Sarah Morgan - The Twelve Nights of Christmas

Pushing open the door, Rio stopped on the threshold of the room.

Lying on top of the bed was a naked woman, her vibrant red hair spilling over the pillow like a spectacular sunset, her eyelashes forming a dark smudge above pale cheeks. Her mouth was a deep pink, her lower lip full.

Rio stared at that mouth for a full minute before trailing his gaze down the rest of her body. His mind computed every last detail. Eyes—green, he decided. Temper—hot. Body— incredible.

When she didn’t stir, he strolled into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Unable to resist the sensual curve of her soft mouth, Rio lowered his head and kissed her. He just had time to register that she tasted as good as she looked when her eyes opened.

Deliciously groggy, she stared at him blankly. ‘Oh…’ Her words were slurred from sleep. ‘Is it Christmas?’

If this was Christmas then maybe it was time he re-evaluated his feelings towards the festive season. Perhaps it wasn’t all bad…

By

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SARAH MORGANtrained as a nurse, and has since worked in a variety of health-related jobs. Married to a gorgeous businessman, who still makes her knees knock, she spends most of her time trying to keep up with their two little boys, but manages to sneak off occasionally to indulge her passion for writing romance. Sarah loves outdoor life and is an enthusiastic skier and walker. Whatever she is doing, her head is always full of new characters and she is addicted to happy endings.

Sarah also writes for Mills & Boon® Medical™ Romance

To Kimberley Young:

Seven years and forty-two books together.

Thank you. xx

‘I NEVER thought this moment would come, Pietro. Let’s celebrate.’ Rio Zaccarelli sat back as the vintage champagne was poured into his glass. Across the table, his lawyer opened his case and handed him a sheaf of papers.

‘I’m not celebrating until this one is in the bag. How did you get a table here? I’ve never seen so many rich, powerful people in one place.’ Pietro glanced discreetly over his shoulder, his gaze skimming the other diners. His eyes widened as he focused on a man in a dark grey suit. ‘Isn’t that—?’

‘Yes. Don’t stare or you’ll have security teams swarming over your lunch.’ Rio flicked through the papers, scanning the contents. As he reached for his champagne he noticed that his hand shook slightly and he wrenched back his emotions, forcing himself to treat this like any other business deal. ‘You haven’t eaten here before?’

‘I’ve been waiting a year to get a table at this restaurant and you do it in one phone call. There are times when I wish I had your influence.’

‘Complete this deal and I’ll get you a table. That’s a promise.’ Complete this deal and I’ll buy you the restaurant.

‘I’ll hold you to that. You have to sign on the back page.’ Pietro handed him a pen and Rio signed the documents with a bold scrawl.

‘As usual, I owe you—for your discretion as well as your astonishing legal brain. Order the lobster. It’s sublime and you’ve more than earned it.’

‘Thank me when it’s all signed and sealed and not before. I’ve learned not to celebrate until the ball is in the net. It’s been a hard fight and this may still not be finished.’ The lawyer took the wedge of papers and slipped them into his briefcase. ‘The stakes are high. They haven’t stopped fighting, Rio. They don’t want you to win this.’

‘I’m aware of that.’ A red mist of anger coloured his vision and his fingers tightened on the delicate stem of the champagne flute. The tension was like steel bands around his body. ‘I want to be kept updated, Pietro. Any changes, phone my personal line.’

‘Understood.’ Pietro snapped his case shut. ‘This deal could still blow itself apart. The most important thing is that you need to keep yourself whiter than fresh snow between now and Christmas. Don’t get yourself so much as a parking ticket. Not a blemish. Not a rumour. My advice as a friend who knows you? Find an isolated ski lodge and lock yourself away. No liaisons with women, no kiss and tell stories—for the time being, sex is off the agenda.’

Rio, who hadn’t gone ten days without sex since he’d lost his virginity, kept his face expressionless. ‘I’ll be discreet.’

‘No.’ Pietro leaned forward, switching from friend back to lawyer in the blink of an eye. ‘If you want this deal watertight, then discretion isn’t enough. I’m saying no sex, Rio. Unless it’s married sex. If you happen to suddenly fall for a decent, wholesome girl whose entire objective in life is to love you and give you babies, that might actually help your case—’ he gave a faint smile and spread his hands in a fatalistic gesture ‘—but, knowing you as I do, there’s not much chance of that.’

‘None at all. There’s no such thing as a decent, wholesome girl and if there were she’d undergo a personality change the moment she met me,’ Rio drawled. ‘Within minutes she’d be thinking about prenuptial agreements and record breaking divorce settlements.’

Pietro picked up the menu. ‘I don’t blame you for being cynical, but—’

‘I understand you. No sex. Sounds like I’m in for an exciting Christmas.’ Rio thought of the Russian ballerina who was currently waiting in his apartment, lying on silk sheets, waiting for the visit he couldn’t risk making.

He’d send her diamonds and give her the use of his private jet to fly home to Moscow for Christmas. They could pick up their relationship in the New Year. Or not. Realising that he wasn’t bothered either way, he frowned.

Perhaps it was a good job he had an urgent business trip to make. He could work off his excess energy in other ways.

His eyes blank of expression, Rio stared out of the glass sided restaurant that had views over the centre of Rome, watching the crazy traffic fighting for space on the streets below.

There was nothing he wouldn’t do to achieve the outcome he wanted. Even denying his libido for a short time.

Pietro put down the menu and picked up his glass, a hint of a smile on his face. ‘I have a feeling this will be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. Go somewhere there are no women. I hear Antarctica is sparsely populated at this time of year.’

‘I have to fly to London on business.’

‘You are confronting Carlos?’

‘I’m firing him,’ Rio said coldly. ‘His appointment was a mistake. I’ve had a full report from the external management consultant I put into the hotel. I need to deal with the situation before his appalling mismanagement affects the reputation of my company.’

‘I don’t suppose I can persuade you to wait until after the deal is signed?’

‘Carlos cannot affect this deal.’

‘In theory I would agree, but—’ frowning, his lawyer put his glass down slowly ‘—this has been a difficult fight and we’re not there yet. I’m uneasy.’

‘That’s why I’m paying you such an astronomical sum. I pay you to be uneasy, so that I can sleep.’

Pietro lifted an eyebrow. ‘Since when did you start sleeping? You work harder than I do. Especially at this time of year. I assume you’re planning to work right through Christmas?’

‘Of course.’

The lawyer picked up the warm, crusty bread roll from his side plate and broke it in half. ‘Why do you hate this time of year so much?’