Page 38 of Twelve Nights of Nights of Christmas

Knowing that she was unwelcome, she was about to do just that but her feet froze to the spot as her eyes adjusted to the dim light and she managed to make out his profile. He looked like a man on the edge. A man struggling to contain an emotion bigger than him.

He was still looking at the screen, but somehow she knew that this time he wasn’t reading the numbers. His eyes were bleak and empty and she knew instantly that this was about Christmas.

I don’t have any happy memories of Christmas.

What sort of childhood had he had, that he hadn’t retained a single happy memory of Christmas?

The sudden stillness of the room seemed loud in her ears.

Evie stood still, knowing that she was intruding on a private moment. She knew she ought to back away and return to the neutral sanctuary of the bedroom. She ought to close those big doors and leave him to his dark thoughts. She was never going to see him again once this charade was over. Why did it even matter that he wanted to shut himself away and pretend Christmas wasn’t happening?

But there was something about the bleak set of his features that made it impossible for her to walk away. She never would have been able to walk away and leave another human being in so much pain, and she had no doubt that he was in pain.

She’d become intimately acquainted with the signs after her grandmother had died. Night after night, she’d seen the same look on her grandfather’s face as he’d sat in her grandmother’s favourite rocking chair, just staring at her photograph. She’d kept him company in the darkness, afraid to leave him alone with his grief.

What had Rio Zaccarelli lost?

What was he thinking about, as he stared sightlessly at that screen?

Evie walked across to him, knowing that she was taking a risk. She was approaching when she should have run away.

Rio lifted his head and inhaled deeply. ‘I said, go back to bed.’

‘My head spins when I lie down.’

‘You drank too much champagne. That feeling will pass. Drink lots of water.’

‘I’m not drunk.’

The barest flicker of a smile touched his mouth. ‘You were dancing on the table.’

‘That wasn’t because I was drunk. It was because I’d lost some of my inhibitions. If I had the confidence, I would have done the same thing sober. The drink just made me less anxious.’

‘In that case, remind me never to escort you when you’re drunk.’

‘Tell me why you hate Christmas.’

Anger flickered across his face and his swift glance was loaded with warning. ‘I think you should go to bed.’

‘Only if you come too.’ She had no idea what had driven her to say those words. Immediately, she wanted to drag them back. What if he said yes? She’d never had a one-night stand in her life. Compared with his experience and sophistication, she was a complete novice.

For a moment he simply watched her, his eyes glittering in the darkness. She had the feeling that he was fighting some brutal internal battle.

‘Leave,’ he said thickly. ‘Right now.’

‘I’m not drunk.’

‘That isn’t why I want you to leave.’

‘Then—’

‘I’m fresh out of happy endings, Evie. You won’t find one within a thousand kilometres of me.’

Her mouth dried and her heart was pounding in her chest. ‘I know that. You could never be my happy ending. But that doesn’t mean…I want to know…’

His eyes were hard and unsympathetic. He gave her no help at all. ‘What do you want to know, Evie?’

She licked dry lips. ‘I want to know what it would be like,’ she whispered. ‘If the rest of it would feel as good as the kissing part.’