Jane Porter - Christmas Contract For His Cinderella

“Oh, that’s long gone. I’m as hard as they come now.”

“Your poor future wife.”

“I’m not romantic. I never have been.”

“So says the man who loved opera? Who’d listen to Puccini for hours?”

“ You loved opera. I simply supported your passion.”

She eyed him, trying to come to terms with this new version of Marcu. He was so hard to stomach. “You do know you’d be better off hiring a new nanny, or even two, to job-share than trying to fix things by acquiring a wife. Wives do come with feelings—”

“Not all women require extravagant gestures. Vittoria is quite practical. And I’m hoping you can be practical, too. I’ll pay you one hundred thousand euros for the next five weeks,” he added. “Hopefully that will adequately cover any lost wages from Bernard’s.”

“And if they don’t take me back afterward?”

“You will continue to earn twenty thousand euros a week until I find you a new position.”

She was intrigued and appalled. “That’s a lot of money.”

“My children are worth it.”

“So you are still consumed with guilt over your wife’s death.”

“I’m not consumed with guilt, just determined to make amends. They are very good children, but they are also in need of a mother. I do not, and cannot, meet all their needs, which is why I’m determined to marry again. A mother will be better equipped to handle their ups and downs and various emotions.”

“This mother you speak of will be practically a stranger to them.”

“But they will form a relationship. I don’t expect it to happen overnight, but I do believe it will happen eventually, and I imagine when a new baby arrives, the children will be excited to have a new brother or sister.”

Monet studied him for a long moment. Did he really think his children, who had already been deprived of a mother, would welcome the competition of a new baby for their father’s attention? “I remember you studied finance at university. It’s a shame you didn’t study more psychology. Creating a new family isn’t an easy thing, and children who have been through loss and heartbreak don’t always welcome more change.”

“I don’t expect them to understand immediately. They are still very young but their innocence is also to their advantage. They will be grateful for a permanent mother figure. As it is they are very attached to their current nanny, and I fear the day Miss Sheldon leaves us for good.”

“I thought your nanny was only on temporary leave?”

“So she is, but I see the writing on the wall. It’s only a matter of time.” He hesitated. “Miss Sheldon has fallen in love with my pilot. They’ve been secretly dating for the past year. They don’t think I know, but neither of them are as discreet as they imagine.”

“Your nanny couldn’t marry and continue working for you?”

“They will want to start a family of their own. She’s in her thirties. I know how these things go. She’s not our first nanny, nor will she be the last.”

“But she hasn’t left yet—”

“I don’t care to discuss Miss Sheldon with you. I’m simply informing you that you will not lose any wages while you work for me.”

His brusque tone put her teeth on edge. His arrogance was beyond off-putting. The very idea of working for him made her nauseous. She’d had so many feelings for him, but none of them involved being his employee. She didn’t want him as her superior. The idea of having to answer to him made her want to stand up and storm out. She’d thought she’d loved him once—desperately, passionately—but he’d deemed her unsuitable. Unworthy.

Suddenly she flashed back to another conversation, one between Marcu and his father as they’d discussed how inappropriate Monet was for someone of Marcu’s stature. That Monet might be sweet and charming but she was the kind of woman you took as your mistress, not as your wife.

To hear this at eighteen. To be so painfully and thoroughly dismissed, reduced— marginalized —at only eighteen. It had changed her forever.

“I can’t work for you,” she said in a low voice. “I can’t be at your beck and call.”

“I won’t be around after the first few days. I’ll only be there to get you settled and then I’m taking Vittoria to Altapura for Christmas. She loves to ski. She’s a very good skier, too, so unless something unexpected happens, we’ll return just after New Year.”

“You won’t be spending the holidays with your children?” she asked, confused.

“No. That’s the whole point of me seeking you out. I won’t be with them this year, but you will be.”

Monet felt another welling of pity for his children. It was also difficult to believe that Marcu had become such a cold, pragmatic man. He’d been so warm and kind when he was younger. He’d been a very loving, and much-adored, big brother. “Do they know this?”

“They know that it’s going to be a different kind of holiday this year. I haven’t told them more than that. I didn’t think it appropriate until Vittoria accepts my proposal.”

“You worry me, Marcu, and you make me worry for the children, too.”

Marcu’s eyes met hers and held, the light blue gaze heavily hooded, and assessing. “They are not mistreated in any way.”

“They’ll miss you.”

“They won’t. They might even be relieved to have me gone.” He hesitated. “I know they have more fun with Miss Sheldon when I’m away.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“I never asked to be both mother and father.”

“But leaving them altogether seems exceptionally unfair—”

“It seems you want to fight with me. Does it give you pleasure? I’ve already told you I’m not good at this parenting thing. I have not been a rousing success. What more do you want from me?”

The raw pain in his voice silenced her. She sat still for a moment, feeling his deep anguish echo in her ears. She waited another moment until she was sure she could speak calmly. “I don’t want to fight with you, but I’m not comfortable with the way things ended between us. And while I’m sympathetic to your children’s situation—they’ve experienced loss and grief and they need stability—I also recognize that I’m not the right person to fill in for your nanny.”

“Why not? You’re very good with children.”

“I only did child care temporarily, until I found permanent work. Further, I can’t leave Bernard’s on such short notice. I was down two saleswomen in my department today. It’s impossible for my department to run without anybody there tomorrow. I must speak with management. I must clear things—”

“I already have,” he interrupted flatly. “I had a brief conversation this morning with Charles.”

“Bernard?”

Marcu’s dark head inclined impatiently. “He was sorry to hear of my emergency, and agreed that you would be the best help for me—”

“Emergency? What emergency?” She exhaled hard, battling to keep her temper in check. “You’ve decided to go skiing with your girlfriend during the same time period your nanny needs a break. That’s not an emergency.”

“I have no dedicated help for them.”

“Then do what others in your situation do—hire a replacement through a professional service. You refuse to, but that doesn’t constitute an emergency.”

He shrugged. “You’re wrong. Charles agreed that young children cannot be left with a stranger. Once he understood your connection with my family, he thought you were the best answer.”

Such a power play. What arrogance! Monet was shocked at how manipulative Marcu had been. “I can’t believe you went to my boss and told him some ridiculous sob story. I’m sorry that your nanny needed a break just now, and I’m sorry you had plans to ski—”