Cinderella's Christmas Secret - Sharon Kendrick Page 0,47

She supposed it was. Would she fit in? Or, even with all her fancy new clothes and hairstyle, would she still look like ordinary Hollie Walker who worked in an office and baked cakes on the side?

But Maximo had put his phone away and was circling his fingertip over the palm of her hand and making her tremble, and her eyelids were fluttering to a close as he leaned over to kiss her. And really, what more could she possibly want?

CHAPTER TEN

‘AND THIS IS my housekeeper, Carmen. Anything you want—Carmen will be able to get for you.’ Maximo’s eyes glinted as he ushered Hollie inside. ‘Within reason, of course.’

‘Encantada de conocerte,’ said Hollie, using one of the phrases her fiancé had taught her during the flight over from London that morning.

‘I’m very pleased to meet you, too. I speak fluent English, by the way,’ added Carmen, with a smile.

Hollie beamed. ‘Thank goodness for that.’

‘And congratulations on your engagement.’ Carmen shot a brief smile in the direction of the knuckleduster diamond. ‘The staff are all delighted for you and Señor Diaz.’

‘I appreciate that, Carmen. And it’s wonderful to be here.’

Carmen inclined her head. ‘Welcome to your new home.’

‘Thank you.’ Hollie slid her tongue over her lips. Her new home—a huge and contemporary penthouse apartment overlooking Madrid’s beautiful Retiro Park. It was terrifyingly immaculate, with not a single thing out of place, and as she shook the middle-aged housekeeper’s hand she wondered if it would ever actually feel like home for her. But at least she was feeling calmer than she had done on the journey here. Their one-night stay at the Granchester Hotel had been unforgettable. Hollie had never stayed anywhere quite so luxurious and they’d been given an incredible suite with reputedly the best view over the London skyline, because Maximo was friends with the owner.

But butterfly nerves had been fluttering in her stomach as her fiancé’s jet had touched down in Spain and they had been driven straight from the airfield to his apartment. It had been daunting at first, meeting his staff—Carmen, and a permanent cook as well as a daily cleaner. But they’d seemed very open and friendly, and genuinely pleased to meet her, and that gave Hollie a flare of hope.

I can do this, she thought.

I will do this.

‘Would you like to see the rest of the apartment?’ asked Maximo softly, once they were out of Carmen’s earshot.

‘Yes, please,’ she said.

‘And then, after lunch, I think it is time to introduce you to the very important Spanish tradition of the siesta.’

‘Maximo!’

‘You do realise that every time you whisper my name like that, it only turns me on some more, so you must never stop doing it? Now follow me and I will show you your new home.’

Hollie nodded, trying to concentrate on her surroundings, wanting to like them more than first impressions had suggested she might. Because although she was aware that she was in one of the most prestigious parts of Madrid, her initial reaction to Maximo’s apartment had been one of disappointment. It was so modern and so functional. The spaces were vast and curiously impersonal, even thought they housed some pretty stunning furniture and artworks. Huge canvases adorned the giant walls and most of the furniture was dark, soft leather and almost tauntingly masculine. In fact, dark was the theme which predominated—apart from an illuminated wine cellar, which looked more like an art installation, a dining room which overlooked the city lights and a floodlit rectangular lap pool on the sprawling terrace, where Maximo informed her he liked to swim every morning before breakfast.

She tried to find the right words to say. Tried to imagine herself living here with a baby, with all these hard and gleaming surfaces. She thought about smudged little fingerprints clouding the acres of polished glass. ‘It’s lovely,’ she said politely.

‘There are plenty of good restaurants nearby and an interesting mix of people.’

‘Gorgeous,’ she said obediently, using the same tone she used to project in the office when a prospective vendor would canvas her opinion about the house they were just about to market. It wasn’t a question of not being honest, it was simply showing consideration for other people’s feelings. Because Hollie knew how a person could form a huge emotional attachment to their home. What right did she have to tell Maximo that she thought his apartment was a hideous monument to brutalism, when clearly he loved it? In England they often said an Englishman’s home was