The Spanish Billionaire's Christmas Bride. Maggie Cox

of the room he was in. It looked clean enough, but its aging furniture and fittings and inadequate heating made his stomach clench in dismay. Considering the child, he guessed she must be with this friend of Dominique’s right now, because there was no sign of her. A shame. He had very much been looking forward to seeing her.

      ‘Faced with the reality of how you live—’ he frowned ‘—I would dispute your assertion that you are managing even adequately. These are clearly not the kind of circumstances conducive to raising a child and giving her the sense of security and comfort that she deserves! Especially when her father came from a privileged and wealthy background with a family who would have moved heaven and earth to help him if he had only come to us and revealed the truth of his impending fatherhood!’

      ‘I got the feeling Ramón didn’t like the idea of being under any sort of obligation to his family.’

      ‘Under an obligation?’ Cristiano hardly knew how he stayed sitting in his seat. His expression was formidably grim. This from a man whose proclivity for taking what he wanted—no matter who it hurt—had been second nature? A man who had been busy squandering his inheritance on fast living and reckless and sometimes dangerous pursuits without a care for anyone but himself right up until the day he died!

      ‘Anyway…whatever people think of him…he’s dead now, isn’t he? He’s not here to defend himself against what anybody says any more.’ Her faultless blue eyes momentarily dazzled Cristiano with the flare of pain he saw reflected there.

      ‘Yes, he is dead.’ Feeling as though someone had taken a sledgehammer to his middle with this distressing reminder, he momentarily rubbed at the tension that had now extended to the front of his brow. ‘Which is even more reason why this completely unacceptable situation cannot continue. Having met you, and acquainted myself with your situation, I have no doubt in my mind that you and the child must return with me to Spain,’ he announced commandingly, rising to his feet.

      CHAPTER TWO

      ‘Now, wait a minute!’ It was Dominique’s turn to jump to her feet. ‘Before you get too carried away, don’t you think you ought to listen to what I want? This is my life we’re talking about here…mine and my daughter’s!’

      ‘I am well aware of that, and I am only suggesting this solution because I have your best interests at heart! And because, as far as I am concerned, your child is a Cordova and should be where she belongs—enjoying the advantages of her birthright in Spain, with a family who will love and cherish her!’

      ‘I love and cherish her!’

      ‘And what about the rest of your family?’

      ‘There’s only my mother.’

      ‘And clearly from what I have heard so far your mother does not love and cherish your daughter, and that is not an acceptable state of affairs!’

      The beautiful face in front of Cristiano drained of colour, but he felt no remorse for simply stating the truth. He saw his solution to this predicament as imperative, and had to admit that his family had been absolutely right when they had declared that Ramón’s child belonged with them.

      ‘But Spain…?’

      ‘It is hardly a million miles away.’ He allowed himself an ironic little smile. ‘In these days when you can catch a plane to anywhere almost at the drop of a hat the world grows ever smaller, no?’

      ‘It’s just that—’

      ‘You are concerned about not finishing your education, perhaps? Your mother indicated that was a big regret for you. Let me allay your worries on that score. I will be quite happy to pay for the rest of your education, Dominique, and there will be no shortage of offers to help take care of Matilde so that you can study, I assure you! We have some wonderful universities in Spain, and I see no reason why you cannot complete your degree there.’

      ‘Well, my mother misled you, Señor Cordova. Not completing my degree was her big regret—not mine! I’m a mother now, and that’s my first priority. And even if I did want to go back to university I certainly wouldn’t be happy to have you foot the bill for it!’

      Again Cristiano was struck by how fiercely independent and proud she was, and his unexpected feeling of admiration was genuinely disturbing. It was far from the way he had expected to be feeling at this meeting—in fact, he had prepared himself for the worst.

      ‘In that case I cannot see that there are any obstacles whatsoever to prevent you from coming to reside in Spain.’

      ‘Can’t you? Well, you’re not me, are you? And I have lots of doubts about the whole idea—despite what you say!’

      ‘Listen to me!’ Calmness suddenly gave way to the frustration and impatience Cristiano had hardly realised he was harbouring. ‘You are not the only one to think about in this distressing situation! Ramón’s mother is desperate to see the baby. She has lost her only son and is destroyed! Learning that he fathered a child has helped give her solace in the midst of her terrible grief. Would you deny her that solace, Dominique?’

      She looked stricken. Then she made an agitated movement with her hand, before lifting it anxiously to her throat. ‘I know so little about how he was killed…will you tell me more?’

      Even though he’d known this was coming, Cristiano was still ill prepared to relive the disturbing events of that night, and his mouth flattened grimly. He silently resolved to keep the explanation as brief as possible.

      ‘He was driving too fast on a hazardous mountain road in the early hours of the morning,’ he intoned, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth. ‘The light was poor, and the investigation concluded that he probably lost control of the car on a sharp bend that no doubt took him by surprise. It would have happened very quickly and he was probably killed outright. His car was found at the bottom of a cliff the next morning by a couple walking on the beach. The coroner recorded a verdict of accidental death. I cannot tell you any more than that.’

      Cannot or will not? Inside Dominique despair set in. Ramón might have died in considerable pain. She might have stopped loving him a long time ago, but he’d still been the father of her baby. She wrapped her arms around her chest to hold in her grief.

      Needing to divert her unhappiness, she grasped at what Cristiano had said previously. ‘I understand how much his mother must want to see Matilde, and I am truly sorry for her suffering…the poor woman must be demented at losing her only son! But Christmas is just a couple of weeks away, and it’s the busiest time of year at the restaurant I work at. You must understand that I have responsibilities too, and if I were to go to Spain I couldn’t possibly go until the New Year.’

      His black eyes stared at her in disbelief. ‘You would put this unimportant job you have in a restaurant before letting a grieving woman see her only grandchild?’

      His lip curled contemptuously, and Dominique flinched at the scorn in his voice.

      ‘Unimportant? It’s the means of earning my living so that I can provide for Matilde and me! You might not be aware, but job opportunities aren’t exactly overflowing for women in my situation, so don’t you dare look at me as if I’m deliberately creating problems where there aren’t any!’

      ‘You talk about opportunity…can you not see that is exactly what I am offering you by suggesting you move to Spain? There we can provide opportunities that will improve your lives a hundredfold.’

      Moving onto her opposite hip, Dominique scraped her hand wearily through her hair. ‘Even if I agreed to go with you and meet Ramón’s mother and his family you must understand it could only be for a short visit. You can hardly expect me to just leave everything behind and decamp to another country as though I was just moving round the corner! And to go and live with a bunch of strangers too!’

      ‘They would not be strangers for very long. They are warm, loving people, and they would embrace you as though you were one of their own—which, of course, by virtue of being the mother