Ainslie …’ He followed her, stood at the door to the guest room—utterly gorgeous, still in the suit he had worn to the funeral, his tie in his pocket, as it had been when first they’d met. ‘I am sorry for before. Please, it is Christmas Eve. My sister was—’ His throat tightened on words he couldn’t say. Only she had no reserves left, no well to dip the bucket in and come to the surface smiling. She just stood there drenched in bitterness as, instead of pleading his case, he spoke about practicalities. ‘What about Enid? She will know we are sleeping apart.’
‘Couples fight,’ Ainslie said. She had never once used her body as a tease, and even by undressing in front of him she wasn’t tonight. She was just tired to the marrow, and if he wasn’t going to leave, then he could stand there and watch her sleep. Slipping off her black stockings and pulling on the soft white silk pyjama shorts that she’d chosen for herself, Ainslie wriggled out of her skirt as he stood there. But she did turn away as she unhooked her bra and slipped the top over her bosom before turning around to face him. ‘Even real couples fight.’
‘At Christmas?’ Elijah attempted, but it didn’t move her. She didn’t want sex that was an apology—she wanted the real thing.
‘Especially at Christmas,’ Ainslie retorted, standing rigid.
‘You’re very good at telling people how it should be,’ Elijah said. ‘Very good at telling people how to get there—the trouble is you give them the compass and take the map.’
‘What?’
‘I needed you at the funeral today.’
‘You ignored me.’
‘That didn’t mean I wasn’t glad you were there.’
‘What you said after—’
‘Was wrong,’ Elijah finished for her. ‘Unforgivable, it would seem. I was angry—angry that I had listened to you, that I had believed maybe things could be different—and then, when I was proved right, I was angry again when you contradicted me in front of the social worker …’ Their disappointment in each other simmered in the long silence. ‘If I lose you, I lose Guido too.’ He gave a tired shrug. ‘It would seem I already have.’
He left her then—left her with just the scent of him and a final glimpse of his fatigued face.
Slipping into the cool bed and staring at the ceiling, Ainslie knew that if it was about winning a fight then seemingly she just had.
And if it was about making a point then Ainslie had done very well for herself.
But as she lay in an empty bed on Christmas Eve, twitching with insomnia, over and over his face whirred into her vision. Seeing the grooves of exhaustion, close-up witness to the agony he endured, she relived the dark day, felt the deep chasm of his grief, and knew, knew that she hadn’t won a thing.
That tonight Elijah lay alone with his thoughts.
And that surely she’d let him down when he had needed her most.
CHAPTER TEN
HE KNEW!
Despite his tender age, despite the horrors of the previous days, somehow Guido knew today was special. For the first time he slept through the night. His eager squeals snapped Ainslie awake at six a.m., and as she headed to his room she collided with a very tousled Elijah, who stood in nothing more than a pair of black hipster trunks that left very little to the imagination. Ainslie flushed as she apologised to his naked chest. Actually, they left rather a lot to her imagination.
‘Buon Natale.’ His face bruised with lack of sleep, grumbling and surly, still Elijah set the tone and called a rapid truce, his mouth finding hers for a brief second, his hand pulling her in at the waist. ‘Merry Christmas, Ainslie.’
The central heating must surely have been left on high overnight, Ainslie concluded, because this vast London house in the middle of an English winter was positively stifling. Her lips stung from his brief kiss, the taste of him lingering as Elijah scooped up Guido, who was holding the teddy she’d poked into his stocking, and carried him downstairs. Ainslie followed behind, smiling at the baby, but looking at his uncle’s back. The keyboard of his ribcage had her jaw clenched. She wanted to reach out, to stroke the keys, wanted to play him like a piano. Wanted not to notice the luscious swell of his quads as he squatted down and chatted to Guido, wanted not to notice the heavenly flat planes of his abdomen as he stood up, or the swirl of hair around his mahogany nipples. But it was either that or look at his face—which was something she was having terrible trouble doing this morning.
‘Everything okay?’ Elijah frowned as she stared somewhere past his shoulder and nodded.
‘Everything’s fine,’ Ainslie croaked, as Enid emerged from the kitchen, a pinny tied around her vast purple dressing gown and wearing a pair of reindeer ears and flashing Santa earrings. Ainslie could have kissed her for the effort she had gone to—so she did.
‘Merry Christmas!’ Enid beamed, not remotely fazed by Elijah’s lack of attire as he came over and kissed her too.
‘Buon Natale!’ Elijah responded.
There was a smile fixed on Ainslie’s face as Enid assumed the role of camera person, taking instructions from Elijah who had, in two seconds flat, worked out how his sister’s digital camcorder operated. After a couple of goes Enid grasped it too, and she stood filming as Elijah headed over to the mountain of presents. Only somehow, as Elijah sat with his nephew, as he helped him open each gift in turn, Ainslie realised that her smile was there because it was. Watching Guido’s delighted reaction, feeling the love and thought his mother had put into each and every loving gift, she was determined not to sit miserable—because this little slice of time Enid was capturing for Guido still had his parents’ presence.
‘Merry Christmas, Enid!’ Elijah held out a parcel. ‘You can stop filming now.’
‘For me?’
Embarrassed, delighted, abashed, Enid opened her present—a vast box of luxury cosmetics, and on the top a silver envelope which she carefully opened.
‘A spa retreat? My goodness!’
‘A weekend away for you and a friend! To take at your leisure …’ Elijah waved away her stammering thanks. ‘We thought you might need some time to unwind after putting up with us.’ He shot Ainslie a look that emphasised the we.
‘And just another little thing …’ Ainslie said, retrieving Enid’s gift and quickly tearing off the label that was signed from her alone, trying to remember that, for the housekeeper’s benefit at least, they really were a couple.
Which meant she’d had to buy Elijah a gift, of course.
And somehow it had seemed important at the time that she didn’t charge it to his credit card. It had been impossibly hard on her budget to buy for a billionaire who could have whatever his heart desired, and suddenly the stupid digital picture frame she’d bought for him seemed woefully inadequate as Elijah pulled it out of the gold wrapping paper. Biting on her bottom lip as he turned his present over, she saw an expression she couldn’t read appear on his face for just a moment before he looked her in the eye.
‘Thank you.’
And surely he was cross. Surely if she really was his fiancée, if she really were allowed to love him, she should have shown it better. This beautiful, expensive man should be pulling back meticulously giftwrapped scented paper, crowing in delight over Ferragamo wallets or Tiffany cufflinks, quirky little gifts that made him smile.
‘There wasn’t much time …’ Inexplicably tears were pricking her eyes. ‘What with Guido and everything …’ Fleeing to the kitchen was easier than breaking down in front of them. Her lips clamped together as she tried to hold it in, sniffing back tears. She opened the fridge and stood, hoping the cool air would take the heat out of her face.
‘Why did you rush off?’
‘I’m just getting some milk for Guido.’ She was still at the fridge, with her eyes screwed closed now, desperately trying to keep her voice sounding normal.
‘Enid can get that!’ Elijah pointed out. ‘You didn’t wait for your present.’
His hand was on her shoulder, turning her around to face him and her eyes blurred more as th
ey came to rest on the box he was holding, the tears she’d been holding back spilling out when she opened it.
A ruby, surrounded by diamonds, dangled beautifully on a silver-coloured chain.
Silver-coloured because even to Ainslie’s untrained eye this wasn’t costume jewellery. No manufactured stone could ever be as deep and as blood-red and as mesmerising as this one, and only real diamonds could ever sparkle like these.
‘It’s too much …’ She choked out the words, because it was too much. This was a gift befitting this man’s real fiancée—not a quick fill-in. ‘I should have spent more …’ Her mind was darting, grabbing onto anything that flitted into it rather than facing the truth.
She wanted it to be real.
Wanted the hands that were now holding the pendant, the hands that were now going under her hair, the hands that had made love to her, to be hands she could hold … always.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Your present …’
‘I like it.’ She wasn’t sure if he was talking about her present or the jewel that, when he released the chain, slipped cool and heavy between her breasts. They both stared down, his hands still behind her hair, warm fingers on the back of her neck. Her nipples liked it too—popping out like two disloyal bookends each side of the ruby.
Disloyal because she didn’t want him to know how much she wanted him.
But she did.
‘It’s too much,’ Ainslie choked again. But Elijah was having none of it.
‘You like nice things,’ he teased. ‘And we don’t want you stealing.’
If it was a joke it wasn’t funny. ‘You know I didn’t steal.’
‘I did know—remember?’
He had known, and she did remember.
‘Don’t I get a kiss?’
‘Why …?’ Ainslie’s voice was still laced with hurt. ‘Isn’t it just another perk of the job?’
Oh, God, why, instead of snapping back, did he have to smile at her anger? Why, instead of coming up with some crushing reply, did he kiss her angry face, kiss each salty tear and then her eyelashes?
‘I say thoughtless things at times,’ he whispered, absolutely echoing her thoughts. ‘But then at other times …’
She didn’t want to kiss him, but she did. As he traced her eyes, her cheeks, as his fingers traced her throat, she wanted him so badly on her mouth. Like eating hot porridge from the outside in, Ainslie thought faintly, as her mouth twitched with desire. Working through the warm bits when you really wanted the hot bit in the middle, with the thick golden honey on the top.
‘No …’ Her mouth said what her body couldn’t.
‘Why not?’ He breathed the words into the shell of her ear, his tongue teasing the lobe. Both of his hands were behind her now, resting on the fridge, their lips their only contact, and for a crazy second she wanted to climb into the fridge behind her and cool her flaming body down. Either that or press it against him, grab his face in her hands and kiss him so hard he’d be sorry—sorry for teasing, sorry for playing, sorry for hurting her.
‘We mustn’t embarrass Enid!’ It was an emergency response—albeit pathetic, Ainslie realized—but somehow appropriate as Enid herself came in, and Elijah broke contact with a lazy smile, his hands still pinning her.
‘I don’t get embarrassed!’ Enid boomed.
But Ainslie did. Especially when Enid’s eyes fell on the necklace and she put on her glasses to take a closer look. Elijah made a funny sucking noise as he chewed on his bottom lip, suppressing a smile as every eye in the room focussed on Ainslie’s still rather flushed décolletage. Her wretched nipples were still standing to beastly attention as Enid took her time.
‘Just lovely!’ Enid announced. ‘Certainly not fake!’
‘Absolutely not,’ Elijah agreed solemnly, then added, with a wink for Ainslie’s benefit, ‘You can always tell.’
Then there were the phone calls.
To her parents, her brothers, her sister. Ainslie felt awfully decadent, ringing Australia on the mobile phone he’d bought her—but, as Elijah had pointed out on several occasions, he’d rather she didn’t use the home phone.
‘You’re all right, though, darling?’ Ainslie could hear the knot of worry in her mother’s voice.
‘I’m fine,’ Ainslie assured. ‘I’ve got a really good job.’
‘But you said that about the last one,’ her mother pointed out. ‘Look, if you need money, or things aren’t working out, we’d want you to tell us.’
‘And I would.’ Ainslie lied. How could she not? They were in Australia, for goodness’ sake—literally on the other side of the world. She was hardly going to ring them with every little drama. ‘But there isn’t anything to tell. Things just didn’t work out with Angus and Gemma, and this other job came up at the perfect time.’
She gave a tiny grimace to Elijah, but he was on a call of his own, talking in Italian, his rich deep voice making it difficult for Ainslie to concentrate on what was being said. Just as she went to move to another room Elijah had the same idea, moving into the study and closing the door behind him.
‘And they’re nice?’ her mother checked. ‘This new couple you’re working for?’
It was just so, so much easier not to correct her. Just so much easier to say yes.
Clearly Elijah had a fair amount of Buon Natales to get through, because he stayed in the study for ages. But somehow, somehow, it was still a magical Christmas—somehow a little miracle did occur. Because despite the grief and despair of before, everyone did their best to make it happy. Everyone in the house gave everything they could to make it a special Christmas for a very special little boy. Elijah, when he finally emerged from his calls, was loose and funny for once, stubbornly refusing to get dressed till long after breakfast, which consisted of strong coffee and thick wedges of panettone that melted on Ainslie’s tongue as she bit into the candied orange and lemon zest. Christmas carols sang out from the television as Enid set to preparing Christmas dinner, and Elijah played with his new toy, taking out the memory stick from his sister’s camera and placing it into the digital frame. Guido was delighted as images of himself and his parents whirred again and again before his eyes.
‘Homesick?’ Elijah caught her in a pensive moment as she stared out over her wine glass.
Coming down from the bedroom, showered and scented with Enid’s gift of bath oils, and dressed up for Christmas dinner, she had caught her breath as she’d seen the table Enid had laid. The huge dining room had shrunk somehow with love. Holly and crackers and candles and vast bowls of satsumas decorated and scented the table, and a turkey that would surely feed them till next Christmas proudly took centre stage. It had hit her then—hit her as she’d sat down and seen Elijah, all clean and shaved and dressed up for dinner too, in an immaculate fitted white shirt over dress trousers, not smiling a brave smile, but actually managing to have fun. And when Tony had joined them, and they’d pulled crackers, and this great brute of a man had sat with a party hat on as they had all laughed at silly jokes, and Guido’s smiling face had been replaced with utter disgust as he’d spat out his Brussels sprouts. It had hit her that somehow they’d made it work. This hastily arranged patchwork job of a family had somehow got it right—had somehow managed to find Christmas.
‘Yes.’ She answered his question honestly—because she was homesick.
Not at this moment for Australia, though, and not at this moment for her family.
Instead she was homesick for the future—for the nostalgia that would surely hit her whenever she looked back and remembered this day.
‘We’ll be back about seven, then!’ Enid buttoned up Guido’s coat as Tony took the nappy bag and stroller to the car. ‘In time for Guido’s bedtime.’
‘Thank you for this!’ Elijah thanked her, then bent to kiss his nephew. ‘Be good for Enid,’ he warned.
‘He won’t be!’ Ainslie giggled as the door closed.
‘I didn’t want her here,’ Elijah admitted
, ‘but she’s actually been wonderful.’
‘She has,’ Ainslie agreed, suddenly shy and awkward now that they were alone, and wondering what to say next. Only she didn’t have to—it was Elijah who broke the rather awkward silence as they sat down by the fire.
‘I’m sorry.’ And it wasn’t thinly veiled, or aimed in her general direction, it was absolutely directed at her, and he stared right into her eyes. For the first time since the funeral, since his horrible, horrible words, they were properly alone. ‘I was bitter and sad, angry and …’ He struggled for a moment to find the word. ‘Confuso?’ he offered.
‘Confused?’ Ainslie suggested.
‘It is not a word I normally use …’ He pushed out a breath. ‘Normally I know exactly what to do—what I am doing, what needs to be done. Confused is not me. I took it out on you—and for that I am sorry.’
‘You’ll work it out,’ Ainslie said. ‘You’re doing so well with Guido and …’
‘It is not just Guido I am confused about.’
Sapphire eyes held hers.
‘Then what?’
‘Us.’ He said it so simply it was Ainslie who was confused now. ‘This was not what I was expecting.’
Which made sense—it was the only thing in this crazy life they had created that did make sense. Except for his kiss.
A kiss that had been needed last night, a kiss that had been waiting in the wings the whole morning. When finally their lips met she sobbed with longing, trembled at the feel of his mouth as it came home to hers. A kiss that made sense because to deny it would be illogical. To not move her mouth with his, to not capture his tongue as it parted her lips would be denial to the nth degree.
White cashmere stroked her face as he slid her jumper over her head and the cool of late afternoon greeted her flesh—despite the heating, despite the fire. But she only felt it for a trice. Elijah, kneeling on the floor now, pulled her into the warm embrace of his arms as he kissed her again. His expert hands dealt with her bra and his expert lips moved where his eyes had been since before breakfast. His black hair stroked her chest as his mouth worked on, his hand fiddling with the zipper of her skirt, still suckling as he guided her bottom, making light work of her skirt and panties till she was naked except for her shoes.
Celebration: Italian Boss, Ruthless RevengeOne Magical ChristmasHired: The Italian’s Convenient Mistress Page 38