Bought by the Rich Man: Taken by the Highest Bidder / Bought by Her Latin Lover / Bought by the Billionaire. Jane Porter

      “That means…”

      “Your marriage isn’t valid. You’re not legally van Bergen’s wife.”

      Sam shook her head slowly. “I’ve never been his wife?”

      “No.”

      “I’m not Baroness van Bergen. The wife in Vienna is.”

      “Yes.”

      She felt as though he’d taken a sledgehammer to her head and she looked up at him where he stood silhouetted by the fire, dazed. “So what am I?”

      Cristiano didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

      Sam was nothing. Just the nanny, always just the nanny. Forever the hired help.

      Sam lifted a hand, touched her forehead. “Does he have children with her?”

      “No.”

      Thank God. “But he still sees her?”

      “Yes.”

      “Does she know about me?”

      Cristiano shook his head slightly. “I don’t think so. She doesn’t leave Vienna. She doesn’t go out much with him.”

      “Neither did I.” Sam laughed unsteadily. “I guess we made it convenient for him. It must be easy having two wives if you don’t take out either.”

      “I know it’s a shock, Samantha. But you’re better off without him—”

      “Of course I am!” She interrupted fiercely, surprised by the depth of her rage. “I didn’t love him. How could I love him? He was petty and selfish, vain and self-absorbed. He was horrible to Gabriela, horrible to me, but—” And then her voice broke, and the past four years hit her and she felt devastated, betrayed. “He didn’t even pay me!”

      She looked up at Cristiano, alternately icy and feverish. “For three years I cooked and cleaned and sewed and gardened and received nothing. No allowance, no salary, no money, no income. Not even kindness.”

      She wasn’t going to cry, she wouldn’t cry, it was so silly. So she laughed instead and turned away, looking toward the window, hiding the fact that her eyes were burning and her heart ached. Johann had treated her abominably. And she’d let him.

      Let him.

      In some ways it was a relief to discover she wasn’t Johann’s wife, but in other ways it was mortifying. Hurtful. Shameful.

      All these years she’d worked so hard. She’d scraped, scrimped, selling everything she owned to help support Johann in his decadent lifestyle. My God. He must have been laughing all the way to the bank.

      “That’s why he could gamble me away,” she choked. “I was nothing.”

      “That’s not true.”

      “It is. At least to Johann.” She shook her head, not wanting sympathy, never wanting sympathy, and yet she didn’t know what to do with the wretched feelings inside. “You must think me silly, but all I can think about is how he took my wedding ring back—said we needed it to pay bills. And how he insisted I cut Gabriela’s hair myself since we didn’t have money. And yet, he was the baron van Bergen and everyone loved him. Everyone fawned all over him while Gabby and I struggled just to get by.”

      “Gabby’s lucky she had you, Samantha.”

      Her lungs burned, her eyes stung but she didn’t let the tears fall. She sat up taller, straighter. “How long have you known?”

      “Awhile.”

      “And how long is that?”

      “Longer than you’d like.”

      She nodded jerkily. “So Johann never married Mercedes.”

      “They had an affair, and were still living together in Monte Carlo when Mercedes died. Johann kept Mercedes’s baby.”

      “But why? Why did Johann want to adopt Gabby?”

      “If I’m being generous I’ll say sentimental reasons, but I’m not generous and I think his motives were purely financial. He was greedy. He thought if he adopted Gabby, he’d have access to her trust fund.”

      “But he wouldn’t?”

      “No. I’m not her guardian but I’m the trustee. Gabby doesn’t even have access until she’s twenty-five.”

      “You were right,” Sam said after a moment, teeth chattering from shock not cold. “Gabby’s not even five yet and already men want her for her money. It’s so wrong, too. Gabby’s beautiful, and smart, and funny. But even better, she has a gorgeous heart. She should be loved, and loved for herself.”

      “But isn’t that what everyone wants?” Cristiano countered softly.

      He was right. It was what she wanted, it’s what she’d always wanted. She blinked back tears but Cristiano saw them. He swept the tip of his finger beneath each of her eyes to catch her tears, and she grabbed his hand, wrapped her fingers around his, and held on.

      He tugged her to her feet and brought her toward him. Sam stared up into his face wide-eyed. With one hand he tilted her face to his, and the other he slid down her back, his hand so hot against her skin, his hand settling low in her back, pressing against her, melting something inside her, heating a part of her that had never been warmed.

      She could feel his thighs nudge hers, feel his deep chest expand as he took a breath and then his head dropped as he cupped her face in his hand and covered her mouth with his.

      As if he could feel her stiffen and resist, Cristiano gentled the kiss, stroked her cheek, her resistance melted.

      Slowly he deepened the kiss, opening her mouth persuasively beneath his and Sam sighed as Cristiano’s tongue slid across her tingling lower lip.

      Her brain was telling her no but her body was melting into his.

      And then even her brain was melting as his tongue touched hers, and his hand briefly covered her breast, his palm firm against her nipple, and she trembled, and helplessly she moved closer, wanting more, wanting him.

      His kiss, and the caress, electrified her. She’d never felt anything like it. And when he eventually lifted his head, she couldn’t move, couldn’t think. All she could do was look at him with wide, bemused eyes.

      Seeing her confusion, he smiled grimly and dropped his head, pressed another kiss to her jawbone near her ear, and whispered, “I’ve no morals. Don’t trust me. Don’t think I’m a good guy. I’m not. I will never be.”

      He walked out of the room, out the front door in nothing but shirt and slacks. And it wasn’t him walking out that shook her, but her response to him, her response to the kiss.

      She’d never felt anything like that before and it dazzled her, made her realize he was even more dangerous than she’d thought.

      But it was only a kiss, she reminded herself. Cristiano had kissed many, many women in his life and Sam was sure they didn’t all fall head over heels in love with him. And she wasn’t head over heels in love, either.

      But he had rocked her.

      She’d liked the kiss, wouldn’t have stopped the kiss, wouldn’t have stopped him.

      Her skin still tingled and tightened across her cheekbone. Her mouth felt soft, her lower lip quivering. Even her body felt warm, pliant.

      She wanted him, more of him, more of whatever he could give her.

      Cristiano left the cottage, stepping out into the still white landscape.

      The moon was high, the snow had briefly stopped and the light shone on a distant oak tree, turning the ancient gnarled limbs into a glittering ice sculpture.

      They needed to get back to Monte Carlo, he thought.