Taken by the highest bidder - الصفحة 14

06-12-07, 02:57 PM

المشاركة رقم: 66

المعلومات
الكاتب:	GKarima
اللقب:	عضو راقي

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التسجيل:	Oct 2006
العضوية:	15026
المشاركات:	10,594
الجنس	أنثى
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كاتب الموضوع : GKarima المنتدى : الارشيف

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Gabriela adored him because he talked to her, listened to her, and made her feel important. And with a pang Sam realized Gabby had never had this before, not from a man anyhow.

Johann had spent very little time with Gabby, and the time they did spend together inevitably revolved around Johann's mood, Johann's temper, Johannes problems. Tragically Gabby had been lost in the shuffle and it was only now that Sam began to understand how much the little girl had craved attention, and needed love, from a father. Gabby might have called Johann Papa, but Johann had never been her father. Not in name, not in word, not in deed.

"You're not leaving now, are you?" Gabby asked him, as Sam tugged on her hand, trying to steer her toward the small bath*room.

For a moment Cristiano said nothing and then he shook his head slowly. "No/' His voice was sober, "I'm not going any*where without you."

Gabby's smile returned, and it was bright, all light and hap*piness. "Good. And we'll take Sam with us when we go."

We'll take Sam with us when we go.

Gabby's innocent words echoed in Sam's head while Sam prepared the makeshift bath. Sam had essentially said the same thing to Gabby on their walk earlier in the afternoon, but it was different coming from Gabby.

Once Gabby was out of the bath and dry, Sam dressed her and towel-dried her hair, and let her sit close to the fire while Sam combed her wet hair. "I'll bring your cocoa in here," she said to Gabby. "Don't sit too close to the fire, though. I'll be right back,"

And even though Sam wasn't gone more than a couple min*utes, by the time she'd returned with the cup of hot chocolate, Gabriela was out, sound asleep in front of the fire, a fistful of old tin soldiers in her hand.

Sam covered Gabby with a blanket and went to hang up the towels and wet winter clothes to dry. Cristiano was still in the bathroom so Sam headed into his room first but on opening the door she discovered she'd been mistaken.

Cristiano wasn't in the bathroom anymore. He'd already fin*ished his bath and she'd caught him with his back turned toward her just starting to dress. Sam stopped short at the sight of a naked Cristiano.

His back was broad and tan, his hips narrow, his buttocks muscular, hard, but paler than his back and legs. But it was his thighs that caught her attention. His thighs, though thickly muscled, were heavily scarred.

Burns, she thought. Burns and more. A long incision indicat*ing he'd been cut Surgery, yes. But whether for setting broken bones or a skin graft, she didn't know.

Cristiano had heard the door open and he turned suddenly, covering his lower belly with his towel. 'Thank God you're not Gabby."

She made a soft incoherent sound. His chest was as tan and muscular as his back, his biceps knotted with muscle but the front of his thighs were like the back—scarred, disfigured with scars that ran down his hard, carved quadriceps toward his knees.

He saw she was staring and she flushed, looked away and then up into his face. His gaze met hers, and he gave her a long level look but said nothing.

"I was going to dry Gabby's wet things in here," she said awkwardly. "They're still so wet"

"Leave them on the bed. I'll do it"

She nodded, a hasty embarrassed nod, before dropping the clothes and leaving.

But back in the living room Sam couldn't forget what she'd seen. Cristiano's skin, so tan and gorgeous above his hips, looked nothing short of tortured below. He’d obviously been badly hurt, burned in a fire. But how and when?

Cristiano reappeared moments later, dressed, his black hair combed, the curls tamed, the sage linen shirt open at the throat, the tails out over his sturdy khaki pants. He was so tall, so male that Sam found herself wanting to move toward him, to touch him and see if he was as warm and hard as he looked.

It was a crazy thought. It made no sense because she didn't trust him, didn't want to like him, and yet she was also so drawn to him, like a fly to sticky paper.

Her attraction, as well as her ambivalence, scared her. She hadn't been attracted to a man in years and years.. .since Charles, actually, and yet as much as she cared about Charles, she'd never felt this kind of curiosity or interest She'd never really thought of Charles as a man. In her mind, Charles was always just a good person—kind, compassionate, saintly—but not physical, and certainly not sexual.

"When did she fall asleep?" Cristiano asked, gesturing to Gabriela who was curled up on the floor.

"Right after her bath. I went to get her hot cocoa, and when I came back she was out"

"I worry about her sleeping so close to the fire. ‘I’ll carry her to bed." Cristiano crouched down and scooped Gabriela into his arms as though she weighed nothing, and yet as he stood, she saw his jaw tighten, an almost imperceptible tensing of the mus*cles in his jaw.

He still hurt, she thought.

Funny, if she hadn't seen the actual burns on his thighs, she wouldn't have known he'd been injured. He compensated well, but now she could see things she hadn't seen before, the adap*tations he'd made to compensate for loss of agility, probably even muscle weakness. Like his slower walk. She'd thought it was ar*rogance, confidence. Instead it was practicality. And when he sat, he nearly always chose a chair with arms, sitting down by lean*ing on the chair's right arm. And then dropping into the seat.

As he returned to the living room she studied his walk more closely, saw for the first time the slight hitch in his step, how he put a little more weight on one leg than the other.

Probably playing with Gabby in the snow hadn't helped, she thought. He didn't have boots and in his leather dress shoes he wouldn't have had much traction.

He casually took a seat in one of the old leather chairs facing the fire. And he did just what she remembered: he leaned on the chair's right arm, dropped his right hip onto the leather cushion and then the left. His thick hair, now nearly dry, looked glossy in the firelight and the dark beard shadowing his jaw emphasized his straight nose and his firm expressive mouth.

And Sam, who'd felt such conflicting, ambivalent things for Cristiano, felt something new. Tenderness. Admiration. Despite everything, she liked him. But she had no desire to complicate an already complicated situation, so any attraction she felt would have to be suppressed- Gabriela came first. Gabriela's stability was everything.

06-12-07, 02:59 PM

المشاركة رقم: 67

المعلومات
الكاتب:	GKarima
اللقب:	عضو راقي

البيانات
التسجيل:	Oct 2006
العضوية:	15026
المشاركات:	10,594
الجنس	أنثى
معدل التقييم:
نقاط التقييم:	2934

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كاتب الموضوع : GKarima المنتدى : الارشيف

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مكتبة روايات عبق الرومانسية على هيئة كتب Epub

"I'm sorry I walked in on you," Sam said, taking a seat on the couch. "I should have at least knocked."

"It's fine. F in sure it's not the first time you saw a naked man."

She nodded, blushing a little, thinking there was no point in tell*ing him that she actually hadn't seen that many naked men. He probably wouldn't believe that she was still a virgin at twenty-eight.

She waited a moment, hoping he'd say something about the burns she'd seen, but he didn't, and it really wasn't any of her business.

If change was required, it was on Sam's part. Sam knew she was too sensitive, too shut-down, too controlling. She'd thought it was her nanny training, but it wasn't the two years spent at nanny college that had made her so disciplined. It was fear.

Sam was afraid of life. Afraid of death. Afraid of everything in between,

"I don't even know what you do," she said breathlessly, try*ing to regain some sense of control. "Who areyou?"

Grooves formed on either side of his mouth as he fought his smile. "Cristiano Bartolo—"

"Yes. I know your name. But whoare you? Why do people know you? And people do know you—that night at dinner in Monte Carlo—people approached you. Gave you their blessings. Even Johann thought I should know you. What do you do?"

His head tipped, thick lashes dropping, before he looked up at her. I'm a Formula 1 driver"

He said it simply, no arrogance in his voice or answer. In fact, his voice was expressionless but he was watching her closely. "Do you know what that is?"

"You race cars."

Sam suddenly wished she hadn't asked the question. "Isn't that terribly dangerous?"

She could have sworn he smiled but then the smile was gone and his features were so hard he looked like someone else alto*gether. "Can be," he said coolly.

When he didn't elaborate, Sam realized that was all he was going to say.

CHAPTER NINE

"I'm going to tell her." Cristiano said the next morning while Sam boiled water for tea and Gabby sat on the floor near the fire making snowflakes from paper Cristiano had in his briefcase. "She should know the truth."

Sam glanced uncertainly at him, "I agree"

"But?"

So he'd heard the reservation in her voice. Sam rearranged the cups and saucers on the counter. "But she's only just lost her fa*ther,"

"He wasn't her father."

"She thinks he is."

"That's why she should know the truth."

"Don't you think it's just a lot for her to take in? Out with the old house, the old school and the old father and in with the new?"

He gave her a hard look, "I won't tell her about school yet,"

"That's good."

He leaned close to Sam, so close that her middle filled with heat and her lower belly grew tight and even her breasts felt strange, the bra chafing her now very sensitive nipples, "Your sarcasm isn't helping," he said.'

She swallowed hard. "I don't want her upset."

"It's natural for her to be upset. What's happened is upsetting. But the good news is that I'm not going away. I've found her, I have her, and she'll always have me."

Sam suddenly resented him for making so much sense.She'd been the one trained at Princess Christian College in Manchester. She'd been the one that wore the sturdy brown uniform for two years. She'd been the one who'd undergone rigorous training in how to cope with difficult situations and all kinds of children.

The kettle whistled and Sam grabbed a pot holder and moved it off the heat. "When will you tell her then?" she asked, just able to see far enough into the living room where she caught the mo*tion of Gabby folding the paper again and then snipping, and then folding once more, and snipping.

"Now," he answered.

And suddenly Gabby's life looked as delicate as the paper snowflake she was making. Fragile. Ethereal. "Oh, Cristiano, can't we wait a little longer—"
But he didn't let her finish the thought. He walked out of the kitchen into the living room and crouched next to where she was still fashioning her snowflake. "Gabby, if the roads are clear enough later, we're going back to Monaco today'

Gabby set the paper and scissors down. "Do you think the roads will be cleared?"
"I'm hoping."

She nodded. "Me too. I miss the sun."

Cristiano's expression suddenly eased. "I feel the same way," He crouched next to Gabby. "But when we go back, you're not going home to your old house. You'll be coming to live with me—"

"And Sam?" Gabby interrupted, looking at Sam where she stood in the doorway.

"I'm going, too" Sam said, gently reassuring.

"Oh. good."

"And are you going to get married?" Gabby asked.

Sam blanched, hastily shook her head." No.No. Cristiano and I are just friends."

"But you will get married, right?" Gabby persisted.

"No, Gabby." Sam's tone sharpened even as her body prick*led with heat. This was getting really uncomfortable. "We're going back to Monaco so you can return to school and we're going to take care of some business. But there's no wedding."

Gabby frowned grumpily. "Why not? I like Cristiano better than Papa."

"About that," Sam said after a brief and very awkward si*lence, "there's something we need to tell you. Something about your father."

"I know what it is," Gabby answered.

"Um, no Gabriela, I don't think you do."

The girl sighed, leaned back in her chair, her small features set in lines of exasperation. "Papa's not my real father,"

Sam nearly lost her balance. She put out a hand, braced her*self on the doorframe. "You know?"

Gabby smiled but the smile didn't reach her eyes and for a mo*ment she looked very small and very young, every bit the vulner*able five-year-old. "I used to have a baby book. My mommy made it for me. But Papa Johann took it away." Gabby hesitated and rare tears shone in her eyes. "The book said my real papa's name is Enzo Bartolo. He's a race car driver like Cristiano. But I never met him,"

06-12-07, 03:02 PM

المشاركة رقم: 68

المعلومات
الكاتب:	GKarima
اللقب:	عضو راقي

البيانات
التسجيل:	Oct 2006
العضوية:	15026
المشاركات:	10,594
الجنس	أنثى
معدل التقييم:
نقاط التقييم:	2934

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كاتب الموضوع : GKarima المنتدى : الارشيف

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If it were any other child, Sam would say this was a fit of imagination. Children as young as Gabriela couldn't possibly keep facts straight, but Gabby had a mind and memory that was unlike any child's she'd ever known.

But even suspending disbelief, Sam didn't know what to say, or how to comfort Gabriela. The conversation had taken dramatic turns, sharp right, steep left, and now there was only silence and the sound of Gabriela breathing heavily.

Then Cristiano cleared his throat. "I met him. Gabby," he said quietly. "I knew him."

Gabby looked up at him, eyes bright with tears, touchingly hopeful. "You did?"

He nodded, picked up Gabby's hand and kissed it. "I think you would have liked him a lot, Gabby.

He was my father, too,"

The secrets, Sam thought later as they traveled to Manchester, the secrets and shadows each person kept buried inside...

It boggled her mind, the facts, the truth, the way things were.

Cristiano wasn't Gabby's father. He was her half-brother. Mercedes wasn't Cristiano's lover, but his father's, Enzo's, girl*friend. Enzo had never come forward to claim his daughter be*cause he died, just months before Gabriela was born.

Sam closed her eyes, drew her arm even more closely around Gabriela who slept curled in her lap during the flight from Manchester back to Nice on Cristiano's private jet.

Life was a series of events, cause and effect. One thing led to another, to another, and another. And as unbearable as it sounded, it also made sense.

Pregnant, alone and grieving, Mercedes ended up with Johann.

Did Enzo know he was going to be a father again before he died? Did Johann always know who Gabby's real father was? Did Gabby remember her mother at all?

Sam opened her eyes at the sound of footsteps on the dense mushroom colored carpet. The jet had been furnished in shades of taupe and gray and Cristiano took a seat in one of the soft gray leather chairs opposite the leather sofa where Sam sat with Gabriela,

"We're almost there," he said, with a glance toward the win*dow. "My driver's waiting. We just need to decide where we want to go. My penthouse in Monte Carlo, or the villa in Cap Ferrat. It's your decision."

"I don't know either,"

"One is a city apartment, and the other is my home on the peninsula."

"Where do you think Gabby would like best?" Sam asked.

"The villa. It's near the beach,"

They lapsed into silence as the flight attendant on board the jet approached to let them know that they'd soon begin their descent.

"Cristiano," Sam said, as the flight attendant walked away. "What happened...and again yesterday..." She took a quick breath, needing to say what she needed to say before they landed and Gabriela woke. "That wasn't anything, was it?"

"What?"

"The, umm, kiss."

Cristiano's upper lip curled- His expression hardened, turned mocking- "You're bothered by it?"

"I—" She took a quick breath- "I just wasn't sure what you meant by it, or if you meant nothing- I'm sure you meant noth*ing- It was just a kiss,"

She'd been trying to reassure herself, trying to let him know it was okay but somehow she was saying the wrong words. She could tell from his expression that every word that came from her mouth just made him angrier, more irritated. She'd somehow struck a nerve, and hadn't even meant to,

"What I meant was that I'm sorry I...” Her voice faded away and she bit her lip, tried again. "Sorry I..."

"Kissed me back?"

She blushed, miserable. "I know it shouldn't have happened. I wasn't thinking. I suppose I was scared, overwhelmed. Maybe I needed comfort." She exhaled, wondered where she'd gone wrong, how a simple apology had gotten so convoluted. "So I'm sorry."

"For what? Needing comfort? Or enjoying the kiss?"

My God this was hard, almost impossible. She was an adult, a woman, and she couldn't even calmly discuss a kiss. "I don't have your experience and I'm certain you kiss women all the time, and it's nothing, I know kissing means nothing to you—"

"I only kiss women I like. Women I'm attracted to." His lips curved, his expression sardonic. "Women I'd like to sleep with. So don't apologize. I wanted you, wanted to bed you. It just wasn't convenient"

Then he stood, went to the table where he'd been working during most of the flight and sat down again to finish the paper*work he'd started earlier.

Stomach churning, Sam watched him resume reading even as the plane started its steep final descent. Ever since she met him, life hadn't been the same.

On the ground in Nice, Cristiano's chauffeur was waiting for them. The driver greeted them at the executive terminal, loaded their luggage into the car and then they were off, heading to Cristiano's villa on the Cap Ferrat peninsula.

Of course Sam knew that the peninsula was considered a playground for the rich. You couldn't drive along the coast with*out being confronted by the lavish villas, fabulous gardens and extravagant yachts moored in the St-Jean marina, but she'd never been included in the parties, or inside any of the villas.

She might have married Baron van Bergen three and a half years and he might have attended events, but she'd never been on the guest list-Sam felt a wiggle at her side and glancing down saw that Gabriela was trying to sit higher in her seat to get a better look out the window- "I can't see the houses!" Gabby complained. "There are too many fences and bushes in the way,"

Gates and hedges, not fences and bushes, Sam silently cor*rected as she ruffled Gabby's hair. "You're so excited," she teased- "You'd think you'd never been anywhere."

"I haven't been here"

Here being Cristiano's home, and they'd arrived, the car slow*ing, stopping as the gates slowly opened, revealing little by lit*tle an exquisite villa tucked discreetly behind the tall dark green hedges that Gabby deplored.

And yet once they'd passed through the ornate wrought-iron gates, they glimpsed the startling blue ocean and then the Belle Epoque villa that nestled jewel-like in mature gardens marked by fanciful topiaries, verdant lawns, and flowers spilling from vines, pots, and fragrant, vibrant beds.

The car had barely stopped before Gabby was scrambling out, delighted by the endless lawn and the breathtaking view of the St-Jean marina where great white yachts dotted the blue and tur*quoise water.

Cristiano followed Gabby as-she ran toward the stone wall of the terraced garden. "The pool!" she cried, turning around and gesturing excitedly. "Sam, there's a pool here, too."

Sam followed more slowly, smelling orange blossoms and pine in the breeze that caught at her hair. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Sam wrapped her thin lettuce-green cardigan closer to her body, hugging herself- She wasn't cold, just overwhelmed.

In the car during the drive Cristiano had rattled off some of the names of his neighbors and she'd been amazed, but never in her wildest dreams had she imagined anything like this.

It wasn't just that Cristiano's villa looked like a delicious mar*zipan confection, or that the lush gardens rivaled anything she'd ever seen anywhere, it was the view. She'd lived for years in the Cote d'Azur, enjoyed the sunshine, admired the pretty beaches but the view took her breath away. As you drove along the coast, you could see beaches and marinas, villas cut into the terraced mountain, quaint red-tiled roofs in charming fishing villages, but here at Cristiano's home on the Cap, you could see it all, together, in one picture postcard view.

The green land curved around the azure sea, creamy stone buildings clustered at the water's edge, their beige and pink stone topped by red clay tiles while narrow stone piers and walls provided protected beaches and shelter for yachts and fishing boats.

Cristiano turned, smiled a welcome at Sam as she reached them.

"How could you live anywhere else?’' she asked, arms still wrapped tightly around her middle. She felt like a little girl pre*sented with the prettiest bride doll ever. She could only look. Couldn't bear to touch. It couldn't be real.

He shrugged. "Monte Carlo's close, convenient. It's where the corporate offices for The Bartolo Driving School are and that's where I spend most of my time these days,"

"So that's what you do now?"

"I'm proud of the company. We're an international racing school now with campuses and tracks in the United States, Brazil, and Italy of course. But we don't just train for road rac*ing, we've really moved into executive protection and anti kidnapping courses where we work with corporations, executives, their families and staff teaching them to detect and deter poten*tial vehicular confrontations and assault"

Sam looked at him, intrigued, thinking of the kidnapping at*tempt at Gabby years ago. "And these are classes?"

"Four and seven day courses and they are popular. Our schools have wait lists for them right now. Think about it, nearly every*one would benefit from specialized training in maximum car control- While most people won't ever need to know counterterrorist tactics, it'd never hurt to have more confidence behind the wheel."

Gabby suddenly turned around- "Can I try?" She asked, push*ing long dark hair from her face since she'd lost her hair band somewhere since leaving the plane. "I'd like to drive fast,"

"You mean drive safe," Sam corrected.

Gabby grinned so hard her nose wrinkled. "No, fast I want to go fast, I want to drive race cars, too,"

Cristiano smiled but Sam wasn't amused. She shot Cristiano a sharp look. "This is your doing," she reproached.

06-12-07, 03:05 PM

المشاركة رقم: 69

المعلومات
الكاتب:	GKarima
اللقب:	عضو راقي

البيانات
التسجيل:	Oct 2006
العضوية:	15026
المشاركات:	10,594
الجنس	أنثى
معدل التقييم:
نقاط التقييم:	2934

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كاتب الموضوع : GKarima المنتدى : الارشيف

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مكتبة روايات عبق الرومانسية على هيئة كتب Epub

"She's a Bartolo," he answered, scooping Gabby into his arms. "It's in her blood."

Gabby wrapped an arm around his neck and took a deep breath. "I like it here. I like it very much." She looked out over the blue and green vista before glancing at Sam. "I think you and Cristiano should get married and then we can all live here and be happy forever."

Sam heard the hint of wistfulness in Gabby's voice and it tugged on Sam's heart. Gabby had never had a real family, and more than anything, Sam wanted that normalcy for Gabby. But marrying Cristiano wouldn't make them a normal family. Sam had learned the hard way that marriages of convenience were marriages of inconvenience. They didn't work,

"Let's see about lunch," Cristiano said, shifting Gabby in his arms. "I know the cook was planning something special."

Gabby leaned toward Cristiano, cupped her hand around her mouth and whispered in his ear.

Sam had no idea what Gabby said but Cristiano began to laugh, a deep belly laugh that rumbled out of him. As he laughed, Gabby giggled, too and turning toward Sam, Cristiano shot her an apologetic smile. "Gabby just hopes it's not Miss Bishop's fa*mous shepherd's pie."

After lunch, one of the young women Cristiano employed took Gabby down to the heated outdoor pool for a swim. Sam expressed concern about letting Gabby go swimming with a vir*tual stranger and Cristiano explained that nineteen-year-old Marcelle worked at one of the local hotel pools as a lifeguard during the summer. "Marcelle teaches many of the local children to swim, and I've known her and her family for years. Gabby's safe, I promise."

It wasn't until Gabby had gone skipping out of the villa in her suit and terry-cloth cover-up with swim goggles in hand that Sam acknowledged her true fear—being alone with Cristiano.

The kiss yesterday afternoon was never far from her mind.

If it had been a bad kiss, or a sweet kiss, something she could easily dismiss she'd feel different about being alone with Cristiano, but the kiss hadn't been bad, and it was far from sweet.

Sam buttoned the bottom of her delicate green cardigan. "Is there something I can do to help Gabby settle in? Laundry? Prepare her room? Unpack?"

"I have people who do laundry and clean. That's not your job anymore."

"Then what is my job?" she answered, feeling completely at a loss. Growing up she'd thought the Rookery was the most beautiful place she'd ever seen. It had seemed like a castle with its thick paned windows, beamed ceilings, narrow stairwells and secret passageways. But Cristiano's villa was a palace. Indeed, it'd been built in the late nineteenth century, not long after King Leopold II of Belgium's Les Cedres, and Beatrice Ephrussi de Rothschild's Villa Ile-de-France,

"To come sit and talk with me. Relax a little."
She buttoned another two buttons, "I'm not sure sitting with you would be relaxing."

He looked at her and his lips curved, his expression knowing. He was confident, very confident, and that unnerved her even more. This was his world. And he was very much in charge in his world- "It's a beautiful day. You should try to unwind a little.Go to the pool, or maybe try the whirlpool tub in your bathroom—"

"Cristiano," she said, cutting him short "This isn't my home. I don't belong here."

"Why not?"

"Look around." She gestured, the sweep of her hand indicat*ing the Palladian windows, mosaic flooring and soaring marble columns. "This is palatial, and if this is where Gabby will live, then good. But I can't live here. I...I'd feel lost. It's far too grand. I'm not a grand person. I'm a nanny. A simple country girl. You saw where I was raised."

"It might take some getting used to, but I think you'd be com*fortable here. And safe."

"But what will I do?I've always worked, and with Gabby in school five days a week, I'll be at such loose ends. I'm not needed here—"

"Gabby needs you,"

His words drew tears to her eyes. He'd said earlier in the week that it was she who needed Gabby, and he was right. And he'd also said that Gabby should be raised by her family, her real fam*ily, and he was right about that, too. Sam was grateful as a child for Mrs. Bishop's kindness, but what she really wanted, needed was her own family. Her own people. At least Gabby finally had her own, "She has you now, Cristiano. You are her family. Brother or father—it doesn't matter. You are what she needs."

"So you'd deny her a whole family?" he asked softly, and yet there was a thread of anger in his voice and she heard it, "You'll make her choose—a mother or a father? She can't have both?"

His anger stung her, and she hesitated, choosing her words more carefully. "She can have us both. We don't have to live in the same house."

"Then it's not a real family. It's her bouncing back and forth from one place to another, always packing a bag, and unpack*ing a bag. Is that what you want for her?"

It was close to the life Sam had known, at least the instability, "No-" Sam bit her lip, felt her throat thicken. "I don't want her to have to juggle homes—lives. If I were her, I'd hate it"

"That was my life growing up. There was always something forgotten, something missing- The coat left at one apartment. The school papers lost at another. I hated it." Cristiano hadn't moved but she felt him so intensely, felt his energy and his focus. "My mother and father divorced when I was young. My mother lived in Cannes and my father in Monte Carlo and I was always trav*eling between." He took a breath. "Can't we do better for Gabriela?"
"But we're not married."

"Then maybe we should be."

"Cristiano." She looked at him, knowing that something had changed in the past twenty-four hours. She didn't know what had changed in him, but she saw it, felt it, from the moment they ar*rived at the airport to boarding his private jet in Manchester this morning.

Cristiano exuded power. Control. Outwardly he didn't look any different—same direct gaze, straight nose, sensual mouth— but he carried himself as though he were in charge.

And at the airport in Manchester, he took charge, meeting pri*vately with his pilots, speaking to someone in air traffic control, inspecting the jet with his pilots before boarding.

As Sam observed Cristiano during the preflight process, it struck her that he didn't trust others. And he wasn't about to leave important details to others, either.

"I've done the marriage of convenience before, and it doesn't work-" Sam said steadily. "In fact, I think it actually made Gabby's life worse,"

"Impossible. If you weren't there, God knows where she'd be now. You've been her guardian angel from the beginning. If you hadn't been there during the kidnapping attempt, something tragic could have happened. If you weren't there to protect her from Johann, she'd be lost." He hesitated, "Would you prefer me to get down on one knee?"

Get down on one knee? My God, was he seriously proposing marriage? Sam's stomach somersaulted in a wild free form flip, "You're not asking me—"

"Marry me."

"You are." Her voice cracked,

"I will make sure you lack for nothing-1 promise to take care of you the way you've taken care of Gabby, generously, patiently—"

The room had begun to spin, "I think I need to sit down,"

He steered her to the right, to a comfortable sitting room overlooking the gardens. The room had been decorated in aqua tones, the furniture, silk drapes, and even the hand woven rug all pale blue and pale green, accented with touches of white like the seashells clustered on the mantel and the white long stemmed tulips spilling from vases on round tables.

Numbly, Sam sank onto one of the down-filled sofas, "I can't do this, Cristiano. I love Gabby, God knows I do, but I can't marry again, can't put myself through that again."

He reached inside his coat and withdrew an envelope. "What was the worst part of marriage?"

06-12-07, 03:14 PM

المشاركة رقم: 70

المعلومات
الكاتب:	GKarima
اللقب:	عضو راقي

البيانات
التسجيل:	Oct 2006
العضوية:	15026
المشاركات:	10,594
الجنس	أنثى
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نقاط التقييم:	2934

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كاتب الموضوع : GKarima المنتدى : الارشيف

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مكتبة روايات عبق الرومانسية على هيئة كتب Epub

She stared, fascinated as he withdrew a sheet of folded paper. "Being trapped. Lacking financial independence,"

Nodding, he unfolded the sheet of paper and held it out to hen "What if I'm willing to work with you on that?"

Puzzled, Sam took the paper. "How?" And then she looked down. Her eyes widened as she read. Her hand began to shake as she continued to the end of the document. "This is a...this is..."

"A pre nuptial agreement. Just by marrying me you inherit a million pounds. If the marriage lasts a year, it's ten million—"

"No!" She dropped the paper on the couch, repulsed. "That's disgusting”

"Ten years and it's twenty million. If we had a child at any point, it's fifteen million—regardless of how long the marriage lasts—and the villa would of course be yours."

"Stop." Sam lurched to her feet, walked far from the couch, cir*cling behind it. "Never mention it again." Her voice vibrated with fury, "I would never marry for money, never. I won't be bought."

"But you'd marry Johann and be poor?"

"It was to protect Gabby!"

"Protect her now and be secure."

"It's different—"

"What's different? The fact that I could actually provide for you? That I could afford to give you a good home and life? That I like you? That I'd enjoy your company? That I actually want you? Desire you? Need you in my bed?"

CHAPTER TEN

"Stop." She covered her ears, closed her eyes because he'd found the right arguments now, had found the very weapons to use against her.

She did love Gabriela and she'd discovered in Chester she en*joyed Cristiano's company. She'd probably enjoy life with Cristiano and Gabby very much.

Too much, especially considering Cristiano's wealth-He had too much. He was too rich. Too famous. Too success*ful- Too powerful-Sam wanted a simple life, needed a simple life, not this jet-setter's life in the south of France.

Sam lowered her hands, glanced at the prenuptial agreement still lying on the silver-blue linen couch. And standing where she was. with the sunlight slanting through the tall windows the couch was the same shade as the English sky in early April when it's no longer winter but not spring proper and the mornings are still crisp and cold but warm through the day.

That blue, that wispy sky-blue, was what her bridesmaids wore when she married Charles, too. She'd always loved blue. It was nature's favorite color.

"Charles was a priest," she said, her gaze fixed on the pre-nup. "He'd just finished his training when we married. He never thought of himself. He always put others first,"

"Is that why you can't put yourself first? You don't think you deserve happiness?"

"That's not so—"

"You married Johann van Bergen."

"For Gabby, yes—"

"But think about it, Sam, You put everyone else's needs be*fore your own. When do you finally get to be happy? When will it be your turn?"

She swallowed around the horrendous lump filling her throat. She hated his assessment, but there was also accuracy in his as*sessment. "You might not believe it, but I am happy. Happier, at least This last week I've felt so much happier, and freer—"

"This last week?" He coughed, a hoarse grating sound. "Let's recap, shall we? This last week your husband deserted you, left you in financial ruins, forcing you to flee to England where you were trapped in a snowstorm, only to discover Gabby's not Johann's child and you're not even Johann's wife." His black brows pulled. He looked outraged. "This is your idea of better? Santo Cielo.Your life was worse than I thought,"

It felt like he was trapping her with words and she shook her head frustrated.

"What has made you feel better? What has made you hap*pier?"

"I don't know."

"Something must have changed. Something must have im*proved."

She started to shake her head and then she stopped, looked at Cristiano who was glaring at her in the worst scowl yet, and she knew.

It’s you,she thought. You've made it better.

"What made it better?" he repeated, his gaze resting on her, his expression increasingly brooding,
"It's not important,"

"It is to me,"

"Why?"

“Why not?” he flared, "You've taken care of my sister. Maybe I want to take care of you."

"Well, you can't, I'm very good at taking care of myself—"

"I disagree. While you were assuming responsibility for a child that wasn't even yours, you were taken to the cleaners, fi*nancially and emotionally." His mouth compressed. "If you left here today. What would you do? Get another job? Find another nanny position?"

Sam blanched, swallowed, and forced herself to nod. Because it's exactly what she'd do. It's what she'd have to do. She didn't have a choice. "Yes,"

"And that's okay with you?"

"Maybe things would be tight financially, and maybe I'd be leaving my heart behind with Gabby, but I'd do what I have to do. I always have."

"Walk away from happiness?"

"No. Walk away from unhappiness. Because I am happier today than I was a week ago. It's a relief to have Johann gone. The villa we lived in was a rattrap. The pipes constantly leaked and there was mildew in the walls and there was never any money to fix things,"

She balled her hands into fists, growing more livid by the sec*ond remembering. "Johann didn't want me. He married me to get Gabby, but marrying me meant he could also stop paying me. I'm thrilled we're not legally married. It was a horrible deal. I love Gabby but she has a real family now. I missed having an income, missed being financially independent, and now that I'm free, I'm not about to get into that situation again."

Cristiano clapped. "Bravo. Well done. I've been waiting for you to do that."

She glared at him. "Do what?"

"Stand up for yourself." The corners of his mouth tilted, creases fanned from his eyes. "And. Sam, you're right. Your home wasn't with Johann. Your home was with Gabby. Your home is still with Gabby. That hasn't changed. It will never change. She needs a mother, Sam, and you are that mother. You must know that in your heart."

He'd said all the right words; he'd said exactly what she felt. Sam loved Gabby as if she were her very own child.