A Champagne Christmas. Кэрол Мортимер

      “I…um.” She glanced down at her hand wrapped in his far larger one. She could barely think with him touching her. “The…er…” She pulled her hand away under pretense of picking up the gently tattered menu that she’d long ago learned by heart. “The English breakfast tea is good. The pastries are excellent, and so are the sandwiches.” She looked up at Madame Charbon, handing back her menu. “I’ll have my usual.”

      The woman nodded.

      Maksim handed her his menu. “I’ll have the same.”

       “Oui, monsieur.”

      As the Frenchwoman departed, Grace looked at him in surprise. “You don’t even know what you just ordered!”

      He shrugged. “You know this restaurant. I trust you.”

      He trusted her. She tried not to feel flattered. “Want to know what you’re having?”

      “I like surprises.”

      Normally Grace didn’t, but she was starting to. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I was so upset in the car. I guess you really weren’t insulting Alan.”

      “He is lucky to have you.”

      She stared down at the tiny table. The truth was it was sometimes grating how small her paycheck was. And never more so than now. She’d been his junior secretary for eighteen months before she was promoted to executive assistant six months ago. But in spite of her additional responsibilities, he’d never given her a raise commensurate with her new position. He’d always managed to put her off with an excuse and a smile.

      Then he’d decided to pursue a long-shot merger with Exemplary Oil PLC and he’d abruptly moved them to London in early October. In L.A. Grace had had fewer expenses. She’d been able to live at home and help her family. Now that she lived in London and paid Alan rent, she was barely able to send her mother a hundred dollars a month.

      This led to one inescapable conclusion: the looming foreclosure of her family’s home was entirely Grace’s fault.

      As Madame Charbon arrived with the steaming mugs of hot chocolate and croissants, Grace tried to push the depressing thoughts away. They just made her feel more powerless and scared and…angry.

      Alan will help me. He will, she repeated to herself.

      “What are you thinking about, solnishka mayo?” Maksim asked, leaning forward as he looked at her keenly.

      She gulped down some hot chocolate, scalding her tongue. “Nothing. Um. I was just wondering if you’ve ever ridden the Trans-Siberian Railroad.”

      His dark eyebrows rose. “An odd question.”

      “You’re Russian, aren’t you?” She smiled wistfully. “I used to dream about that train when I was a little girl, a train that crosses seven time zones and nearly six thousand miles, going all the way from Moscow to the Pacific Ocean.”

      “Sorry to disappoint you,” he said dryly. “I live in Moscow only a few months a year. When I travel or visit the northern oil fields I go by jet.”

      “Of course you do,” she said with a sigh. “So where do you live when you’re not in Russia? London?”

      “I have many houses around the world. Six or seven. I live in whichever one is convenient.”

      She stared at him. “Six or seven? You’re not even sure how many?”

      He shrugged. “I have as many as I need. I sell them when I’m bored.” He licked the thick whipped cream off the top of the mug with his wide tongue, causing her to stare in spite of herself. He took a sip of hot chocolate, then a bite of the croissant. “This is delicious.”

      “I’m glad you like it. Alan hates hot chocolate.”

      Maksim’s eyes suddenly sliced through hers. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

      She felt sucker punched.

      “What?” she whispered. “Who?”

      “You’re his loyal slave. You live in his house. You spend your free hours running his errands. It’s plain you’re not doing it for the money, since you have none. There’s only one explanation. You love him.”

      Grace opened up her mouth to deny it, but suddenly she was so tired of lying. Tired of holding everything inside, of keeping it together, of having no one to confide in and no one she could rely upon. She took a deep breath.

      “Yes. I love him.” Sinking her head into her hands, she whispered, “It’s hopeless.”

      “I know.” She looked up, saw surprising warmth and sympathy in his handsome face. “I’m usually on the other side of it. Old or young, secretaries imagine themselves in love with me and drop like flies from my office. It’s painful. It causes disruption. I hate it.”

      “Me, too.” She gave a little laugh that ended with a sob—or was it a sob that ended with a laugh? She tried her best at a laissez-faire shrug. “And now he’s engaged to someone who’s beautiful, wealthy and so, well…”

      “Vicious?” His eyes met hers. “Cruel and mean?”

      With a gulp, she nodded. “I’m surprised to hear you say that. Didn’t you love her?”

      He changed the subject. “You don’t have to endure it, Grace. Come work for me instead.”

      It was a good thing she’d already finished her hot chocolate or it would have snorted out her nose. Her eyes flew open, and she saw he wasn’t joking. He was deadly serious.

      Her throat closed.

      “Work for you?” she gasped.

      “I could use another secretary. Leave Barrington. Work for a man who will pay you well and take you far.” He smiled. “The fact that you’re in love with someone else is actually in your favor.”

      She swallowed. “Even though it’s the man who stole your girlfriend?”

      He took another drink of the hot chocolate.

      “Delicious,” he murmured, then looked up at her. “I need a secretary I can trust, Grace. A smart woman who knows the meaning of loyalty. You wouldn’t regret changing your allegiance. I swear to you.”

      For an instant she was tempted. What would it be like to work for this handsome prince, instead of Alan?

      Maksim was handsome, dangerous and ruthless. But he was also a man she would be free to fight, free to leave, free to speak her mind with, because she did not love him!

      “I would pay you double whatever Barrington’s paying you.”

       Double?

      She licked her lips. “Would you consider paying me in advance?”

      He didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

      She took a deep breath, tempted beyond measure. This could save her mother’s house. Save everything.

      “And the catch?”

      “You would help me win the merger.”

      “And Francesca?”

      He shrugged, then held out his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

      Grace closed her eyes, remembering all the times Alan had teased her, flirted with her. He’d told her more than once that he never wanted her to leave him. “I just couldn’t survive without you, Gracie,” he’d said with his charming movie-star grin. And it had made her so happy! She’d hugged his words to her heart, hoping that he might be starting to see her as more than just a secretary!

      Then Lady Francesca Danvers had offered him money and power in such a perfectly beautiful package.

      But no matter how Alan had treated her, Grace couldn’t