The Spanish Billionaire's Christmas Bride

Dominique knew what he intended long before the explosive touch of his lips on hers obliterated every coherent thought in her head.

This was the full-blown, hungry kiss of a man caught in the grip of inflamed desire, and Dominique had never in her life been the recipient of such raw, passionate need. His tongue thrust into her mouth with almost brutal command, and a heat started to burn inside her that made her shake and fear for her very sanity.

Her hands reached out to steady herself against him, her fingers biting into the iron-hard flesh of his waist as her own escalating need suddenly outran any whispered caution in her head. She started to kiss Cristiano back just as feverishly and wantonly as he was kissing her, her heart open wide and her senses more intensely alive than they’d ever been before.

‘I will lock the door,’ Cristiano whispered.

Before she could absorb the earth-shattering meaning of such a statement he left her to do just that. Dominique stared at him as he returned, wondering how a man as beautiful and perfect as he could possibly want an unconfident and ordinary girl like her, when he could probably have any stunning woman he wanted…

The day Maggie Cox saw the film version of Wuthering Heights, with a beautiful Merle Oberon and a very handsome Laurence Olivier, was the day she became hooked on romance. From that day onwards she spent a lot of time dreaming up her own romances, secretly hoping that one day she might become published and get paid for doing what she loved most! Now that her dream is being realised, she wakes up every morning and counts her blessings. She is married to a gorgeous man, and is the mother of two wonderful sons. Her two other great passions in life—besides her family and reading/writing—are music and films.

Recent titles by this author:

THE RICH MAN’S LOVE CHILD

SECRETARY MISTRESS, CONVENIENT WIFE

BY

MAGGIE COX

To Suzy,

for your boundless enthusiasm and encouragement

CHAPTER ONE

DOMINIQUE couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It was as if her worst nightmare had come to life. Still in shock from the news her mother had called to deliver, she was having trouble taking in the rest of the tirade.

‘Let me get this straight,’ she said to her mother. ‘You told Cristiano Cordova where I lived so that he could come and see the baby and… What was it you said? See for himself the dreadful conditions in which I’m living?’

She stared at the telephone receiver in her hand as though it were an unexploded bomb, mute outrage gripping her throat while fear and dread cascaded through her bloodstream like a swollen river bursting its banks.

‘Why? Why would you do such a thing?’

‘Why do you think? I told him because the Cordovas obviously aren’t short of a penny or two, and they owe you! Since that good-for-nothing Ramón is dead, and you’ve been saddled with his child to try and raise on your own instead of finishing your degree, they ought to take some sort of responsibility for what’s happened, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Is that what you told him? That he was responsible for Matilde?’

‘Yes!’ There was stubborn defiance in the other woman’s voice. ‘And he agreed!’

‘Listen…they owe me nothing! It was my own decision to go ahead with the pregnancy and have the baby, and it’s nothing to do with anyone else! If Ramón himself wasn’t interested in his daughter why do you think for one moment that I would be remotely interested in making contact with the rest of his family? Much less have one of them come visit me!’

‘Well, someone should pay for the mess that man got you into—and why shouldn’t his family cough up? He ruined your life, Dominique! You were on course for a wonderful career and now look at you!’

For a moment Dominique couldn’t speak over the raw pain inside her throat. Her mother made it sound as if she was the biggest failure that ever lived! Was there nothing she could ever do to please her? Already knowing the answer, she fought off the wave of shame and despondency that washed over her and dispiritedly murmured a strained goodbye.

* * *

A week on and still she greeted each minute in dread of Cristiano Cordova showing up at her door, possibly wanting to assume some sort of control over her baby’s future. The already broken nights she endured, waking to feed Matilde, had been disrupted further by anxiety and fear. The freedom to lead her own life that she’d so desperately sought when she’d finally left her mother’s house to care for her baby on her own had been horribly threatened and spoiled.

She had already been feeling strangely disconnected from the rest of the world—the only light in her life being derived from her beautiful baby girl—while other people were looking forward to the holiday season, busy flitting in and out of the shops that were bursting with glittering arrays of Christmas paraphernalia, and counting down the days for the big event itself. The restaurant where Dominique worked as a waitress was already inundated with orders for lunch on Christmas Day, and she could have increased her hours in a heartbeat if she didn’t fiercely guard the maximum time she could afford to spend with her baby. But other people’s anticipation of Christmas only served to heighten her sense of isolation.