Postcards From… Collection - Maisey Yates Mills & Boon e-Book Collections

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Nikolai kissed her gently—stirring sensations she couldn’t allow to take over moments before they were due to leave the hotel. She blamed it on how amazingly sexy Nikolai was in a tuxedo.

      ‘But it’s the first time we’ve left New York without him.’ She smiled as his brows rose in a suggestive way, hinting at the plans he had to fill that time without a six-month-old baby making demands on their attention.

      ‘Which is precisely why I intend to take full advantage of the fact. Once we’ve seen Jess in her starring role, I intend to bring you back to this room and that very large bed. I want to make love to you all night, just to make sure you know exactly how much and how completely I love you.’

      ‘Is that wise?’ Emma teased as she kissed his freshly shaven cheek, not daring to press her lips to his.

      ‘What makes you ask that?’ His eyes darkened with desire and an answering heat scorched inside her.

      She shrugged nonchalantly. ‘You know what happened last time we made love in Russia...’

      ‘This time will be different,’ he said as he kissed the back of her neck. She watched him in the mirror until she had to close her eyes against the pleasure.

      ‘In what way?’ she asked in a teasing voice.

      ‘This time you will know how much I love you with each and every kiss.’

      She turned in his arms and looked up into his handsome face, hardly able to believe how happy she was. ‘Everything you do for me, Nikolai, shows me that—from bringing me here to see Jess dance, to supporting me with my photography. I couldn’t be happier.’

      ‘But I’d still like to show you,’ he said softly.

      ‘Then who am I to argue?’ She laughed up at him.

      Nikolai looked down at her, a seriousness brushing away the humour of moments ago. ‘You are my wife, the mother of my son and the woman I love with all my heart.’

      * * * * *

       A Debt Paid in the Marriage Bed

      Jennifer Hayward

      The unwilling Ricci wife...

      Angelina’s world is shattered when Lorenzo Ricci walks through the door of her engagement party and demands she call off the wedding—because she’s still married to him! She left the formidable Italian to save her heart, but now, with her family business at stake, Angelina must consider his terms...

      In need of an heir, Lorenzo will use any means to reclaim his wayward wife and return her to their marriage bed. He’ll make her debts disappear if she repays him...in desire! The chemistry may be alive and well between them, but can they survive their tempestuous reunion unscathed?

      For my Dad –

      A gifted surgeon, teacher, woodworker and

      master of anything trivia, you were also the

      greatest father I could have hoped to have.

      There is a piece of you, Dad, in every hero

      I write because you were larger than life. I can’t

      imagine a world without you, that I can’t ever

      pick up the phone again and pick your brain

      on a storyline. I only know if I live a life half

      as courageous and remarkable as yours,

      I will be happy. xx

       CHAPTER ONE

      “SIR.”

      Lorenzo Ricci pocketed his phone and lengthened his stride, pretending he hadn’t witnessed the appearance of his portly, balding, middle-aged lawyer in the hallway behind him. Fifty minutes back on US soil, the last thing he needed was to discuss the fine print of the complex acquisition deal he had been negotiating, a subject bound to make his head ache even more than it already was.

      Tomorrow, after a shot of his favorite whiskey, a steam shower and a face-plant into the Egyptian cotton sheets his housekeeper had procured for his very comfortable king-size bed, would be soon enough to endure that brain-throbbing task.

      “Sir!”

      Dio. He pulled to a halt, turned and faced the man doing his best to catch up to him on short, stubby legs, his outward appearance the very antithesis of the pit bull he was in the boardroom.

      “I’ve been traveling for sixteen hours, Cristopher, I’m tired, I’m in a vile mood and I need sleep. Trust me when I say tomorrow is better.”

      “It can’t wait.” The edge to his lawyer’s voice commanded Lorenzo’s full attention. Not once in five years of completing difficult and sometimes downright antagonistic deals together had his legal counsel ever looked this rattled. “I need five minutes of your time.”

      Expelling a long sigh, his stomach souring at the thought of attempting to interpret the finer points of legalese when what his brain officially needed was sleep, Lorenzo waved a hand toward his office. “Bene. Five minutes.”

      Cristopher followed him into the sleek, black-and-chrome offices of the Ricci International executive team. Gillian, Lorenzo’s ultraefficient PA, gave him an apologetic I-tried look. He waved her off. “Go home. We can go through everything in the morning.”

      She murmured her thanks, got to her feet and started gathering her things. Cristopher followed him into his office, hovering in front of his desk while he dropped his briefcase beside it and shrugged off his jacket. The apprehension skittering up his spine deepened. His lawyer didn’t hover. Ever.

      He walked to the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows framing a magnificent view of a dusky, indigo-lit Manhattan—one of the perks of being CEO of his family’s international Italian conglomerate, a shipping dynasty he had evolved into a diverse empire that included hotel chains, cruise lines and real estate arms. He loved the view, but tonight, it barely penetrated the fatigue clouding his brain.

      Turning, he leaned back against the glass and crossed his arms over his chest. “All right,” he said, “give it to me.”

      His lawyer blinked behind gold-rimmed spectacles, flicked his tongue over his lips and cleared his throat. “We have a...situation. A mistake that’s been made we need to rectify.”

      He frowned. “On the deal?”

      “No. It’s a personal matter.”

      Lorenzo narrowed his gaze. “I didn’t invite you in here to play twenty questions, Cris. Spit it out.”

      His lawyer swallowed. “The legal firm that handled your divorce made an error with the filing of the papers. An omission, actually...”

      “What kind of an omission?”

      “They forgot to file them.”

      A buzzing sound filled his ears. “I divorced my wife two years ago.”

      “Yes, well, you see...” Another long swallow. “You didn’t actually. Not in the technical tense because the papers were never filed with the state.”

      The buzzing sound in his head intensified. “What are you saying?” He asked the question slowly, deliberately, as if his brain was having trouble keeping up. “Just so we’re clear?”

      “You’re still married to Angelina.” Cristopher blurted the words out, a hand coming up to resettle his glasses higher on his nose. “The lawyer who handled your divorce had an insane caseload that month. He thought he’d asked his clerk to file the papers, was sure he had, until we went back to look at the specifics after the conversation you and I had recently.”

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