Page 36 of His Housekeeper's Twin Baby Confession
‘Yes, you can. We’re going to Buenos Aires for the night—to the gala opening night of a tango show.’
Carrie’s mouth opened. ‘All the way to Argentina?’
‘It’s a three-hour flight—not too onerous. We’ll have dinner and see the show.’
She was stunned. ‘But I didn’t bring anything with me except casual clothes.’
Massimo half smirked, half smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve arranged all that.’
Carrie almost rolled her eyes. She was suddenly terrified of getting used to being spoiled like this. ‘This is too much, Mass. You don’t have to take me to Buenos Aires.’ Even though she wouldloveto see a tango show in the home of Argentine tango.
He reached for her. ‘I like that.’
She went willingly. ‘You like what?’
‘What you just called me...Mass. My brother was the only one who used to shorten my name—except he would usually say something like,“Mass, you’re so boring...”Or,“Mass, you’re a stick-in-the-mud.”’
Carrie’s heart clenched. She could hear both love and pain in his voice. ‘I wish I could have met him. I think he sounds like an amazing guy.’
‘He was—and he would have liked you because you bring out a side of me that he would have approved of.’
Carrie pulled back. ‘Are you saying I’m a bad influence?’
Massimo reached for her again and pulled her hand to his lap, where she could feel his body hardening against the material of his jeans.
He growled, ‘You’re a very bad influence.’
Carrie’s mind blanked when Massimo kissed her and she welcomed it. The moment was too full of something delicate and hopeful, and she knew if she wasn’t careful she would lose herself in it. Massimo was just flirting and being charming. That wasall.
Buenos Aires was breathtaking. Carrie loved the wide streets and elegant buildings. It had a much more European feel to it than Rio de Janeiro. It felt sophisticated.
‘They call it the Paris of Latin America,’ Massimo said as they walked into the most opulent hotel Carrie had ever seen—apparently it had once been a palace.
One very dramatic woman, with golden skin and long, flowing brown hair, was crossing the foyer wearing a royal blue strapless silk jumpsuit with eye-wateringly high heels, and leading a dachshund by a jewelled collar.
Carrie’s eyes were almost falling out of her head.
She glanced at Carrie disdainfully. Carrie couldn’t blame her. She was wearing a green silk shirtdress that had felt perfectly smart in Rio, but here it felt like beach attire. And her hair was down and she wore no make-up. She felt practically feral, compared to the clientele who all oozed effortless glamour and sophistication.
A manager rushed over to greet them, and Massimo conversed with him easily in fluent Spanish. They were led up to a corner suite at the very top of the hotel, with terraces that had views over the vast city.
She wandered out to one of the terraces while Massimo issued instructions to someone on his cell phone. A profusion of plants and flowers infused the air with glorious scents, and little iridescent birds darted from flower to flower.
When the manager had left, a personal butler appeared, to enquire if they wanted anything. Carrie heard Massimo tell him that a stylist would be arriving shortly and that they’d have a late lunch on the terrace.
When they were alone again, Carrie said, ‘You really don’t have to spend all this money on me.’
Massimo walked over and put his hands either side of her on the wall, caging her in deliciously.
‘I want to.’
Carrie grimaced. ‘Let’s face it...you need to, to make me look presentable.’
Massimo shook his head. ‘Insecurity doesn’t suit you, Carrie.’
She went still. It was such a profound thing to say to her after she’d been made to feel so insecure by someone else.
She said, ‘You don’t have to say that, but thank you.’
