This Christmas and Forever: A heartwarming anthology of billionaire holiday romances...

by Clare Connelly

  With a short nod of dismissal, he moved back into his office and closed the door, so that he didn’t hear Agnes ask if she should continue mopping the floor or not.

  Antonio hadn’t felt like himself since learning of his mother’s deceit.

  His reaction to Elizabeth was just another example of how off-base he was at the moment.

  There was only one course of action to clear his mind.

  He needed to open his Ferrari up on the track.

  But even the feel of the powerful beast of an engine throttling beneath him, moments later, didn’t shake the strange sense of regret at having been so quick to judge the woman. He revved the car, as always feeling a spike of heavenly adrenalin as it tore through a corner and wound around the inside leg of the custom designed course. The engine sounded like a hungry lion on the prowl as he sped past the starting line and began the second lap.

  It was a passion that should have become a career. But his father, or the man he had believed to be his father, had staunchly disapproved. While Antonio didn’t cow tow to many, he had always sought Umberto’s approval, and actively run from his disapproval. So he’d agreed to keep the pursuit as a part-time hobby. But it was his life’s passion, and it wasn’t a conceit to admit that he could have become a champion, had he pursued it fully.

  Instead, he’d bought a team, and contented himself with the business machinations of a racing group, instead of the actual victory on the track.

  Days later, when the gnawing sense of regret hadn’t eased, he ran his fingers over the business card she’d given him. It was a flatter rectangle than most, lending it an elegance that was appropriate for a woman such as Elizabeth Sanderson. The card itself was a good quality cream, recycled, he’d guess, with silver and turquoise print. There was something beautiful about the card, though he wondered if it was simply that it reminded him of her.

  He punched her number into his phone, hard, then switched the speaker phone on and reclined in his chair. To an onlooker, he seemed relaxed and nonchalant, but there was an odd sense of excitement inside of him. It forced him to acknowledge, to himself at least, that he wanted her. Really wanted her.

  “It’s hopeless,” Elizabeth said with a shake of her head, as she disconnected at least the hundredth call she’d made since inspecting Bashir Hall for herself. “Everywhere in Oxford is booked solid. We’ll either have to relocate to London, which will cost a fortune, or cancel altogether.”

  Her assistant Miranda grimaced. She’d never known anyone to work so tirelessly for a charity as her boss, and she hated seeing her so forlorn. “We’ll think of something.”

  Elizabeth laughed, but it was a sound without humour. “No, we won’t. The ball is in just over three weeks and we have hundreds of people booked to fly in with nowhere to host it. At this rate, we need a miracle.”

  “And you’re sure you can’t get that Italian man to change his mind?”

  Elizabeth pictured Arrogant Antonio, as she’d begun to think of him, and winced. “Absolutely not. He didn’t strike me as a man who would listen to reason. Nor one who would change his mind. It’s hopeless.”

  “But Ravens Manor is enormous. He could host our Ball in one section of the home and not even know it.”

  Elizabeth grunted her agreement. “Yes. He’s a truly selfish person, I believe.” Sinfully delicious to look at, but with a heart of stone. The phone on her desk began to vibrate and she reached for it quickly.

  “Bess here?” She lifted her peppermint tea to her lips and sipped on the now-cold liquid.

  “Lady Sanderson,” Antonio spoke into the receiver, his voice giving nothing away.

  There was a beat as she placed his voice, though it didn’t take more than a heartbeat. She’d loathed the man, but for some reason, she couldn’t get his brown eyes and expressive smile out of her mind. A fact that made her bad-tempered and cranky. It was such a betrayal to Alastair that she felt truly terrible.

  “Antonio,” she said stiffly, not bothering to pretend she didn’t recognize him. After all, she’d just been speaking of him, it was almost as if she’d conjured him out of thin air. “Are you calling to throw a few more insults at my feet?”

  She’d certainly come out fighting; a fact that brought a flicker of amusement to his face. “No.” He rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. “It occurred to me I might have been too hasty when we met. I didn’t properly hear you out. I regret it.”

  Elizabeth eased herself into her leather chair, not sure why her heart was racing at a rate of knots. She pressed her lips together and tried not to focus on the way his accented words sent her nerve-endings into overdrive.

  “I am surprised a man like you is capable of admitting fault,” she said, unable to keep the disapproval from her voice.

  “I think there is much about me that will surprise you, Elizabeth, as you get to know me better.”

  Elizabeth stiffened. “I have no intention of getting to know you better, Signore Casacelli.” She reverted to the use of his full name in an effort to put some distance between them. Though of course she could have no idea how the surname sat like an albatross about his neck.

  “Then we might have reached an impasse.” He reclined in his chair, a study of relaxed contemplation that he was far from feeling.

  “Oh?”

  “You see, if the event is to be held at Ravens Manor, I would need to be involved in all aspects.”

  “That won’t be necessary. This is my fourth benefit. I have everything under control.”

  “Except the venue,” he reminded her. “For that, you need me.”

  She rubbed her lips together again. He was right. She tried to maintain a bravado in her voice. “I work alone.”

  “By my count, you have twenty three days until Christmas Eve. I do not imagine you will have many other options, though it is, how do you say it? No skin off my nose if you would like to try.”

  Unfortunately, she had tried. She had relished the prospect of informing him that she’d been able to book out a hotel ball room and no loner needed his stupid home. Only everything on Christmas Eve was already booked solid. “Fine,” she conceded tersely. “Whatever you want.”

  “Excellent. Let’s meet tonight to discuss your arrangements.”

  Elizabeth gaped. “Tonight?” She circled her engagement finger nervously. “I’m afraid I can’t do tonight.”

  Antonio frowned. Out of nowhere he wondered why she was unavailable. “I will need to be brought up to speed on your plans as quickly as possible. My intimate involvement is my only requirement to your using Ravens Manor.”

  “I already told you, I accept that.” She tilted her symmetrical face towards the window, but at his reference to an intimate involvement, she’d felt her stomach lurch uncomfortably. “I can email you an overview of the event, and come to Ravens Manor tomorrow to go through any questions you might have.”

  Antonio couldn’t have said why he was feeling so frustrated. It was certainly a fresh experience for him to grovel to a woman. He couldn’t do it. “Fine. That will be acceptable, I suppose.”

  Elizabeth rolled her clear blue eyes heavenward. “I’m so pleased it meets with your approval, sir.”

  And just like that, her snappy little dig lifted his mood. He actually laughed as he replaced the phone on his desk. Yes, there was fire beneath the ice, and he was jumpy with excitement at the prospect of seeing just what made heat erupt inside of her. Tomorrow would be the beginning of discovering just what made Lady Elizabeth Sanderson tick.

  Chapter 3

  After depositing Rosie at Marianne’s Oxford townhouse, which they rarely used but kept in perfect order year-round, she steered her car out of the winding streets toward the blissful countryside surrounding Ravens Manor. She winced a little as she past Bashir. Dear Bashir. Though the frame was largely intact, she would never forget what the interior had come to look like. It was a rubbley mess. And it was all her fault.

  With a heavy sigh, she carefully navigated a hairpin b
end in the road and kept going. She was already running late, and she suspected Antonio Casacelli was not a man to be kept waiting. Not with a good humor, anyhow.

  Since losing Al, Elizabeth had not been even remotely affected by another man. Oh, she’d been aware that some men had made passes at her. She wasn’t an idiot. But she had always deftly declined any invitations to dates.

  This was different.

  Even Alastair hadn’t evoked such a purely physical reaction in Elizabeth. She had adored him in every way, but not once had her dreams been filled with imaginings of his body. Not like with Antonio. Her sleep had been punctuated with the strangest unconscious rememberings of what he’d looked like up close, what he’d smelled like, what his skin had felt like when they’d brushed past one another. And some other imaginings which her furtive dream-state had supplied. What his lips might have felt like against hers. How the weight of his body might make her feel, lying on top of her. These were the kind of hormone fuelled dreams more appropriate to a teenager, not a woman in her mid-twenties.

  Elizabeth sighed. There was nothing for it. On a physical level alone, she found him impossibly attractive. Fortunately, his personality was so repellant that she was certain she would never act on the desires of lust.

  She couldn’t be so stupid.

  Ravens Manor was a beautiful property, though. As she drove along the wide, graveled path, lined on either side by enormous old oak trees, she thought for the first time that it wouldn’t be absolutely dreadful to host the ball at a different venue. Not one as stunning as Ravens Manor, anyway.

  She pulled her car into the same spot she’d used a week ago, and took a moment to pull herself together. Nerves were not a familiar feeling for Elizabeth. She didn’t enjoy the sensation now. She told herself it was just because there was so much riding on the next few weeks. Who wouldn’t be nervous?

  “Hello, Agnes,” she greeted the wiry housekeeper as the door opened wide.

  “Lady Sanderson.” There was a noticeable thawing in the older woman’s treatment, Elizabeth noted with a small smile. The power of her surname never failed to work wonders. “Signore Casacelli has asked you to meet him down at the stables. Er, race course.”

  Elizabeth nodded. The housekeeper’s small note of disapproval, though carefully disguised, did not escape Elizabeth’s notice. “Which way?”

  “I’ll show you, ma’am.”

  For a woman of her age and slight physical bearing, Agnes walked at a cracking pace. Elizabeth, dressed in an exquisite pair of black knee high boots with a thick wedge heel, had to keep a brusque pace to keep up. They walked around the edge of the house, which seemed to go for miles, Elizabeth following a pace or two behind, before pausing on the crest of a small hill. “This path will lead you straight down.” Agnes shivered and Elizabeth realized for the first time that she was wearing only her uniform, with no coat.

  “Goodness me, you must be frozen through. Please, take my coat, I have a jacket on as well.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Agnes said, but her smile showed a true crack in her professional veneer.

  “No,” Elizabeth shrugged out of her woolen trench coat, “I insist. Either take my coat or I’ll come back to the house with you, and you know Signore Casacelli would be cross with both of us then.” She pushed the coat into the older woman’s hands, which were almost blue. “Truly, it’s going to snow later today. It’s utterly freezing.”

  “Thank you, Lady Sanderson. You’re too kind.”

  “Nonsense. I’m perfectly fine.” She gave the housekeeper a dismissive nod of her head, her attention called by the sound of a roaring engine. “Good gracious,” she said quietly. “Does he really drive race cars?”

  “Yes, quite.” Agnes’s expression was unreadable, but Elizabeth was pleased to see that she had pulled the coat around her shoulders.

  Together they stood on the hill, watching as far beneath them, Antonio threw his race car with a reckless speed around the track. Elizabeth winced as he seemed to skid around one bend, wondering just how stupid he was to drive at that speed in conditions like this. Surely the roads were covered in ice? It wasn’t a car like she’d expected. One of those skinny, powerful Ferrari type things. This looked more like an actual car, though it was sleek and made an unmistakably fast and ferocious noise as he hurtled along the ground.

  “Thank you, Agnes,” she said firmly, walking quickly down the path. Despite her protestations to the housekeeper, the navy blue jacket she wore was hardly sufficient for the chill of the winter’s morning. She moved swiftly in an effort to stave off the cold. But as she walked, she felt her annoyance growing.

  This man had everything to live for, a healthy body, one that wasn’t intent on betraying him on a cellular level, yet he evidently had a death wish. It was stupidity of the highest order to indulge in such a childish, dangerous activity. By the time she’d reached the shelter at the side of the track, her skin was pale, her cheeks bright pink, and her eyes glowed with barely contained fury.

  Antonio saw her as he rounded the bend and eased off the accelerator. With the finesse of a man who had driven the track more times than he could count, he swerved the car to a stop perfectly beside her. He stepped out of the car gingerly – though it was comfortable enough, high-speed race cars had not been built with someone of his physical build in mind.

  “Elizabeth,” he greeted, snapping his helmet off and flicking his eyes over her. Wearing a woolen dress and a matching jacket, she nonetheless looked frozen to the core. “Would you like to join me for a lap?”

  Something inside of her snapped. “No. I wouldn’t. And I think you’re a madman to drive like that.”

  “It is perfectly safe.” He said with a grin, rubbing his hands over the bright red hood of the car.

  “Perfectly safe?” Her voice shook with emotion. “So no one has ever died on a race track, hmm?” She shivered a little, but it wasn’t because of the cold.

  “I am a very good driver.”

  “Your arrogance notwithstanding, even ‘very good drivers’ have car accidents.” She took in a deep breath and tried to remember that what he did was none of her business. She’d only known the man for a week. If he had a death wish, that wasn’t her problem.

  Antonio shut his car door and tossed his keys past Elizabeth. She spun around, and realized for the first time, that two men in what looked like corporate outfits were standing just behind her.

  “Oh,” she said, uncharacteristically flustered. “I didn’t see you there. I’m sorry.” She turned her attention back to the man who had been tormenting her dreams and waking thoughts for a week, and tried to speak more calmly. “I just don’t see why a healthy man needs to flirt with death in such a foolish way.”

  Antonio’s smile was slow, and it unfurled an answering sensation in her stomach. He paced towards her, his long strides making short work of the distance.

  “Were you worried about me, bella?” He asked quietly. He wasn’t touching her, but her whole body felt energized and tingly.

  “Of course not. Don’t be absurd. It’s not you, per se. It’s the sheer stupidity of any person who’s so careless with their life that I find offensive.”

  “That will be all, Andre. Thank you, Pietro.” He nodded at the men hovering nearby. They moved off silently towards the car. Keeping his fleet in pristine order was their responsibility, and they were the only people on earth he trusted with his most loved possessions.

  “I take every precaution, Elizabeth,” he assured her silkily once his men had moved off.

  “Such as driving at a million miles per hour on a day like this? I can see ice on the road, Antonio. Do you want to kill yourself?”

  He couldn’t resist touching her. On the pretence of brushing some of her silvery blonde hair from her face, he reached up and gently stroked her cheek. “That is highly unlikely.”

  She sniffed. “No one ever sees it coming.”

  He thought about her husband, the man she’d loved, and lost,
and felt a small pang of compunction. “I’m sorry if it upsets you.”

  “It’s none of my business.” She said, feeling foolish for her outburst. “We should get down to work. That’s what I’m here for, after all.”

  “What is your rush, Elizabeth?” He scanned her face; eyes that were strained with fear, and cheeks robbed completely of color. Yes, she was a woman who could do with a bit of harmless, reckless fun. “Have you got something against just enjoying yourself?”

  “Enjoying myself?” She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “Come. Let’s walk and get to know one another. We are going to be working together closely for the next three weeks, after all.”

  Again, his phrasing made her stomach flip-flop with a strange sensation, sort of like tipping over the crest of a rollercoaster. “Working, Antonio,” she felt compelled to remind him. “Nothing more.”

  “Do you have some rule that says you cannot have fun whilst you work?”

  She lifted her brows, hoping with all her heart she didn’t look as stirred up by his words as she felt. “I have no room in my life for fun,” she said honestly. “So let’s get down to it.”

  Rather than feeling put off by her statement, he felt a thrill of adrenalin. There was nothing better than the pursuit of something or someone worth having. And Elizabeth Sanderson, with her ethereal, determined unavailability had become someone he definitely found worthy of pursuing. He knew, in that moment, that he would prove her wrong. Everyone had room in their lives for pleasure, didn’t they?

  “Madre di Dio, Elizabeth, you are not dressed for this weather. No wonder you’re shaking like a leaf.”

  She was cold, but she suspected that her shaking had little to do with the weather, and more to do with the torrent of emotions blanketing her from every angle.

  “I gave my coat to Agnes,” she said distractedly, as though it were of no importance. She wouldn’t have said anything at all except she didn’t want him thinking her so silly as to arrive on a freezing cold day dressed so inappropriately.