‘Happy anniversary,’ Santos said softly as he came to stand behind her.
He wrapped his arms around her. She leant back against him, happier than she’d ever been.
‘You’ve brought me to the country for our anniversary weekend?’ She hadn’t doubted he’d remember their first anniversary—she just hadn’t expected him to help her realise one of her dreams, even if it was only for a weekend. It would be a wonderful place to give him her gift.
‘I’ve done more than that, Georgie.’ He nuzzled her hair and then kissed her head. ‘I’ve bought you this piece of the English countryside. This place is yours.’
Georgina swivelled round in his arms and looked up at him, excitement almost exploding inside her. ‘This place? You’ve bought it?’
‘I most certainly have, and now is your chance to show me just what is so wonderful about living in the countryside.’
‘Oh, Santos, it’s perfect.’
She couldn’t believe that this cottage, with roses rambling around the front door, was all hers. He opened the door and led her inside. It had been furnished and decorated to the highest standard, just as she would have expected from Santos, but it still maintained that country charm she’d always longed for.
‘In fact it’s more than perfect.’
‘There’s more, mi esposa.’
‘What more could there be than this?’
‘Emma and Carlo will be joining us.’
‘They will?’
‘It’s their anniversary too, and I thought it would be nice to be together, but we still have a few hours before they arrive. Carlo has become a workaholic since he opened his own hotel, and he wouldn’t leave until he’d sorted everything out for the weekend.’
Georgina laughed at the image of her brother-in-law putting the business before a weekend with Emma. ‘Perhaps there is more of you in him than you realise?’ she teased, and reached up to brush a kiss on his lips.
‘Well, you should know what we Ramirez men are like by now.’
He kissed her and passion sparked to life, zipping between them.
She pulled back from him and looked into his eyes, which were darkening by the second. ‘I have a gift for you too.’
He put her at arm’s length and smiled. ‘Can you beat this?’ he asked as he took her into the living room, which looked cosy and inviting.
‘You’re going to be a father.’
‘Are you serious?’ He looked deep into her eyes, studying her reaction.
She nodded, unable say anything. After years of telling herself she’d be the worst mother a child could have, she was still apprehensive.
‘When?’ His words seemed choked and hard to come by.
‘You’re impatient, aren’t you?’ she teased gently.
‘Not impatient. Overjoyed. And very much in love with you.’ He kissed her softly and with so much love she fought back the tears of happiness that threatened.
‘April,’ she said as his lips left hers. ‘Our baby will be born in April.’
‘That,’ he said huskily as he smiled down at her, ‘is a cause for celebration.’
She laughed and snuggled against him, relishing the strength of his arms around her. ‘I love you so much, Santos,’ she said as she heard his heartbeat.
He swept her off her feet and, looking down at her, smiled. ‘I’m the happiest man alive and it’s all thanks to you. How did I ever manage to exist before you arrived in my life?’
He edged his way out of the living room towards the stairs, a stream of Spanish rushing from his lips as he looked at the narrow staircase.
Georgina laughed.
‘Put me down.’ She placed her hand on his cheek and kissed him briefly. ‘This is one flight of stairs you won’t be able to carry me up.’
* * * * *
Read on for an extract from RIVAL’S CHALLENGE by Abby Green
CHAPTER ONE
ANTONIO CHATSFIELD SENT silent not interested vibes to the lustrous dark-haired beauty sitting at the bar with her breasts displayed to prominent advantage in her low-cut dress, her kohl-enhanced eyes firmly on him.
Everything about her jangled at his sensitive nerve ends. She was too obvious. Too smooth. Too polished. This whole place was too polished. He cast a jaundiced glance around the dark and sensual bar space of his family’s London flagship hotel. For the past decade he’d been used to surroundings that were more likely to be made of rubble and scented with the stench of chaos, death and panic. But he pushed those thoughts aside. Not now.
He’d chosen to come here for the dark corners and dim lighting as opposed to drinking himself into a stupor in the hotel suite which he currently called home. He smiled grimly to himself: at least he could appreciate the functionality of wanting to numb himself while in the presence of other humans. His therapist would undoubtedly approve.
That functionality had been hard fought for but even now the familiar feeling of skin-prickling clamminess was never too far away for him to forget completely—the stomach-churning terror that used to grip him at random moments, sparked by something as minor as a dog barking or a loud noise, wrenching him out of the present and back to the cataclysmic past.
But the drink wasn’t having much of an effect this evening. It was as if the acerbity inside him was diluting the effects. Even the woman lost interest now, turning her attention to another man who had just arrived at the other end of the bar. Antonio saw them exchange glances and saw the man indicate for the bartender to order her another drink.
Mentally he saluted them. He’d had enough encounters like that in his time. He just wasn’t in the mood for one right now. Something spiked in his gut; he hadn’t been in the mood for longer than he cared to admit, preferring to bury himself in work to avoid the gaping chasm inside him that he used to fill with meaningless encounters and high-octane danger.
He’d only been back in London for a couple of months, after years in exile, albeit punctuated by trips home. He was back because his family was in a state of crisis. His father had installed Christos Giatrakos as CEO to take charge of the family business—a worldwide string of eponymous luxury hotels that had been the byword in glamour and luxury since the 1920s.
The crisis was one of reputation and potential damage to the exclusive Chatsfield brand. Antonio’s younger siblings, with the exception of his sister Lucilla, who had begged him to come and help, were all seemingly hell-bent on various forms of self-destruction amidst screaming headlines and lurid paparazzi shots. God knew, Antonio had indulged in his fair share of self-destruction along the way. He’d also left home when a lot of them were on the cusp of adulthood, so he could hardly judge them now.
Antonio had turned his back on his inheritance a long time ago and had had no intention of taking up the reins again, especially not when the autocratic Greek CEO wanted him to utilise his military and business expertise under the position of head of strategy to orchestrate the resurrection and expansion of the Chatsfield brand.
But his closest sibling, Lucilla, had begged him to reconsider, indicating that it would be the perfect position from which to help her topple the CEO. Apparently Giatrakos didn’t know better than to let the enemy in through the front gate. And Lucilla’s entreaties had called to that part of Antonio that still wanted to make things better. He felt that he’d left it too long to step in and offer to help his other brothers and sister, who were all fully fledged adults by now, but Lucilla had expressly asked him to help her. She wanted to prove to Giatrakos that they could restore the somewhat