfectly lined green eyes. “But I made up for that, darling, when I got the merger back for you!”
“You only gave back something that should always have been mine.”
A tremulous smile traced her red mouth. “I rectified a strategic misfire. You won this round.”
He stared at her coldly. He expected at any moment, tears would appear—her carefully manufactured tears that never smudged her eye makeup. She was a master at manipulation.
Unlike Grace. Grace who’d looked so vulnerable just moments before they came down the stairway. She’d truly looked like a princess.
“I love you,” she’d said. “Can you ever love me?”
His reply to her had been harsh.
Maksim clenched his hands, remembering the stricken look on her face. Grace had no defenses. It had been coldhearted and cruel of him. But she’d kept pushing him for what he wouldn’t, couldn’t give her…
“Come back with me to London,” Francesca said. “It’s time.”
“Perhaps you haven’t noticed,” he replied acidly, “but I have a wife.”
Emotion turned her thin face pale beneath the rouge. “I never should have given you an ultimatum. But how long do you intend to punish me for my mistake? Let the gold digger go.”
“What did you call her?” he said dangerously.
She threw him a scornful glance. “Oh, please. A secretary? She’s obviously a gold digger. I just offered her a blank check to leave you, but she refused. She knows she can cash in for more after the little brat is born!”
He clenched his fists. “You tried to buy her off?”
She sniffed. “I was trying to do you a favor, darling. You can’t actually want to be married to her. She’s not remotely your type!”
His type?
Pictures of Grace went through his mind. Her openness. Her purity. Her laughter and her tears. The way her thoughts were always revealed on her face. Her care and concern for the people around her. Her soft heart.
Gold digger? She’d made it clear from the beginning that she didn’t want Maksim’s money. He’d tried to spoil her in London, but she’d made it impossible. Over and over again, she’d refused his offers of gifts for clothes, jewels, cars, houses.