Jane Porter - Christmas Contract For His Cinderella

“It’s not about the skiing. I’m going to propose—”

“Regardless, that’s not my problem, and I’m livid that you’ve spoken to anyone about me, much less the CEO of Bernard’s.”

“I didn’t think it’d hurt you in any way for Charles to know that we have a close family connection. If anything, it will help your standing on your return. I’m quite certain you will see more promotions, and more salary increases.”

“Did you happen to tell Charles just what our close family connection was? Did you explain to him that my mother was your father’s mistress? Charles is quite conservative—”

“He knows our connection, just as he knows you are Edward Wilde’s daughter. Your father is on the board at Bernard’s. I suspect your rapid promotions have had something to do with that.”

Her mouth opened, closed. She had no idea that her father was on the board. She hadn’t spoken to him in years...not since he’d provided references, helping her get her first nanny job. “I earned my promotions through hard work, not through family connections.”

“Your father is quite respected in the banking world.”

“That has nothing to do with me. I’ve seen him less than a half dozen times in my life. He had no interest in me, and only gave me those references I needed because I went to him, and told him I needed his assistance. He balked, at first, but came around when I threatened to introduce myself to his wife and children.”

Marcu lifted a black brow. “You don’t think they already knew about you?”

“I’m sure they didn’t, and that’s fine. Everyone makes mistakes and my mother was Edward’s mistake.”

“You call him Edward?”

“I certainly don’t call him Father.”

“You’re more defensive than ever.”

“I’m not defensive. He didn’t want me, and he paid my mother to get rid of me. Instead she took the money and went to the States and then Morocco and you know the rest. Edward tolerates my existence because he has no other choice. Just as your father tolerated me because he had no other choice. As a young girl I had to accept that I was barely tolerated, but I don’t anymore.” She drew a quick breath. “This is why I can’t do this favor for you. I won’t be treated as a second-class citizen any longer. It’s not acceptable. Not from you, not from anyone.”

“I never treated you as a second-class citizen.”

“You did at the end, you know you did.”

“What are you talking about? Does this have something to do with the kiss?”

Heat flashed through her, making her shake. “It was more than a kiss.”

“You welcomed my attention. Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

“You did not force yourself on me, no. But what I thought was happening was quite different from reality.”

“I don’t understand.”

She drew a breath and then another, battling to hang on to the last thread of her composure. Crying would be a disaster. Losing control would be the final humiliation. She refused to endure any more shame. “We were not equals. You let me imagine we were. But we weren’t.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s no longer relevant. But what is relevant is my answer today. It’s a no. If I had wanted to be part of your life I would have stayed in Palermo, but I left for a reason and I have no desire to spend time with you. Ever. Which is why I’m demanding you forgive the debt, forget the favor, and let me let leave now with us both closing the door on the past, once and forever.”

Marcu froze, her words catching him off guard because yes, they probably both needed to close the door on the past and yet, it was the last thing he wanted.

And in that moment he realized something else.

Marcu hadn’t been honest when he told himself Monet wasn’t his first choice for a backup nanny. That was a lie. He’d interviewed plenty of candidates, but none of them had been right for the job, because none of them had been Monet. He’d been dismissive of the other women, finding fault with each, precisely so he could come to Monet today and say, I need you .

Because he did.

He needed her to come help him stabilize things at home while he figured out how to give his children a better life.

His children needed more than him. He wasn’t patient and tender, or particularly affectionate. He loved his children but he didn’t know how to meet all their needs, which is why he needed a partner...a better half. He needed a wife, someone maternal, someone to create stability in their home. He traveled too much. He worked too long. He was constantly at war with himself, juggling his business commitments while trying to be present with the children—not easy when his main office was in New York and his children were being raised in Sicily. He’d fly to New York for three days, but inevitably he’d have to extend his trip by a day, and then another, and another. Sometimes his brief trips became a week long and then two weeks, and he not only worried about the kids, but he’d also be filled with guilt and self-loathing.

Guilt that Galeta had died.

Self-loathing because he didn’t want to remarry and it’s why he hadn’t proposed to someone sooner.

Galeta had been a kind, loyal wife, and while they didn’t have a passionate marriage, they became friends and partners, with Galeta creating a warm loving home for him and their children in the main apartment at the palazzo. Her death had been a shock, and it had taken him years to wrap his head around the tragedy. Why hadn’t he known that a woman was still so vulnerable after delivery? Why had he thought that once she was home from the hospital everything was fine?

The guilt. The agony. She had deserved better, and so did their children. He wasn’t the father he’d thought he would be. He wasn’t good enough at all. And so while he didn’t want another wife, he would remarry, and he’d make sure that his new wife understood that her first responsibility was to the children.

“I can’t forgive the favor because I need you,” he replied now, his rough tone betraying his impatience. “You needed help from me eight years ago, and I helped you, and now I’m asking for you to return the favor. You understand this, I know you do. You lived with us long enough to understand our Sicilian view of these things.”

Monet gave her dark head a faint shake. Two bright spots of color stained her cheekbones, while her large golden-brown eyes glowed, burning with emotion.

“I also know that you could choose to be magnanimous and forgive the debt.”

“If my children weren’t involved, then yes, perhaps I could. But this is about my children, and they need you, which is why I need you.”

She slowly sat back in her chair, her slim frame practically vibrating with fury. She was both beautiful and fierce, and it struck him that he’d never seen this side of her before. In Palermo she’d been quiet and sweet with a deliciously dry sense of humor. She rarely spoke when his father was present, but when she was with Marcu and his brother and sisters, she had plenty to say, and inevitably she made everyone laugh. He should have known that underneath her sweet persona she had backbone. He was pleased to see it, finding it something of a relief. His world was filled with people who acquiesced to his every desire simply because he was wealthy and powerful. But it was hard to trust people who claimed they always agreed with you and only wanted to please you. Those people were dangerous. They could be bought.

“I don’t like you,” she said quietly, carefully, the lushness of her lower lip quivering before she pressed her mouth into a firm line.