Sophie Pembroke: Ceo's Marriage Miracle

None of them looked back at Sebastian.

And then they were gone, his whole family disappearing through the door in a whirl of excitement and leaving him behind.

Leaving him alone.

Again.

MARIA KNEW SEBASTIAN probably better than anyone in the world, even—or perhaps especially—his sister. And she was almost certain that slipping back neatly into his life, into his bed, was exactly what Sebastian had expected. That she’d give up her little rebellion now she’d remembered what she’d walked away from. Or that she’d have forgotten the arguments, and the loneliness, that had made her leave in the first place.

Well. The bedroom situation was only the first of many disappointments he was likely to experience during her visit, then.

‘Are you okay?’ Noemi whispered in her ear, quietly enough that Frankie—who was playing a peek-a-boo game with his new uncle Max—wouldn’t hear.

Maria nodded, not trusting herself to tell the lie aloud.

Of course she wasn’t okay. She’d never be okay as long as she was here.

How could everything have changed so much? A new brother in Leo—and soon a sister-in-law, too, given how he was looking at Anissa—Noemi becoming a princess and mother to twins... And yet in some ways nothing had changed at all.

Not when it came to Seb, or their marriage, anyway.

Noemi sighed. ‘My brother is such an idiot.’

Maria didn’t argue with that.

The main staircase in the chalet wound up to the second floor, all warmth and wood and local charm. ‘Chalet’ was a ridiculous word for the Cattaneos’ home in the Alps, in Maria’s opinion. A chalet sounded like a small cosy wooden cabin or a rustic lodge you stopped in just long enough to grab a hot chocolate before heading home to a real house.

The Cattaneos’ chalet was neither small, cosy nor rustic. It was huge, spanning four floors with sprawling bedrooms with balconies, large, welcoming living spaces, a well-appointed kitchen and huge dining room for entertaining. Not to mention the heated indoor Olympic-sized swimming pool in the outbuilding.

Maria’s parents had always been wealthy enough—their own business portfolio had seen to that—but next to the Cattaneos they were paupers. And when their own business had gone through a difficult time—to the point of possible bankruptcy—well, it was no wonder her father had been so keen to marry his only daughter off to the Cattaneos’ only son and heir, in a merger that could not only save them but strengthen both their companies.

In her father’s mind, Maria had been nothing more than a means to an end, she realised now. While she’d been away, studying business, discovering a flair and aptitude for it that had surprised even her, he’d been making other plans for her future. His only child, his heiress—but only if there was a business left to inherit.

Except, while she was still an only child, Sebastian was anything but. Even if she discounted Noemi—who not only had no interest in the family business, according to Sebastian, but was now apparently running off to be a princess in Ostania, wherever that was—there was Leo to take into account, too.

It had taken a lot of questions to get the full story of Leo’s existence from Noemi. Maria’s father had returned from Salvo’s and Nicole’s funerals with news of a rumour—another Cattaneo child—and had demanded that Maria stop sulking and call her husband to find out the truth of it. She hadn’t, of course. She’d called Noemi instead.

It seemed that Salvo and Nicole had conceived a son together, out of wedlock, when they had been only teenagers. Their families had been scandalised and, never imagining that the couple would actually stay together, had demanded that the baby be given up for adoption.

But once they had been free of their parents’ oppression, married to each other and still madly in love, Salvo and Nicole had searched for their lost son. Even after they’d had Sebastian and Noemi, for more than thirty years they’d searched. And finally they’d found him—only for them to be killed in a helicopter crash on their way to see him.

It was tragic. Heartbreaking, even.

But the only thing Maria’s father had taken away from the story was that there was another Cattaneo heir now. One who, if reports were correct, had been left a controlling share in the hugely successful jewellery business.

‘Maybe you were right to leave him after all,’ Maria’s father had said, when he’d heard the story just a few weeks ago. ‘The divorce settlement should be good, and you’re still young enough to marry again. We’ll choose better next time.’

Maria hadn’t spoken to him since.

‘Here we are!’ Noemi’s bright and cheerful tone caught Maria by surprise, and she almost slipped on the final step leading up to the top floor.

Sebastian’s floor. The one they had shared ever since their marriage. Salvo and Nicole had taken one of the smaller suites on a lower floor, smiling knowingly as they’d declared that Seb and Maria might ‘need the extra room’ up there sooner or later. Preferably sooner.

This particular reason probably wasn’t what they’d had in mind.

She bit her lip. How could she move back in here, even into a separate bed, and pretend that things were different? That she didn’t still love her husband—and he wasn’t still so indifferent to her?

But Frankie was excited to see his room and, one small hand in his aunt Noemi’s, he’d barrelled on through to find out where he would be sleeping, Uncle Max chuckling as he followed behind.

Imagining their future probably—his and Noemi’s. Noemi’s baby bump was still relatively small, but it was there—as obvious as her excitement at starting a family with the man she loved.

And she did love Max, Maria could tell. And he loved Noemi—that was clear in every look, every smile he gave her. They would live happily ever after, just like Maria had once imagined she and Sebastian would.

How foolish she had been. Foolish, young and naive.

She knew better now, at least.

Sucking in a deep breath, Maria trailed after the others through the large open living space to the second bedroom—pointedly ignoring the archway that led to the main bedroom and the king-sized bed she remembered so well. The one where Frankie had actually been conceived, now she thought about it...

Except she wasn’t—thinking about it, that was. That way madness lay.

‘Well, what do you think, Frankie?’ Maria asked, forcing a smile for the sake of her son. ‘Will the chalet be a fun place to spend Christmas?’

Frankie, already bouncing on one of the twin beds, nodded excitedly. ‘And with Papà and Auntie Noemi and Uncle Max?’

‘Of course!’ Maria took his hands in hers to try to calm the bouncing. ‘And with Uncle Leo and Aunt Anissa, I suppose, too?’

Noemi nodded. ‘We hope so, anyway. It was Mamma and Papà’s last wish—to have all their children around the table for Christmas.’ Her permanent smile turned a little sad. ‘I just wish they were here to see it.’

Max wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her close against his side, and despite her best efforts Maria felt a pang of jealousy run through her. When had Sebastian ever instinctively comforted her like that?

Never. Because that would involve understanding what she was feeling. And Seb had never drawn his attention away from the family business long enough to even try to do that.

She looked away, but apparently not fast enough. Noemi, obviously having caught her expression, stepped out of the circle of Max’s arms, looking concerned.

Max looked between them. ‘Frankie, how about you and I go downstairs and explore the kitchen? I think I saw some delicious-looking Christmas cookies in there earlier.’