Page 29 of Twelve Nights of Nights of Christmas

‘I have seven invitations for this evening. I’ve picked the two most high profile.’ Showing no interest whatsoever in that fact, Rio focused on the screen. ‘Normally, a hostess would do her utmost to avoid a clash, but this is Christmas so it’s inevitable.’

Christmas.

Suddenly Evie realised what was different about the room. ‘Someone’s taken down all my decorations.’ Horrified, she sprang to her feet and glanced around her. ‘The tree has gone. And the holly—why would they have done that?’

‘Because I gave instructions that all the decorations should be removed.’

Already bruised from his previous comments, it was hard to keep her voice steady. ‘You didn’t like the decorations?’

‘No.’

She felt numb. ‘I took ages getting them exactly right. I thought you’d be pleased—’

‘I wasn’t pleased.’

So she looked wrong, she was boring, and now he was saying she was useless at her job. It was the final straw.

Rio glanced up. ‘While I’m staying here, I don’t want to know it’s Christmas.’ His eyes were molten black and menacing. ‘I don’t want to see a single decoration. Is that clear?’

‘Yes. It’s perfectly clear.’ Her voice high-pitched; deeply offended that he’d criticised her work, Evie stalked into the bedroom, yanking the doors closed behind her.

Her confidence in shreds, she leaned back against the doors.

Miserable, horrible, vile man.

Chemistry? Yes, there was chemistry—but she wished it was the sort that would result in some sort of explosive reaction that would blast him out of her life. He made her feel small. He made her feel useless and insignificant. Apparently she couldn’t even decorate a Christmas tree to his satisfaction.

She stood for a moment, breathing deeply, horribly hurt by his dismissive comments. In a few sentences he’d shredded her fragile self-confidence.

With a sniff, she tried to tell herself that it didn’t matter. Why should she care what he thought? So he hated her decorations. So what? The man was a cold hearted workaholic.

Fancy going to all this trouble just so that he didn’t lose out on a stupid business deal.

He made Scrooge look like a cheerleader.

What sort of man would rather work than enjoy a night at a glittering Christmas ball? Did he think his entire business was going to fall apart or something?

Trying not to be hurt by the fact that he clearly wanted to spend as little time as possible in her company, Evie wrenched off the jacket that went with her ‘wholesome’ dress and flung it over the nearest chair.

Feeling miserable and unappreciated, she undressed and slipped under the covers, wanting to blot out her unhappiness with a much needed afternoon nap. As she closed her eyes she reminded herself that she was doing this so that her grandfather wouldn’t be hurt and embarrassed. No other reason.

Once all the fuss had died down, she’d give Rio Zaccarelli the boot. Or should that be ‘the stiletto’?

Either way, she was seriously looking forward to that day.

Rio fastened the sleeves of his dress shirt. Normally he relished the challenge of a difficult situation. On this occasion the stakes were too high to make the whole issue anything other than stressful. Adding an evening of Christmas celebrations into that mix simply increased the stress.

Get it over with.

There was no sound of activity from the bedroom and Rio wondered whether he should have checked on Evie. She’d been in there all day and they were supposed to be leaving in fifteen minutes. Was she still asleep?

Or was she still sulking over the Christmas decorations?

He was just walking towards the bedroom doors when they opened suddenly.

‘Don’t say a word. Not a word.’ A dangerous glint in her blue eyes, she stalked barefoot across the carpet. A pair of silver shoes dangled from her fingers. ‘Every time you open your mouth you say something nasty so, unless red eyes are the latest “must have” accessory on the celebrity circuit, then it’s safer if you say nothing.’

Rio was pleased she’d instructed him to say nothing because, for once, the power of speech appeared to have deserted him. He’d been present when she’d tried on the dress—he’d approved it—but clearly he hadn’t devoted his full attention to the task because he had no memory of it looking quite this good. Or maybe it was because he’d seen the dress in daylight and it was definitely designed to dazzle at night.