Back in the main room, the fire crackled. Untying her braid to shake her hair free, she went to the closet and dug to the back, where she found a large box.
It was time to reclaim Christmas.
Reaching into her family’s old box of treasures, Holly pulled out her grandmother’s old quilt, the chipped ceramic Santa cookie jar, a garland of colorful felt stars and the Christmas recipe book with her mother’s faded handwriting. Vintage ornaments from her childhood. She touched the hand-knitted stockings, and her heart lifted to her throat.
She decorated the small main room, putting the ornaments on the wooden mantel above the fire, and then stepped back to look. That would have to do, at least until she got a tree at the Christmas market. A lump rose in her throat. She’d make sure Freddie had a wonderful Christmas—
There was a hard knock at the door, making her jump. Then she shook her head, smiling. Who was it? Elke with freshly baked gingerbread? Horst, offering to shovel snow? Brushing off some errant Christmas glitter from her black leggings, Holly opened the door.
And her smile dropped.
“Holly.” Stavros’s coldly handsome face glowered down at her. His voice was low, barely more than a growl.
Her lips parted in a silent gasp.
“Is it true?” he demanded. Moving closer, he narrowed his eyes, black as night. His jawline was dark with five-o’clock shadow, and his powerful form filled the door, all broad shoulders and muscle. Behind him, parked on the edge of the snowy road, she saw his driver waiting inside a black luxury SUV that looked totally out of place in this rural Swiss valley.
Terror went through her. Her baby. He’d come for her baby! Instinctively she started to close the door in his face. “I don’t want to see you—”
“Too bad.” Reaching out a powerful arm, he blocked the door, and pushed his way inside.
Shivering with sickening fear, she stepped back as he closed the door behind him. He calmly shook the snowflakes from his Italian cashmere coat.
He was even more handsome than she remembered. Even more dangerous.
“I heard a rumor.” Stavros looked slowly around the cabin, with its roaring fireplace and homemade Christmas decorations. Pulling off his black leather gloves, he tucked them into his pockets and turned to her with narrowed eyes. His voice was colder than the frigid winter air outside. “Is it true?”
&n
bsp; “Is what true?” she whispered, with a sinking heart.
Stavros’s jaw was tight as he looked right through her. “Did you have my baby, Holly?”
Her blood went cold. Teeth chattering, she stared at him. The man who’d once seduced her, who’d wooed her with words and languorous kisses, was now looking at her with hatred in his eyes.
She tried to laugh. “Where did you hear that?”
“You’re a terrible liar,” he said softly. “Is it possible you’ve lied to me for nearly a year?”
Her heart lifted to her throat. It was all she could do not to turn and rush into the bedroom, to grab their sleeping baby and try to run before it was too late.
But it was already too late. She’d never outrun Stavros. Especially with his driver outside. There was no escape.
Her mouth went dry as she tried to think of a lie he might believe. Something, anything. She could say Freddie was another man’s son. Stavros knew she’d been a virgin in his bed, but maybe she’d slept with someone else right afterward. A hookup after Christmas! A drunken one-night stand on New Year’s Eve! Anything!
But as her eyes met Stavros’s, she couldn’t force any lie from her trembling lips.
“Who told you?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Stavros staggered back, his dark eyes wide. For a split second, he did not move.
Then he took a deep breath. Reaching out, he cupped her cheek. She felt the rough warmth of his palm against her skin. His touch was tender, but his expression was cruel.
“Who told me? Oliver. Who heard it from your sister.” He said softly, “He enjoyed telling me. He’s never been able to make me feel like a fool before.” Blinding sunlight from the window, amplified by the snow, suddenly bathed the hard edges of his cheekbones and jawline in golden light. “But he’s not to blame. You are.”
Shivering, she licked her lips. “I...”
“You promised to tell me if there was a pregnancy.” His dark eyes were aflame with cold fury. “You’re a liar, Holly. A filthy, despicable liar.”