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Her Husband's Christmas Bargain
Margaret Mayo


The Italian's marriage demand… When Italian businessman Luigi Costanzo discovers that Megan, his beautiful estranged wife, is also the mother of his child, he is incensed! She's left him no alternative: he will do anything in his power to possess his wife and child. Megan is less than impressed when Luigi turns up on her doorstep—the week before Christmas!Luigi is as arrogant as ever—and still as impossible to resist. But Luigi is adamant…Megan will be a wife to him—in every way—once more!









Her Husband’s Christmas Bargain





Margaret Mayo











www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE




CHAPTER ONE


IT WASN’T! It was! It was Megan. Luigi Costanzo had overheard the child telling Santa that all she wanted for Christmas was a daddy. It had aroused his curiosity, even caused a faint stir somewhere deep within him, and he’d watched her as she returned to her mother. She was a pretty little girl with long blonde hair and big blue eyes, but it was the shock of seeing who was her parent that caused him to do a double take.

Megan!

His Megan!

Megan, whom he hadn’t seen for almost four years.

What the hell?

Luigi looked from mother to daughter and his eyes narrowed. Megan still had the same shoulder-length blonde hair, the same slender figure; nothing about her had changed. She didn’t even look any older. He swung on his heel, snapping his fingers at his nearest employee. ‘Please follow that woman and report back to me with her address.’

‘Yes, sir.’

If the young man was surprised he didn’t show it. He spurted into immediate action. There was no arguing with the new owner of Gerards. He’d had everyone on their toes ever since he took over a few months ago.



’Sweetheart, what did you ask for?’ Megan looked down at her beloved daughter, who was skipping happily along at her side. There hadn’t really been time to visit Santa’s grotto but Charlotte had pleaded so eloquently that Megan couldn’t find it in her heart to refuse. There was always another train, even if it meant travelling home at the height of the rush hour.

‘For a daddy.’

Megan hid her surprise, smiling indulgently instead. ‘I don’t think Santa supplies daddies. You were supposed to ask for a toy.’ Her heart felt heavy as she spoke. Charlotte was right, she did need a father, and if Luigi had been different…

Megan halted her thoughts. It was no good letting them run along those lines. She had been an idiot for marrying him, for allowing her parents to convince her that she could do no better. He was a man with big ambition; she would never want for anything, they had said.

She could understand their reasoning because money had been the bane of their lives, her father never able to hold down a job for long due to ill health, so for that reason she hadn’t told her parents that she was leaving Luigi. She had simply disappeared, telephoning them later so that they would know she was safe, but not giving them her address. They had not been happy, telling her that she was making a big mistake. But Megan didn’t think so.

Luigi’s chief aim in life was making money, and he was very good at it. His wife was someone to clean his home, and cook and wash for him, and to make love to whenever the urge drove him. But there was no love in his heart; she had found that out after the first few months of marriage. She doubted he was capable of feeling any such emotion. Whereas she had loved him with a passion that had sometimes scared her.

With an effort she pushed him out of her mind, concentrating instead on her chatterbox daughter. Santa had given her a parcel and they played a guessing game all the way home as to what was inside.

Home was a rented terraced house in Greenwich, which she shared with Jenny Wilson whom she’d met when she first arrived in London. As soon as they were indoors Charlotte ripped the wrapping paper off her gift. If Megan was disappointed her daughter wasn’t. She was delighted with her soldier doll.

‘Look, Mummy, I can pretend he’s my daddy. Wasn’t Santa kind?’

It was a clear case of the boys and girls presents getting muddled but Megan hadn’t the heart to tell Charlotte this. ‘He certainly is, sweetheart. What are you going to call him?’

‘Daddy, of course,’ said Charlotte scornfully. ‘Come on, Daddy, come and play with me.’

It broke Megan’s heart to see her daughter being so passionate about a doll. She hadn’t realised that Charlotte missed having a father. Where had the idea come from? Surely she was too young to know?

Daddy doll was a part of their lives for the next few days and on Sunday morning, when Charlotte jumped into bed beside her, the doll had to come too. Megan was sometimes tempted to conveniently lose the doll, except that she knew her daughter would be heartbroken. The trouble was, all this talk about Daddy dragged up memories she would far rather forget.

When the doorbell rang loudly and insistently she was tempted to ignore it. This was Sunday morning for heaven’s sake. No one of any consequence called at this hour. It was probably for Jenny anyway, and she was spending the weekend with her fiancé. But the ringing didn’t stop; whoever it was kept their finger on the button with no intention of going away until it was answered.

Impatiently Megan pulled on her dressing gown. ‘Stay there and keep the bed warm,’ she told her daughter. Someone was going to get a piece of her mind. But that someone robbed her of speech. She felt the colour drain from her face, and her heart skipped a couple of beats before resuming at a startling pace.

The very last person she had expected to see was her husband. After all these years she had thought she was safe. In fact she’d felt extremely secure in the knowledge that he had no idea where she was. Not that she’d expected him to come looking. He might just as well have employed a housekeeper for all the notice he’d ever taken of her.

He was still as handsome as ever, his dark Latin looks improving with age rather than fading. Black hair aggressively short, deep brown eyes intensely disturbing. There was maybe a line or two around their corners but it added rather than detracted from his appearance. His nose was strong and straight and his generous lips were at this moment compressed into a grim line.

Although there was a step up into her house he still stood a couple of inches taller. He was six three compared to her five feet six and she was glad at this moment of the extra few inches the step afforded her. He could be very intimidating when he chose.

And it looked as though this was one of those occasions.

‘I’ve come to claim my daughter.’

The bald statement left Megan gasping. This was her worst nightmare come true. She clung to the door handle for support as her legs threatened to buckle. ‘H—how did you know?’ She felt a tightness in her throat that threatened to choke her.

‘So she is mine!’ he claimed triumphantly, a gleam of light entering those dark, dark eyes.

He had tricked her! Megan felt like taking a swipe at him. Or at the very least slamming the door in his face. But what good would that do? He wouldn’t go away until he’d got what he came for. She dared not think what that might be.

‘Can I come in or shall we negotiate on the doorstep?’

Negotiate? Negotiate what? Visiting rights? Some hope of that. He was no longer a part of her life, their lives, hers and Charlotte’s. She ought to have divorced him. How had he found her? The question whirled round and round in her head.

He lived in Derbyshire; he had no connections with London. She had thought she would be safe a hundred and fifty or more miles away in a big anonymous city. So how had he discovered her whereabouts? Had he been looking for her all these years? Somehow she doubted it. He had declared he loved her before they got married but there had been very little show of affection afterwards, certainly not enough for him to take time off from his precious work to scour the country after her.

He looked as though he’d done well for himself. A short black Crombie overcoat, mohair trousers with perfectly pressed pleats, Italian leather shoes. Yes, he wasn’t short of a few pennies. Not that he ever had been. But he was far more polished, far more mature and self-confident. Even the way he stood told her that.

There was not an ounce of diffidence. He was here on a mission and expected to get his own way. No, not expected, he would demand it—as his right. She could see it in his expression. Dark eyes overpowered her, making her step back and invite him silently into her private domain.

She didn’t want to do it but she had no choice. He was hypnotising her into obeying. Or was it because she didn’t want to argue with him in full view of her neighbours? Whichever, she was going along with his wishes and she had the secret fear that she would live to regret it.

He followed her as she opened the door into her lounge-cum-dining room, standing just inside the doorway as she drew back the curtains and let the cold morning light filter in. She folded her arms and looked at him as imperiously as she was able in her purple wool dressing gown. It wasn’t exactly the outfit she would have chosen for facing the enemy.

And he was her enemy if he thought he was going to take Charlotte away from her. The very notion triggered a protective parent syndrome. Her grey eyes flared hostility and her back stiffened. ‘How did you find me?’

‘Does it matter?’ he asked coolly. ‘The issue here is that you have denied me my daughter.’

‘And you think you’d have made a good father?’ Megan’s voice was growing shriller by the second. ‘You didn’t even show me any affection; I had no intention of putting a child through that.’

He drew in a swift disbelieving breath. ‘I was working for our future, Megan, in case you’d forgotten.’

‘So I didn’t matter?’

‘Of course you mattered. But I thought you understood.’

‘Oh, I understood all right,’ she retorted. ‘You thought I’d be happy taking a back seat while you headed towards making your first million. You believed that the thought of all that money would be sufficient for me to happily keep house while you spent every waking hour making more of the bloody stuff. Well, let me tell you something, dear husband of mine, I’m not interested in money. So long as I have enough to put a roof over mine and Charlotte’s head and feed and clothe us, then—’

‘So that’s my daughter’s name—Charlotte. Mmm, I like it,’ he cut in with a smile. ‘Where is she? I’d like to—’

‘She’s asleep,’ lied Megan, ‘and I’d thank you to keep your voice down.’

‘I want to see her.’

‘And then you’ll go away?’ she rasped. ‘I don’t think so. I didn’t like it when you said you’d come to claim your daughter. What was that supposed to mean? Because I’ll tell you this right now, it will be over my dead body that you take her from me.’

Megan could hear herself shrieking and knew that it was no way to conduct herself, but she couldn’t help it. He wasn’t going to take Charlotte; he wasn’t! She would fight him tooth and nail.

‘What I want,’ he said, ‘is for you and Charlotte to come and spend Christmas with me.’

Megan stared at him in disbelief, finally shaking her head. ‘You really think we’d do that? You think I’d let my daughter spend Christmas with a stranger?’

The jibe hurt; she could see it in his eyes, but she didn’t care. How dare he think he could walk in here and take over her life?

‘I’m not a stranger I am her father,’ he rasped, ‘and as such I have rights. You must know that. And if necessary I’ll implement those rights,’ he added harshly. ‘If you know what’s good for you you’ll accept that you have no alternative.’

He moved further into the room, halting a few menacing inches from her. Megan felt every hair on her skin prickle and she wanted to step back but she knew that she must show no fear or he would take advantage. Luigi could be ruthless. If he wanted something he went all out for it. She’d seen it enough times in his business life and knew that he’d be equally determined where his daughter was concerned. She was being hounded into a corner and wasn’t sure which way to turn.

When his big hands gripped her shoulders she felt a powerful sensation rush through her—anger, fear, desperation. All three! With a strength she didn’t know she possessed, Megan pushed him away. Then out of the corner of her eye, she saw Charlotte sidling into the room—a scared-looking Charlotte.

‘Mummy,’ her daughter cried plaintively. ‘What’s that man doing to you?’

Megan immediately gathered the child into her arms. ‘Nothing, sweetheart.’

‘But I saw him touch you. Were you fighting?’

‘Of course not.’

‘So who is he? What’s he doing here?’

Megan could understand Charlotte’s questions because they never had any male visitors except Jenny’s boyfriend. There’d been no one in her life since Luigi, not because she’d been short of invitations; she simply wasn’t interested. Her daughter filled her every waking hour and Megan was completely happy—or she had been until a few minutes ago. Now she felt her happiness fading and worry begin to take its place.

It was ironic that Luigi should put in an appearance now—when Charlotte was crying out for a daddy. He had unknowingly timed his visit to perfection. And it looked as though he intended to do all in his power to take her beloved baby away from her. It was as clear in her head as water out of a tap that this was what he had in mind. He didn’t want her, he wanted Charlotte.

I’ve come to claim my daughter!

Those were his exact words and they struck chill in her heart as she recalled them. And because of that how could she explain to Charlotte that this was her father? He had no part to play in their lives. Not now, not ever! But how was she to get rid of him?

‘It looks as though Mummy isn’t going to tell you who I am,’ he said, looking down at the girl.

Megan shot him a warning glance because she knew what was going to come next, but her wishes were ignored.

‘I’m your father,’ he informed in a voice that held no love at all. It was a matter-of-fact statement and Megan could have cheerfully strangled him. He hadn’t changed one iota.

Charlotte hung on to Megan’s dressing gown, looking up at him shyly with an expression of awe and reverence on her face. ‘Did Santa send you?’ she asked in a tiny, breathless voice.

At that he smiled. ‘Indeed he did. He told me that there was a very special little girl looking for a daddy.’

Charlotte’s eyes were enormous as she turned to her mother. It was clear she thought that some miracle had happened. ‘Mummy, isn’t Santa wonderful?’

Megan forced herself to smile. ‘He always does his best, sweetheart, but it’s not Christmas yet, you know.’ What else could she say? How could she burst her daughter’s precious bubble of happiness? And how the hell had Luigi known?

‘It’s near enough,’ said Luigi. ‘How would you and your mummy like to come and spend Christmas with me? I have a great big house and you can help dress the Christmas tree and goodness knows how many presents you’ll find under it on Christmas Day.’

‘Luigi!’ Megan whispered through her teeth. This was emotional blackmail at its worst. Yes, he probably would ply Charlotte with presents, but what the little girl wanted more than anything in the world was a father who loved her, a father who showed his affection in every way possible. Buying a child’s love was inexcusable. And that was all he would do, all he would ever do.

And Charlotte was completely overwhelmed, hiding behind her mother’s skirts, very warily peeping at Luigi.

‘How dare you think you can walk in here after all these years and try to take over my life?’ said Megan coldly. ‘I have plans for Christmas; why should I change them because of a whim on your part?’

‘I can assure you it’s no whim,’ he told her brusquely. ‘I want both you and my daughter back where you belong. I’m giving you no choice.’



Luigi was angry, fiercely angry. His stomach was a tight, knotted ball and he wanted to lash out. He had felt bad enough when Megan left him, but for her to be carrying his child when she did so went beyond the pale. Had she hated him that much? Did she still hate him?

In truth, he hadn’t realised that anything had gone wrong with their marriage. Night after sleepless night he’d racked his brains for a possible reason and come up with nothing. He’d thought she was happy, she had no reason not to be. He was a good provider; she’d never been left wanting. He’d worked long hours, yes, but she understood that. It was the only way to get anywhere.

None of her friends or even her parents had known where she’d gone, and his search had proved fruitless. Not even the police could help him. He had immersed himself more deeply into his work, hoping that one day she would get in touch. Finally, though, he’d had to accept that their marriage was over. And he’d worked even harder.

When he’d seen her in his London store he’d been stunned, and when he had looked closely at the little girl he’d known at once that it was his child. He had an old photograph somewhere of his mother at the same age and there was a distinct likeness.

Megan had denied him his daughter and now she was trying to say that he had no rights to her. Lord, she really must hate him. What the hell had he done to her? Of one thing he was sure; he wasn’t going to let her get away with it. She was not going to walk out on him again.

‘I have no choice?’ she questioned now. ‘Believe me, no one, and that includes you, makes me do anything I don’t want to do.’

He admired the way she stood up for herself. Her bright eyes and prickly stance reminded him of an animal defending its young. And that was exactly what she was doing. But Charlotte was as much his as Megan’s.

‘Give me a reason why you don’t want to spend Christmas with me.’ He was sure she had none, except that she no longer loved him. But that was no excuse for depriving her daughter, his daughter. He’d never very much liked children, and he’d always worked over Christmas, but all of a sudden he found himself looking forward to taking a few days off and getting to know this beautiful little girl who kept peeping at him from behind her mother’s dressing gown.

He would shower her with presents, she would want for nothing, and it would be a Christmas filled with all the good things in life.

And after that? asked his conscience.

After that he would keep her with him, of course. It was her rightful place. Both Charlotte and Megan. He would accept nothing less.

‘The reason,’ she told him swiftly, ‘is that Charlotte doesn’t know you. And, to be quite honest, I don’t want her to get to know you. An absentee father is worse than not having one at all.’

‘What do you mean, absentee father?’ he asked sharply. ‘You were the one who walked out.’

‘Because I never saw you, dammit. What sort of a life was that? And I don’t want Charlotte suffering the same way.’

‘You belong with me,’ he growled fiercely. ‘Are you forgetting your wedding vows?’

‘Mummy, what’s the matter?’ Charlotte tugged at Megan’s dressing gown, forcing her to soften her face and look down at her worried daughter.

‘Nothing, sweetheart. I’m just not sure that I want to go and spend Christmas with your—father.’ It pained her to say the word.

‘I’d like to go,’ whispered her daughter, giving him a timid smile.

Luigi felt exultation. The battle was half won. All he needed now was Megan’s acceptance.

‘It looks as though you’re getting your wish,’ she finally managed to choke out. ‘You’ve always been the same, haven’t you, Luigi? Nothing ever stands in your way. How many million have you made?’

The question surprised him. ‘Enough to buy the whole Gerards Group,’ he admitted proudly.

‘What?’ she asked, her eyes narrowing, a deep, incredulous frown dragging her fine brows together. ‘I knew you had ambition but I never imagined that you’d do this well—so quickly.’ Gerards was a department store par excellence. ‘Where are you living these days?’

‘I have an apartment right here in the City where I spend most of the week, but my house is in Sussex.’

‘Did you know I lived here?’

She looked appalled at the very thought and his lips twisted bitterly. ‘Not at all. I was checking that everything was running smoothly when I overheard this little girl asking Santa Claus for a daddy. It was such an unusual request that I watched as she ran back to her mother. You can imagine my astonishment when I saw that it was you.’

‘And so you put your spies on the job and found out where I lived, is that it?’ she demanded, her grey eyes bright now with accusation.

‘Wouldn’t you have done the same if you’d found out that you had a three-year-old daughter whom you knew nothing about?’ he countered harshly. ‘I find it hard to believe that you’ve done this to me.’

Megan shrugged, as if she couldn’t care less what he thought.

‘I think,’ he said, ‘you’d better get dressed and start packing.’

‘Not on your life,’ she retorted. He thought she meant that she wasn’t going to come at all until she added, ‘There’s still a whole week before Christmas. And I have to work for a living. I don’t finish until Thursday.’

Beginning to fear that he was losing the battle, Luigi snapped his dark eyes and shot her a condemning glance. ‘You won’t need to work when you’re back with me. Give it up.’

She looked beautifully indignant. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I do not want my wife working, it’s as simple as that. And may I ask where you leave Charlotte while you’re doing whatever it is you do? I hope she’s safe.’

‘Of course she’s safe,’ snapped Megan. ‘We have a crèche; I can be with her at a second’s notice. And I have to work, otherwise how would I keep myself?’

‘You won’t need to; you’re going to live with me,’ he repeated impatiently. ‘It’s your rightful place.’ Now that he’d found out he had a daughter he most definitely wasn’t going to allow her to escape again.

Megan sucked in a harsh breath. ‘You can’t tell me what to do. I’m not one of your minions, Luigi; you’d best remember that. Charlotte and I will come to you on Friday, not a day before. And as soon as Christmas is over we’re back here.’

He decided not to make an issue of it in front of Charlotte, but he wasn’t happy with the situation and he intended to tell Megan so at the very first opportunity. ‘I’ll send a car for you,’ he announced stiffly.

Megan’s chin jerked. ‘There’s no need. Give me your address and we’ll make our own way.’ She held his gaze, her grey eyes, tinged with amethyst, were as cold and belligerent as his.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he snapped. ‘My car will be here at ten. Make sure you’re ready. And, Megan,’ he added warningly, ‘don’t try to run away again.’



‘Mummy, I like my new daddy. I wanted to go with him,’ Charlotte said, pouting, when Luigi had gone.

Megan was peering through the window, watching as he climbed into a sleek black Mercedes. ‘I know you did, sweetheart, but Mummy has to work, I can’t take time off or I’ll lose my job.’

‘Will he come back again?’

‘I don’t think so.’ In fact she prayed he wouldn’t. ‘But it won’t be long before we go to his house.’

‘Where does he live?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Why don’t we live with him? Laura’s daddy lives with them, and Katie’s.’

Megan turned back into the room and gathered her daughter into her arms. ‘Sometimes, sweetheart, Mummies and Daddies stop loving each other and they live in separate houses because if they didn’t they’d always be arguing.’

‘Did you used to argue with Daddy?’

‘Not really.’

‘So why don’t you live together? I want you to. I want my daddy with me all the time.’

How could she explain to a three-year-old that her father was a workaholic and couldn’t care less about his family? It wouldn’t be the heaven Charlotte thought it would be. Fortunately Jenny phoned at that moment wanting to know if Megan was doing some washing and if so would she throw in her white jeans. By the time their conversation was finished Charlotte had thankfully forgotten her question.

But as far as Megan was concerned her whole day was spoilt. Usually Jenny and her boyfriend lounged about the house and she and Charlotte never had any time to themselves. She had been so looking forward to it. And now all she could think about was Luigi and the fact that they were going to spend Christmas with him.

She ought to have been strong; she should have said no, but how could she deny her daughter what she so obviously wanted? It would be purgatory, she was sure of that. And there was no way on this earth that he could persuade her to move in permanently.

The next four days were sheer hell. She finished her Christmas shopping, not even entertaining the idea of buying Luigi a gift. Why should she? She truly and deeply resented the fact that he was forcing them to spend the festive period with him.

It looked as though another move might be in the cards because she most definitely didn’t want to live the rest of her life with a man who hadn’t an ounce of love in the whole of his body. It wouldn’t even be fair on her daughter to be thrust into such a situation.

Jenny and her fiancé were flying to Paris for Christmas, another reason why Megan had been looking forward to Christmas alone with her daughter, and on Christmas Eve morning it was chaos as they all got ready at once. Finally Jenny and Jake left but Megan had only a short period of breathing space before the car arrived.

She was expecting a polite but indifferent driver and was annoyed to discover that Luigi himself had come to pick them up. Charlotte had been looking through the window and she gave a hoot of delight, though when Megan let him into the house she became suddenly shy again.

‘Are you ready?’ he asked. He was wearing a suit this morning, an immaculate dark grey with a crisp white shirt and a patterned mustard tie. He was the epitome of the successful businessman, gorgeously handsome to boot, and Megan couldn’t stave off a brief flash of the old feelings that had once filled her with such excitement. Had he taken time off work to fetch them? Would he be shooting straight back? It would be good if that were the case because then she and Charlotte could explore his house on their own.

She couldn’t help being curious as to where he now lived. Had he sold the house in Derbyshire or did he still own that as well? He had always said how much he loved the Peak District with its beautiful countryside and interesting little villages.

‘I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,’ she admitted.

‘So you’re still not happy about spending Christmas with me?’ he asked, his eyes hard and enquiring on hers.

‘No, I’m not.’

‘Perhaps I should take Charlotte on her own? Leave you here to—’

‘Not on your life!’

He gave a faint smile of satisfaction. Not the sort that reached his eyes and made them crinkle at the corners, not the sort that had once made her reach out to him and kiss him soundly. Nothing like that. It was a getting-his-own-way kind of smile.

‘Good, then let’s go. Are these your things?’

There wasn’t much, two small suitcases. One with their clothes and one with the presents she had bought for her daughter, already wrapped and hidden away from her prying eyes. She saw him look at them doubtfully. ‘We’ll be coming back for the rest of your stuff after Christmas, I take it?’

‘We won’t be staying,’ she answered evenly. ‘Didn’t I make myself clear?’

‘Perfectly, but I thought you might have changed your mind.’

‘I never will,’ Megan muttered, keeping her tone low for Charlotte’s sake. She didn’t want her daughter to hear her sniping at her new-found daddy. But Luigi heard the determination in her tone and his mouth compressed grimly.

He picked up the two cases and headed out to the car. They looked ridiculously small in his hands and as he tossed them into the boot Megan wanted to cry out that she had changed her mind. She had the strongest feeling that if she went with Luigi now it would change her life for ever.




CHAPTER TWO


MEGAN gasped when she saw Luigi’s house. They’d left the city behind and headed into the Sussex countryside. He had paused at a set of heavy iron security gates to press a remote control and then driven up a winding drive before coming to a halt in front of a mansion that was perched imposingly at the top of a hill. It was a huge grey stone building with massive Ionic columns forming the front portico, and generous wings flanking the main house on either side.

‘This is where you live?’ she asked incredulously. Charlotte was awestruck too, sitting on the edge of her seat and gazing at the building with wide blue eyes.

‘Impressed?’ he asked, a dark eyebrow rising expectantly.

‘It’s not what I imagined,’ Megan admitted, but if he thought she was impressed enough to want to move back in with him he was wide of the mark. ‘And a little bit grand for one man on his own, wouldn’t you say? Unless of course you don’t live here alone?’

Her thoughts immediately turned to his very beautiful PA. Was Serena still with him? Was she a permanent part of his life now? When she had first started working for Luigi he had almost constantly sung her praises. So much so that Megan had begun to get suspicious, especially when his long working hours went on late into the night. He had denied it, of course, but her fears had never gone away and it had been part of the reason she had left him.

‘I’m alone,’ he admitted, much to her relief, because if Serena had been here she would have insisted he take her straight back home. ‘For the moment,’ he added ominously, looking deeply into her troubled eyes.

Megan ignored it and as they approached the house one of the pair of carved oak doors opened and a dark-suited, white-haired man appeared.

‘William, meet my wife, Megan,’ said Luigi with a smile. ‘And Charlotte, my daughter.’

The man inclined his head. ‘Megan, Charlotte,’ he acknowledged gravely. ‘Shall I show them to their rooms, sir?’

‘I’ll do it,’ said Luigi. ‘Tell Cook we’re here and we’d like tea in the drawing room.’

Megan was dumbstruck. This was a rags to riches tale in one giant leap. She’d always known he had excellent entrepreneurial skills, but for him to be able to buy Gerards, as well as a house like this in such a short space of time was beyond her comprehension. How had he done it?

And she couldn’t help wondering what else he had in mind. A top ranking football club? A luxurious yacht? Exotic holiday homes? It seemed as though the world was his oyster these days. Perhaps he even had these things. But she wasn’t disgruntled that she’d missed out because she knew that he would have worked all the hours God gave to get where he was, and that wasn’t the sort of lifestyle she wanted.

She and Charlotte were content in their little house, there was always a sense of satisfaction when she paid her bills and cooked and cleaned and provided a happy, carefree environment for her daughter. She wouldn’t like to live here, not permanently. It wasn’t a home; it was a showpiece.

There wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere in the enormous entrance hall, or the shallow, wide staircase they were now ascending. Nothing was out of place. Urns of flowers spilled their heady perfume into the air, while marble statues stood in alcoves and paintings by old masters adorned the walls.

They followed Luigi through long corridors, finally coming to a halt at a suite of rooms, which she presumed to be in one of the wings. He pushed the door open and Megan walked into a blue carpeted room with a four-poster bed draped in matching blue and two armchairs near the window upholstered in cream damask. The curtains at the tall windows were in a cream and blue fabric. It was all very elegant but not her style and Megan felt a faint shudder run through her.

Luigi appeared to be waiting for her to say something, but when she didn’t he opened an adjoining door, revealing a further bedroom filled with every imaginable toy possible. Charlotte’s eyes widened and she ran inside. ‘Are these for me?’ she asked in wonderment.

‘It’s your room,’ he told her, ‘for as long as you want it.’

‘How dare you do this to her,’ hissed Megan accusingly as soon as Charlotte had disappeared inside. ‘It’s nothing short of blackmail. I’ve not changed my mind. When Christmas is over we’re out of here.’

Luigi’s lips curved upwards in a knowing smile. ‘We’ll see about that.’

Meaning over his dead body. Well, that was what she’d do, kill him if necessary. Actually she wouldn’t do anything so drastic, but there had to be a way to make him change his mind.

‘I’m serious, Luigi,’ she told him coldly.

‘And I’m serious about you moving back in with me. There’s nothing to stop you.’

‘Except that I don’t love you any more.’

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Is there someone else?’

‘There could be.’ Why should she tell him that there’d been no one since the day she’d walked out on him? He didn’t deserve to know anything.

‘Tell me, is there?’ he demanded angrily, and he took her by the shoulders and almost shook her. ‘Because if there is,’ he warned, ‘I’m taking Charlotte from you. I won’t allow another man to bring up my child.’

Megan was shocked by the ferocity of his tone. ‘You’re in no position to do anything, so take your hands off me. What I do with my private life is no longer any concern of yours. Charlotte is being well looked after and that’s all that need concern you.’

He let out a whoosh of angry air. ‘Charlotte needs her father, her biological father. If you’re not happy with that then get out. But Charlotte stays.’

Megan couldn’t believe he was saying this. A flash of red fury filled her eyes and she lashed out with both fists, raining them on his chest, battering him until she ran out of energy. In response he wrapped his strong arms about her and held her close.

Amazingly Megan felt a stirring of her senses. Lord, this was the last thing she wanted. It had to be anger, a turbulent rage flooding every nerve and tissue. It couldn’t be anything else. Could it?

She wrenched away and glared furiously. ‘You’re a swine, Luigi Costanzo. I can’t believe I let myself be bullied into coming here.’

‘Bullied?’ he challenged. ‘Ask your daughter if she was bullied. She’s been deprived, that’s what. Why else would she ask for a daddy for Christmas? It’s appalling what you’ve done to her, and I intend to make up for the missing years, have no fear about that.’

A cold chill stole through Megan’s veins. ‘Is that a threat?’ she demanded, standing very straight and rigid and glaring at him through stony eyes.

‘If you care to take it that way.’

‘What exactly are you saying?’

‘That even if you don’t want to stay I’m keeping Charlotte.’

This was what she had feared, and the very thought filled her with a dread so deep that the air around her thickened until she found it difficult to breathe. She dragged in huge painful gulps of air. He was serious, and he had the clout to do it. And, unfortunately, it left her with no alternative but to move in with him herself.

But she wouldn’t let him know yet that he had her over a barrel. She would fight him every inch of the way. Once Christmas was over, when he’d discovered how much of his time a young child demanded, he might change his mind. Megan felt sure that he had no real comprehension of what it was like to bring up a young, extremely active daughter.

‘Bold words, Luigi.’

‘I mean them.’

‘And have you perhaps thought about Charlotte? She might not want to stay here. It’s not exactly what I’d call a homely place.’

He frowned. ‘You don’t like it?’

Megan shrugged. ‘It’s imposing, I’ll admit that. But it’s a statement. It says, look at my lifestyle, look how wealthy I am. It doesn’t say that you’re happy or comfortable.’

‘I don’t have time to be comfortable.’

‘Precisely. And that is what your daughter would require. Time. Your time! How would you give her that when you’re busy making your millions?’

‘It could be arranged.’

‘Arranged,’ sneered Megan. ‘You make it sound like a business proposition. It wouldn’t work, Luigi, and you know it. When Charlotte said she wanted a daddy she meant a full-time one, not someone who would try to fit her in when he could.’

Dark eyes flashed hotly in her direction but he was prevented from saying anything else by Charlotte running back into the room. ‘Mummy, come and look what I’ve got.’

It was sheer madness on Luigi’s part, decided Megan, as she studied the mounds of toys stacked in Charlotte’s room. Did he think that going over the top like this would make up for the missing years? He really had no idea what a child needed. And the more she thought about his intention to claim Charlotte the angrier she became.

‘Didn’t you say something about tea?’ she asked him sharply, wanting to get out of this room and the obscene number of gifts he had loaded on his daughter.

‘Wouldn’t you like to unpack first? Or shall I ask—’

‘I’ll do it,’ she snapped, wondering whom he was going to suggest do the job for her. It sounded as though he had a whole army of servants at his beck and call. Was he really happy with this kind of lifestyle?

She backed out of the room and snapped open the locks on her case. It took less than two minutes to hang up their few clothes. The other suitcase with the presents in she left safely fastened. And when she presented herself in Charlotte’s bedroom again he was still standing where she had left him. A real father would have got down on his knees and played with his daughter, but not Luigi. He was content to watch; he didn’t know how to play. Lord, it made her so mad that he’d cocooned himself in a world where money was the prime factor.

They made their way back downstairs to the drawing room. Again it was carpeted in blue, with display cabinets filled with fine pieces of porcelain. There were two very uncomfortable looking, square-armed chairs and a matching sofa, and on a rosewood tea table in front of them was the tea he had ordered.

The china was delicate, the pot covered by a cosy, and tiny biscuits were arranged on a plate. Hardly the sort of refreshment one would offer a three-year-old, thought Megan, but there were three cups and three small plates, so it looked as though she was expected to join them.

Charlotte ate most of the biscuits but she refused the tea. ‘Can I have Coke?’ she asked politely.

Megan felt quite amused when Luigi was forced to confess that he didn’t have any and Charlotte settled for milk instead.

‘We could go shopping,’ said Charlotte innocently. ‘Me and Mummy always go when we run out of anything.’

‘I have to go back to work in a minute,’ confessed her father.

Typical, thought Megan. Nothing had changed. But actually it was a relief when he’d gone and she and Charlotte could explore the house together. Her daughter ran from room to room, visibly impressed by the size of the place, but it made Megan angry. Was this what success meant to him? Was he trying to buy happiness? If so he was failing dismally.

As far as she was concerned it was a loveless place and he must rattle round in it. It wasn’t a home and she couldn’t imagine Charlotte being happy here either. And what annoyed her even more, there wasn’t a single Christmas decoration in sight. Why the hell had he invited them for Christmas if he wasn’t going to celebrate it?

Megan didn’t expect Luigi home for several hours and was surprised when he turned up in the middle of the afternoon with a huge Christmas tree tied on top of his car. Charlotte whooped with delight and all three of them spent the next couple of hours adorning it with the garlands and baubles and strings of flashing lights that he had also brought home.

It reminded Megan of the first Christmas they’d spent together as a married couple. She’d been deliriously happy. They had a home of their own by then and Luigi had walked in on Christmas Eve with a tree, much as he had now. It had taken a long time to dress it because each time she stretched up to hang a bauble he had slid his arms around her and kissed her.

They had called it their loving tree, but as each consecutive Christmas came he worked harder and harder, often not coming home until late on Christmas Eve, and by then Megan had dressed their tree herself. And slowly the magic had gone out of it.

‘Look, Mummy, look.’ Charlotte was high on her father’s shoulders and had just placed the fairy on top of the tree. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’

‘It’s lovely, sweetheart.’

‘When’s Santa coming?’

‘Tonight, when you’re in bed.’

‘Can I go to bed now?’ she asked excitedly.

‘No, darling, it’s too early.’

‘Will he bring my presents here?’

‘Of course he will.’

‘How will he know I’m here, though?’

‘Because he’s magic. He knows where all little girls and boys are,’ she answered.

Luigi lifted his daughter down and as he did so his eyes met Megan’s, and whether it was the magic of the occasion or because she’d been thinking about their first Christmas together, Megan wasn’t sure, but she felt a volt of electricity arc through her. She turned swiftly away. It was a warning to be careful. She didn’t want to get involved with Luigi again, not at any price. Not unless he changed his lifestyle, and she couldn’t see that happening in a hundred years.

It made her increasingly aware how dangerous it had been to come here. She ought to have stood her ground even if it had meant disappointing her daughter. Not that Luigi would have let her. He’d been fully determined to have his daughter for Christmas, with or without her mother.

In fact it might have been safer to let Charlotte come on her own. No! She immediately negated that thought. She would have lost her. Luigi was adamant that he wanted his daughter—permanently. And she was equally as resolute that he would not.



Luigi had felt a warm surge of pleasure as he held his daughter aloft. It was unlike any feeling he’d ever experienced. This was his child, his flesh and blood, something he had created. She was nothing short of a miracle. And he knew that he never wanted to let her go—unlike his handsome Italian father and fun-loving English mother who had never really wanted him, who preferred to go out partying instead of looking after their son.

When he was eight he’d been taken from them and fostered out. Even then he’d been tossed from one family to another because he’d proved to be too much of a handful. He was full of anger and resentment over the treatment he’d received and several times he’d run away, never settling, never knowing what it was like to be truly loved.

It had made him into the tough person he was today. It had made him decide that he was going to make something of his life. He was quick to learn and very intelligent and at sixteen he had left school and started his first job with an IT firm. In fact he’d had a few little money-earners going long before then.

He’d helped school-friends with their homework and charged them. He had good computer skills and published a teenage magazine that was purchased by dozens of his friends both in school and out. He’d bought and sold all sorts of stuff, anything that would make him a profit. By the time he’d left school he’d amassed almost a thousand pounds. But he’d got his eyes set on a million before he was thirty, and he’d succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. He didn’t even know what he was worth these days.

Money gave him security, something he’d never had, and he was hurt that Megan didn’t like his house. To him it was the pinnacle of all that he’d worked for.

Charlotte was speaking now. ‘Do you think, Mummy, that ‘cos I asked Santa for a daddy and he’s given me one, he won’t leave me anything else?’

‘Of course he will, sweetheart,’ answered Megan, gathering the child into her arms and giving her a great big hug.

Luigi felt an unbelievable sadness. He’d never experienced a mother’s arms around him like that. All he’d ever been to his mother was a nuisance, someone to be fed and clothed and told to keep out of the way, often left in the house for long periods alone.

‘I expect he’ll leave you lots,’ he said to his daughter now, and was hurt when Megan gave him a damning look. What did she expect, that he wouldn’t give his daughter anything? That he’d given her enough with the few things he’d put into her room? They were nothing, just a few toys to make her feel at home. Wait until tomorrow, she would be the happiest girl alive.

And Megan too; he had no intention of leaving her out, even though she was making it very clear that she wasn’t pleased to see him. All that would change, he felt certain, when she realised how much better it would be for Charlotte to have a father as well as a mother.

He couldn’t even begin to understand why Megan had kept their daughter a secret. If he hadn’t spotted her in Gerards he might never have known. Charlotte would have grown up and had children, his grandchildren, and he would have been none the wiser.

The very thought sent a spurt of anger through him and he knew he had to get to the bottom of it. Was Megan being truthful when she said that she’d left him because of the long hours he worked? Or had there been another man involved? Was there still someone else? The one he had seen coming and going from her house, for instance?

Luigi’s lips compressed at the thought that there might be some other man in her life. And in his daughter’s life! This man could be the reason why Megan had been so adamant about wanting to spend as little time with him as possible. He needed to speak to her about it, about him, and soon.

The opportunity presented itself as soon as Charlotte had been bathed and put to bed. He’d stood and watched, marvelling at the bond between mother and daughter. It was something he wanted, something he’d missed out on, and he vowed that whatever it took, however much he had to bribe or force, Megan and Charlotte would become a part of his life—for ever!

At least they were still married, that should make things easier. He wondered why Megan had never got around to divorcing him. On his part it was because he’d never met anyone else he wanted to marry—though there’d been plenty of girls who wanted to marry him. But Megan, what was her story? Did she love the man she shared the house with? What sort of a guy was he that he was content to live with a woman who could never be his in the eyes of the law?

‘Asleep at last,’ said Megan as she left Charlotte’s bedroom and discovered Luigi still lurking. ‘She’s so excited. Sleeping in a strange house and wondering what Santa’s going to bring her is a lot for a little girl.’

‘And will it be a lot for her mother, sleeping in a strange house? A house she doesn’t particularly like?’ he asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. It had disappointed him that she hadn’t been as enthralled as he was. He had expected her to be impressed by how well he’d done. In fact he had hoped that it might prove a deciding factor in bringing them back together.

‘I don’t expect I’ll sleep very much,’ she admitted.

‘Are you excited about Christmas too?’

‘Not on your life,’ she retorted. ‘I wish I was anywhere but here.’

Luigi felt as though she’d kicked him in the stomach, although, he supposed reluctantly, it had been a big step for Megan to take. She had been honest about why she’d run away and he’d virtually forced her here. Not that he regretted it.

They would both grow to love it, he felt sure. All they needed was time. At least Megan did. Charlotte seemed happy enough, though he wasn’t sure whether she’d be so content if her mother didn’t stay. In fact he knew she wouldn’t. Which made it even more imperative that he persuade Megan to move in with him permanently.

He would need to treat her with kid gloves, which might be difficult because he wasn’t used to holding back. And he’d need to show her what she and Charlotte would be missing if she went back to their cramped little house. She’d made it very homely but, given the choice between there and here, he couldn’t see there was a choice. This house would win hands down. And he would win too; he would make sure of that.

Couldn’t Megan see that Charlotte would be far better off? Not only because of the space in the house, but the grounds as well. There was a copse, a tennis court, a swimming pool, a lake. It was a child’s dream. There were even stables, though he had no horses yet. But if Charlotte wanted a pony then it would be hers for the asking.

‘It’s too early for you to judge whether you’re going to be happy here,’ he said to Megan now. ‘When—’

‘It’s not altogether the house,’ she retorted sharply, ‘even though I think it’s too pretentious. It’s you! You’re obsessed with money. You’ve always been the same. You think you can buy happiness. Well, let me tell you, Mr Rich Guy, you can be happy living in the tiniest hovel, so long as you’re with the right person.’

‘And you’ve found the right person?’ He couldn’t avoid the hard edge to his voice. He wanted to kill the guy, whoever he was. This was his wife.

‘I was talking generally.’

She flashed her grey eyes at him and he thought how beautiful she was, still flushed from bathing Charlotte, her hair in slight disarray. His groin stirred and he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her—thoroughly. He wanted to prove to her that their love had never gone away; it had simply got lost. ‘But there is someone else? I know because you didn’t refute it earlier. In fact I’ve seen him.’

Megan’s head jerked, her eyes widened. ‘You have?’

‘Come and sit down,’ he said. ‘We need to talk.’ He led her downstairs into a cosy little room with panelled walls and a log fire. Red velvet curtains were drawn against the cold winter day and table lamps cast a warm glow. He saw Megan looking around appreciatively. There were a few pieces of antique furniture that he had chosen himself and actually the room was overcrowded, but he quite liked it that way.

‘This is my den,’ he told her. ‘It’s—’

‘The smallest room in the house,’ she finished for him. ‘Proving that you don’t need a mansion. Big rooms are too impersonal; you can’t relax. It’s like living in a National Trust property that’s open to the public.’ She perched herself on the edge of an easy chair.

‘So you’re saying small is cosy?’ He had hoped she would flop down and relax. It looked as though he still had a long way to go. He dropped into the chair opposite so that he could study her to his heart’s content, and stretched out his long legs.

‘Absolutely.’

‘That’s why you’re happy in your own home?’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s not because you can’t afford anything bigger?’ Lord, she was more beautiful than ever. What a fool he’d been not to continue his search. He would have promised her the earth if she’d come back to him. Instead he had given up and got on with what really interested him. And it was only now that he realised his mistake.

Megan sucked in a disapproving breath. ‘There you go again, bringing money into it. I tell you, money doesn’t interest me.’

‘You’re one on your own, Megan, do you know that?

‘Because every other woman you’ve met has been more interested in your bank balance than you?’ she asked sharply.

Her words struck home. It was quite true. He’d never appreciated before he had acquired his wealth how mercenary some girls could be. In one way it pleased him that Megan was different; on the other hand he felt irritated because he wanted her to be excited by what he had achieved.

‘It would make life a lot easier for you if you moved in here,’ he said, trying his hardest to sound gentle. In reality he wanted to shake her. He had no idea that she could be so stubborn. This was a side of her that had never surfaced in the early years of their marriage.

‘No, it wouldn’t,’ she retorted.

He could see by the glint in her eyes that she meant living with him would be abhorrent, and it hurt. ‘You’d never need to work again. That must be every woman’s dream?’

‘I admit it would be nice not to have to leave Charlotte. On the other hand, she enjoys playing with other children. And soon she’ll be at school.’

‘Will that make any difference?’ he asked tersely. ‘What if she becomes ill? Can you take time off work? Would your boss understand? Admit it, Megan, you’d be far better off giving up your job and moving in here. Unless, of course, it’s the boyfriend! Is he the one holding you back?’

‘So you have been spying on me?’ Megan spat the words loudly and, without giving him time to answer, added, ‘How low is that?’

He hadn’t considered it low. He’d wanted to find out where she lived, what sort of a lifestyle she had. He wanted to make sure she didn’t move again. Was that wrong? ‘I must confess that when I discovered your address I did sometimes keep watch. Not that it was my intention to spy, Megan. I was hoping to catch sight of you so that we could talk. I would have preferred it that way rather than knocking on your door and giving you the surprise of your life.’

‘Fright of my life, more like,’ she riposted.

‘So, tell me about your boyfriend. He’s clearly not asked you to marry him, otherwise you’d have sought a divorce. What does he mean to you? How long have you known him? Does he have a good job?’

‘I think,’ said Megan tightly, ‘that it’s none of your business.’

‘You’re my wife. It’s every bit my business,’ he challenged.

‘In name only,’ she retorted. ‘Our marriage was over a long time ago.’

‘Then why haven’t you applied for a divorce?’ he asked. This surely had to be in his favour.

Megan shrugged. ‘I never got round to it.’

‘Because you were secretly hoping that one day we’d get back together?’ he suggested.

‘You know that’s not true,’ Megan thrust. ‘And, while we’re on the subject, let me make it quite clear that I shall never come back to you. Never! So we might as well start divorce proceedings as soon as Christmas is over.’

Stunned by Megan’s statement, Luigi sat forward in his chair and looked at her in consternation. ‘Divorce? Now! When we’ve found each other again? When we have Charlotte to consider?’ Despite the warmth from the blazing logs a chill radiated out from his heart until his whole body felt as though it were packed in ice. This was the last thing he’d expected—or wanted! She couldn’t have given him a crueller Christmas gift.

‘I’m perfectly serious,’ she retorted. ‘We’re not compatible, you and I. We each want different things in life.’

‘I want Charlotte.’ He was adamant on that point. Whether Megan came with her was her problem, but he wasn’t letting the child go. She meant more to him than any amount of money. The thought surprised him because previously the state of his bank balance was the most important thing in his life.

‘Charlotte doesn’t come without me,’ she announced. ‘And as I have no—’

‘You’re not being given a choice,’ he warned her testily. ‘I’ve got you here now and you’re staying whether you like it or not.’




CHAPTER THREE


‘IS THAT a warning?’ asked Megan, the air constricting in her throat as it closed tightly over Luigi’s words. He sounded deadly serious.

‘It’s not a warning, it’s a fact,’ he announced. ‘And if you dare to defy me I’ll have every court in the country on your back. You’ve denied me my daughter all these years; you can no longer be allowed to get away with it.’

Panic struck in Megan’s heart. Could he do it? Had he the right? Surely the courts would find in her favour? Could she afford to take the risk? Was she stuck in this situation? She felt the colour drain from her face and sank back into the chair. ‘I can’t believe you’d do this to me.’

‘You can’t? After what you’ve done to me?’ he countered harshly. ‘I think you’ve got away with too much for too long.’

‘What if Charlotte doesn’t want to stay here? What if Charlotte doesn’t like you after she’s seen what a bad father you’ll be to her? Don’t forget I know how much time you spend away from home. She won’t like it, she won’t be very forgiving.’

‘Then I’ll have to spend more time here, won’t I?’ Dark brown eyes seared steadily into hers. He had beautiful eyes; she had always thought that. The whites were very clear and if you looked closely there was a black line around the brown iris. It gave them extra definition, and as he looked at her now she felt that he was seeing right into her mind.

And he was seeing the doubt, the unhappiness, the fear. And he was waiting for her to speak. ‘You know you won’t,’ she flared. ‘Maybe for a while, but you’d soon fall back into your old ways. It’s a way of life. You wouldn’t know what it was like to spend every evening and weekend with your wife and child. You’d be itching to get back to work, to check that things were running smoothly in your absence. You don’t know how to delegate. As a matter of fact you don’t even know how to play with Charlotte.’

Her rebuke hit home. A dark red flush swept across his face and the air suddenly went chill. ‘If I’d been given a chance then maybe I would,’ he shot back. ‘You’re the one who’s being unfair here, not me.’

‘I like that,’ she tossed fiercely. ‘You’ve more or less said that you’re going to hold us prisoner—yet I’m the one who’s being unfair? I don’t think so.’

Luigi jumped to his feet. ‘I’m sure that by the time Christmas is over you’ll have had the chance to see for yourself that it makes sense. It’s time for us to eat. Come, we mustn’t keep Cook waiting.’

‘I’m not hungry,’ protested Megan.

‘You will be when you see what culinary delights Edwina has managed to conjure up. She’s a marvel in the kitchen.’

Megan reluctantly allowed herself to follow him into the smallest of the two dining rooms where a walnut table had been set for the two of them. It looked very festive with a holly table decoration and red napkins tucked into gold rings, but Megan guessed that there would have been none of these seasonal trimmings if he were eating alone. He probably wouldn’t even have been home yet. He would dine out, or make do with a sandwich at around midnight. That used to be his normal practice.

William, the butler, served their meal and Megan found with surprise that she was hungry, very much so.

They started with mango and lobster on a green salad, a combination Megan had never had before, and she found it truly delicious and complementary. ‘Is your cook always this inventive?’ she asked between mouthfuls.

‘Always,’ he agreed. ‘She keeps urging me to have dinner parties so that she can show off her prowess.’

‘And do you?’ Megan dabbed a drop of French dressing from her lip with her napkin, an action Luigi watched closely. His eyes on her mouth reminded her of the time on their honeymoon when they’d shared a bowl of strawberries. He had dipped each one in cream and then held it between his teeth for her to take half. And any cream that was left on her lips he had licked off. It had been a truly sexually exciting experience and she dashed the memory away quickly. It was dangerous allowing such thoughts. Besides, such sensual activities had stopped once they were home and work consumed his every waking hour.

The whole meal was a gastronomic experience, making Megan wonder what Christmas Day itself would be like. Her own cooking skills were limited to plain cooking. She ensured Charlotte had a well-balanced diet, they had no takeaway meals or fast food and they ate plenty of fruit, but she wasn’t into this type of cookery.

‘You’re enjoying your meal?’ Luigi had hardly taken his eyes off Megan all the time they were eating.

‘Very much so,’ she said. ‘You’ve found a treasure in Edwina.’

‘You could eat her food all the time if you—’

‘And I’d end up piling on weight. No, thank you. I prefer my own simple cooking.’

‘Maybe I should give Edwina her marching orders?’

‘Maybe you ought to get the message that we’re not staying,’ Megan retorted coolly.

Luigi’s lips compressed and he said no more, but even when their meal was finished he wasn’t ready to let her go. ‘Where do you normally put Charlotte’s presents?’

‘I fill a stocking from Santa which I put by the fireplace, and a couple under the tree from me.’

‘Then we’d better start,’ he said.

Megan frowned. ‘It won’t take a minute; it’s too soon. What if she wakes and comes down?’

‘If she wakes we’ll hear the monitor. I thought it a wise precaution in a house of this size. We don’t want her getting lost and upset.’

We, thought Megan, as though he was already of the opinion that they were back together as husband and wife. But maybe it was a good idea to put the presents out because then she could go to bed early and escape him for a few hours. She really wasn’t looking forward to Christmas Day, which was a shame because it was normally the highlight of their year.

It wasn’t that easy to get away from him, though. After they’d placed their presents—and she was pleased to note that there was only one from Luigi for his daughter—he invited her to join him for a nightcap. Megan wasn’t really in the mood but Luigi was insistent, and she knew he wouldn’t let her go until she’d agreed.

She couldn’t help wondering how things would have been if she hadn’t run out on him. Would he be where he was today or would he have become a doting father and spent a lot more time at home? She would never know and, surprisingly, she felt a faint pang of regret that she’d never stopped to find out.

‘Would you have ever told me?’ he asked, his eyes steady on hers now as he sipped his Scotch.

‘About Charlotte?’ How had he known what she was thinking?

‘Of course.’

‘I don’t know,’ she answered honestly. ‘Maybe one day, if Charlotte began asking about you. Not simply, Why haven’t I got a daddy?’

‘Then I can thank my lucky stars that I was in the right place at the right time. I could have waited a long, long time to meet my daughter.’ And with a swift change of subject, ‘You’re more beautiful than ever, do you know that? Motherhood suits you.’

‘Flattery will get you nowhere,’ Megan assured him tartly.

His lips curved upwards into a gentle smile. ‘It’s not flattery for the sake of it, it’s the truth.’

They were back in his den, sitting in companion armchairs, the lights turned low, the fire flickering in the grate. The whole house was centrally heated, and she’d never thought Luigi the type to like old-fashioned comforts, but even so it was very welcome. Maybe the fire was in honour of Christmas. There was one already laid in the drawing room fireplace where the tree had been set up. Tomorrow she could imagine it roaring up the chimney, adding to the magic of Christmas for Charlotte.

‘Would you have gone to all this trouble if we hadn’t been here?’ asked Megan, preferring to steer the conversation back to safer grounds. ‘I mean the Christmas tree and the log fires.’

‘Truthfully?’

‘Truthfully.’

‘No,’ he answered. ‘What would have been the point? This is going to be the best Christmas ever for me—and for you too, I hope.’

‘I’m merely here to make Charlotte happy.’

‘You’re making me happy.’

His voice went down an octave, seeming to vibrate through her bones, and Megan turned her head away, concentrating on her drink, taking large sips of the vodka and orange he had mixed for her. A big mistake; it went straight to her head. Much more of this and she wouldn’t be in charge of her senses. ‘I’ve never seen you as the slippers in front of the fire sort of guy.’

‘So how do you see me?’ he asked with a roguish growl, his eyes reflecting the glow of the embers.

Megan felt them warming her—or was it the fire? Or even the drink? Whichever, she was growing hotter by the second. ‘As the tough businessman who’s feet never hit the ground. What made you buy Gerards? I thought you were in the IT industry.’

‘I still am, but I have my finger in lots of pies. I’ll tell you about them some day,’ he added dismissively, ‘but for the moment I want to talk about you. Why didn’t you tell me you were unhappy? Why did you walk out without saying a word?’

‘Because I knew you’d stop me,’ she retorted, her eyes condemning as she looked at him over the rim of her glass. Her almost empty glass, she realised. ‘You’d probably have sworn that you’d change, but I knew differently. And I was right, wasn’t I?’

‘No one will ever know,’ he answered sadly. ‘It’s hard to accept that I’ve missed the first three years of my daughter’s life—it’s something I shall never forgive you for,’ he finished harshly as he tossed the last of his drink down his throat. ‘Ever!’

Megan finished her drink also and put her glass firmly down on the table. ‘I don’t want to talk about this. It’s late, I’m going to bed.’

As she stood, he too got up, and before she could stop him his arms came around her. ‘But you’re still my wife, the mother of my daughter, and I’d like a goodnight kiss.’

Megan struggled furiously but he refused to let her go. Instead his mouth came down on hers, one hand behind her head effectively cutting off her escape, the other against the small of her back. It was a long, punishing kiss and it sent resentment reeling through every inch of her body.

There was no escape. The kiss deepened, his arms tightened, and all too soon she felt herself beginning to respond. It was like a replay of when she had met him. She could remember the day very clearly. This handsome, dark-haired, Latin-looking young man had stopped to pick up a bag she’d dropped. Ironically, it had been a few weeks before Christmas and her arms had been full of purchases. When she’d looked into his eyes to thank him she’d been so taken with his good looks that she’d dropped another of her parcels.

‘I think,’ he said, with a smile that turned her legs to jelly, ‘that I’d better help you to your car, or the bus, or wherever you’re going. Home, in fact. You’ve got an extraordinary amount of packages.’

‘Christmas presents,’ she admitted shyly. ‘And I’m catching the bus.’

‘I think not,’ he said with a laugh, ‘not unless you want to lose the lot as you’re jumping on or off. I’ll run you home; my car’s just around the corner.’

‘But I don’t know you. I—’

‘I assure you you’ll be perfectly safe. My name’s Luigi Costanzo, I live in Mickleover, near Derby.’ He flashed his business card in front of her and then tucked it into one of her bags. And Megan knew instinctively that she could trust him. He had an open, honest face, and he had almost to pass her house to get to his own. It would be silly to refuse.

But still she hesitated.

‘I know how you must feel,’ he said. ‘A complete stranger and all that. The offer’s there if you want it, but I’ll still walk you to the bus stop if that’s what you’d prefer.’

Megan was eighteen and he was much older than the boys she usually hung around with. Mid twenties, she imagined, maybe even older than that. She was enchanted by him. And she found herself agreeing to let him give her a lift.

His car was smart, black and sleek. Whatever his business he was clearly doing well for himself. And he drove her straight to her door, even helping her with her parcels. Her parents’ eyes goggled when they saw her with a strange, handsome man, but they were clearly impressed.

Before he left, Luigi asked whether he could see her again. Megan couldn’t refuse. By this time she was completely bowled over. Her insides felt as though they had turned to mush—as they were doing at this moment!




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