Page 54 of His Housekeeper's Twin Baby Confession
Carrie thought of the dining room and imagined them sitting there at the table, with low lighting, while a fire burned in the fireplace and the skies darkened outside. Far too intimate.
‘I don’t mind eating here. It’d be a lot easier.’
Massimo said, ‘It’s no trouble at all. I’ve laid the fire upstairs. All it needs is to be lit.’
The tone of his voice brooked no argument. So Carrie took off the apron and said, ‘Whatever you prefer. I’ll light the fire, then.’
She escaped upstairs and found the informal dining room table already laid and prepared for dinner with plates and cutlery and condiments. A bottle of wine sat open on the table, and a choice of non-alcoholic drinks. Thoughtful. An impeccably decorated Christmas tree twinkled in the corner of the room.
She found matches and lit the fire. As if to mock her, it blazed immediately and cheerfully in the hearth, sending out delicious heat. She stood before it, feeling a little dazed at all that had happened in the last few months and by the fact that she was pregnant. With twins.
She put a hand on her belly. She couldn’t feel any movement yet, apart from the odd, very light fluttering sensation.
She sat down in a chair beside the fire, kicking off her shoes, and curled her legs up, mesmerised by the flames and not even noticing her eyelids getting heavy.
Massimo came up to the dining room with the first tray laden with their Christmas dinner. He stopped on the threshold when he saw Carrie asleep in a chair by the fire.
He put down the tray silently and looked at her. Her hair was tumbling over her shoulders. He’d like to think she’d left it down on purpose, but the way she looked at him these days—so warily—made it not likely.
He let his gaze rove over her body, greedy to see it revealed under the soft material of the dress. He couldn’t stop his own body’s helpless and wanton reaction to seeing the evidence of her body growing riper and fuller with his child. With hischildren.
Once again he was taken aback that the dominant force of emotions moving through him wasn’t negative. It was wonder, trepidation and an urge to protect, mixed with a sense of possessiveness. And a feeling that his fears of destructive genes being passed down was just that—a fear.
He’d allowed himself to hope that perhaps, with a new generation, he could make things right. Create a healthy and functional family. But for that he’d need Carrie. Body, heart and soul. He knew he wouldn’t settle for less.
Her insistence that she had to keep working here as a means to stay close and let Massimo be involved in the pregnancy couldn’t go on for much longer—if at all.
If he had to wage all-out war to get Carrie to see sense then he would. And he would play as dirty as he needed to.
At that moment, as if she sensed Massimo’s intense focus on her, her eyes fluttered open. He noticed she was unguarded for a moment, and that something flared in her eyes when she saw him, but then it was gone. As if she’d brought down shutters.
She still wanted him.
His blood leapt. If she still wanted him they were halfway there.
She sat up, looking flustered, cheeks pink. ‘How long was I asleep?’
‘Not long.’
Carrie stood up and came over to him, helping take the plates off the tray. ‘It smells good.’
‘Alas, I can take no credit at all.’
‘Heating food isn’t without its challenges.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ Massimo said dryly.
Carrie watched Massimo walk out to go and get the rest of the food. She still felt a little fuzzy. She put the plates on the table and tried not to think about how it had felt to wake up and find Massimo watching her so intently.
She’d thought she was dreaming...until she’d realised she wasn’t.
Massimo returned with the rest of the food.
Carrie was finding it hard to shake the slightly dreamy feeling brought on by her nap. With the fire lit and darkness falling outside, the intimacy of the scenario was exactly as she’d feared. But she couldn’t seem to drum up the energy to care too much.
She sat down and Massimo served up a delicious traditional roast with all the trimmings.
After a few mouthfuls, Carrie put down her knife and fork. ‘I wouldn’t have thought you were a big fan of Christmas—you’re not usually here.’
