Page 33 of Twelve Nights of Nights of Christmas

Evie didn’t want to admit she’d never tasted it. ‘Of course.’

He withdrew a bottle from the fridge, popped the cork and poured the bubbling liquid into two tall slender-stemmed glasses. ‘To our deal.’

Evie sipped from the glass he handed her and choked as the bubbles flew up her nose. ‘Oh—that’s—’ she coughed ‘—yummy.’ She took another mouthful. ‘Happy Christmas. How long do we have to keep this up? When will you know if you’ve rescued your deal?’

He looked out of the window. ‘We’ve arrived.’

And he hadn’t answered her question.

Wondering once again what it was about this particular deal that was so important, Evie followed his gaze and gasped. ‘We’re at the Natural History Museum.’ The famous building was illuminated against the winter night and thousands of tiny sparkling lights had been threaded through the branches of the trees. In front of the building was an ice rink and the whole place had been transformed into a winter paradise. ‘I had no idea they held events here.’

‘This is a very prestigious fund-raiser.’

‘Can we ice skate?’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘But it’s snowing.’ Evie leaned forward, captivated by the atmosphere. ‘It would be magical. Do you think we’ll have a white Christmas?’

‘I couldn’t care less. Do you want an umbrella?’

‘You don’t like snow? Seriously?’

‘It’s useful when I’m skiing. The rest of the time it’s an inconvenience.’

‘When did you last make a snowman or throw a snowball?’

Rio frowned. ‘We need to get out of the car, Evie.’

Evie didn’t budge. ‘You don’t write to Santa, you hate decorations, you don’t like snow, you won’t ice skate—there must be something you like about Christmas. Turkey? Meeting up with friends? What’s the best thing about Christmas for you?’

The door was opened by his security chief and a blast of cold air entered the car.

Rio stared at her for a long moment, his face unsmiling. ‘The best thing about Christmas for me is when it’s over,’ he gritted. ‘Now, get out of the car and smile.’

‘So the rumours are true, Rio? You’re engaged? You do realise you’ve just ruined every single woman’s Christmas, and half the married ones, too?’ Tabitha Fenton-Coyle stroked her long red fingernails over his sleeve. ‘Tell me what it is about her that induced a hardened cynic like yourself into marriage.’

‘You need to ask?’

‘Well, she’s pretty, of course, in a slightly unsophisticated way that a man might find appealing—’ There was a flinty glint in Tabitha’s eyes and Rio turned his head and noticed Evie laughing uninhibitedly with the two Russian billionaires, both known for their arrogant refusal to speak English at social events. They were taciturn, remote and notoriously unapproachable and yet both appeared to be listening to Evie with rapt attention.

How was she making herself understood?

From across the table, Rio tried to hear what she was saying. She was chatting non-stop, her hands moving as she illustrated her point. Occasionally she paused to sip champagne or listen to their response.

‘Clever of you to find a woman who speaks Russian,’ Tabitha said, ‘given your business interests in that country. Is that how you met? Is she an interpreter or something?’

Evie spoke Russian?

Unable to hear her above the noise from the surrounding tables, Rio focused his gaze on her lips and realised that she was indeed speaking Russian.

His hostess was watching him. ‘You didn’t know, did you? Well, if she can persuade them to open their wallets when the charity auction begins, then she’ll certainly get my vote.’

Where had Evie learned to speak Russian?

Why hadn’t she mentioned it when he’d told her that Vladimir didn’t speak good English and that she wouldn’t be able to communicate without an interpreter? And then he remembered her responding that she wouldn’t need an interpreter. At the time he’d assumed she’d meant that she’d be using sign language and lots of smiles—not once had it occurred to him that she spoke fluent Russian.

Coffee was served as the auction began and there was a sudden flurry of movement as people swapped seats.