Playing the Billionaire's Game - Pippa Roscoe Page 0,66

sharing them with the girl, who looked very much like her mother and her grandmother.

‘Thank you,’ the girl replied and ran off to the large wooden workshop that had been built in the back of the garden for her to paint in. Sebastian had designed and constructed it the moment she’d expressed even the vaguest notion to return to her art and she was thankful each and every day for his unending support. She had returned to university to focus on the practice of her own art rather than the history and analysis techniques of others. She had built up a small but dedicated following, which kept her happy as it allowed her to find that magical line of balance between enjoying and delighting in her family and her passion for painting.

Sia couldn’t help but laugh as Theo Tersi played out an invisible sword fight with his daughter and Sia and Sebastian’s son Jacob. Lord knew where the other two of her sons were, usually hiding up a tree or swimming in the lake.

‘I don’t know how you do it with three boys,’ Princess Sofia of Iondorra said.

‘And I have no idea how you run a country,’ Sia replied with a laugh.

‘Oh, that,’ Sofia said, swiping the notion away with her hand. ‘I have people to help me with that.’

Ella came rushing over to her mother and pulled on Sofia’s elbow, holding her hand in front of her mouth. ‘Mummy,’ she said in the loudest whisper, ‘why is there a briefcase on the wall above the fireplace?’

Sofia looked up at Sia, and Maria looked at Sofia, each of the women smiling.

‘It is a game Uncle Seb and Auntie Sia are playing.’

‘What’s the game?’

‘Not to open the briefcase,’ Sia replied with a smile.

‘That doesn’t sound like much of a game,’ Ella said, frowning and then running off.

‘I think it’s crazy,’ Sofia replied with a smile. ‘Aren’t you ever going to open it?’

‘I don’t need to.’ Sia laughed.

‘So the painting stays in the briefcase, hanging on the wall above the fireplace like it’s a painting. A—’ she dropped her voice to a real whisper, leaning forward ‘—one hundred million pound painting?’ Sofia leaned back. The look in her eyes definitely said she thought they were crazy.

‘I think it’s romantic,’ stated Maria firmly.

‘You do?’ asked Sia, relieved. ‘I’ve not asked before, because I was worried you might—’

‘I don’t need to see the painting. It...brought you to Seb, and to us, that was all I needed it to do,’ Maria said.

So much had changed in the last six years. Bonnaire’s had gone down in a hail of public scandal after several more dodgy deals had brought the attention of both Interpol and the British police. Abrani had been quietly removed from his position as leader of Shajarhere and the state had welcomed a new leader whose interest was focused on the betterment of his people.

Sia and Sebastian had made Siena their home, despite still travelling around the world to visit his hotels, but less frequently than he’d used to. Sebastian had taken a step back from his company to develop the vineyards at the back of their estate as well as working with a local architecture firm to explore eco-friendly social housing. He’d come to realise that he’d really loved the design aspect of his hotels and was enjoying exploring it in a way that could benefit the local community.

Sia felt a kiss pressed between her neck and shoulder and turned to find her husband’s lips, eager to feel them on her own.

‘Matthieu has invited us to Lake Lucerne next month.’

‘You’d like to go?’

‘Yes, I think he has a business proposal he wants my advice on.’

‘Of course. Though it may be my last flight for a while,’ she confided, one hand on his cheek and the other taking his and placing it on her stomach.

Sebastian’s eyes widened with excitement. ‘Really?’ he said, the joy beaming from his heart straight to hers.

‘Four? Four?’ Theo demanded, joining the table.

‘They’re like rabbits,’ teased Maria.

‘You can talk,’ Sofia teased Maria as Matthieu approached, looking like a giant with giggling children hanging off every limb.

‘Who are like what?’ he asked as everyone fell into laughter about him.

They sat, talked and ate long into the beautiful summer’s evening, Sia feeling not only at peace with the love in her heart and the child growing within her, but excited by it. Her life had become something wondrous, bright, bold and beautiful and unknowingly she glowed with it.

She caught Maria staring and nudging her brother. Sebastian turned to Maria and then to Sia.

‘What?’ Sia asked, unaccountably feeling goosebumps rise over her skin.

‘You look like her. Not physically, but there’s something about you,’ Maria replied with a smile, a glint in her eye both sad but full of joy.

‘Like who?’

‘A Woman in Love.’

Coming next month

AN HEIR CLAIMED BY CHRISTMAS

Clare Connelly

‘I will never understand how you could choose to keep me out of his life.’

Annie’s eyes swept shut. ‘It wasn’t an easy decision.’

‘Yet you made it, every day. Even when you were struggling, and I could have made your life so much easier.’

That drew her attention. ‘You think this is going to make my life easier?’ A furrow developed between her brows. ‘Moving to another country, marrying you?’

His eyes roamed her face, as though he could read things in her expression that she didn’t know were there. As though her words had a secret meaning.

‘Yes.’

For some reason, the confidence of his reply gave her courage. One of them, at least, seemed certain they were doing the right thing.

‘What if we can’t make this work, Dimitrios?’

His eyes narrowed a little. ‘We will.’

It was so blithely self-assured, coming from a man who had always achieved anything he set out to, that Annie’s lips curled upwards in a small smile. ‘Marriage is difficult and Max is young—only six. Presuming you intend for our marriage to last until he’s eighteen, that’s twelve years of living together, pretending we’re something we’re not. I don’t know about you, but the strain of that feels unbearable.’

‘You’re wrong on several counts, Annabelle.” He leaned forward, the noise of his movement drawing her attention, the proximity of his body making her pulse spark to life with renewed fervour. “I intend for our marriage to be real in every way—meaning for as long as we both shall live. As for pretending we’re something we’re not, we don’t need to do that.’

Her heart had started to beat faster. Her breath was thin. “What exactly does a ‘real’ marriage mean?”

‘That we become a family. We live together. we share a bedroom, a bed, we raise our son as parents. It means you have my full support in every way.’

It was too much. Too much kindness and too much expectation. She’d thought he would be angry with her when he learned the truth, and that she could have handled. If he’d wanted to fight, she could have fought, but this was impossible to combat. The idea of sharing his bed…

‘Sharing a home is one thing, but as for the rest—

‘You object to being a family?’

He was being deliberately obtuse.

She forced herself to be brave and say what was on her mind. ‘You think I’m going to fall back into bed with you after this many years, just because we have a son together?’

His smile was mocking, his eyes teasing. ‘No, Annabelle. I think you’re going to fall back into bed with me because you still want me as much as you did then. You don’t need to pretend sleeping with me will be a hardship.’

Her jaw dropped and she sucked in a harsh gulp of air. ‘You are so arrogant.’

His laugh was soft, his shoulders lifting in a broad shrug. ‘Yes.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘But am I wrong?’

AN HEIR CLAIMED BY CHRISTMAS

Clare Connelly

Available next month

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