The Italian Billionaire’s Christmas Bride

by Mollie Mathews

  Before she could say anything more he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers, smothering her explanations in a smouldering kiss.

  He felt her trembling heart beat against his as her body folded into his. She lifted her arms and locked them around his neck as he kissed her again and again under the sparkling stars.

  As they pulled apart she was smiling and he was smiling too. He took her hand in his and pressing her fingers to his lips kissed them, and reached into his pocket. He withdrew a chain of tiny flowers he’d made into a ring, realizing with a start that never before, with no other woman, had he made such a romantic gesture.

  'Isabella Riley, he said, bending on his knee, 'will you do me the honour of becoming my queen.'

  She nodded, tears streaking her face, as at last she spoke the words he never thought she’d say. 'I will. I do. Yes! Yes! Yes!'

  Nothing existed but the two of them. He slipped the ring onto her finger, oblivious to the people who had gathered around them.

  'We prayed for you,' Kerela whispered stepping forth and wrapping fragrant wreaths around their necks.

  'Thank you,' Max said, as Tukana wrapped them both in a large Masi cloth. In a frenzied climax of passion Max kissed her again, this time his tongue probing deep inside her mouth, which tasted not of Kava but a sweet blend of passionfruit mango and like a bee to honey he wanted to drink her nectar all night long.

  Their lips still locked, their bodies bound by the Masi cloth, they began to walk through the long grass towards the beach and while the walking kiss did take some skill it felt amazing. How had this one crazy, whacky creative, so-not like his other conquests stolen his heart so. He was acting completely out of type – like the lovesick teenager he’d never been.

  'Passion down under,' he laughed, gently slipping his lips from hers.

  'Yes, you get the full package—with a complimentary upgrade. But not until our wedding night,' she laughed. 'Seriously… I thought …'

  'Don’t think.' Max said. 'You taught me that. Just be in the moment. Go with the flow.'

  '… I taught you that?'

  'Feelings…'

  'Feelings?'

  'Like these,' he lifted her hand to his chest, her tentative fingers hesitating from resting upon his heart. ‘You, Isabella Balforni, have given me back my childhood.'

  Happiness exploded inside her like fireworks, incandescent, as brightly coloured as her future.

  And then the rain fell in a soft misty veil. And she was standing in a field of grass with the man she loved. Just as she had always dreamed.

  *

  That night as they lay together in the marshmallow bed Issy let her hands curl over Max’s bare shoulders as his mouth slid to her neck, softly biting and suckling her sensitive skin. Though she could feel the force of his desire, he let her set the pace this time, this more important time.

  Her breath was unsteady as her fingers traced the thin vein of scar tissue snaking across his heart. There was raw, vulnerable power there, she’d wanted to feel it, but had been afraid to. Issy could hardly believe she was touching the man who would soon be her husband.

  A gentle tropical rain danced on the thatched straw.

  Max lay motionless smiling, but his skin quivered with longing. He gazed at her with a love so consuming the bed suddenly seemed too large, the night too short, the days too few.

  'Make love to me, Max.'

  The words were barely formed on her lips when he drew her toward him and kissed her again. This time as his mouth touched hers he kissed her with such feeling, such warmth, such tenderness that all her inhibitions disappeared. She folded into the softness of his lips, no longer holding back her heart.

  Carefully, as though afraid to make the wrong move and ruin it for them both, he slid his hands under her cotton nightshirt, up her belly, then cupped her breasts in slow, agonisingly aching movements. His sultry masculine scent and his power was an aphrodisiac she no longer wanted to resist. She writhed in the sheets, bursting with need, as commanding, sensual fingers encircled her nipples—following the rise of them as they hardened with urgent desire.

  She moaned, long and low—no longer worried about keeping the unmistakably sexual sound inside. A small critical voice tried to tell her she should be silent. A much stronger voice, the one he’d woken with that first kiss, insisted that with this one man she was free to expose her deepest feelings.

  He hesitated, gazing deep into her eyes. 'Mia tentatrice,' he whispered. If there was a sexier sound in the world she’d never heard it. Sensing that her longing met his ten-fold Max pulled her nightshirt over her head with quick powerful tugs. The cotton dragged across her aching breasts, over her lips, over her eyes. Her fingers clutched the soft, fine cotton of the bed linen, winding around the sheets, as he kissed her breasts.

  Her hands wrapped around his broad neck, then slid down his back, reveling in the feel of the sculpted muscles bunching under her touch.

  She was no longer a rock. She was an island, and he was the sea pummeling against her in rhythmic, explosive movements as his strong, warm chest pressed against her breasts. He slid down and kissed her belly, her hips—stopping only when his lips rested in the shallow valley between her womanhood and the inside of her legs, his tongue barely tasting the underside of that one curve. His mouth stayed there, tempting, taunting her with what it might do next.

  Warmth and longing flooded her being, delight increasing the sexual need thumping through her.

  She suddenly found herself breathing fast. 'Make love with me, Massimiliano.'

  He drew away, only far enough so that they could see each other. His eyes searched her, confirming what they knew. This was what they both wanted. What they both needed. What they both desired. This was a night they would always remember. A night they would never forget, the first night of many nights for the rest of their lives.

  His lips curved. Their hearts opened. Then his hands were framing her face, and he was kissing her so gently every cell in her body felt drugged. She shuddered against him. For the first time in her life she felt beautiful and adored.

  Something danced inside her, whispering that she was as beautiful as he was, as powerful. She arched her back and then surrendered herself to his talented hands, as he slid his mouth from her lips.

  His sensitive fingers spread her legs teasingly slowly, causing every millimeter of skin he touched to scorch from each spark that lit her nerve endings.

  His powerful hands felt so strong, so firm, yet his fingers rubbed her with the delicacy of a jeweler polishing a rare gem.

  'Te amo,' he murmured. He lifted her against him with a display of superior strength, attuned to her every response, nurturing it, heightening it.

  'I love you too,' she said huskily. Her breathing was ragged as at last he gave her what she ached for. His rhythmic thrusts, sensual and possessive, washed her body with vivid, explosive colors, waking her up after years of being asleep to her own sensuality. He plunged into her, unleashing the force of his passion. A deep groan rolled through her like a quake of thunder. She felt him explode, and the power sang through her, losing her in a sensation too deep, too vital, too impossible to define, too magical to comprehend.

  More than passion. More than desire. More than love.

  The love hearts fluttered in the breeze as they lay beneath pink silk netting. ’It was love at first sight. A love that would last a lifetime. I knew it the moment I saw you rescuing the snake. Only I didn’t trust it. I couldn’t believe it. The feeling was so foreign, unknown, unexpected—beyond my wildest hopes.’ Issy snuggled into his comforting arms.

  ‘I’d almost given up on love, and then there you came like a Templar Knight to the rescue. Before I met you I’d been lost, incomplete—only I didn’t know it. In one instant you took possession of my heart,' she lay her head upon his pounding heart. 'I know it now. I’ve loved you forever, we just had to meet.'

  'It was the same for me, my darling. Te amo,' he said, 'I love you.'

>   She felt tears starting to fall as she stared into his eyes. The depth of emotion she saw, she was certain was mirrored in her own.

  Issy felt like she could fly, and she knew with joyous certainty that they both knew what they felt would last for life.

  *

  'Married by Christmas? But that’s tomorrow! I know I said to go for it, but isn’t that a bit quick?' Nancy blurted down the phone.

  ‘Sometimes you just know, Nancy. You just really know,’ Issy said, dragging great gulps of air. ‘I know it sounds crazy. I can’t believe it myself.’

  ‘Yes, but—oh, Issy. I know I encouraged you. But what if you get hurt again? What if it’s all my fault?’

  'I want to live fearlessly, Nancy. I’d rather take another chance on love than spend a lifetime of regret. Besides, I wasted five of my best childbearing years waiting for James to get his act together, then a week out from our wedding day. Bam. Jilted. I know better than anyone that that love doesn’t come with guarantees. But this time—this time I just know. Massimilliano Balforni is a promise keeper.'

  'Are you happy?'

  'Madly.'

  'Then I’m happy for you. Even if I’m pissed off I don’t get to be bridesmaid.'

  'Well, here’s the thing, you still do.’

  'What? You mean? Really?'

  'Yes!' Issy giggled, hearing the thrill of excitement in her best friends voice. 'Of course I wouldn’t get married without you. I mean, you’re practically my sister! So we’re getting married twice. We’re tying the knot here in Fiji tomorrow, Christmas Day. We’re having a terribly intimate ceremony in the sweetest little church, and then flying out to Milan for a big fat Italian wedding.'

  ‘Oh, my god. Where?'

  'At the Milan Cathedral! The Duomo! I've been helping and Max is designing an extra special dress in blazing red, with a huge train, and loads of ruffles, just like the one he saw in the watercolor I painted,' she gasped, barely pausing for air. 'And he's designing a massive green sapphire engagement ring. I told him I don't need all those expensive things,' she said, looking down at the ring he’d made from flowers, but he said the ring he gives me needs to last.'

  'I hate you. No! I really hate you.' Nancy laughed.

  'You’ll be bridesmaid—the only one. Just like when Wills married Kate. And some hot Italian guy’s going to see you looking so beautiful in one of Max's couture dresses and he’ll step right out of the crowd and ask you to marry him. And we’ll both be married and our kids will grow up together. Oh, Nancy—I know it all sounds crazy. My arms are bruised from pinching myself. It’s like a fairytale. But for the first time in my life I know that dreams can come true.'

  'See, didn’t I always say that one day you’d meet your prince?'

  'Something tells me we’re both going to get our happy ever after.'

  *

  EPILOGUE

  'Il principino o la principessina potrebbero arrivare a giorni,' Max, said, bending over to kiss Issy’s bump, as they sat surrounded by her giant sized paintings in the Isabella Gallery in Milan .'Like it’s mother, the baby is late.'

  'If she is a girl we will call her Isabella, after her beautiful mamma.'

  'And if he is a boy, Massimo, after his handsome father,’ Issy laughed.

  'Promise me we will have many children, cara?'

  'You’re impossible,' she laughed. 'But, yes, after my next exhibition. I can't believe my paintings all sold. Oh, my God, the prices! Amazing. Without you—', she said, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him—without your belief in me this never would have been possible.'

  She spun around the gallery he had created for her, glancing toward the painting entitled, "Flame Doves." Painted in a riotous blaze of orange and limes, fushias and pinks, it captured everything she felt, and she was glad as she looked at the catalog dotted with red "sold" stickers, that it was going to an art collector with deep pockets who loved the painting as much as she did. She would send all the money to the lovely young woman who had taken the helm of Issy's Kids.

  'I want a big family—a big gorgeous, loving family. And I agree with you, our next collection, my paintings and your new fashion line, must capture the joyfulness children bring,' she said.

  'Assolutamente,' Max said, drawing her to his side. 'We’ll do all we can to stop our babies from growing up too fast. They will stay little principino o la principessina as long as they can.'

  Issy’s freckled face shone with love as she looked at him with those infinite eyes that had snared his heart from the moment they'd met. He ran his hand over his broad chest, fingering momentarily the fine scar lying across his heart. If he was any happier, he thought, his heart might break. 'Te amo. Te amo. Te amo,' he repeated. 'I love you to infinity and back.'

  He bent and kissed her, savoring the sweet taste of her lips. 'You know how they say, "You just know"? I just knew. I still do.'

  Later that night, lying in Max’s arms, she thought happily that they’d both taken a chance on love again and had won the lottery.

  At last she belonged. Home truly was where the heart was, and her heart belonged with Max. He was everything she ever needed without being consciously aware of it. No checklists, no profiling, no prescriptive analytical criteria. Just feelings. Just her heart. Just love. He was simply perfect. With him she didn’t need to pretend. She could be her true crazy, chaotic self.

  Now she understood. They were destined to be together. Their childhood traumas, their insecurities, their emotions, buried and hidden from others, they had both been searching for the missing piece in their lives, only to find it in each other.

  'Kiss me,' he commanded in a voice both rough and tender.

  'I’d love to,' she murmured, lifting her face to his, knowing that each kiss was forever.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  The idea for this story was sparked when I read about a very successful Italian fashion-tycoon who said, ‘My biggest regret is that I gave my life to my job.’ It struck me as very, very sad.

  I wondered why he had chosen to live his life this way. Despite all his wealth, all his mansions around the world, and all the ‘fans’ who adored him for the identity he had carefully cultivated, he loved no one and no one loved him back for who he truly was.

  Although he never said it outright, he’d thrown himself into his work following the death of his life partner. His work was pure escapism—protecting him from feeling the pain of loss again.

  He’d originally trained as a medic but after experiencing the horrors of war, he sought refuge in a fantasy world.

  As a child, he’d loved the glitz and glamour Hollywood offered. After a brief stint in the war where he witnessed the deaths of friends, he found an escape from the harshness of reality returning to the fantasy of Hollywood

  I wondered what sort of woman would be able to touch this frozen man at the deepest level. Everything in his life was controlled measured, predictably precise. I wondered what if the darkness of the past, his unhealed wounds began to impact his work, stifling his creativity and threatening to destroy everything he had fought so hard to achieve.

  I wondered what if, as part of his recovery, he was forced to spend time with a woman so opposite in every way to the order he imposed in his life. And what if this woman was a children’s art-therapist. A woman unimpressed by the fame and fortune he’d amassed, but who believed strongly in the power of play, fun, and spontaneity—things he considered reckless

  What if this woman had the power to transform his life, and he hers—but they were both afraid. Hearts have been broken, love lost, trust betrayed. What if this woman had her own wounds? Don’t we all?

  What would it take to make all the masks fall? To be vulnerable? To risk it all? What would it take, in spite of the fear, to believe you deserve, you want, you need to give love a second chance?

  You’ll discover the answers in The Italian Billionaire’s Christmas Bride. I hope you love this story is much as I loved writing it.

  P.S. If you’d li
ke to know more about these characters, inside peeks into the writing process, or be the first to know when a new book is released, subscribe to my newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/cigEsH. Please email me and I’ll be in touch personally—I promise…mollie@molliemathews.com.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I’m very blessed with some wonderful cheerleaders and writing friends. Instrumental in bringing The Italian Billionaire’s Christmas Bride to life are Sandy Johnson, Rae Waterhouse, Bronwyn Sell, Laura Virgo, Pam Claughton, and Odile Boniface. Having your help made all the difference between finishing this book, and publishing it—or abandoning my dreams! Kimberly Reeland, your “Whooo wee’s” spurred me on!

  Coralie Urwin, I could not have polished this manuscript without you. Your responsiveness was amazing. And I loved that you enjoyed every moment of editing. It shows on every page.

  Cate Walker, thank you again for being a very enthusiastic proof-reader. Your emails asking me when were you going to get the next chapters kept me on track.

  And to the love of my life—Laurie Wills, my Templar Knight. Thank you for believing in me. Without your faith, support, commitment, inspiration, and love, I could never have written this book.

  AND NOW . . .

  Thank you for purchasing and reading my books. You are more than my livelihood: you let me live my passion. Without your love of romance and belief in the power of love this book would never have been born. I really hope you loved this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. Here’s to an extra-ordinary level of love and happiness in all our lives.

  With love,

  THANK YOU

  Thank you for reading the Italian billionaire’s Christmas Bride. I hope you loved it. If you did…