The Italian Billionaire's Christmas Miracle

by Spencer, Catherine

  “Oh, absolutely! The color was created with you in mind.”

  “How are you enjoying the evening?” the oldest of the six, inquired, concern evident in her kind brown eyes. “Domenico’s taking good care of you, is he?”

  Arlene smiled. “He’s being quite wonderful.”

  Ortensia stepped forward, five inches taller tonight in her spike-heeled shoes. Diamonds the size of sugar cubes dangled from her ears. Another even larger gem graced her right forefinger. Her well-endowed bosom swelled provocatively above the top of her strapless red satin gown. “And you don’t have a clue why, do you, you poor little micina?”

  “Ortensia, please!” one of the women begged.

  She dismissed the warning with a toss of her head. “She deserves to know.”

  Do not dignify that remark by asking her to explain it, Arlene ordered herself, and promptly said, “Exactly what do you mean, Ortensia? Are you suggesting he’s merely pretending to enjoy my company?”

  “Oh, he enjoys it,” she replied. “He enjoys it very much—for a couple of reasons. First, it makes him feel good to know he’s saved another lost soul.”

  “Be quiet this instant, Ortensia!” the brown-eyed woman interrupted sharply. “You’ve gone far enough, and I refuse to stand by and watch you destroy another hapless woman whose only sin is that she’s come between you and the man you’ve been trying to snare for more years than I care to count.”

  “Then feel free to leave, but I intend to set this poor creature straight. You,” she continued, turning her inimical gaze on Arlene again, “assume he’s showering you with attention because he finds you fascinating and irresistible. But the truth is, you don’t really exist for him, not as a person or a woman.”

  “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about,” Arlene said flatly, even as the prickle of apprehension crawling over her skin told her she’d be better off not knowing.

  A sigh gusted past Ortensia’s pouty lips. “Dio, are you blind? Do you not see you’re simply another stray he’s taken on, just like those flea-bitten children from the slums of Paris that he lets run wild at his château every summer, and the orphans he sponsors in Bolivia, and Africa, and Romania?”

  “I don’t believe you,” Arlene said numbly.

  Ortensia snorted and threw out her hands to her frozen audience. “Explain it to her! Tell her she’s not the first, and she won’t be the last! That he’s known as Signor Humanitarian in some circles because he’s forever showering the rejects of this world with his largesse, no matter where he happens to find them.”

  Mutely Arlene turned to them, and saw how they couldn’t meet her gaze.

  “It’s true, he does involve himself in many…worthy charities,” one of them finally admitted. “He likes to help where he can, but, Arlene, that’s not to say you’re just another project to him. It’s obvious to all of us that his interest in you is much more personal.”

  “Dio, you think? Is it possible I’ve misread the signs?” Ortensia clapped a hand to her bosom with dramatic flair and swung her gaze to Arlene again. “Am I indeed mistaken, cara? Could it be that the untouchable Domenico Silvaggio d’Avalos has abandoned his usual routine of merely opening his wallet, and has finally unlocked his heart, as well?”

  Not about to let the woman know how rattled she was, Arlene traded stares with her. “I don’t pretend to be his spokesperson. Why don’t you ask him yourself, since you’re so interested?”

  Ortensia’s eyes flashed with triumph. “I don’t need to, Arlene!” she sneered. “I know a lame duck when I see one, almost as well as I know Domenico. He’s the first to ride to the rescue in a crisis, and if it happens to involve a woman still young enough to have all her own teeth, well, so much the better. He is, after all, a red-blooded Sardinian of the first order. The only difference between you and dozens before you is that he’s looking to be rewarded with more than just a roll in the hay.”

  “He’s after my vast fortune, you mean? My goodness, he’s in for a big disappointment!”

  She spoke lightly, desperate to hide her growing dismay, but Ortensia wasn’t deceived. “Idiota!” she spat with transparent contempt. “Your wealth is nothing more than pocket change to him. It’s your land that he covets. Seducing you just happened to be the easiest way to get it, and if you haven’t yet figured that out, you’re not just naive, you’re downright feeble-minded.”

  “All right, that’s enough!” Snapping closed her evening bag, the brown-eyed woman manacled Ortensia by the wrist and frog-marched her to the door. “This ends now.”

  The four left behind looked at Arlene from shifty, sympathetic eyes. “Pay no attention,” one finally muttered, edging toward the door. “Ortensia is a loose cannon at the best of times.”

  Perhaps so, but she’d scored a direct hit—and Arlene had only herself to blame. She was the one who’d confided everything about herself to Domenico, right down to the last details of her inheritance.

  …broke and besotted! She’s ripe for the plucking…. At least she hadn’t told him she loved him. And she never would.

  Infuriated as much by her own foolishness as Ortensia’s spitefully accurate portrayal, Arlene rallied her shredded pride. “No apologies, please, and no explanations. I’m well aware what kind of woman Ortensia is.”

  After all, hadn’t Domenico pretty much spelled it out, just last night? There’s no telling what next might come out of her mouth….

  Well, how about the truth, Domenico? she thought bitterly.

  Chapter 9

  Prepared to do whatever it took to get through the remainder of that endless, agonizing evening, Arlene pinned a brilliant smile on her face, returned to the table where he sat waiting for her, and acted out the charade of a woman having the time of her life.

  She’d rubbed shoulders with millionaires before, even if it had been only in her capacity as legal secretary to the law firm’s senior partner, but she was smart, she was observant and she knew how they behaved. Consequently she acted witty and charming, looked suitably interested in whatever conversation happened to be taking place, laughed in all the right places and generally shimmered just like her dress. Domenico’s last memory of her would not be the pathetic nobody he’d temporarily elevated to his rarified level, but a woman well able to hold her own, regardless of the society in which she found herself.

  Still, she paid a terrible price. Every smile, every bright, amusing remark found its origin in the bitter taste of disillusionment.

  There’s nothing remarkable about lending a hand when it’s needed, he’d said, not two days earlier. What’s money for, after all, if it can’t be put to good use? A man’s material wealth doesn’t preclude his right to decency and compassion.

  Although he hadn’t exactly lied to her, he’d deceived her anyway by not spelling out all that he’d meant by that, but what hurt the most was knowing that she was the architect of her own misery. She should have said “no” to him a long time ago. Instead she’d ignored the signs posted along the way and walked blindly into a fool’s paradise.

  She’d climbed into his bed, even though he’d never said a word to make her believe he was interested in anything more than a temporary distraction; a fling spiced with unforgettable sex. After all, he was, as Ortensia had pointed out with succinct venom, a normal, red-blooded man. He was kind, and he was generous—in Arlene’s case, donating his body as well as his considerable expertise in other areas. And he’d asked nothing in return, most especially not that she fall in love with him. She’d done that all by herself.

  But he would never know she was broken inside. If she couldn’t have his love, she wasn’t about to settle for his pity.

  By the time the evening dragged to a close, her face ached from its perpetual smile. All she wanted was for the pain to end; to leave Paris behind and to forget there’d ever been a tall, dark Sardinian who’d broken her heart. But first, there was the night to get through, and Domenico made it very plain that, for him, it was far from over.<
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  “You were magnificent tonight, cara,” he murmured, sweeping her cape from her shoulders the very second they set foot in the suite, and sewing a seam of tiny, exquisite kisses along the curve of her shoulder. “I could barely contain my impatience to be alone with you.”

  “Nor I with you,” she said, injecting just the right degree of regret into the words, “but I’m so worn out that all I really want is to sleep.”

  “And you shall,” he said, gliding the zipper of her dress smoothly down her spine. “In my arms, where you belong.”

  “Domenico…!” she objected on a sigh, but her protestations were drowned out by the whisper of fabric sliding away from her body until only his hands lay next to her skin.

  The beguiling mists of passion closed around her, robbing her of the will to resist. She lifted her face for his kiss. Let her arms steal around his neck.

  “Still too tired?” he murmured, and when she shook her head, unable to deny him, he carried her to his bed and stripped off his own clothes. Aligning his body with hers, he buried himself inside her. And with each deep, slow thrust, he stole a little more of her soul.

  She tried to remain detached; to protect her grieving heart by being an observer, not a participant. But he knew her weaknesses and exploited them without mercy. Just when she thought she would scream for the exquisite agony he inflicted, he made a sound in his throat, low and guttural, and in a lightning move, rolled onto his back and positioned her so that she sat astride him.

  Cupping her bottom, he pinned her against him in an attempt to halt the tide threatening to sweep them both past the point of no return. “Be still, my love, and make this moment last,” he begged, sweat beading his brow.

  She wished it could be so, but she’d been taken prisoner by a demon within herself; become the victim of a need so unappeasable, it would settle for nothing but immediate and total surrender. Fight it as she might, the tension coiled tighter within her, became unbearable, until she shattered into a thousand glittering prisms. Into stardust. Into ecstasy.

  He tensed beneath her. Muttered her name once, drawing it out like a plea. Her vision filmed with tears, she looked down at him and thought she had never seen such tortured beauty in a man.

  She wished she dared say the unthinkable; wished she could tell him she loved him. But they weren’t words he wanted to hear. All she could give him was release from his self-imposed prison. Which she did, leaning back and tilting her hips in a tiny, imperative thrust that sent him soaring into oblivion.

  “Look what you do to me,” he ground out on a labored breath, when at last he could compose himself. “You destroy me and make me come when I would hold back forever if I could, buried to the hilt in your sleek and willing flesh.”

  “Forever” wasn’t part of the plan, though, and soon enough darkness gave way to the gray of a new dawn. Arlene had slept not a wink. Had used the passing hours to plan her farewell. There would be no tears, no clinging, no lamenting. Whatever the cost, she would hold herself together long enough to make a dignified exit.

  Easing herself carefully from his bed, she stole to her own room, stopping in the salon just long enough to scoop up her evening gown and other items from last night. Stuffing them into her suitcase, she took the clothes she’d wear for traveling, and locked herself in her bathroom. Within the hour, she was bathed, dressed and looking amazingly self-possessed, considering she was falling apart inside.

  He was already up and waiting for her when she left her bedroom for the last time. Freshly shaved, and with his dark hair brushed severely in place, he looked solemn as an undertaker in black trousers and black turtleneck sweater. “We have time for breakfast before we leave for the airport,” he said.

  But she’d anticipated this might be what he had in mind, and had her answer ready. “No need for you to do that,” she said cheerfully, even as her heart began to splinter. “For a start, I arranged to meet Gail for breakfast.”

  “In that case, I’ll call for my car and the three of us—”

  “No, Domenico,” she cut in, hanging on to her resolve with the desperation of a drowning woman. “No car, and no breakfast for three. I’m not big on lengthy farewells, so let’s make it short, sweet and final, right here and right now.”

  “But, cara, what’s the rush? I hoped we’d have time to talk about—”

  “We’ve said everything there is to say. All that’s left is for me to tell you again how deeply I appreciate all you’ve done for me.”

  Sounding baffled, hurt even, he said, “At least let me walk you down to the lobby.”

  And prolong the agony? “No.”

  He caught her hand. Inched her closer. “You really mean this to be goodbye?”

  “Yes.”

  He framed her face between his hands. His breath winnowed over her hair. His beautiful blue eyes bored into hers. “It doesn’t have to be.”

  “Yes, Domenico, it does,” she said, because being near him, having him touch her, just intensified the agony. “We crossed paths for a little while, and although it was wonderful while it lasted, it was…”

  She floundered, at a loss. To denigrate what they’d shared was more than she could bring herself to do. It had been too glorious. It had touched her too deeply.

  “What was it, Arlene?” he inquired, the edge of steel in his voice echoed in the sudden winter chill of his eyes.

  “Just a…an autumn fling.” She shrugged. “It’s over now. You have your life and I have mine, and we both know they’re worlds apart, so let’s not pretend otherwise.”

  He fixed her in a long, inscrutable gaze. “You’re right,” he finally said. “Long distance relationships have never appealed to me. Better to make a clean break now. Neither of us would be happy with an occasional weekend together.”

  “Exactly. What we’ve shared has been incredible. Perfect. Let’s keep it that way.” She tried to plaster on another of those phony smiles that were all teeth and no heart, but her face simply wouldn’t cooperate. Eyes flooding, mouth trembling, she reached up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you again. For everything.”

  His arms closed around her. She felt his chest heave, his mouth rest soft against her forehead, and knew she had to escape now, or break every promise she’d made to herself not to fall apart at the last minute. “Goodbye, Domenico,” she whispered, and grabbing the handle on her suitcase, turned blindly to the door.

  At the last minute, he spoke again, his voice a raspy shadow of its usual self. “Don’t leave, Arlene.”

  She didn’t look back. She couldn’t. “I have to.”

  A heartbeat passed and she heard him sigh. “Then go if you must,” he said, “but do it quickly.”

  A blessed numbness carried her through the next several hours. After one look at her face, Gail took over the business of checking them in, finding their departure gate, and settling her in her window seat. Not until they were well out across the Atlantic, and all but the champagne from lunch had been cleared away, did she say, “Okay, what gives? We’re sitting here in the lap of luxury, courtesy of your man, but there was no sign of him at the airport and you look as if you’re headed to your own funeral.”

  “He didn’t come to the airport, and he’s not mine.”

  “You had a falling out? A conflict of schedule?”

  “Neither. Our time together ended, and we’ve gone our separate ways.”

  “Temporarily.”

  “Permanently.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” Gail snorted. “A man doesn’t go to all this trouble for a woman he doesn’t care about.”

  “In this case, he does. He’d have done the same for anybody he decided could use a little help.”

  “I don’t call flying the pair of us Executive Class from Paris to Toronto ‘a little help,’ especially since he wouldn’t recognize me if he fell over me on the street.”

  “You’re my friend.”

  “My point exactly. This is all about his feelings for you.” Gail c
leared her throat. “Not that it’s any of my business, but you did sleep with him, didn’t you?”

  Arlene turned to the window, to the bright blue arc of sky beyond. As blue as his eyes. As empty as a future without him. The feeling seeped back into her body, and the pain that came with it was ferocious. Relentless. “Yes, but it didn’t mean anything.”

  Gail choked on her glass of champagne. “He was a dud between the sheets? I don’t believe it!”

  “He was perfect. He is perfect. To everyone. All the time. He didn’t single me out for attention.”

  “He said nothing about seeing you again?”

  “He mentioned it.”

  “Aha!”

  “He was being polite. Chivalrous.”

  “So no real expression of regret? No reluctance to let you go?”

  …leave if you must, but do it quickly…. “A little, perhaps.”

  “And when you actually walked out the door?”

  She felt again the soft touch of his mouth at her brow, the deep shudder of his chest. Heard the unwonted hoarseness in his voice, the sigh he hadn’t been able to suppress. “I think we both found it…difficult.”

  “How about heartbreaking, Arlene? Or are you so afraid of the word ‘love’ that you can’t find room for it in your image of what this relationship’s really all about?”

  But men like him didn’t fall for women like her. She’d have done better to lock herself in a nunnery than go to bed with him. “It can’t be love,” she said wearily.

  “I don’t know about that,” Gail replied, with characteristic bluntness. “In my experience, if it walks like a duck, and it quacks like a duck, it probably is a duck! So don’t be too ready to turn your back on what might be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

  The trouble was, Arlene knew the difference between pity and love, and between charity and love. Neither was an acceptable substitute. “Perhaps, but I can’t think about it anymore,” she said, reclining her seat and tucking a pillow behind her head. “I’ve hardly slept, the last two nights, and nothing’s making much sense right now.”