The Christmas Love-Child

“You can take as much time as you want.”

“Oh, thank you—”

“Because you’re fired.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “What?”

“You heard me. You have exactly three minutes to pack up your desk before I have you thrown out.”

“Is this a joke?”

“Yes, a joke. The secretary I trusted most just betrayed my secrets and caused me to lose the deal of my life.”

“What?” she gasped. “How?” She frantically tried to remember saying anything to anyone. Had she mentioned any details? The numbers, the price? She shook her head. “I never breathed a word to anyone!”

“Lord Hainesworth just pulled his funding and support,” he said furiously. “He found out this morning the engagement was fake. I’ve lost the deal and now I’ll likely lose my position as CEO. The board has been after me for the past year. I’ve lost everything. My only consolation is…so have you.”

Oh my God, what had happened?

“It’s got to be some ghastly mistake,” she said. “I would never betray you. Please, I need that bonus—”

“Bonus?” He barked a laugh. “You’re lucky I don’t have you thrown in jail for corporate espionage! You’ll never get hired again by anyone if I can help it. No job recommendation. No back pay.” His lip curled. “Now get the hell out before I call the police.”

“But I didn’t tell anyone about the fake engagement,” she cried. An icy trickle went down her back. “Except…”

“When you blackmailed me into giving you a raise, you didn’t mention that you were already working on your back for Maksim Rostov!”

She sucked in her breath.

“It wasn’t like that,” she gasped. “How did you find out about—”

“Francesca heard it from her friends.” Alan shook his head with a derisive snort. “Apparently he’s been flashing you all over town, his cheap little mistress. You’ve always been so desperate for money, Grace. Tell me. What did you enjoy more—selling him my secrets or selling him your body?”

She felt like he’d just slapped her across the face.

“I didn’t sell anything,” she whispered. “He wouldn’t do that to me.”

“No? You think Rostov wanted you for your intelligence?” he sneered. “For your beauty?” He looked her up and down. “You might have gotten new clothes, but you’re way out of your league. This was always a game between him and Francesca—always. He dumped her. She wanted him back. And now they’re together.”

“No!”

“If you really believe he would choose you over her, you’re even more stupid than I thought.” He turned his back on her. “I’m sending the security guard up here in two minutes.”

Numbly Grace gathered up a few items from her desk, putting a half-dead plant and two framed pictures of her family into a box. She left the building, then realized she’d forgotten her old coat. The security guard refused to let her back inside. Her only option would be to call Alan and ask him to bring it down to her.

Instead she left without it.

Outside, there was a biting chill in the gray afternoon sky. Clutching the cardboard box to her chest, she shivered in her thin cardigan and silk blouse.

Alan had to be wrong. Maksim wouldn’t have betrayed her!

She pictured his darkly handsome face. The way he’d teasingly fed her chow mein noodles at his penthouse last week. The way he’d tried to trick her into accepting expensive gifts. He’d made love to her. He’d made her laugh. He’d been her first.

He wouldn’t use her careless words in bed against her, the words she’d spoken when she’d been feeling insecure and had been seeking reassurance!

But she hadn’t told anyone else about the fake engagement. Who else could it be?

The answer was shockingly clear.

He’d intended all along to seduce and betray her.

No. A sob escaped her. She felt dizzy as she walked toward the nearest Tube entrance. Another wave of nausea went over her and her knees shook as she went down the escalator. As she sat on the half-empty train, she felt the curious and pitying stares of other passengers. She knew what they saw—a woman without a coat, red-eyed and holding a box with a plant and picture frames. Easy to follow that story. Sacked on Christmas Eve.

Just sacked—or also betrayed?

She found all her clothes stuffed in two suitcases sitting outside her basement flat in Knightsbridge. The locks had been changed. Alan had tossed her out.

Pulling her cell phone from her handbag, she dialed Maksim’s number.

No answer. After three rings, it clicked over to voice mail, to his terse voice saying, “Rostov. Leave a message.”

Another wave of dizziness washed over her. She started to leave a message. “Maksim, I’ve just heard something that can’t possibly be…”

Her phone went dead. She stared down at it in shock. It had been her business phone, paid for by her company. Alan must have had it disconnected.

Grace took a deep breath, trying to control the rising panic.

She placed her family photos in the suitcases, wrapped herself in her warmest, thickest, frumpiest sweater and left the box and plant in a nearby rubbish bin. She managed to get back on the Tube, dragging both suitcases behind her.

Could it be true?

She heard the echo of his voice. Husky. Deep. Slightly foreign. I have been accused of having no heart. I am telling you the truth, Grace. Take this as a warning.

Struggling with her luggage, she came out of the Tube stop near his hotel. He was likely not there but busy at his office, as he hadn’t answered his phone. She would wait for him in the penthouse and…

Then she saw he wasn’t busy in the office.

Maksim was walking arm-in-arm with Francesca.

He looked ruthlessly handsome in a gray suit and coat. The redhead at his side wore an ivory coat and six-inch heels. Grace watched in shock as they passed the smiling doorman and went inside his hotel.

She saw the look Francesca gave him over the shoulder. Flirtatious. Cozy. Affectionate.

And Grace felt her knees go weak beneath her.

Trembling, she stumbled out into the road to flag down a cab. She shoved the suitcases inside and collapsed in the back of the black cab. “Heathrow,” she gasped to the cabbie.

She could no longer deny the painful truth. She’d loved him, while he…

He’d taken her virginity to win back another woman.

Grace needed to get home. Her mother would take her in her arms and stroke her hair and tell her everything would be all right. Her mother knew about broken hearts.

Grace nearly cried with gratitude when a desk clerk at the airport managed to switch her seat to an earlier flight.

Crossing the Atlantic that endless day, crammed into a middle seat between two large, snoring men who both hogged the armrests and overlapped her space, Grace kept her eyes tightly closed. If she started crying, she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to stop.

She had more to worry about than a broken heart.

How would Grace save the house? How would she support her family? Now that her father’s life insurance was gone, her family was nearly destitute. And the economy was tough. How would Grace find employment when she’d just been fired for blurting out a billion-dollar secret in bed?

Grace clutched the thin airplane blanket to her chest. Funny to think she’d been so determined to not accept any gifts from Maksim. She’d returned the tiara and Leighton clothes. She’d refused his offer of the Maserati convertible and a new house and his many other suggestions of jewelry and clothes and luxury trips. She’d been so proud to stand on her own two feet. So proud to show Maksim she wanted him, not his money.

But money, it seemed, was all Maksim had ever wanted. Money. Revenge. Another billion or so dollars to pile on top of his fortune. She’d given him her virginity and her heart, but he’d only wanted money.

Money…and Francesca.

CHAPTER NINE

“SHE’S not here.”

Maksim looked up to see Alan Barrington staring down at him from the doorway of his town house. It was dark and gray, past twilight on Christmas Eve.

He’d been knocking on the door of Grace’s basement flat for the past five minutes without answer. He hadn’t expected to be so late. He’d promised he would take her to the airport for her late-night flight, but secretly he’d planned to talk her out of going home for Christmas. His private jet was waiting at a small nearby airport to whisk them away to the South of France.

But he was fifteen minutes late. Only fifteen minutes—that was something of a miracle, given all the surprises today! The merger was nearly a done deal. Thanks to Francesca, it had fallen into his lap, and he’d have been a fool to refuse. But he’d left the meeting halfway through. His people could mop up the details.

He wanted Grace.

He’d called her as soon as he got out of the meeting but hadn’t been able to reach her. “Where is she?”

Barrington glared at him. “Why would I tell you?”

“Her phone was disconnected. Any idea why?”

The man folded his arms. “The phone went with her job, which she lost this afternoon.”

“After all her loyalty, you fired her so quickly?”

“Loyalty? Some loyalty. Isn’t it enough you already took one woman from me? Now you want the other one?” Barrington turned his lips into a sneer. “I’m not her pimp.”