Was it possible that she loved Christmas so very much because she missed Christopher? Was Christmas Claudia’s way of distracting herself from the fact she was alone at this time of year?
Perhaps he should have done more in previous years than simply send a gift. A frown crossed his features and guilt was hot on its heels.
“Are you ready to go?” Her question was clipped.
“Yes.” He settled his scotch glass down on the bar and turned to her slowly. He kept his eyes locked to hers as he closed the distance between them. “I’m ready.”
Chapter 9
“ARE YOU SURE ABOUT this?” Claudia murmured, as the car slowed to a stop.
Beside her, Stavros was his cynical self. “Wanting me to pull out?”
Her cheeks flushed at how easily he could read through her. “I don’t particularly care,” she lied. “Only there’s a lot of press here. Aren’t you worried about the damage it will do to your reputation? Being seen with me?”
“My reputation has seen worse than you,” he promised darkly. “Stop fighting with me, Claudia. No matter how much we both enjoy it, this isn’t the place. Smile.”
His driver opened their door and Claudia stepped out first, elegant in a way that was simply a product of who she was rather than anything she’d ever learned. Stavros was straight behind her, a hand curved around her waist, holding her close to him.
God, he was handsome. Handsome in jeans, handsome in anything, but like this? In a crisp tuxedo that was molded to his skin, with his chin covered in stubble and his hair styled into a semblance of order?
She ached for him.
And ignored it.
Hell, it made her want to ignore him. “Come on then,” she muttered, reserving her smile for the camera lenses pointed her way.
“Claudia! Claudia! Over here! Have you ditched Lord Pennington?”
He stiffened against her side.
“Or did he ditch you? Couldn’t keep up?”
Stavros’s fingers dug into her hips and he lowered his head on the pretense of kissing her cheek. “You let them speak to you like this?”
“That’s their job,” she snapped, her smile not dropping for a second.
“They are turning you into their sport.”
Claudia’s heart throbbed and she skidded her eyes to his, her smile dropping for barely a second. But it did drop, and she wondered at what kind of sadist she was to be here with a man like this.
With effort, she regained her composure and gave one final wave to the assembled photographers, using it as an opportunity to free herself from Stavros’s touch. The moment they entered the hotel, she was caught up with other guests, and able to shirk any connection to the man. It was not so easy to put him from her mind, but she did at least succeed in putting distance between them. They rode in the same elevator but she spoke to a couple of friends. When the doors opened, he was beside her once more, his arm around her waist.
Staking his claim? Or warning her to behave?
Claudia didn’t care which. She retrieved a glass of champagne from the passing tray held by a waiter and she clutched the drink to her chest as though it were her lifeline.
The turn-out was exceptional. The elegant ballroom at the top of the city high rise was at capacity. Champagne was flowing, one of the country’s most famous singers was crooning jazz Christmas songs, and everyone was donating.
Every year, the committee came up with a different way to fundraise. Beyond the cost of tickets, there had been charity auctions, competitions, raffles, all sorts of initiatives aimed at getting people to put their hands in their pockets and donate.
This year, they’d opted for something a little more unique. Enormous bird cages had been suspended from the ceiling and burlesque dancers stood in each, moving in time to the music, glamorous, beautiful, striking and captivating. But they only danced so long as money was being put into the coffers beneath the cages. It had been controversial at first, but ultimately, it was a little bit of fun.
And yes, the press attention was going to be brilliant.
Claudia skimmed her eyes over the room, a sense of accomplishment buoying her, filling her with relief and pleasure.
She was good at this. She was right to feel proud.
“Ah, darling. We are so thrilled you’ve come out of hiding.” The high-pitched voice called Claudia’s attention. She pretended not to notice the way Stavros stiffened beside her. She hadn’t dared look his way since they’d entered the ballroom five minutes earlier.
She wasn’t sure what he’d make of their fundraising methods but she suspected he’d heartily disapprove.
“Margaret,” Claudia smiled, relaxing for the first time all night. She kissed the older woman’s cheek. “Everything is perfect.”
“All thanks to you,” Margaret said. “You really are a genius.”
Pink flooded Claudia’s cheeks and she shook her head slowly. “Not at all. We’re a committee. Everyone had a hand in tonight.”
“But the details, the press, the glamour.” She leaned closer. “The guest list! I have counted four actors and six rock stars.” Margaret, in her sixties, lifted a gloved hand and waved it in front of her face. “Speaking of which,” she drawled in her aristocratic way. “I recognize you.”
Claudia lifted her gaze to Stavros’s face, and it was as though she was seeing him for the first time. Of course Margaret knew who Stavros was. He wasn’t just the thorn in her side, the guardian she’d never wanted. He was a renowned businessman, CEO of Aresteides Holdings, at the helm of an empire that spanned media interests, transportation, textiles. Everything.
“Stavros,” Claudia couldn’t keep her impatience from her tone. “This is my friend, Lady FitzHerbert. Margaret, my …” she floundered, losing her concentration for the moment as she struggled to find a way to describe Stavros.
“Claudia and I are old family friends,” he offered smoothly, but his fingers on Claudia’s hip ranged up and down, sending little arrows of awareness through her that were most definitely unwelcome.
“Oh! I never knew that,” Margaret said with obvious surprise. “You’ve never mentioned a connection to the Aresteides family before.”
“Haven’t I?” Claudia asked, knowing very well she hadn’t. One look at Stavros showed that he knew the exact same thing. His lips were curled with mocking amusement and a frisson danced down her spine. Beneath the expensive fabric of her dress, her nipples strained in expectation.
“No, dear. Anyway,” Margaret laughed, and the diamond choker she wore shifted with the movements, sending a raindrop of lights through the room. “You’re on.”
“Right.” Claudia sipped her champagne and then pasted a bright smile on her face, handing the flute to Stavros. “I have to go.”
“I’ll see you afterwards,” he murmured, and there was nothing in the simple statement to indicate that he meant it as anything other than an innocuous comment. Yet her heart throbbed and her abdomen squeezed.
“Fine,” she snapped, then moved through the crowd, keeping her attention locked to the front of the room so as to avoid having to stop and speak to anyone. A microphone with Swarovski crystals stood on top of a table and she lifted it up, catching the singer’s eye and nodded.
The singer eased to a stop, leaving only a din in the room.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she began, her eyes sweeping the room and landing squarely on Stavros’s face. The way he was looking at her made her skin prickle. He was staring at her with the kind of intensity that could burn her blood. He looked at her as though she was the only woman he’d ever wanted. She dragged her eyes away, trying not to be distracted by the fact he was there.
It didn’t work.
She delivered her speech, laughing at the moment she knew to be funny, smiling at the assembled guests, but her eyes kept colliding with Stavros’s as though pulled by magnetic force, and by the end, there was a screeching noise in her brain, begging her to go and kiss him.
Need was a physical
response running through her.
The crowd broke into impassioned applause as she finished.
Stavros didn’t. He simply stared, his expression impossible to read, his body stiff as a board.
She had no idea what he was thinking, and she hated that it was all she cared about in that moment.
It was not so easy to avoid speaking to people after the speech. She had dozens of guests come to her, and she made a point of speaking to them properly, of at least appearing to give them her full attention, even as she was aware of Stavros the whole time. She was aware of him when a glamorous blonde went to speak to him, her hand curled in the crook of his arm, her eyes practically eating him up. She was aware of him when he was alone, watching her, his eyes on her back as strong and as powerful as if he were touching her.
And finally, she was aware of him when he prowled towards her, something like determination firing in his eyes.
“Miss La Roche,” he murmured. “Nice speech.”
“Thank you.” It was a stiff response that made no sense given the way she’d been mentally undressing him for the last half hour. “I trust you can see why this charity means so much to me.”
“Oh, I do.”
She frowned, not sure she understood the tone of his words. His accent was thicker than usual. She blinked up at him, a slight frown smudged across her face.
“In fact,” he surprised her then by putting his hands on her hips. “I have a donation to make.”
“Well,” Claudia said, willing her body not to react to his proximity. “You can see one of the bursars about that.”
“Oh, it’s not so simple.”
She rolled her eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”
He laughed, a sound that sent shards of desire scraping along her spine. “Because you know me?” The husky question filled her blood with glue. It seemed to stick inside of her so she was conscious of its weight as it drummed through her body.
He removed one hand and she held her breath in silent rejection of the fact that he might be pulling away from her. But he wasn’t. He stayed close, so that when he lifted something out of the top pocket of his tuxedo his hand brushed against her breast and she stifled a noise of awareness.
Stifled or not, his eyes simmered when they connected to hers as though she’d moaned loudly. He knew how she felt. Because he felt the same?
“Dance with me, and this is yours.”
Her fingers shook as they took the paper from his hand and unfolded it, the familiar fear that always assailed her at moments like this flushing her skin. It was a cheque. She gathered it was from Stavros. While she struggled with words, numbers she could recognize, and she recognized the number of zeros on this cheque.
“For the charity?” She asked urgently, missing the way his eyes knitted together for an instant, at the strange question. After all, the charity’s name was clearly printed at the top of the envelope.
“Nai.”
“Stavros,” she gasped, shaking her head. “It’s too much.”
“It’s a good cause,” he shrugged. “I can afford it.”
“But it’s…”
He lifted a finger to her lips, silencing her instantly. “It’s worth it.”
Her heart turned over and she closed her eyes for a moment. “One dance?” Her eyes locked to his.
The thumping of inevitability beat in both their hearts.
“One dance.”
Claudia stared up at him, into his eyes that were so dark they were almost black, into eyes that seemed to see straight through her, and she nodded. Her mouth was too dry to form words.
As if he’d planned it, seconds later, the singer swapped from the up-tempo Christmas carol, pausing for a moment before the unmistakable piano beginning of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas began to play.
“Here?” Claudia rasped.
“Here. Now.” He pulled her closer, looping his hands low at her back, moving his hips so that she moved with him. Slowly, as though she might get burned, Claudia lifted her hands up, linking her fingers behind his neck, letting her fingers give into temptation and stray to his hair at the nape.
“How did you get into this?”
“Margaret spoke to me about the charity years ago,” she said, letting her head dip closer to his chest.
“I mean organizing fundraisers. You seem very good at it.”
“Thank you,” she acknowledged the compliment with a nod of her head.
“I had no idea you were so actively philanthropic.”
Claudia’s eyes darted to his. “Because you thought I was too busy being a disgraceful heiress to look beyond the headlines.”
“Perhaps,” he surprised her by conceding. “I look beyond them now. I see you are not what I thought.”
She drew in a sharp breath, completely unprepared for his admission. “You do?”
“Yes, of course I do.”
She swallowed, unable to express the gladness that was rolling through her.
“So you’ll let me come back to London? To my own home?”
He pressed a finger to the base of her chin, lifting her to face him. He scanned her for a moment, his eyes moving left to right, reading her features, and then he smiled. A dazzling smile that made her stomach lurch. “It isn’t what you want.”
“Like hell it’s not,” she muttered, but the rejoinder lacked ferocity. Was he right? Did she want to go back to Barnwell? To spend Christmas with him?
She flicked her eyes away, focusing on the crowds milling around them, dancing, talking, laughing.
She felt him sigh. “I still wish to protect you from the media’s intrusion into your life. And I am less keen than you can imagine to return you to Arthur Pennington’s claws.”
“Claws?” She responded with a laugh. “If you knew Arthur, you’d know he’s the least vicious person on earth.”
“Irrelevant.” He brought her closer to his body, moving his lips lower, teasing her by speaking against her neck. “You are mine, remember?”
She jerked back in the circle of his arms, her eyes frightened when they met his. She was terrified of how much she wanted that to be true.
“Be mine,” he amended. “Tonight.”
It was a statement of intent but there was a question in it, too. She stared up at him and mentally, she lost her footing altogether. Or did the earth crack open and swallow her into its molten core? She couldn’t have said. She knew only that nothing made sense any longer.
“I…”
“Tonight,” he groaned, lifting his mouth and pressing a brief, hot kiss against her temple. “Let me show you how it should have been.”
His eyes held hers and they were as swarmed by emotion as her heart felt.
She could hardly speak. She couldn’t think.
“I hate that I want you.” It was a grim admission. “I know this is wrong. For so many reasons, I should be walking as far away from you as I can get.” He shook his head. “But I can’t. I don’t want to.”
She bit down on her lip and knew that she wouldn’t be the one to say ‘no’. Wild horses wouldn’t have dragged her away from what they were about to do.
So she nodded. A simple, quick gesture that sealed their fates. For that night, at least.
It was snowing when they stepped out of the lobby. His car was third one back in the line of waiting cars, but Claudia was in no rush. Walking beside Stavros, knowing what they’d agreed to, feeling little petals of snowflake kiss her exposed flesh, filled her with a delicious sense of anticipation, knowledge that fulfillment was inevitable making her insides slick with moist heat.
He mistook her little shiver for something else altogether, and slipped out of his suit jacket. “Here.” His word was husky. Was he feeling the same pull of need that was ripping through her?
He placed it around her slender shoulders, and she looked up at him, her breath catching in her throat as their eyes met.
“This is crazy,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.
&
nbsp; He nodded. “I know.” They reached his car and the driver opened the door. Claudia slid in ahead of Stavros, then he joined her on the seat beside hers. “I shouldn’t want you like this. You are too young. You are my ward. I am entrusted with your care.” He lifted a finger to her cheek and traced it down her flesh, lower, to the gentle skin of her neck. “And none of that matters right now.”
“No,” she whispered huskily.
They drove in silence – a silence that hummed and buzzed with anticipation. The car slid through London, and the snow grew heavier as they went, so that by the time the car pulled up at The Maychester, there was a light covering on the ground.
The smile that spread across Claudia’s face was as spontaneous as it was beautiful. She lifted her hands, palm-side up, catching little tiny snowflakes on her fingertips. Stavros watched her, not the snow.
“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas,” she said, half to him, half to herself. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Just what I am thinking.” The husky admission drew her attention. He was staring at her as though he’d never seen her before. He moved closer, allowing the driver to shut the car door. “You are an angel.”
She expelled a sigh. “No.” And she pushed a frivolous note into her voice. “I just really like snow.”
“And Christmas,” he teased, taking a cue from her.
“Uh huh.”
“I bet you were spoiled as a child,” he laughed. “Dozens of gifts beneath the tree, all uniform in their matching wrapping paper?”
She shook her head, a smile on her face that hid the hurt in her heart. “Not at all.”
“Ah, I can see it now. Little Claudia waking up, rubbing her eyes and seeing a mountain of presents.”
She stifled a sigh. He thought her selfish because she had done everything in her power to create that impression. Apparently he believed it was a product of her upbringing, rather than the defense mechanism it was. “My mother and father didn’t really do much for Christmas,” she hedged.
This Christmas and Forever: A heartwarming anthology of billionaire holiday romances... Page 11