Alison Roberts - Christmas Kisses - The Spanish Billionaire's Christmas Bride / Christmas Bride-To-Be / Christmas Wishes, Mistletoe Kisses

Dominique nodded, her expression stunned.

‘And Matilde?’

‘Well, no,’ Dominique answered. ‘There’s hardly been a need …’

‘No matter—I can easily speed things up with a word in the right ear at the embassy. And as for packing—you will not need to bring much with you when you first come out at all. I will ensure absolutely everything you need will be provided once we arrive back home.’

‘Can you turn water into wine too?’

He stared at her with a dark look in his eyes.

‘Very amusing! I can see that it will take time for you to become used to how I operate, Dominique, but you will soon learn. When I say a thing should be done then it is done without question, and I want you to know that I will be completely unrelenting in my goal to have Ramón’s daughter and her mother on Spanish soil sooner rather than later. I am absolutely adamant about that!’

Her cheeks twin beacons of indignant scarlet at his words, Dominique stubbornly refused to shy away from Cristiano’s arrogant gaze. But an icy chill of warning slid down her spine. Ramón had been right … his cousin was, indeed, formidable.

‘And I want you to know that whilst I may be young I’m no badly behaved five-year-old who needs to be told what to do—so don’t treat me like I am!’

‘Is that so? I will endeavour to try and remember that. I am beginning to see that Ramón certainly had his work cut out for him being with you, Dominique!’

To Dominique’s complete surprise, Cristiano’s steely-eyed glare was swiftly replaced by a teasing glance that made heat erupt inside her like a rip tide, scorching right through her centre.

Stunned by her disturbing response—and suddenly not feeling quite so defiant—she pushed to her feet. ‘I need to use the bathroom,’ she mumbled and, disconcerted that the smile had still not completely left her tormentor’s lips, she hurried away in the direction he indicated.

Standing in the luxurious marble bathroom, in front of a huge antique mirror edged with gold-painted rosebuds and curlicues, Dominique surveyed her flushed, heated face with impatience and surprise. What had just happened in there? Why was the man getting to her so? Dropping her shoulders, she flicked her hair back over her shoulder and sighed. She was scared, that was all. Fear was apt to make her anxious and edgy, liable to react nervously to even the most inconsequential thing.

But how could she feel anything but scared about the possibility of going to live in Spain amongst people she didn’t know, as well as putting herself under the daunting wing of a man like Cristiano Cordova? It hardly surprised her that he was a lawyer—no doubt a frighteningly successful one too. Once they were in his sphere, he would hold her and Matilde’s futures in his hands as ruthlessly and single-mindedly as he controlled the fates of the people he represented in court, she was sure.

Yet, even so, Dominique realised that this was the right thing to do for her child. She might not have had the chance to find out about her own father, or be close to his family, but Matilde would. And even though she could foresee that sparks would fly between herself and Cristiano—he would want to control her and Dominique would naturally want to resist being manipulated in any way—he had told her that his family were kind, loving people, and the picture he had painted so evocatively of the kind of Christmases they enjoyed had been compelling. Her heart had squeezed with longing for such an experience.

If only she could trust what he said, then maybe she could start to allow herself to hope that the future might not be so frightening as she feared. She ached to feel connected to the rest of the world again … not to be cut off by people who were so emotionally distant that they made Dominique feel like an island in a stark, cold sea. Her mother had scorned her for throwing away her future by having Matilde, but it was her emotional neglect that had driven her into Ramón Cordova’s arms in the first place.

Ramón. Even though he had been thoughtless and wild, and in the end had rejected her, when they’d been together he had given her more attention and affection than anyone else ever had. He had shown her what it was to laugh too, to be young and foolish and not to take life so seriously.

Suddenly it hit her hard that he was dead—his vibrant young life ended before it had really begun, leaving his child without even the possibility of ever meeting him. She felt her whole body sag towards the floor, as if some strange irresistible force were dragging her down, down into a dark abyss, and tears welled up in her eyes like hot springs, rolling down her cheeks in glistening wet tracks. Was she destined to be alone and unloved for ever? She almost couldn’t bear it.

‘Dominique? Is everything all right?’

Cristiano’s voice sounded from the other side of the door. Straightening in shock, Dominique ripped a tissue out of the chic box on the vanity unit, blew her nose and mumbled, ‘I’m fine. I just need a minute, okay?’

‘You are crying,’ he retorted, his voice accusing.

‘I suppose that’s a hanging offence where you come from?’ she burst out, unable to help herself.

‘Do not be so foolish! I never said it was an offence to cry.’

There was a surprisingly gentle quality to his tone that Dominique had not heard before.

‘But if you are upset I would like to help comfort you,’ he added.

Comfort … Spiritual, emotional, physical … It was the thing she longed for, but somehow it always escaped her. The distressing events of the past year had all but ripped away her confidence and trust in everything, and on top of that her hormones were going haywire after having Matilde.

‘You are the last person I would want to comfort me!’ she heard herself rail, before she could stem the impulse.

There was silence outside for a long moment, then Cristiano spoke again, his voice low and his words measured.

‘Maybe you would prefer it if it was my cousin standing outside this door talking to you? But as we both know that is not possible. You will simply have to make do with me. Open the door, Dominique.’

‘I don’t want Ramón!’ she answered, her tears coming faster. ‘Why would I want him? It was over between us a long time ago, and he walked out on me—remember? It’s just such a waste, that’s all—to die like that! A stupid, stupid waste!’

Glancing at her stricken expression sidelong in the mirror, Dominique gulped down another sob and dabbed feverishly at her reddened eyes.

‘Sometimes it is hard to make sense of these things, even when one has faith … But life goes on, yes? And you have a beautiful baby daughter to remember him by. Not all is lost.’

Strangely comforted by his words, Dominique took a deep breath, then shakily released the latch and opened the door. The handsome visage that confronted her was both grave and concerned, and she didn’t know why she should feel so guilty about yelling at him, but she did. He was, after all, throwing her a lifeline of sorts, as well as giving Matilde an opportunity to grow up knowing the family that had raised her father …

‘There is a park close by,’ Cristiano told her, dark eyes assessing her tear-stained face with intimate scrutiny. ‘The day is bright and cold—I think we should take a walk together and get some air. What do you say?’

‘I don’t know. Yes … all right.’ But even as she agreed, Dominique sensed her lip quiver uncontrollably and her face crumple. ‘I’m just so tired !’ she breathed mournfully, dipping her head. ‘So tired of everything!’

In the next instant Cristiano had propelled her into his arms and was cradling her head against his chest, just over his heart. The steady, even throb of his heartbeat and the comforting sensation of warmth and strength that emanated from his hard, masculine body made Dominique curl her fingers into his fine wool sweater for added security, and she gratefully shut her eyes, feeling as if they stood together in the eye of a storm. She prayed it would soon pass. But her scalding tears would not be so easily contained, and they seeped from her eyelids in a steady trickle of pain and sorrow. What was the matter with her? After all this time of staying strong, telling herself she could cope come what may, she was suddenly falling apart.