The Twelve Nights of Christmas (3 page)

‘No.' Rio lounged in the back of the car, his eyes hooded as he contemplated the surprise that would no doubt accompany his unexpected arrival. ‘I don't want to announce myself.'

Knowing never to question the boss, Antonio simply slammed the car door shut and slid in next to the driver. ‘Shouldn't take us long to get there at this hour. No traffic. I suppose it's because it's Christmas. Lots of people have already stopped work.'

Rio didn't reply.

A cold feeling spread across his skin. A feeling that had nothing to do with the dropping temperature and the swirling snowflakes outside the car. He looked out of the window, keeping his expression blank.

Christmas.

Twenty years had passed and yet he still hated this time of year.

If he had his way, Christmas would be scrubbed from the calendar.

Blocking out the endless twinkling lights and Christmas decorations adorning the dark streets, Rio was for once grateful for the endless demands of his BlackBerry.

Anna, the ballerina, had sent him fourteen messages, each one more desperate than the last.

He read the first three, saw the word ‘commitment' and deleted the rest without reading them. Christmas, commitment—why was it that his least favourite words all began with C?

The car pulled up outside the hotel and Rio sat for a moment, surveying the elegant architecture. It was the most expensive few acres of real estate in the world.

You'll never make anything of yourself, Rio. You'll amount to nothing.

Rio gave a grim smile as he surveyed ‘nothing'.

He owned it. All of it. Every last brick. Not bad for someone who had once watched his life ground into the dirt.

Leaning forward, he spoke to his driver in Italian. ‘Take me to the rear entrance.'

‘Yes, sir.'

Rio sprang from the car and walked through the rear door of the hotel, his mouth tightening in disapproval as no one challenged him.

Antonio was right behind him. ‘I'll go first.'

‘No. I want you to go back downstairs and check those security cameras. And time how long it takes them to discover I'm in the building.' Rio sprinted up ten floors and reached the locked door that protected the exclusive Penthouse suite. He entered a code into the pad and the door opened. Realising that no one had changed the code, his mouth tightened and a dangerous spark lit his eyes.

Inside the luxurious suite, it was warm and peaceful.

And decorated for Christmas.

Rio froze.

He'd given strict instructions—no decorations.

His tension levels rocketing, his gaze fastened on the tall fir tree that glittered and sparkled in the elegant living room, taunting him—
reminding him.

Turning his back on it, he prowled through the suite. His instincts, honed through years of dealing with people, were suddenly on full alert. Something didn't feel right and it wasn't just that his express instructions had been overlooked.

His firm mouth hardened and he walked purposefully towards the bedroom suite, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet.

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

Lying on top of the bed was a naked woman, her glorious 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 and softly curved.

Rio stared at that mouth for a full minute before trailing his gaze down the rest of her body. It wasn't just her mouth that curved. The rest of her did, too, although some of the secrets of her body were concealed beneath all that glorious hair. As he studied the astonishingly vibrant colour, he felt his libido come alive. His mind computed every last detail. Eyes—green, he decided. Temper—hot. Body—
incredible
. She had the longest legs he'd ever seen and, as for the rest of her—

When she didn't stir, he strolled into the room.

Distracted by the full curve of her breasts, he sat down on the edge of the bed and slid a leisurely hand over her shoulder, brushing aside a strand of silky hair.

Unable to resist the sensual curve of her soft mouth, Rio lowered his head and kissed her. He just had time to reg
ister 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.
Blue,
Rio thought absently, correcting his earlier assumption. Her eyes were the palest aquamarine.

Lust shot through him and he felt himself harden. Because he was staring down at her, he saw the exact moment she was gripped by the same sexual awareness. Those incredible eyes darkened. Her lips parted and he saw the moist tip of her tongue.

Unable to help himself, Rio lowered his head and was about to kiss her again when a light flashed.

He whipped round in time to see a man darting from the room, camera in hand.

Swearing under his breath in Italian, Rio moved with a speed that would have impressed an Olympic sprinter, but the man was already out of the door.

He grabbed his phone from his pocket and speed-dialled his security team but before Antonio could answer the call, Carlos came striding into the room.

‘Rio? I was told there was an intruder in the Penthouse. We had no idea you were arriving this early. Reception should have notified me. How was your journey?' He held out his hand in greeting and then froze, his eyes widening as he stared over Rio's shoulder and through the open doors of the bedroom. ‘I'm so sorry—I had no idea you had company—how very embarrassing. Rio, forgive me… We'll give you privacy, of course…'

Rio didn't have to look round to identify the reason for the triumphant gleam in the man's eyes. He had his lawyer's words ringing in his ears.

The most important thing is that you need to keep yourself whiter than fresh snow between now and Christmas.

He, of all people, had allowed a woman to distract him and his carelessness could have the most devastating consequences.

He'd been set up.

He'd walked right into a trap.

And now he was going to pay.

D
IZZY
from the kiss and fully aware of just how much trouble she was in, Evie scrambled frantically off the bed and then remembered she was naked. She grabbed the silk throw and covered herself, but it refused to co-operate, slipping and slithering through her fingers. Finally she managed to fasten it, sarong-style around her body. She clutched it tightly, praying that it wouldn't fall off. Hurrying through to the living room, she saw Carlos standing there, deep in conversation with a tall, broad-shouldered man.
The man who had kissed her a few moments earlier.

Still shaken from the explosion of chemistry, a strange heat spread through her body as she took her first proper look at him and immediately her grandfather's words flew into her head—
a real man
.

He dominated the room with the sheer force of his presence, his powerful legs spread apart, his stance unmistakably commanding as he focused furious black eyes on Carlos's face.

Hearing her entrance, he transferred that terrifying gaze to Evie and she stood pinned to the spot, the simmering fury in his eyes acting like a bucket of cold water.

She went from burning to shivering in the space of a glance.

‘I…I'd better get dressed,' she stammered and he made a sound in his throat that sounded ominously like a growl. ‘You'll stay
exactly
where you are until I give you permission to move.'

Whatever had propelled him to kiss her, it obviously wasn't something he intended to repeat. There was no softness in his eyes. No hint of the sexual promise that had shimmered only moments earlier.

And suddenly she knew exactly who he was and that realisation came with a cold flash of horror. She'd once seen his picture in the back of the hotel brochure—read a statement from the lord and master of the Zaccarelli Leisure Group. The man who had kissed her was Salvatorio Zaccarelli—Rio to the media, who licked their lips over his taste for glamorous women and super-fast cars.

From what she'd read, Evie had already decided that he was a ruthless, cold-hearted money-making machine who didn't give a damn about the human cost of his decisions. When he took a personal interest in one of his hotels the first thing he did was to change everything he didn't like, and that included the staff. He didn't visit when things were going well. Only when they were going badly did he thunder in like an executioner wielding his sword. There was nothing gentle about him. Nothing soft. He treated women the same way as his business. He hired and fired. No one was with him for long.

Evie had planned to keep her head down and stay out of his way.

Realising that her plan had backfired in the most spectacular fashion she stared, terrified, into his smouldering black eyes. He was obviously livid that she'd spent the night in the Penthouse.

Unless Carlos would admit that he'd given her permission, her job was toast.

And so was her dignity.

Evie swallowed hard, wondering why he'd kissed her. From the firm, deliberate seduction of his mouth to the sensuous brush of his hand over her bare skin, it had been a kiss loaded with sizzling chemistry and erotic promise.

Even as she was wondering if it was usual for him to kiss the staff before firing them, a burly man she'd didn't know came sprinting through the door.

‘Sorry, boss.' He stared hard at Rio Zaccarelli, as if in some silent communication. ‘Lost him. He must have nipped down the back stairs. I've contacted the local police and I'm going to go through the CCTV footage with hotel security. We'll identify him. Do you want me to question the girl?'

Question her? Why would they want to question her? Her crime was straightforward enough, wasn't it?

‘You don't know her?' Carlos looked shocked. ‘I assumed—why else would she be in your bedroom, Rio?'

Appalled, Evie stared at him. Obviously, Carlos was going to put his own future before hers. Presumably he was worried that if he confessed to having given her permission to sleep in the Penthouse, he'd be disciplined. Feeling intensely vulnerable, she stood there, searching desperately for a way out of this mess.

‘Accept my apologies, Rio.' Carlos's voice was smooth. ‘We normally screen our staff very carefully but at this time of year when we're so busy—' He left the sentence hanging. ‘I'm disappointed in you, Evie. You abused a position of trust.'

‘She works here?' Rio Zaccarelli's voice was harsh. ‘She's one of your staff?'

Everyone turned to look at her and Evie burned with humiliation. So that was that. No one was going to believe she'd slept in the Penthouse with permission. They'd believe Carlos, not a lowly member of the housekeeping team. She was nothing more than cannon fodder. Whatever happened next, she was doomed.

There was no point in defending herself.

She had no home, no job and it was less than two weeks until Christmas.

Thinking of her grandfather, Evie felt despair seep through her veins. There was no way she could tell him. Not just before Christmas. He was so proud of her new job and the way she'd picked herself up.

You're a real soldier, Evie.

After everything he'd done for her, she'd let him down.

Maybe she should just forget dignity and beg. Or maybe she should try kissing the boss again. Her eyes drifted over his handsome face and rested on his firm, sensuous mouth.
That same mouth that had taken liberties with hers only moments earlier.
Without thinking, she drew her tongue over her lower lip, tasting his kiss.

He saw the gesture and his eyes flared with anger and something else, far, far more dangerous. With a final contemptuous glance, he turned back to Carlos. ‘Do you know what you've done?' His voice was thickened with emotion. ‘Have you any idea how much damage you've caused?'

Confused, Evie watched as Rio Zaccarelli transferred the full force of his anger onto Carlos. Why? Had he guessed that Carlos had given her permission? Had he seen through the lies? He was rumoured to have a brain as sharp as a blade.

Hope flickered to life inside her. If Rio Zaccarelli knew Carlos had given her permission, then maybe he'd let her off this time.

He had the reputation of being an exacting boss with impossibly high standards, but, all the same—

Sweat shone on Carlos's forehead. ‘What damage? I have no idea what you're talking about.'

With a growl of anger, Rio Zaccarelli crossed the room in three long strides and locked his fist in the front of Carlos's shirt. ‘Have you no conscience? No sense of human decency?'

Seeing the black expression on Rio Zaccarelli's face, Evie covered her mouth with her hand.

Wasn't he going a bit overboard?

Oh, dear God, he was going to punch creepy Carlos.

And Carlos looked terrified and triumphant at the same time. Although he was undoubtedly afraid, Evie had the strangest feeling that he was enjoying seeing the other man lose control. His expression was mocking rather than apologetic, as if the outcome had exceeded his most extravagant hopes.

Trying to make sense of it and failing, she could do nothing but watch as the drama unfolded in front of her. The two men appeared to have forgotten her existence. They faced each other down like two bulls fighting for territory, but there was no doubt in her mind who was the superior, both in strength and intellect.

While Carlos blustered and bumbled, Rio's anger was cold and a thousand times more frightening.

‘If you have lost me this deal—'

‘Me?' His voice contradicting the look in his eyes, Carlos sounded shocked. ‘You think I had anything to do with this? You seriously think—? Rio, I know you don't need this sort of publicity right now—I know you're at a delicate stage of negotiations. This could ruin everything for you.'

Evie looked on in disbelief, trying to follow the thread of the conversation. This was all about some stupid deal? That was why Ruthless Rio was so angry? What had happened to everyone's priorities? All they thought about was money, money, money.

It was only because she had her eyes fixed on his taut profile that Evie saw the flash of raw emotion cross Rio Zaccarelli's face. For a moment she thought he was going to reach out and grab Carlos by the throat.

Instead, he released him.

‘
Vai al diavolo
. Get out of my sight.' His voice was
strangely robotic, his features a mask of contempt. ‘From this moment on, I don't know you. You don't work for me and I don't want to hear from you or see you again. Step into one of my hotels and I'll have you removed. My lawyers will sort out the details with you. And if this causes me trouble—if I lose—' He broke off, apparently unable to finish the sentence, his voice thickened with an emotion so much deeper than anger that Evie felt real fear.

How could he be so angry about one stupid deal?

She waited for Carlos to defend himself but the other man shot through the door without looking backwards.

Which, basically, left her alone with a madman.

Evie tightened her grip on the throw. She loathed Carlos, but at least he was a familiar face. If murder was about to be committed, then it might have been useful to have a witness. Or even an alternative victim.

The burly man, who she assumed was a bodyguard, flexed his fingers threateningly. ‘Do you want me to deal with him, boss? I reckon I could get the information you want out of him in less than a minute. He's a wimp.'

Another wimp, Evie thought numbly. The world was populated by wimps. Wimps and bullies.

‘Don't waste your time.' Rio's tone was ice-cold. ‘I know a quicker way of extracting information.'

Realising that she was the ‘quicker way', Evie took a step backwards, seriously scared.

‘Calm down,' she stammered. ‘Take a deep breath—count to ten—or maybe a hundred—' She had absolutely no idea what was going on, but it was obvious that she was in enormous trouble for sleeping in the Penthouse. ‘I don't suppose there is any point in saying sorry or trying to explain, but honestly, I don't see that it's that big a deal. I know I did wrong, but I think you're overreacting—' She gulped as Rio Zaccarelli strode towards her.

He stripped off his jacket and threw it over the back of the
nearest chair. His white silk shirt moulded to his wide, muscular shoulders, hinting at the power concealed beneath and Evie found herself staring in fascinated horror as he rolled the sleeves back in a deliberate movement. He looked like a boxer preparing for a fight. And she was obviously earmarked as the opponent. She wondered whether he'd removed his screamingly expensive jacket so that he didn't end up with her blood spattered on it.

His eyes dark with fury, he came to a halt right in front of her. ‘Not a big deal? Either you are the most insensitive, selfish, greedy woman I've ever met or you have no idea of the magnitude of the trouble you've just caused.'

Up close, she could see the rough shadow that framed his hard jaw. She saw that his eyelashes were thick and dark and that underneath his fierce gaze there were dangerous shadows. Other women talked about his monumental sex appeal, but Evie was too scared to feel anything other than fear. ‘I'm not selfish or greedy,' she defended herself in a shaky voice, ‘and I honestly don't see that spending a night in that bed is such a big deal. I shouldn't have done it, but I thought the Penthouse was empty overnight. And I didn't even dirty the sheets. I slept on top of the covers.'

‘Of course you slept on top of the covers,' he gritted. ‘How else could the photographer have taken his picture?' He fisted his hand in the front of the throw and pulled her hard against him. Breathing heavily, the backs of his fingers pressed into her cleavage as he held her trapped.

Evie, who rarely felt intimidated by men because of her height, was definitely intimidated now.

For once she felt dwarfed, his superior height making her feel small and insignificant and she swiftly re-evaluated her belief that it would be nice to meet a man taller than her.

Through the mist of panic, her brain finally latched on to something he'd said.

‘Photographer?' Trying to breathe, she stared up at him blankly. ‘What photographer?'

His eyes dropped to her mouth and that single look weakened her knees. For a moment she saw what other women saw. Raw sex appeal. She might have been attracted to him herself if she hadn't been so terrified. Wondering if she was the only one who was feeling suffocated, she gasped as he suddenly released her. Her hands shot out to balance herself and the silk throw slid to the ground.

With a squeak of embarrassment, Evie made a grab for it but not before she'd seen the sudden darkening in his eyes and heard the burly security man gulp. ‘I need to get dressed!' She'd hung her wet clothes on the heated towel rail in the bathroom, but they ought to be dry by now.

With a contemptuous sound, Rio Zaccarelli turned away from her. ‘It's a little late for modesty, don't you think? By tomorrow, that photograph will be all over the world.'

‘What photograph?' She wrapped the throw around her as tightly as she could. ‘I have no idea what you're talking about.'

Rio gave a growl of anger. ‘The photograph of us kissing. I want the name of the photographer and the name of the person who put you up to this. Start giving me facts.'

Evie glanced back towards the bedroom, retracing the events of the past few minutes. ‘I…someone took a picture of me?'

A muscle flickered in his jaw. ‘Generally, I pride myself on my control but today I seem to be falling short of my usual high standards. If you don't want to see a first-hand demonstration of the meaning of the word angry, then don't play stupid.'

‘I'm not playing stupid! I didn't see a photographer. You were in my line of vision, remember? All I saw was you.'

Deep colour highlighted his cheekbones and his eyes
burned. ‘Are you seriously expecting me to believe that you didn't see the light or the man running out of the room?'