The Twelve Nights of Christmas (17 page)

Antonio entered the suite in response to his urgent call. ‘Miss Anderson has gone to the park, boss.'

‘What do you mean, she's gone to the park? It's seven
degrees below freezing and it's still snowing—' Rio prowled across the thick carpet. The snow was floating past the window, thick flakes that landed on the ground and settled. The streets were virtually empty of people and traffic, everyone trapped indoors because of the weather. For the first time in over a decade the pond in the park had frozen over. A few ducks waddled sorrowfully across the ice. Staring through the window, he peered through the swirling flakes but failed to spot her. ‘What the hell is she doing in the park?'

Antonio cleared his throat. ‘She's building a snowman, boss.'

‘She's—
what?
'

‘A snowman.' Antonio was smiling. ‘It's surprisingly good, actually. She's managed to—'

‘Spare me a description of the snowman.' Rio spoke through his teeth. ‘Did she leave a message for me?'

‘Yes. She said to tell you that she needed fresh air and that she'd be back when she was finished.'

‘Where exactly is she?'

‘The far side of the pond, sir. Shall I call your driver?'

Rio strode across the room and snatched his coat from the back of the chair. ‘No. I'll walk.'

‘In that case, perhaps you would give this to Evie, sir, with my compliments.' Antonio dug his hand in his pocket and withdrew a carrot. ‘I went down to the kitchens and found it for her. She might find it useful.'

Rio stared at it. ‘Call me stupid,' he said slowly, ‘but I can't for a moment imagine what possible use she will have for a single raw carrot.'

‘Then you've obviously never made a snowman, boss. It's for his nose. I tried to get a slightly smaller one, but the kitchen—'

‘All right—I get the picture.' Feeling out of touch with everyone around him, Rio pushed the carrot into his pocket and strode across the room to the private elevator. As he
reached the doors, he paused, his mind exploring an idea. His instinct was to reject it instantly, but for once he fought that instinct.

Why not?

It would please her and he certainly owed her a small bite of happiness after the way he'd treated her.

Having delivered his instructions to a bemused Antonio, Rio left the hotel and crossed the snowy street, wondering what on earth he was doing chasing a girl across a park in the freezing cold.

He found her kneeling in the snow, scooping snow into balls and adding them to a snowman, who was now wearing her hat. Her hair spilled over the shoulders of her quilted jacket and her cheeks were pink from the cold. Her lips were moving and at first he thought she was talking to herself, and then he realised that she was singing.

‘Five gold rings, four calling birds, three French hens—'

‘—and a girl with double pneumonia,' Rio drawled as he walked over to her. He pulled the carrot out of his pocket and handed it to her. ‘Here. Give the guy a nose so that you can come inside and warm up.'

‘I'm fine. I'm happy here. Thanks for the carrot.' Without looking at him, she pressed it into the snowman's face and sat back on her heels. ‘What do you think?'

Rio decided that this was probably one of those occasions when honesty was not required. ‘Spectacular,' he said tactfully. ‘A real gladiator of a snowman.' Why wasn't she looking at him? He changed his position so that he could get a better look at her face and saw that her eyes were red.

He'd made her cry.

Forced to confront the damage he'd caused, Rio gave a bitter smile. The fact that she'd still been prepared to help him despite her own personal agony made him feel about as small as the snowflake that landed on his hand.

She pulled off her gloves and blew on her hands to warm them. ‘There's no need to go overboard. I know you think I'm crazy.'

He thought she was astonishing. As brave as she was beautiful.

‘I'm no judge of snowmen.' He dug his hands in his pockets. ‘I've never seen anyone make one before. But you clearly find it an absorbing occupation so I'm willing to be converted.'

‘You've never made one yourself?'

‘Never.'

‘Then you're missing out.' She pushed two pebbles into the snow above the carrot and then sat back to admire her handiwork.

Rio fought the sudden desire to roll her in the snow and warm her up in the most basic way known to man. ‘You need to move the pebble on the left up a bit—they're not even. He's squinting.'

Flakes of snow settled on her hair as she shifted the pebble. ‘What are you doing out here, Rio? Shouldn't you be on the phone, brokering some deal or sorting out a crisis?'

‘I left the phones in the Penthouse.'

She managed a smile. ‘All three of them? Won't the business world crumble?'

Rio suddenly discovered that he couldn't care less. ‘Come back inside with me.'

The smile vanished. ‘I'm happy here.'

‘You're soaked through and freezing.'

‘I love the snow.' Lifting her face into the falling flakes, she closed her eyes. ‘If I keep my eyes shut, I'm a child again.'

Rio felt the tension flash through his body. ‘And that's a good thing?'

‘Oh, yes.' Clear aquamarine eyes looked into his. ‘One of my favourite childhood memories is going to the forest with
my grandfather to choose a tree. I used to just stand there, breathing in the smell of pine. Have you ever stood in a forest and just smelt the air? It's the most perfect smell—sharp and pungent—it gets into your nose and then your brain and suddenly you just
feel
Christmas all the way through your body. Smells do that to me. Are you the same?'

He had no idea how to answer that question. ‘No,' he said finally. ‘I'm not the same.'

The happiness in her eyes dimmed. ‘I don't suppose you stand still long enough to notice smells. You're always on the go, pushing another deal through. You don't even take Christmas off.'

Rio looked at her, torn between wanting to know more and wanting to change the subject. ‘So what did you do when you and your grandfather had chosen the tree?'

‘We took it home and decorated it. That was the best part. We couldn't afford fancy decorations so Grandma and I made stars out of flour and water, baked them in the oven and painted them silver.'

Rio remembered the way she'd stared at the elaborate decorations on the Christmas tree at the ball. He found it all too easy to imagine her sitting at the kitchen table, a huge smile on her face, her hair like a burning bush. ‘How long have you lived with your grandparents?'

She reached for a twig and snapped it in half. ‘Since I was four years old. My parents had gone away to celebrate their wedding anniversary and I was staying with my grandparents. I remember being really excited about sleeping in their spare bedroom. It's a tiny attic room with a sloping roof and views across the lake and the forest. It felt like the biggest adventure of my life and I couldn't wait to tell my parents every last detail.' She paused and there was a sudden hitch in her breathing. ‘And then my grandfather came into my room one morning and told me that they wouldn't be coming to get me. Their car hit black ice. They didn't stand a chance.'

Rio stood still, feeling hopelessly inadequate. He watched in silence as the snow fluttered onto her shoulders. Her vibrant hair was the only warmth and colour in the place. Everything was cold, including him. Her revelation deserved a response, but he had no idea what that response should be. He wasn't used to emotional confessions. People didn't confide in him. They discussed stocks and bonds, mergers and acquisitions—not feelings.

He didn't do feelings.

Wondering what had happened to all the smooth words that were always at his disposal, Rio stumbled awkwardly through foreign territory. ‘So you stayed with them?'

‘My grandfather had just retired. They were looking forward to enjoying some time together. They'd even booked a world cruise—' her voice was soft ‘—they cancelled it. They gave me a home.' She breathed deeply. ‘They became my parents.'

And the love she felt for her grandfather was a living, palpable thing. He saw it in her eyes and in her smile. In everything she did.

‘You're lucky.' The moment he said the words, he braced himself for a sharp comeback. She was going to tell him that he was the lucky one. She was going to remind him that he was a billionaire with five houses and a private jet.

But she didn't say any of those things. Instead, she wiped snow from her cheeks with her gloved hand and nodded. ‘I know I'm lucky. That's why I was so upset and worried about that photograph of me naked. After everything they did for me—all the sacrifices they made so that I could have a warm, loving home—I couldn't bear that my grandfather would think I'd let him down like that. All I've ever wanted is to make them proud of me.' She bit her lip. ‘I'm still mad with you for not putting me out of my misery sooner, but I'm also just so relieved that Antonio intercepted the guy so quickly. It could have been worse.'

Her pragmatic approach intensified his feelings of guilt and Rio swore softly under his breath. ‘I was wrong to do what I did.'

‘No, you weren't. You did what you needed to do for your little girl.' She rocked back on her heels and studied her snowman. ‘You were prepared to do anything to protect her. I like that. It's good. It's what families should do. They should stick together, no matter what. Family should be the one dependable thing in a person's life.'

‘Why is your grandfather so desperate for you to be married?'

‘I've told you—he's old-fashioned.' Picking up the other half of the twig, she pushed it into the other side of the snowman. ‘He believes that as long as you have family, everything can be all right with the world.'

‘All right,
now
I feel seriously guilty,' Rio said gruffly and she smiled up at him, a sparkling smile that warmed the freezing air because it was delivered with such bravery.

‘If you're capable of feeling guilt, then there's hope for you, Mr Zaccarelli.'

Was there? He'd lived without that emotion for so long he wasn't even sure he knew how it felt.

‘Come back to the hotel. It's absolutely freezing out here.'

‘Are you telling me you're cold? Big tough guy like you?' Her voice was teasing and her eyes danced with mockery as she looked up at him. ‘You're a wimp. My grandfather will be relieved when I give you the boot. He wants me to find a real man, not some shivering, pathetic creature who can't stand a shift in the weather.'

She squealed with shock and laughter as Rio moved swiftly and tumbled her backwards onto the snow.

‘Are you calling me a wimp?' His mouth brushed her soft lips, tasting softness and laughter. He was about to turn the kiss into something less playful when she stuffed a handful
of snow down the front of his sweater. Rio swore fluently as the ice froze his skin. ‘Is that your test of a real man?'

‘That's just one of them. I started with something gentle. I didn't want to be too hard on you.' She was still laughing but, because he had her body trapped under his, he felt the change in her. Looking into her eyes, he saw something that sucked the humour out of the situation—something he'd seen many times before in a woman's eyes.

For a second he couldn't move and he wondered if she even realised what she'd revealed, lying there under him with her hopes and dreams exposed.

And then he sprang to his feet, his withdrawal an instinctive reaction pre-programmed by life experience and a bone-deep cynicism about the durability of relationships. It would be cruel, wouldn't it, to hurt her more than he already had—this child-woman who still believed in happy endings.

‘You're shivering.' Keeping his tone matter of fact, he hauled her to her feet and brushed the snow off her jacket. She was looking past him and for a moment he thought she was just avoiding eye contact, and then he saw her expression change. ‘What's the matter?'

‘Behind you,' she muttered. ‘Another photographer. Why are people so interested in your life? Everywhere you go there is a bigger, longer camera lens. We'd better look as though we're in love.' The word tripped off her tongue as if it had no significance and Rio stared down into her sweet, honest face, wondering whether she'd tell him the truth.

But she didn't say anything and he felt something tug inside him.

‘We don't have to do that. We can end this charade whenever we like. It's over.' He slid his hands into her hair, suddenly realising he no longer had a legitimate excuse to kiss her.

‘What do you mean?' Her eyes widened and then shone as she grasped the implications of his words. ‘Are you saying—?
Oh, Rio—you have custody? I'm so pleased! That's fantastic.' She flung her arms round his neck and hugged him tightly, whooping with joy and kissing him over and over again. Her eyes glistened with tears of joy and he brushed them away with his thumb, fascinated by the way she showed her emotions so freely; touched that her pleasure for his daughter could transcend her own pain.

‘There is still some red tape to play with, but my lawyers think that Elyssa will come and live with me the week after Christmas. For what it's worth, they think that seeing me with you tipped the balance.'

‘Well, I'm glad about that. So what does this mean?'

What did it mean? Rio had been searching for the answer to that question.

When women had fallen in love with him before he'd always considered it to be a question of ‘buyer beware'. They should have known better.

But Evie lived her life by a different rule book.

‘Let's go back to the hotel. I have a surprise for you.'